Damsels and Demons

Severus contemplates the meeting in Dumbledore’s office as he sweeps down to the dungeons.

A vampire— a queen vampire at Hogwarts.

He shakes his head in disbelief. Only Albus could pull something like this out of his dusty old hat that would rattle him so thoroughly. He could tell immediately upon laying eyes on her in the headmaster’s office— even if their initial meeting in the square hadn’t been so odd— that there was something peculiar about the young woman. It was more than her obvious beauty that drew his attention; Never in all his years had he witnessed someone go toe-to-toe with Albus Dumbledore as she had. He could chalk it up to her American brazenness, or perhaps more specifically her clearly southern roots he picked up on from the occasional lilt in her voice, but he knew it was more than that. She is clearly astute— it sparks from her sharp gaze even when that youthful, cheeky grin marks her lush mouth.

Lush?! Fucking hell.

Severus silently admonishes himself, attempting to steer his straying thoughts away from anything to do with the physical appearance of Miss Fayne, especially her mouth. Oh, but that mouth daring to speak his name, murmuring to him as he pressed her body against his chest—

“That voice sounds like trouble to me…”

Severus reminds himself that she was barely conscious when speaking those words to him and likely near madness from what she had been through. But he couldn’t help but feel like there had been some feeling of mutual… recognition, perhaps, when their eyes met in Dumbledore’s office. When one moves through life feeling distinctly different than those around him as Severus has, it is a rare experience to feel… seen when someone looks at him. Of course, there have been those who have dared approach his forbidding form, intrigue written plainly across their face. The witches he has bedded were all the same in that way— curious about the darker side of things. He didn’t fault them for that, in fact had found decent enough companionship in a few of them because of his shared interest in the mysteries of what wizarding society labelled dark. But it was always fleeting, mere intrigue not food enough for lasting companionship, and not nearly enough for Severus to consider trusting someone to truly know him. And now, given his life as a spy with an inevitably early expiration date, it is all moot anyhow.

Admittedly, it is that pull he feels to know what others have deemed forbidden that in part draws him to Miss Fayne. Vampirism remains as one of the greatest mysteries of the wizarding world. Severus can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement in his veins at the thought that he might be permitted access to know things about the vampires’ inner world that no mortal has ever possessed.

Severus finally reaches his quarters and sheds his cloak while flicking a hand toward the hearth to light the fire before settling into his well-worn armchair. He releases the top few buttons of his outer coat with a heavy sigh and reaches for the bottle and tumbler on the nearby side table, more out of habit than desire. He swirls the amber liquid lazily as he tries to fit the new chess piece that is Miss Fayne upon the board in his mind— but not even Dumbledore, surely, can foresee the full implications of this new figure.

No, because she’s not a new chess piece, he realizes, a short laugh rumbling unexpectedly through his chest. She’s a new player.

With a decisive thud, he sets down his glass and swiftly exits his chambers— maybe the night air will help soothe his whirling thoughts.

***

Lucienna stares unseeing at the moonlit grounds of Hogwarts as she leans her elbows against the stone edge of the astronomy tower balcony. The balmy summer air is not near as soothing as she wished it to be when she fled her guest rooms.

Once again, her mind replays her discussion with Dumbledore; All in all, she’s satisfied with how things went. Her and her friends will now have a safe place to continue learning magic, away from the complete shit storm that erupted around them in The States. However, Lucienna has a sinking feeling that it is only a matter of time before it all catches up to her. The Catholics aren’t through with her yet, and it’ll be any day now that the International Confederation of Wizards comes prodding around. And then the Death Eaters… Well.

What a fucking mess.

Lucienna scrubs her face with her hands, sighing heavily. Proximity to Dumbledore will be helpful, but she plans to keep a close eye on him— Wizards don’t become that influential by playing fair and she will not get pushed around a chessboard that she can yet hardly see.

“And what, pray tell, is your position that allows you to make such promises?” That deep, silky voice rumbles in her mind.

I’m no one, She wanted to respond. No one should be looking to her, a seventeen year old witch— vampire witch— who only five years ago didn’t even know magic existed, much less vampires— for answers about jack shit. Yet here she is, months away from having a crown atop her head, very real lives dangling from her fingertips, and an entire wizarding world waiting with bated breath to see what she will do with it all.

Lucienna huffs a laugh. In truth, she appreciated the dark man’s derision almost as much as the shivers his smooth voice chased down her spine, for he’s the only person who has yet to have a reasonable reaction to her position.

You’re right, she would tell him. Its fucked, unbelievable, absolutely ridiculous!

And then she would dive into those inky black eyes of his and drown in them.

Lucienna groans, burying her face into her hands. 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Miss Fayne?” That distinct voice sounds behind her.

Lucienna jumps, whipping around to watch the Potions Master glide toward her with a sneer.

“Luckily I’ve got a big head,” Lucienna quips, immediately regretting it.

Kill me.

Severus tips his head forward to hide a grin as he stops next to Lucienna. He fishes in his robes and pulls out a cigarette case, holding one between his lips as he pats himself for a lighter.

Lucienna raises a finger, a small orange flame dancing at its tip. She holds her breathe as his large hands come up to hold hers steady, one cupping the back of her hand as the other wraps long, slender fingers around her wrist. She meets his gaze as his head dips to touch the cigarette to the flame, attempting to ignore the tingles chasing up her arm.

“These will kill you, you know,” She says as he leans back and drops his hands from hers. She tears her gaze from his and reaches for his silver case left on the ledge, plucking one for herself and quickly lighting it and inhaling deeply. She can feel his eyes on her but doesn’t trust herself quite yet to meet them again.

“I would remind you of the same, but as it is…”

“Definitely a perk of immortality,” Lucienna grins. “Though it does limit most of the more mundane avenues of self-destruction.”

“One would have to ask why you smoke at all, then.”

“Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Severus snorts at that. “What, were you twelve when you started?”

She tilts her head back in laughter, leaning a hip against the rail to better face him. She can see amusement lighting his black eyes. Her chest swells. “Well where I come from, that wouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

“Nor I,” he responds quietly, holding back a smirk.

They stand in comfortable silence for bit, nothing but swirls of smoke on a light breeze breaking the stillness. Lucienna’s gaze wanders over him as he looks out into the night, noting how the moonlight ignites his alabaster skin. She knows he must feel her watching him but gives no indication that he minds her scrutiny. Her eyes move from the proud features of his profile and down his neck where she finds exactly three buttons unfastened that send an utterly Victorian thrill fluttering through her veins. She imagines how long it would take to free those broad shoulders from all those buttons…

Severus turns to her with a raised brow and she quickly straightens, hoping like hell he can’t see the blush blazing across her cheeks. He lets out a quiet laugh and smothers his cigarette before taking a step closer to face her. A clean scent of sandalwood and pine washes over her as she lifts her head to follow his glittering gaze. “I’ll be by at eight tomorrow morning to collect you,” he finally murmurs.

She blinks up at him before drawing in a breathe. “Oh, right. To go to Headquarters, yes.”

He nods once, that infernal smirk still tugging at his mouth. “Goodnight, Miss Fayne,” he says lowly before stepping away and sweeping toward the stairs.

“Goodnight, Severus,” she replies to his retreating form, hopefully too low to reach him. 

***

At eight a.m. sharp, Severus collects Lucienna from her rooms, where they swiftly make their way down to the entrance hall and out into the fresh morning air. Severus stifles a smile as he contemplates what he heard in the witch’s thoughts last night as they walk along the path to the apparition point in silence. He wasn’t trying to read her thoughts— they were practically screaming at him! However, only in bits and pieces, much to his disappointment. He merely caught something about a ‘proud profile’ and a hazy image of her slender hands working loose a familiar row of black buttons…

A better man would have missed the faint flutter of her dark lashes as he stepped near enough for her to tilt her face up at him, or the way the moonlight gilded the slender column of her exposed neck as her dark tresses fell back from her shoulders. No, a better man wouldn’t have dared step so near at all.

But she enjoyed it, he argues within himself. And even I am allowed a little fun here and again, surely.

They reach the apparition point beyond the gates and Severus turns to the young witch. “Have your wounds healed?” He asks.

Lucienna pauses at the abrupt question. “My wounds?” She finally answers in question.

Severus steps closer and holds a hand out to her. She stares at it for a moment before placing her hand in his own. He gently flips her hand palm up and peels away the cuff of her black sweater. A smooth, calloused thumb glides over the angry red line spiraling up her wrist. She risks a glance to his face as he makes his inspection. Anger flashes in his eyes as his eyebrows draw together before he quickly schools his expression and pulls her sleeve back down.

“Sufficient. I only ask as to your condition for apparating,” He explains, still holding her hand in his.

“Oh, of course.”

“You may be immortal,” he says, pitching his voice lower and stepping closer as he drops her hand, “but you are not indestructible.”

“Not yet, of course,” she arches a brow up at him.

“Of course,” he smirks, pulling her against him by her waist. Before Lucienna can finish a gasp, they are sucked into space.

***

The only thing that kept Lucienna from smacking her head against the pavement of the quaint London street they now find themselves on is the strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

“You—!” She starts accusingly as she finds her feet beneath her. She glares at him through the tangles of hair obscuring her eyes as a silent laugh rumbles through his chest and she pushes against him in attempt to disentangle herself. “Don’t laugh at me!” She warns, stifling a grin. “Let go of me!”

He steps back with a bark of laughter and quickly shakes his head. “My apologies, Miss. This way, if you please,” he says with a sweep of his hand before he steps through the gate of a nearby townhouse.

“A bit of warning would have been nice,” she grumbles, following him up to the door. ‘Twelve Grimmauld Place’ etches itself upon an old plaque in front of her as Severus sharply raps his knuckles on the old wood. He sighs after a few moments of waiting and opens the door, promptly ushering Lucienna into a darkened hallway with a hand on the small of her back.

Severus walks back to the kitchen at the end of the hall as Lucienna follows slowly, taking in the strange decor of the old, seemingly empty house. She’s just about to make her way into the kitchen when she hears a thump from the floor above.

“I think there’s someone upstairs,” she calls to Severus, leaning over the rail of the staircase to peer upward. Suddenly, a giant black hunk of matted fur comes flying down the stairs  like a bat out of hell with a book clenched in its maw, quickly followed by a shabbily dressed man with sandy hair clambering after him. Lucienna jerks back as they cross in front of her and vault into a sitting room across the hall.

“You give that back to me right now or I swear I’ll skin you and wear you as a coat, you mangy thing!” The man bellows.

“Severus!” Lucienna shouts, bounding after them and stopping just inside the doorway with her wand held firmly in hand.

Just as the sandy-haired man tackles the dog, it morphs into a man cackling wildly on the floor, his black curls as unruly as his dog form’s. The former chunks the book across the room and pins the animagus’s wrists to the floor above his head.

Lucienna lowers her wand, suddenly feeling quite out of place watching the two men lay on the floor completely oblivious to her presence.

“Honestly, Moony. All you do is read! What else am I to do to get your attention?” The dark haired man asks playfully.

“All you need do is ask,” the other man answers before capturing the other’s lips with a soft kiss. “You know that.”

“Ahem…” Lucienna jumps as Severus clears his throat close behind Lucienna. A faint blush creeps across her cheeks as the two men before her whip their heads around and quickly scramble up from the floor.

“Severus,” the sandy-haired man begins awkwardly, straightening out his threadbare cardigan. “We weren’t expecting you this early.”

“Clearly,” he drawls, thoroughly unamused.

“Remus Lupin,” the shabby man says, thrusting his hand out to Lucienna as he steps forward. “You must be Miss Fayne.”

“Lucienna,” she replies, grasping Remus’s hand. She takes notice of the silvered scars slashing across his face as she meets his kind gaze, and there’s a distinct smell of otherness mingled with his strong scent of cedar, as if he’d just crawled out of an old wooden chest. “Pleasure to meet you,” she smiles, looking to the other stranger standing close by.

“Sirius Black,” he introduces himself, grasping Lucienna’s hand and placing a quick peck on her knuckles. “You may have heard of me,” he adds with a boyish grin.

Of course, she had— no one in the wizarding world didn’t know who Sirius Black was. But she schools her expression anyhow, not giving him the satisfaction of displaying her surprise. Honestly, she was more surprised by his appearance, given that he had spent nearly twelve years in Azkaban. It seems even prison couldn’t break the man of his air of the lazy aristocrat, and his kind yet mischievous gaze isn’t what she would expect from a former convict, innocent or no.

“A pleasure, Sirius,” she smiles.

After the group mosey to the kitchen after introductions, the four of them whiled away the morning into late afternoon with tea and biscuits as they waited for the Order meeting later that day. Lucienna enjoyed the high spirits of the couple and could easily see herself enjoying the time she would be spending here in the upcoming days as they chatted. Severus, however, looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here, regularly rolling his eyes at their laughter and rebuffing Remus’s every attempt to drag him into conversation. She sensed some underlying tension between the couple and the professor and wondered briefly at its cause as the day wore on.

Finally, members of the Order began trickling in and Lucienna was busied with introductions as they arrived. After being drawn into a surprisingly tight hug by Molly Weasley, who expressed how glad she was at Lucienna’s safety, she sits down again at the large wooden table between Remus and Professor McGonnagal with Severus across from her.

“Right, we’ll make short work of it tonight,” Dumbledore begins as everyone settles. “The main business of tonight is to introduce Miss Lucienna Fayne, our newest member of the Order. Miss Fayne, if you will?” He asks, sliding a blank parchment and quill toward her from the end of the table. “This is our charter, as well as an oath of secrecy upon signature.”

“Now, hold on!” Molly interjects sharply. “She’s going to be inducted? She’s much too young, Albus!”

“You’ll find that age means little to the vampires, Molly,” Severus drawls.

Lucienna snaps her gaze to Severus as murmurs of surprise break out amongst the other members. Severus gives a sharp nod in indication to the quill in her hand and Lucienna quickly scrawls her name on the parchment. The other names of the members become visible underneath hers as she finishes her signature.

Albus hushes the room and proceeds to explain Lucienna’s unique use of magic and recent run-in with the Catholics. “Miss Fayne will make a valuable asset to the Order,” Albus finishes. “It is imperative, however, that her involvement remain discreet— even more so than our own.”

“And what of the vampires’ queen?” Kingsley asks from the other end of the table.

“A moot point, considering Lucienna will soon wear the crown herself,” Dumbledore answers simply, despite the palpable shock radiating throughout the room.

Lucienna wasn’t sure if she ought to say something as discussion broke out once again, but soon thought it best to let them hash it out for themselves first. Overall, they seem to be taking it as well as could be expected, although Molly still maintains that this is no place for a seventeen year old. Part of Lucienna agrees, but it is much too late for that now.

Questions of what the Catholics wanted with her inevitably arise, to which Lucienna quickly responds that she has no idea as to their motives and pointedly leaves it at that. She’s not exactly keen to discuss her recent kidnapping and subsequent torture with a room full of people she barely knows— nor does she want questions of how exactly she managed to escape. Their tentative trust in her would surely be shattered if it came to that so soon.

“Severus, do you know if Voldemort is yet aware of Miss Fayne?” Dumbledore asks as the room quiets.

“There has been no mention in the past. And as I have yet to be summoned in recent days,  I would wager he is still unaware, but I doubt that will last much longer,” Severus replies.

Lucienna jerks her head toward the professor, met with a piercing gaze as if he’s assessing her reaction to the revelation of his role in the Order. 

So he’s a spy, Lucienna muses. Part of her is not surprised given what little she’s seen of him the past day and a half. And he must be marked, Lucienna realizes. Just imagining the dark mark writhing under his pale skin sends a shiver of dread through her. However, Dumbledore and the other Order members must trust him. An avalanche of questions tumble through her mind, but she holds on to that fact as she holds his gaze. She gives him a slight nod as Dumbledore prattles on about how to thwart the inevitable interest of the Death Eaters and a flood of relief seems to flow through his eyes even as his expression remains stoic. The stiffness in his shoulders dissipates somewhat.

“Whose to say he won’t go blabbing to his master the first chance he gets,” Lucienna hears Sirius utter under his breathe a few seats down from Severus.

“Severus has always remained loyal to the Order,” Dumbledores sharp tone rings out across the room, shocking everyone. “He deserves our trust.”

Sirius looked sufficiently cowed as the meeting soon winds to an end. As Lucienna chats with a few members, she catches Severus slipping out the door unnoticed. She breaks away from Kingsley and Arthur as the conversation shifts from her and follows after him.

She walks into the empty sitting room first, wondering if he’s left entirely when she notices a door at the end of a short hallway left ajar. She finds him sitting on a window seat in what appears to be a library with a cigarette pinched between two fingers. He drops his propped up leg as he sees her walking forward to make room in front of the open window and wordlessly hands her the silver case.

“Are Order meetings always that exciting?” She asks as she lights a cigarette of her own.

“On the contrary, that was quite tame,” he says, looking her over with a lifted brow. “You’re not nearly as interesting as you might think,” he teases.

“I’m devastated,” Lucienna grins.

They remain silent for a few moments, both looking out into the quiet night.

“You really don’t know why you were kidnapped, do you?” He finally asks.

Lucienna turns toward him. “I have a few theories, but no.”

He considers her for a moment. “They were after something,” he states plainly.

“I suspect as much.”

“But you have no idea what?”

“Not for certain, no.”

He nods his head, returning his eyes to the window.

“Dumbledore seems to trust you,” Lucienna notes almost absently as she draws from her cigarette.

“As much as he can,” Severus replies, turning to her again. “And you? Do you trust me?”

His eyes seem to pierce her then, though his tone feigns indifference to her answer. She thinks back to Sirius’s words at the table, and though Severus clearly dislikes the man, his words clearly irked him. Lucienna can’t imagine the danger he must put himself in to spy for the Order, and to still be treated with mistrust even by one’s allies would cut anyone deeply.

But does she actually trust him? Her intuition tells her she can thus far, but it is much too soon to extend that trust very far. Dumbledore clearly trusts him enough to accept his role in espionage. And though she doesn’t yet trust Dumbledore himself, he is nothing if not a highly calculating man. That has to count for something, Lucienna surmises.

“Yes,” she responds firmly. “As much as I can,” she adds, a grin tugging at her lips.

He gives a genuine smile then that makes Lucienna’s breath catch, though he schools his expression quickly as he gives a sharp nod and stands.

“Let me see your wrists,” He orders, holding out a hand to her. He stands closely as she rises and proceeds to run his fingertips gently over the scars on one wrist and then the other. Her eyelids begin to grow heavy at his touch and she fights to maintain a neutral expression as she watches his ministrations. “Interesting… they are already much lighter than this morning.”

He readjusts her sleeves and steps back. “I can leave a scarring cream here for you, if you like.”

She looks up at him then. “Oh. You’re not staying here tonight?” She asks, somewhat disappointed.

He blinks, eyes widening slightly. “I— well. I mean, I could stay. It is late… after all,” he rambles.

Lucienna smiles, guessing it is not entirely common for him to be reduced to rambling. “Good,” she chirps, bouncing past him to the door. “I can make breakfast in the morning.”

“Sans blood, please,” He quips dryly, following after her and smiling secretly at her laughter.