---

If humans had any idea what the color red did to a vampire, they would eradicate it from their lives, from the very face of the earth.

Though he didn't need to breathe, William let out a sigh. He had to appear bored. He had played this game for more than a century, and he knew his role well. Mask the thirst, appear unaffected.

Thirst was an understatement, though. William had a nearly unbearable, aching craving for blood that was close to driving him mad. But it was better this way. It was always better to feed after a prolonged thirst. The taste was more rich, the drink more satisfying, and it tided him over longer than if he constantly indulged.

And he'd heard that magical blood was far superior to that of a normal human.

Tonight's delicious torture was heightened by his surroundings, though. He was in a room bathed in red light from a golden lamp full of fairies, and around him were scores of witches and wizards, milling about, making merry at their little holiday party.

William had his mark. All he needed to do now was wait for the precise moment of opportunity, set the game in motion, and watch as the pieces fell into place, for they always did, even if it was messy. But after more than a hundred years, William had all of it down to an art, and there hadn't been a mess to speak of left at his hands for a very long time. William's plans were merely dependent upon adequate distraction of his current companion.

Eldred Worple was an opportunist, and keeping around one of the vampires he'd written about had seemed like a fabulous idea, a much better way to continue accruing revenue for a smashing bestseller. William had agreed to the arrangement because of that rumor about magical blood. Oh, and the money. William collected quite a bit from this show of camaraderie.

"And this is his friend, Saguini."

It was enough to put up with the annoying alias he'd been dealt for this situation.

William resisted the urge to groan and merely nodded at the bespectacled boy that Slughorn was introducing William and Worple to. Worple immediately took a keen interest in the young man. William wondered if Worple's hunger for his next big story was comparable to a vampire's thirst for blood.

While Worple was distracted, William looked around, letting his gaze dart directly to his intriguing mark. He took in the shine of her hair and the flushed look in her cheeks as she laughed at something someone said to her. The girl's curves were ample, and she looked nothing short of...

Intriguing.

He needed to test Worple, see if he was truly engrossed in the boy with the glasses.

William fixed his gaze upon a group of young girls that had congregated nearby. He knew of his power and influence over mortals. He let the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, in a seductive manner. They giggled, and he inched their way.

But alas, Eldred Worple was not sufficiently distracted, and the bespectacled point of distraction was making his escape. William rolled his eyes as Worple thrust a pastry into his hands. He couldn't very well blame the young man for finding a way to get out from under the inquisitive thumb of Worple, but really, this was not conducive to his own plans. William ate the tasteless pastry without enthusiasm.

It was about twenty minutes later that the lauded female athlete that so many of the guests were excited over drifted their way, and this time Worple's attention was singular.

William slipped easily away, silent as he moved. A second later he was at her shoulder, his movement nigh imperceptible to mortals. She was momentarily alone, no doubt waiting for one of her friends to return.

"Pardon me," he said, briefly touching her shoulder.

The girl whipped around, clearly startled at the sudden appearance of a stranger.

"I couldn't help but notice you from across the room," he started, knowing full well she had been looking his way as well, "and I wanted to introduce myself."

She smiled. Words seemed to stick in her throat at the moment, and he knew why. He'd been handsome during his mortal days, but being turned into a vampire had only enhanced his looks. Even though he was thirsty, giving his face a haunted, sunken look, he knew she was a little stunned by his appearance, as well as from his practiced charm.

"I'm William Vincent."

"Wait," she said, "I read the book. Isn't your name Saguini? I had guessed you were Italian or something."

She broke out of her silence more quickly than they usually did. William was pleasantly surprised. He quickly explained, "Saguini is definitely not my real name. It's quite a dreadful nickname."

She laughed, and the sound pierced him. "I'm glad it's not your actual name. I could never have taken you seriously, vampire though you may be."

"May be?"

She nodded, "I read the book."

"I can assure you, my dear, that there's no 'may' about it. I am a vampire."

She bit her lip briefly, and it took much self control on his part not to strike and devour her in that moment.
"Should I be afraid of you then?"

"Tell me, what is your name?" he asked, bringing his hand up to stroke her cheek. He felt her shiver slightly.

She only hesitated for a second. "Daphne Greengrass."

"Well, my dear Daphne, you should most assuredly be afraid of me. Vampires are dangerous creatures."

"Should that stop me, though?"

He smiled. Daphne was quickly becoming one of his favorites. "Stop you from what?"

"Associating with you, of course."

"That is for you to decide. You could take a chance and go on a walk with me, if you like."

He offered his arm for her to take.

Daphne seemed to consider him for a moment, then boldly took his arm, and they were off, escaping the holiday party.

An hour later, Daphne and William were still walking around the corridors of the castle, not looking at all out of place. William had only been nineteen when he became immortal, and he could very well have been taken for another student at this magical school. William had been asking Daphne lots of questions, keeping her talking the entire time they were together. The more she spoke to him, the more comfortable she became. And then she stopped and turned to him.

"William, what is it about you?"

"I'm a vampire, Daphne," he replied simply, sweeping his blonde hair out of his face.

Her brow furrowed. "I don't think so. It has to be something more. I've never spoken so much to someone who is practically a stranger."

He reached out and smoothed the worry lines across her forehead and then pulled her into an embrace. "Tell me how you feel."

"I feel... like you're intoxicating. I can't resist you."

"Do you want to resist me?" he whispered in her ear, playing with the strands of her hair.

"No," she answered quickly, her arms tightening around him.

"Do you trust me?"

There was a pause as she thought. William's lips ghosted along her jaw and then down along her neck.

"No."

Her breathing sped up, he could smell the adrenaline surging through her, and he pressed his lips to the base of her neck, reveling in her subtle terror.

After almost a minute, he drew his lips away. She relaxed in his arms immediately, sinking into him just a little. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "Good, Daphne. A mortal like you must never trust a vampire."

---

Two days later, William was sitting across from Daphne in a warm pub near her family's home. She was studying him, and he was looking away so as to allow her to look freely. The longer he refrained from claiming Daphne, the more alluring she became. The torture was acute, yet satisfying in its own right.

"Is it wrong if I ask how someone becomes a vampire?"

William turned his gaze quickly back to her. He locked eyes with her. "Probably."

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, looking into the bottom of her steaming mug of cider.

William reached across the table to grasp her hand, and she looked up again tentatively. "Come here," he said. He tugged gently, leading her around to sit with him on his side of the small booth. "I only said it was probably wrong for you to ask, not that I wouldn't tell you." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. She let her hands rest on the table, and his fingers traced idle patterns over her skin, skimming over the blue veins that were faintly visible.

"It's difficult, yet simple," he explained. "The plain requirements are that I drink your blood, and then you drink mine while you're still alive."

"You have blood?" Daphne asked, perplexed. She looked at him in disbelief.

"Of a sort."

She scrutinized him, not quite believing, but having no reason to disbelieve. "You said it was difficult though?"

He nodded. Their faces were close, and he leaned even closer, his cheek touching hers. He whispered softly, "It's usually difficult for a mortal to drink the blood of a vampire before they die. The vampire is often," he paused to kiss her jaw, "carried away, and a vampire's strength exceeds that of a mortal. Most of the time the mortal is dead before the vampire stops their own drinking. It takes uncanny self-control to spare a mortal from death."

"You seem to have a lot of self-control," Daphne said.

"Are you sure?" he asked, whispering against her neck.

"You haven't bitten me."

"Yet," he said. He trailed kisses down her neck, ending at her collar bone. She gripped his hand nervously. Her heart was racing again, the pulse beating deliciously just under the skin beneath his lips. "I might, Daphne."

When he pulled away, Daphne was breathless, and her eyes were closed. He reached for her abandoned mug and pushed it back into her hands.

"You've wondered what it's like to be a vampire, haven't you?" William asked.

She raised her mug to her lips, blushing slightly.

He didn't press her about it. They remained sitting close, however.

William finally suggested that they leave, and they left the pub and began strolling down the street. The cold wasn't bitter, and there was snow swirling softly around them. They made their way past the busy shops and down one of the side streets before finally turning down the long lane that Daphne lived on. The Greengrass home was near the end, only a faint sight in the distance with all the snow.
As they passed a woody area, Daphne took William's arm and pulled him among the snowy bows of pine trees, and around the trunks of the other trees, leaves long gone, baring their naked arms to the wintery air and waiting for spring.

It seemed Daphne was waiting for something, too. They wandered a bit longer, and then Daphne slowed and stopped, William remaining by her side. He could see that she was contemplating what she wanted to say next, and he waited for her to speak.

"I think I dreamed about you last night."

He grinned widely at her, and it's really more of a smirk that he's trying to cover.

Daphne's eyes narrowed as she realized the truth. "You can control my dreams?"

William chuckled. "I can't quite control your dreams, but vampires can have influence over your dreams, I guess you could say."

"Is there anything vampires can't do?"

"Fly, I suppose."

"Why me, William?"

He studied her face, looking for something else to say, but he couldn't say anything but the truth. "I honestly don't know. Maybe it's your beauty. You're just intriguing." He hated not having a definitive answer.

Daphne bit her lip, as she had often done before, and he pulled her abruptly against him, leaving her breathless for a moment. When she did that, it drove him completely mad for her, and he was drawing so close to the breaking point with his thirst already. "You're playing a dangerous game, Daphne."

"Kiss me," she said, and William knew she had no idea the gamble those words had set in motion.

He captured her lips eagerly, making her gasp. His kisses were hungry, and when she wrapped her arms tightly around him, he pushed her back against the trunk of a tree, pressing closer. His lips moved quickly across her jaw and then down her neck to the spot he'd dangerously favored twice before, and she shivered. He thought it was a shiver of fear, a hint of anticipation, but whatever it was, it makes him lose control. His teeth sunk so easily into her flesh then. He heard her cry out, faintly. The coppery taste, the only satisfying flavor to his mouth, flooded across his tongue as he drew the blood from her body. She whimpered in his arms, and her hands moved to grasp feebly at his chest, perhaps to push him away, but she didn’t have the strength to match his, just as he’d warned her. He can imagine her panic, her confusion. He knew that after the close calls before, she didn't think he would really bite her.

But he had.

And as her head fell forward, her breathing shallow against his own neck, all he could think was that what they’d said about magical blood was true.