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Crimson Moon

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Crimson Moon 1/8

1,863 words

Ribbon: A Destined Meeting

Chapter 1


Harry Potter was standing in the shadows of a catwalk looking down below into The Club, watching men and women, writhing to the brutal beat of the music on the strobe-lit dance floor. A glass of untouched red wine dangled between his fingers, forgotten. Even with the wild music pulsing around him, his memories of the past swirled around him.


They had been preparing all week for the coming excursion back to the Isle. It had been so long since their journey had begun. A journey of a thousand miles and a thousand years had passed--all beginning with a fairy ring, and their disappearance, a year before the present day. Harry chuckled under his breath. A fairy ring--who would have guessed? Not him and not his friends.


A thousand years ago, he, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had been out in the Forbidden Forest on yet another detention set by the Defense instructor of their seventh year. A sadistic idiot appointed by the Ministry of Magic to train them in the fight against Voldemort.


Luckily, they'd had the permission to keep the DA running as an official club during sixth year. Membership was open to the whole school, including the Slytherins. Severus Snape had been appointed as club sponsor.


That hadn't made the DADA professor happy. Professor Szilargyi was a sadist and a control freak. Severus had been known to frighten the students, but Szilargyi terrified them. He had become uncontrollable, using borderline dark curses on the students. Dumbledore, Severus, Lucius Malfoy and two other professors had been forced to stun the man a few weeks into the school year.


Severus didn't hesitate to rip his sleeve and check his forearm for the Dark Mark. He was unmarked, but that didn't prevent the suspicions that the man was working for the Dark Lord.


Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy had silently followed the man into the forest, remaining hidden. But that hadn't stopped the man. In a flash of light, he had petrified the four students and one by one spelled them into a fairy ring. When they awoke, it was to a whole new world, far from the one they had known.


The Founders themselves had discovered them at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The boys gathered around Hermione, holding her close as she cried out her distress. They listened in stunned silence as Rowena Ravenclaw explained there was no known spell that could return them to their own time.

The ancient witches and wizards listened intently as the youth explained why they had to return to their own time. Concern, followed by distress was felt when it was revealed what Harry's destiny was concerning Salazar's wayward heir. He snorted in disgust at the tale of how his descendent was torturing and killing in his name. After much discussion and debate, Godric and Salazar formulated a plan that they hoped would resolve the problem. Lénárd Slytherin was Salazar's Great-great uncle and was a Master Vampire. He was key to their plan. They would wait ten years or so, until the four students were older, and then Lénárd would turn them. Older Vampires have powers that young ones don't possess. They can live forever.

And they had done just that... in their thirtieth year Lénárd came and turned them. Taking them to live in France, he showed them the world. It took some time to adjust, and they eventually did, thriving in their new lives. It was a freedom Harry had never known. They had time to learn and train, to prepare to return and finish what needed to be done to save the Wizarding World.


They took different names, leaving behind their childhoods and pasts, moving into the future...forward to their destinies. Until they could confront who they once were, the world would know Harry as Samael Ardius Marceau. That was many lifetimes ago when he was still human; when his heart still beat, warm blood flowed through his veins, and he had a need to breath.


He had existed now for over a thousand years, passing through the ages virtually alone, walking a lonely path. He took a lover here and there, but he was always alone again in his endless travels.


Only his family, the members of his coven, kept him sane. Some days he still yearned to see a sunrise over the ocean, or the beginning of a new day when the bright star cast the sky into different colors as the world awakened. He lived for the night now; the moon lit his way in the shadows that covered his world. He couldn't gaze at the sun, at the dawn, without paying a high price for his pleasure.


This night, as he did so often, he watched from the shadows and hunted. Only one person caught his eye this night. Only one awakened his lust for blood. This night, there was more to this nascent attraction. His need to feed and claim was different. The tall dark man was intoxicating and alluring in a way none of his previous victims had been. For the past week he had watched the man enter the Club; wander and mingle with others, losing himself in wanton behavior so foreign to the human's stoic behavior when he exhibited it on arrival. Alcohol and the music appeared to relax him and remove his inhibitions.


Long dark hair hung down the middle of his back, tied with a green ribbon--a single braid, swaying as he moved among the hordes of people on the dance floor. The flashing lights illuminated creamy alabaster skin and black eyes, rimmed with long dark lashes. Writhing bodies and restless hands seem to be drawn to the darkness and sadness radiating from the tall lithe body as it moved on the dance floor.


"Severus Snape." He whispered the name under his breath, his eyes continuing to watch his prey. He'd learned it with sharp ears and a few well-placed questions to the staff. Ah yes, now he remembered the man, but not like this. This man was beautiful and had a body made for sinful things--glorious sinful things.


He wanted nothing more than to sweep him up and take him back to the Manor, to strip him of his clothes slowly, piece by piece. The white poet's shirt and black leather pants enhanced the man's dark eyes. He licked his lips as he was filled with the desire to see that glorious flesh exposed to his eyes. His hands were eager to slide the shirt off the strong chest, peel the pants off the sinuous long legs, then lay him out across blood red silk sheets. Then inch by bloody inch, he would map out every inch with his hands, mouth and tongue--eliciting moans and screams of pleasure.




"Is that Snape again?" asked the man once known as Ron Weasley, renamed by their sire as Cadeyrn Aedh Taran.


"Yes. Word has it the war is bad since our disappearance." Dorian Brencis Mazentius had a graceful air about him--his Malfoy genes still as strong as they were all those years ago. "Let’s hope that we can finally bring an end to the darkness and return to our lives here--finally be free of this destiny."


"You want him, Samael?" Tempeste asked as she came to stand next to her friend. Hermione had chosen the name Tempeste Alacoque D'Arcy, with Lénárd's blessing. The name seemed to fit her dark grace.


"His blood calls me, Tempeste."


Dorian leaned over the railing to get a clearer view of Severus, "Why does he look so different? So…delicious?"


"What happen to the Greasy Git," Cadeyrn asks, licking his lips. "He looks almost healthy."


Samael growled quietly at his companions, possessive of his new prey. They smiled at him, showing a glint of fang. He was so easy to bait.


"Enough you two. Leave Samael to his conquest." Tempeste gestured toward the bar. "I need a drink." She glided away, toward the lower level, followed by her two lovers.


"We need to feed as well before the night is over. The guards and servants have things almost packed and ready for travel," Dorian commented.


"We will. There are plenty of willing bodies to choose from." Replied Cadeyrn, as he slipped an arm around Dorian's waist.

Samael shook his head. A Malfoy and a Weasley--even after a thousand years, it still boggled the mind. Though Tempeste, Dorian, and Cadeyrn had been together for many years, they invited him to their bed frequently. It still amazed him to watch the affection and tenderness exchanged between the two men, who had, when they were children, been mortal enemies. It just proved that people could change, given enough time.


He turned his attention back to his object of affection--the dark beauty.




"Yes, My Lord." A tall man of Viking descent came to stand beside Samael.


"I'll be leaving shortly. Make sure all those who plan to travel with us are packed and ready. We leave in three days." Samael directed, setting his wine glass aside, without taking his eyes from his prey-his dark beauty.


"Yes, my Lord." The statuesque warrior nodded briefly and stepped quickly away to do as he had been bid.


Samael watched for a few more moments before heading down the stairs to the lower levels. As he descended the stairs, the thrum of the music became stronger, dancing across his skin. The scent of lust and blood was strong, but over-riding it all, the scent of only one drew him. It pulled and clawed at him, drawing him forward unwaveringly across the dance floor. Dancers parted in a wave as he passed and crashed back together in his wake, without missing a beat. He looked neither left nor right as he moved, his attention riveted on his goal-the dark sexy Slytherin moving sinuously, in sync with the bodies around him--lost in the music. His blood kin watched his movements quietly from the bar, knowing they would not be seeing him again until the next moonrise. Unbeknownst to Severus, he too, would be leaving the club soon.


Severus saw him emerge from the shadows, long legs gliding across the floor toward him. His dark eyes watched every move of the dark stranger helplessly. Mesmerized by the glowing emerald eyes set in a face that was undeniably beautiful, he stayed where he was until the mysterious creature stopped in front of him.


"Danse pour moi," Samael whispered as he leaned in and licked Severus' ear. Hooking an arm around his prey's waist, he molded himself to the tall man, moving with him as they danced. A fang nicked an earlobe as he licked again, eliciting a moan. The blood was rich and delightful. "Come with me, lover," he whispered as his other hand grabbed the leather-clad arse, bringing their bodies flush, his hardness evident.


Severus was entranced. His eyes were glazed and desire-filled for this mysterious creature. "Yes. Take me with you." His iron will was gone. He would do anything for this man who came from nowhere, anything, to be possessed by this beautiful creature.










Danser pour moi = (French) Dance for me