Not Dead Yet

1986 February

The black dragonhide boots of a young girl padded down Knockturn Alley with silent purpose until they found their target. The bedraggled hag glared at the cloaked figure and bared her yellowing teeth mockingly.

"Looking for a good time, sweetheart?" She croaked from her seated position against the wall.

"Looking for a job, my dear." Alana purred in reply whilst giving the women an appreciative once-over. Her appearance was cruel and withered with matted white hair and beady eyes but the effect was diminished by that aura of wicked confidence. Hags were certainly not to be trifled with in her opinion. Rumour said they had once been witches who had dabbled in the dark arts and cursed their bloodlines with their actions. As most murmurs were, the rumours were false. They were their own race with a propensity towards darker and more arcane crafts. Most of them made elixirs and talismans. Because of this, it was little surprise that they had been driven into Knockturn after being deprived of the necessary resources for their crafts.

Alana slipped two galleons between her fingers with a tricky sleight of hand and quirked her lips. Greed. That was an emotion she was familiar with. The hag reached to snatch the gold but the girl leaned out of her reach.

"Ah, ah, ah," she chastised gently. Her drawn hood revealed only mocking lips that would have seemed out of place on such a young face.

"You'll be wanting Roul in Harley's. Two paths down to your right, behind Trackleshanks Locksmith before Horizont Alley. Happy?" The woman sneered as her talons encircled her prize.

"Ecstatic," Alana replied. "You have my gratitude, madam."

"It's Esme Reed. I ain't no one's madam."

"As you wish."

She found the place soon enough and pressed the rickety door open with little preamble. The tavern was spacious with round tables scattered throughout. A staircase to what she could only assume to be rooms for rent was pressed into the left corner of the room with a large bar taking up the wall beside it. The smell of smoke hung heavily in the air, the results of a rugged looking male smoking a purple liquid in a corner. The focal point of the room was a large mantled fireplace and the muscular man lounging luxuriously beside it in a winged armchair. Quietly, Alana tread her way towards the bar and took a stool. It was a much more difficult task than she had expected with her size. She heard a snicker and gave the bartender a dark look. 'Let's see you try it at this height,' she mentally challenged the tightly bodiced woman. Said woman just quirked a silent eyebrow and wiped the bench with a strong, tattooed arm. 'Is that a flayed man?' Alana eyed the art with morbid curiosity.

"What'll it be, love?" The barmaid who appeared to be in her late thirties asked in dulcet tones.

"A pint of leper's lute if you've any," the girl replied.

Skulking Knockturn over the previous two months had acquainted her to a variety of liquor, magic and races, though she had only ever ventured in The White Wyvern and never this particular bar. She had thus far acquainted herself with a few half-veela, werewolves and a half-merrow (a relative of selkies). How that last copulation had worked was a mystery to her. Several books on magic had been purchased and consumed by her eager mind before she found herself short on funds. With the loss of two galleons to the hag, Esme Reed, she was officially bankrupt. This was the main reason she had ventured deeper into Knockturn Alley.

Gringotts Wizarding Bank was situated directly across Knockturn Alley's entrance from Diagon Alley. A quick dash across the shopping district had seen some years worth of busking money converted to galleons. It was a shame they hadn't lasted long. Diagon Alley was far riskier to spend time in than Knockturn as its residents were far more likely to question the presence of an apparently unsupervised child cloaked in black. Magical parents, in general, seemed lax in their duties from what she had noticed. However, they were extremely nosy. She speculated that this was because of the natural dangers and curiosity that having magic entailed. She had considered getting a wand and learning a notice-me-not charm. Regretfully, there were no alternative wand shops in the area and Ollivanders was under strict government control. Honestly, how did people think the trace on wizarding youths worked?

A bubbling white concoction was placed before Alana and she savoured the taste. Alcohol seemed to have little effect on her despite her physical age.

"I'm looking for Roul," she told the woman with an even tone. The barmaid considered her for a second before twisting her gaze over her shoulder. Alana had thankfully already felt the presence and c.o.c.ked her head at the man behind her inquisitively.

"Looking for me? Rather small to be wanting my services don't you think?" His voice was hushed as he leaned in with a curious smirk. The man was intimidating even to his own peers with tight muscles barely masked by a dragonhide jacket. Expensive yet practical. A few small scars ran across his chin where stubble grew and coal eyes gleamed calmly. Alana idly wondered where he kept his wand. His magic one that is. His other was proudly noticeable despite him wearing loose pants. Evidently, the man had no love for traditional wizarding clothes. Neither did she.

"I'm looking for a job, actually. I heard you could help." Whatever thoughts went through his head were not apparent on his face as he took a nearby seat.

"What sort of job are we talking here?"

"Anything." She would do anything to improve her abilities and expand her knowledge. It was her only advantage in the magical world. She wouldn't be bound by the circ.u.mstances she had been born into or shackled by her own hatred of the being that had determined them.

"Anything?" As the sage advice goes, Sic vis pacem para bellum - if you want peace, prepare for war.

1986 November

Creation: Capricorn IV

Species: Library System

Level: 32

Capable of mind defence, complex thought and processing 15,200 words per hour

Creation: Aquarius III

Species: Inventory System

Level: 24

Capable of storing 22 objects. Summoning cost decrease doubled.

Creation: Pisces II

Species: Healing System

Level: 8

Magic focus increased x2 Dexterity increased x2

Eight months passed and with it, Alana grew. She twisted deftly to avoid the Erkling's arrow. Several of the elf-like creatures surrounded her and each of them was emitting high pitched cackles meant to lull children into their arms. Such a shame she was no child.

"Into darkness taking flight, whispers on the wings of night,

follow us, our lovely tune, as above the smiling moon,

Diddle-dee-dee, diddle-dee-doe, not far now, not far to go,

Into twilight, into gloom, sing the sound of dawdling doom,

follow us, our lovely song, know that we can do no wrong,

Diddle-dee-dee, diddle-dee-doe..."

They sang the song while waving their green, branch-like limbs. Sickly yellow eyes glinted from gaunt faces. With the aid of Pisces, a knife was thrown into one of the three-foot menace's torsos. It was soon devoured by flames when the runes on the blade activated. Another flash of silver and a second burned leaving three more left. The masked girl growled softly and backtracked several steps before reaching into her side pack where Aquarius resided. A grin and two seconds were all it took for her to throw the creature in their direction. In the blink of an eye, the rest of the XXXX classified beasts were burnt to ash. Chlorine Trifluoride was one of the many chemicals she had fed Aquarius in vast quantities. It was extremely flammable and known to set fire to substances such as glass, sand, and people, on contact. Erklings were sadly vulnerable to flames. Alana gave their corpses a withering glare as she allowed Aquarius to swallow them. Their bodies would fetch a pretty price as potions ingredients after they were carved up and she knew just the guy to do it. She turned to finish her previous task.

'Break into the Ashworth summer estate and liberate a certain book from his shelves,' Greyson had said. 'It'll be easy,' he said. Pah! Were she not getting paid, she would whack the American thief's pretty face. That man must have a thick face to dump such a job on a ten-year-old. Bastard! The door was opened and she wove past the wards with sharp, precise movements. A few runes here and there were carved in the walls to break down small sections of the formation while Aquarius soaked up whatever silver it could find in the floors. The progress was slow going but the silver was what linked the wards so tightly together and brought magic to the rest of the house. It was a relatively weak method of warding so she didn't have too much trouble. The estate was inherited and the condition of its defences spoke of neglect more than wealth.

She made it to the study in half an hour. Twenty minutes and Lord Ashworth would no doubt be notified of the break-in. The lordship ring he wore would be connected to the wards of all owned properties as most were. The book was easy enough to find in a box within the drawer of the desk. Aquarius devoured the thing with a burp. The slime was developing some rather strange habits if she was honest. If he burped then the box was probably cursed. She'd have to have it checked for trackers by Greyson later. Alana made her escape just in time to feel the pulse of magic that pulled up the second layer of wards. The second layer almost always consisted of defensive mechanisms and attack arrays. A little too late but one could still appreciate the work of the wardmaster. A kilometre away, she pulled a portkey out from her left pocket.

"Back Sparrow." Two words and she was whisked away.

Alana stumbled at the wave of nausea all portkeys brought her when used. She scowled before she pulled herself upright. A series of m.o.a.ns caught her attention and she turned to see none other than Greyson Harper with his d.i.c.k half-way into a nameless woman.

"F.u.c.k!" He screamed. It was a high pitched sound that even a mother would have difficulty loving. She saw the woman under him flinch.

"No thank you," Alana replied warmly as she threw herself into the nearest seat to lean back and observe the unfolding scene. Greyson had already been shoved off by the woman who gave him a dirty look.

"Clearly you're busy," she voiced stiffly and grabbed her things off of the floor. Greyson chased her with hasty apologies but she was having none of it. He gripped her wrist tightly and her palm met his cheek with a resounding 'Slap!' Alana chuckled as the door was slammed in his face and Greyson continued to curse. He whirled on the girl who, despite reaching an uninspiring 1.3 metres in height, managed to look for all the world like she belonged in the criminal's room.

"I hope you're happy with yourself," He growled.

"Immensely," She laughed and procured the stolen box with a gloved hand.

"You got it?" Surprise coated his tongue and she rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't. Mind not slacking off next time I'm risking my hide?" Her tone was sweet but her words dripped with acid. He knew very well what she could do. Unfortunately, he also knew the threat was empty. He was valuable, as both an available wand and an excellent forger. He grabbed his own pair of gloves and wand and set to work. She didn't bother to stay as she'd seen him work a few times before and knew him to have his own tricks that he'd rather not share. It was routine for them to work together on stolen goods. He'd find the job and do any curse-breaking while she did the stealing with the reward split 50/50.

Alana caught the railing as she descended the stairs of Harley's tavern.

"The usual, Sparrow?" Willow, the barmaid, called and she answered an affirmative as she strolled over to Roul. The mercenary lounged in his usual seat though he perked up at her name. It was a diminutive nickname that he had come up with but it had stuck.

"Anything interesting?" He struck up a conversation as she took a seat on the longer couch across from him.

"About fourteen Erklings," She grinned amusedly as his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Quite the haul. I'm afraid to have missed the fun." A pause and then, "There's been a lack of jobs lately as you know so I'll need a few days if you wanted something."

Alana eyed the man with a frown hidden behind the mask covering her lower face. The lack of jobs was concerning and mostly due to the ministry's recent attempts to get a hold on the more uncontrollable areas of the magical shopping district. It was improbable to succeed but the effects could still be felt. Roul had felt it all too keenly as a mercenary with connections and the de facto leader of the underground these days. She knew for a fact that he was considering leaving Britain for France for better opportunities. He was already forty but the same prowess that had brought him to the top of the food chain during the last years of Voldemort's reign of terror had not lessened in the least. He'd have little trouble getting a foot in France. What would be difficult was finding a successor with enough experience to cover Britain. She emptied her glass ponderously before paying.

Walking down Knockturn Alley at night was, in reality, safer for Alana than doing so in London. No one dared to attack another in an area home only to those well versed in the magical arts. Whether she was worthy to be placed in such a group was irrelevant so long as she looked it. The White Wyvern was her first stop after Harley's as her fingers felt twitchy after her drink. A few jigs on her violin had taken care of that. The patrons were friendlier there and the scent of fresh lavender soothing to more than just the werewolves. Now though, the melancholy of not having a job had kicked in. She had barely taken more than a two-day break since she started working under Roul. The lack of goal had her heart in such turmoil that she barely noticed her return to Azrael's abode. The vampire in question was awake of course. His kind had little need for sleep other than recreationally what with them being 'living-dead'. They were creatures animated by the magic which coursed through their veins and bound their technically dead souls to their corpse. What were thought to be unnatural healing abilities were, in reality, their magic keeping their corpses from decomposing. It was with such thoughts that Alana found herself seated by her pseudo guardian after a rough feeding.

"Is it supposed to be so… colourful?" Azrael questioned the girl as she sunk further into her seat.

The object he was criticising was a large Christmas tree he had felt inclined to purchase that year. The mass of green was drowning in brightly coloured baubles, three different coloured ropes of tinsel, and flashing lights. The young witch glanced at the monstrosity, deeming it the demonic spawn of a rainbow unicorn. She would vehemently deny any involvement in its decoration. That had all been Azrael's work.

"I'm not sure," She answered truthfully. "I think it is fine." It had been a while since she'd seen a Christmas tree. The symbol of cheer had been considered a waste of money when she was younger and the idea had stuck years after. She was, however, vaguely aware that Azrael's decorating was a bit too enthusiastic. For reasons unknown to her, she couldn't bring herself to criticise the man's work. The vampire was leaning over to her now to note her choice of reading material. She inhaled the sharp scent of pine tree that blended with his usual smell of papyrus and earth and found that she did not mind the new addition.

Satisfied with the knowledge that she wasn't reading French smut, the vampire returned to his own biography. They stayed in companionable silence until well after the sun had set. Two wine glasses had been filled and emptied with easy conversations on topics they shared an interest in. Much of it was about history, muggle inventions and other magical creatures they had met.

-Minor s.e.x.u.a.l content-

Azrael had accepted her extra-curricular activities with little fuss but that did not mean he approved them. Alana pressed her arm against his as she sat beside him on the couch. There was easy contentment between them at times like this. Not yet tired despite the day's events, she abandoned her book momentarily and observed her partner. The two stayed that way for some time before she moved. There was neither hesitation nor confidence in her movements but a tentative curiosity as she brought her hand up to trace his cheek with her fingertips. Azrael allowed the action with little reason not to and she shuffled closer, sliding a leg over his own so she could brace her other hand on the back of the couch. Her fingers explored the underside of his chin before wandering over his neck. It wasn't until lips touched his neck that Azrael reacted.

A sharp intake of breath and a shudder before he froze. It was an entirely human response and unnecessary for the man. The shadow of his humanity still clung to him after so many centuries. Alana bit down sharply before soothing the love-bite with her tongue. He was cold but she enjoyed his taste no less. Another bite a few spaces lower and then above. A hand had wrapped itself around his waist to settle on his back. Her other hand stroked the back of his neck as she placed sweet kisses along his jaw. He was shaking with small tremors at this point and she moved to place her mouth where she had wanted to from the start.

"Enough," the voice was croaky with restraint but no less commanding. She paused almost immediately and pulled back a small distance from the man. Annoyance was written on the planes of her face but she restrained herself. She wanted him deeply. Preferably panting above or below her whilst she p.l.e.a.s.u.r.es him. The thought itself made her wet with delight. S.e.x.u.a.lly frustrated was not a word she would usually use to describe herself but there were few other words when the thought of him made her insides squirm pleasantly.

-End-

"You are still young, mon amour. I do not wish to rush you." His accent was thicker than usual and his eyes faintly pleading as he winced. She stared at him long and hard before giving a resigned sigh. She halted her ministrations and nestled herself in his arms with her head tucked under his chin affectionately. She was aware, of course, of her body's restrictions. She was indeed young for coupling and she supposed she should learn a contraceptive spell before she became s.e.x.u.a.lly active. Not that she would need it with a vampire. They couldn't procreate unless they were half-breeds. She could wait. She would wait as proof that she wanted him. Her affections were not as shallow as l.u.s.t, though the latter certainly existed. Azrael's arms soon found their place around her.

Edited 24.10.2019