Beauty Is Only Skin Deep [Silvery]

[Dante Fuilteach]

As soon as Dante left his sister's hospital room, he pulled a potion vial from his pocket. He could feel the itch in his skin that meant the potion was wearing off, and his scars would soon reappear. Despite the time that had passed, he was still severely scarred. There had been some improvement since the fire, but not enough to cure him.

He swallowed down the potion and waited a moment for the burning sensation to pass. As soon as it was gone, he felt confident enough to pursue Silvery. Like all narcissists, the loss of his beauty had shattered him. Even the illusion of it was enough to restore his confidence.

He ran through the hospital, and eventually caught up with her. There she was - all dark hair, green eyes and the sort of easy grace that would make a lesser vampire sick with envy. He prowled alongside her and said sweetly, "Would you be offended if I offered to escort you home, Silvery?"

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery was so wrapped up in her own thoughts about Ophelia and Dante, and trying to decide exactly how much of what she learned today she was going to report to the Death Eaters, that she had let her guard down and was actually startled when Dante spoke.

She recognized his voice immediately of course, and it had the same effect on her it always had - a shudder, filled with a mixture of feelings (including but never limited to: awe, adoration, desire and ultimately resignation) ran through her body like lightning. Dante had always been that beautiful creature you admire from afar for Silvery. The protagonist of many of her fantasies, but one she would never dream to expect to come true. And she was fine with that - with admiring from afar. She'd known Dante for many, many years now, and had come to the realization very early on that they were not each other's type, not in the very least. (First reason: She wasnt a boy! That one really bothered her. She felt his perfection was wasted on men.) Besides, she was no longer a child, she was a married woman now, and she had to keep her childish fancies at bay...like a proper adult should.

"Dante!  You startled me!"

She took a deep breath, making sure to keep as calm as possible. Only because she was very aware that he could hear her heartbeat, and she didn't want him getting the wrong idea, even if he managed to guess right. He was a narcissist after all.

"Offended? Of course not!  I'd be flattered, Dante.  And very grateful for the company.  Except that, well, I don't exactly live around here though. I live in Scotland. Bit of a walk, don't you think?"

She sniggered, slowing her pace.

[Dante Fuilteach]

He couldn't help but smirk. It was a wicked little thrill that all vampires shared, the rush of pleasure when one realised that one had successfully caught someone off guard. There was not a vampire in the world who did not enjoy the chase, and the joy of the hunt would lighten all but the heaviest of immortal hearts. It was all the more enjoyable when the subject of his pursuit was known to be both cautious and clever.

"Did I?" he asked idly, and fell into step beside her. "I must apologise. I forget how easily startled mortals are."

Heartbeats were as distinctive as fingerprints, and hers was strong. It stood out amongst the low hum of London pulses, throbbing with a most delicious acceleration whenever he was near her. That was more than enough to stroke his ego. Increased heart rate indicated either fear or lust, and the scent of fear stained the air, like blood in the water. Fear, struggle, and lust - all a heady combination for him.

"Well then, we have two choices! I could offer you a room in my flat for the night, to spare you such a long and arduous trek, or I could simply accompany you all the way to Scotland," he suggested. He let his gaze slowly flicker down her jawline to the pale blue hint of her jugular vein. Such creamy pale skin... It was a shame to keep it hidden. He blinked, and met her eyes again, smiling as calmly as though he had not just been admiring her. "I have such fond memories of Scotland."

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery gave a little sigh. 

"Right, only a mortal. That's what I am. No need to rub it in, you know."

She glared at him for a second or two, pretending to be offended, but she couldn't keep a straight face for long. Her smile broke through almost immediately.  

"Meh, no worries. My mind was caught up in an inner debate of sorts when you walked up, that's all. I was also thinking about your sister."

She would have elaborated on her statement a bit if she hadn't noticed the way he was looking at her. She felt her heart start to race and worried that he would catch on. Why on earth could he impact her this way? Thank Salazar she could shield her thoughts, or else she'd be in real trouble.  

"Hmm...those are real hard choices you've given me. Although you could hardly call a floo trip to Scotland an arduous trek, could you?"

Silvery smirked, going over her options. 

"Why do you tempt me so Monsieur Fuilteach? Your offer is very kind but I've actually thought of a third option. You could walk with me as far as my shop in Diagon Alley. I have a flat there myself. I was considering staying there tonight anyway. Would that be okay?"

She was proud of how she handled that. Perhaps she'd actually done some growing up after all. She worried nevertheless, because the night was still young.

[Dante Fuilteach]

"Ah, but you have no idea how fortunate you are to be mortal! You have the comfort of a heartbeat, the telling sign of a blush to your cheeks, and all the natural beauty that only mortals can possess," he said, giving an envious sigh. "Enjoy your mortality, dearest Silvery. Savour the warmth in your skin, and the breath in your lungs. I sometimes wish I still shared it."

He blinked, looking vaguely offended. "Thinking about my sister..." he repeated. He recovered himself, and thought to ask rather than assume. "What were you thinking about my poor Ophelia?" Out of sight, and out of mind. Dante was often so self obsessed that he forgot about others. This reminder of his sister made him rather uncomfortable, as it highlighted his own failings. He had promised to take better care of his younger sibling, and that was precisely what he would do ... as soon as he took care of something far more enjoyable first.

"Of course the Floo is a difficult journey! One gets ash on one's clothes, and I hardly care the mention the state it leaves one's hair in. Besides, it can so often cause dizziness and nausea. I would be no gentleman if I forced you to undertake such a journey without offering you a more agreeable option," Dante protested. His eyes wandered back to her throat, and he had to force himself to look away. He was supposed to be a gentleman, after all.

"I tempt because it is in my nature, my dear," Dante said with a smirk. "It is the scorpion's nature to sting, and it is mine to tempt and to romance and to please. So we mustn't scream if we fall victim to the scorpion's sting. We know the nature of the beast, and cannot punish it for doing what comes naturally." He offered her his arm. "If that is your decision, I shall of course escort you to your shop, unscathed, and untempted."

[Silvery Bletchley]

"You envy my mortality and I envy your eternal youth. Yet, neither comes without its own negatives. It's a tad depressing when you think about it, isn't it? But we'll never be truly satisfied with what we have or what we are. Just...look at you."

She ran the backs of her fingers softly over his cold pale cheek, admiring every inch of his perfect face.

"Not a wrinkle, or imperfections, only beauty and youth and..."

She interrupted herself with a deep breath and a blushing smile.

"So sorry, got a little carried away there for a second."

Quit it Silvery! She reprimanded herself. Where has your cool and collected nature gone? Seriously!

After another deep breath, and a laugh at his comical description of floo-traveling, she was calmer and ready to accept the offer of his arm and a nice walk to Diagon Alley. (Even though a small - but very loud - part of her would have made a completely different decision.)

"Oh! About your sister, and what had me so distracted earlier."

She figured taking the subject back to his sister would help her stop considering things she really shouldn't be considering.

"I couldn't stop thinking about the change your presence had in her. She was so depressed before you came in. She was explaining to me how she had nothing left, I was really worried. But when you showed up and she realized you were still alive and really there she...changed. I'm sure you saw it too. It was amazing to witness. You made such a huge difference. I really think you can help her better than any healers or potions ever could. I honestly do."

She gave his arm a squeeze. He could do with a bit of that warmth he mentioned before.

[Dante Fuilteach]

Dante beamed, pleased as a cat being cosseted and adored. The only thing better than admiring his own reflection was having another praise his beauty face to face.

"Ah yes, I am a vision, am I not? Perfection given flesh, inhuman beauty coupled with insatiable hunger." He paused, and added in a low murmur, "But never will I enjoy my own heartbeat, or an all too telling blush to my own cheeks, nor will I ever savour the rays of the sun." A more haunted look flickered in his eyes, and he said with an edge of winter to his voice, "Never again will I enjoy the warmth of a fire on a winter's night, no matter how deep the cold bites."

A moment later, he was smiling, and took her arm in his. It wasn't a long walk to Diagon Alley, but the Muggles they passed frequently turned their heads to watch the pair. Perhaps it was the fact that Dante was so deathly pale, or the dark hunger in his eyes. Maybe it was simply because the two of them made such a damn attractive pair.

"Ophelia's problem was always her chameleon nature," Dante drawled. "She was never completely herself with anyone. That's not to say she was ever false with her friends, oh no! She merely showed every charming facet of her personality to those she admired, and even to those she loathed. I think the only people she was ever utterly herself with were my father and I. Even her husband... yes, I believe she let him see her true self. A softer side of herself, perhaps. She often said she couldn't bear to let him see her wickedness."

He smiled, and gave Silvery a sidelong glance. "You wouldn't think it of that sweet face, would you? All vampires have their cruel side, and she tried to repress it for so long that when it emerged, it took on its own life. She forgets to hide that part of herself around me. That's why she perked up."

Worried he was giving away too much personal information on his sister's private life, Dante cleared his throat and added, "Of course, it could just be this flawless face of mine cheering her up. Can't exactly blame her, can I? I am gorgeous, after all."

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery clung to every word of Dante's explanation, not only because his voice was like music to her ears, but because he was opening a completely different way of looking at Ophelia's situation. It all made perfect sense when one looked at it the way he explained it. She denied the wicked part of herself so fiercely and for so long that it was only a matter of time before it would all fall apart.

"I'm not so jaded to think that you guys don't have a cruel side. There are some of us who actually find it attractive, you know."

She sniggered, then continued with a more serious tone.

"If what you said is true, then there really isn't anything wrong with her mind at all, is there? This is not mental illness, this is just Ophelia fighting her inner demons."

The healer part of her had kept her mind going around in circles trying to come up with a way to help Ophelia, but now she felt like the answer was probably there all along; so obvious she had overlooked it.

"She doesn't need healers, she needs you...and her father...and friends! People, places and things that are familiar to her."

At this point she held him closer, tighter even. Mostly out of excitement and new hope for Ophelia, but also because she was so hopelessly attracted to him she could hardly stand it.

"And what she needs most of all is someone who can teach her how to find that inner balance. Someone just...like...you."

She pressed her finger to his arm with her last three words; emphasizing her statement. And making sure he realized just how important his role really was.

"Oh and yes...there's no denying how gorgeous you are. Good try trying to convince me that's what perked her up, though. Don't worry, Dante. I appreciate you opening up to me about her. Your secrets are safe with me."

[Dante Fuilteach]

"Oh, we are incredibly wicked. Never forget it, my sweet. Our fangs are sharpened on trust, our claws sharpened on innocence. We look beautiful, yes, but remember that we are far from human," Dante warned. He enjoyed playing the gorgeous fiend. It was rather a speciality of his, and the ladies did so tend to love the arrogance that accompanied his beauty.

"Ahh..." he hesitated before continuing. "She has what we call Țepeș Syndrome, named for the one we call Vlad Dracul, or your kind named Vlad the Impaler. In his native tongue, Vlad Țepeș." His tongue easily tripped over the foreign language, mimicry being the talent of most vampires. "He was human once, until he was made one of our kind. He became legend, even among us, for his cruelty. He impaled his enemies alive and drank their blood as it spilled. He was Prince of Wallachia, loved by his people, but the Dark Gift affects minds differently."

He continued walking, her arm curled casually around his, and spoke again. "It's seen more often in half vampires. The mortal blood and vampire blood duels for supremacy, and even if the vampire side wins the physical war, the mental side tries stubbornly to remain human. The vampire mentality usually presents as a distinct personality, often rather hostile." He cringed a little, and added, "I don't know if you have seen the side of her she calls 'Sickness', but it's terrifying. Even to someone as old and wicked as my father. If she wants to heal, she has to embrace that side of herself, so yes, it is a mental imbalance, but as a result of a physical one."

He smiled benignly, approving of how tightly she gripped his arm, the telling touches. Her admiration was growing more obvious by the moment, and it had been such a very long time since he had someone warm his bed... Only the thought of how vile his face and body would become once his potion wore off stopped him from kissing her.

"Then I am in your debt, my sweet Silvery," he said. "Vampires pay their debts well. What would you ask of someone like me? A drop of my blood, riches... although you hardly need them."

He paused again and said very softly, "Did you notice her arm? The Dark Trick almost cured it all, but a stubborn scar remains, visible only in the right light. What will you tell your Master? Is she in danger yet again?"

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery frowned. She was thrilled to learn all this but what he explained only meant that the way to help Ophelia wasn't going to be as easy as she had hoped only minutes ago. Although...if finding a balance was still key, then Dante's part was still imperative for her recovery. He had that balance, he thrived on it. 

"I don't know, it may just be wishful thinking on my part but if extreme measures didn't work against Sickness - that is what you called it, right? - then going with a more basic and obvious approach might do the trick, no? She adores you. You represent the normalcy that she longs to have again. I still think you can help her."

They had now reached The Leaky Cauldron where they would find the entrance into Diagon Alley. It wasn't very crowded this night, which was nice for a change.  After they crossed the threshold she stopped and considered his offer. She could not tell him what she really wanted, it would be very...unladylike. But she did wonder about the drop of blood.

"A drop of your blood? What would..." 

She was distracted by his next question. Because she had been asking herself the same thing. 

"I don't know, Dante. If she is in danger it will not be because of me. I will make sure that my report gives them no reason to even give her another thought. Now, whether they will believe me or not is another story. They know Ophelia and I are friends. A fact that has made me wonder on more than one occasion why they chose me for the task. Perhaps they are testing me. It's quite probable actually, but I wouldn't be lying. I honestly believe that Ophelia is no threat to them as she is. Of course, I have not met Sickness yet. But I wont bring that up unless I have to. "

She was a lot more worried than she let on, but mostly for herself. Ophelia was safe, at least for now. Silvery, not so much. If they thought she was lying to them, there was no telling what they would do to her.

[Dante Fuilteach]

Dante glanced at the cobblestone street beneath his shoes, the ground still wet from earlier rain. The smell of the city was damp, wet stone, exhausts from cars making the air slightly rancid and sooty, and now the smell of booze and pub grub emanating from the Leaky Cauldron. Their walk had been far too brief.

"Sickness is Ophelia's darker side. If she embraces her, she will become the ultimate vampire, although not one you would care to have around polite company. I will help her as much as I can. I managed to avoid Țepeș Syndrome, because I was too in love with my own face to worry about my humanity. Losing my looks made me realise that recovery is a long road, and quick solutions are never permanent, sadly."

He pressed a long finger to his lips in a hushing gesture. "Vampire blood has healing properties. If you carry it on your person, and you are attacked by another vampire, all you have to do is crush the vial, and they will know you are under the protection of one of their kind. They will leave you be. There are many advantages to our blood, but shhh..." He winked at her, and added, "Probably best you keep that to yourself. We don't publicise our powers, mostly because we don't wish to become ingredients in potion shops."

Dante listened to her speak, his black heart sinking in his chest. He knew Silvery was rational as far as mortals went, but her master, the Dark Lord, would hardly be considered sane by anyone's standards. Knowing how distraught his father was by Dante's apparent death, and his worry over her current state of health, the young vampire was afraid of what his father would become should anything happen to Ophelia. If the Dark Lord really wanted to, he could have the poor girl destroyed even in the safety of Saint Mungo's, and if he doubted Silvery's word, he could do the same to her.

He looked at Silvery, and sighed. "Even in her most crazed moments, it was her own actions that haunted her, not those she did in the name of her master. If it comes down to a question of loyalty, and he wants another vampire in his service, you may offer me as substitute. Ophelia may be at war with her own nature, but I am perfectly at peace with my inhumanity. If it will keep her safe, and you..." He stopped, and wondered for a moment what had happened to him, and how he had managed to do something selfless for the first time in three decades.

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery wasn't surprised to hear how Dante had managed to avoid the syndrome, but his explanation did remind her that he actually wasn't as beautiful as he seemed right now. That it was all an illusion created by a very powerful potion and that it could fade right before her eyes if he didn't keep replenishing it. She still found it hard to believe that flawless Dante could be anything but that. She would have to see it for herself to believe it, but she was sure he would never allow it. Never.

She smiled mischievously as she considered the possibility of being protected by a vial of his blood and decided she would have to accept. She'd be a fool not to.

"I'll take it."

She continued in a hushed voice even though she was sure no one was listening.

"Would it protect me from Sickness if she was to rear her ugly head while I visit with Ophelia?"

She was only half serious when she asked this, and thought that perhaps she'd lighten the mood a bit further except that he made it all the more intense when he offered himself to the Dark Lord. Silvery didn't know what to say to this. In fact, she thought that maybe she had misunderstood him somehow. She knew that Dante loved his sister, but she would have never, not in a million years, thought him able to give anything of himself up for anyone. Not even Ophelia...and much less herself.

"You...you can't mean that, Dante. Besides, it will not come to that. At least, I don't believe it will. Our master may have the power to hurt us but we have talents he can't afford to lose right now. He has less than a handful of healers left in his service, and only two of us are powerful occlumens. And it's probably the same for vampires. If I can convince his inner circle that Ophelia is of no threat and that all she needs is a little more time to heal, we should both be okay. And don't forget that Malfoy is in that inner circle as well. He holds both of you in high regards so his vote will most probably be for and not against, if it does come to that."

She smiled sweetly up at him, still in awe of him of course, but perhaps even more so now that the one who calls himself a fiend showed a little bit of a warm heart in there somewhere. She gave his arm a squeeze then kissed his cheek.

"I'm sure I speak for Ophelia as well when I say....thank you."

[Dante Fuilteach]

Dante grinned, and held open the pub door for her. "Best to do this in the safety of Diagon Alley, or maybe even in the S.T.V. if we want to keep this secret. Muggle London is far too full of prying ears and eyes for my liking," he said, and waited for her to step through before leading the way through the crowded, somewhat smoky bar.

When they reached the exit, he finally answered her question about Sickness. "It might be enough to stop her in her tracks. It might even make Ophelia recognise the scent, and fight back against her. Either way, it will give you time to run, and that's the most important thing."

They stepped out into the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, the brick wall that guarded access to Diagon Alley behind them. The alley was dimly lit by the light from a soot choked lantern, but Dante could see perfectly in darkness.

"Maybe I'm maturing?" Dante said, trying to smile. "I've come to terms with the fact that Ophelia is far and away my father's favourite child. I just want to make sure he doesn't become the terror I know he would be without her in his life. If my father lost us both, well... Let's say your master would not be the only threat to the world." He shivered slightly, remembering the massacre of that sleepy village where the vampire hunters had found him. Sanguini Fuilteach had wreaked a terrible revenge on the town, killing young and old alike, and leaving only one or two alive to warn others not to hunt vampires, for fear of a reprisal performance.

Her kiss on his cheek was a flutter of heat that he welcomed. He closed his eyes, and forced himself to be a gentleman, and not do anything untoward.

"You are welcome, Silvery. Of course, I hope it does not come down to such a decision, but if it does, Ophelia needs to heal, and I'm wicked enough to take her place."

[Silvery Bletchley]

Although a part of Silvery was curious about Sickness and wondered how Ophelia's other personality actually manifested herself, she was too smart to aspire to meet her. But... having his blood as protection would certainly make visiting Ophelia a more pleasant and less stressful experience. Dante's gift was actually quite excellent. Like he said, Silvery would have time to stun Ophelia, or at the very least run, if Sickness showed up.

"Brilliant! I will feel so much more at ease the next time I go see her. If I had known about this I would have asked you for your blood ages ago. There are a few vampires in the DE that I feel I should be protected against sometimes."

She laughed softly. She was really enjoying herself and dreading the end of their walk, but they couldn't just stand there in the middle of the dark street. No, they needed to keep moving. Besides, they were going to need a vial to put his precious blood in. Her shop was full of them.

"You're going to need a vial, no? I don't have one on me, but there's plenty where we're going."

They started walking again, but this time she made sure the pace was much slower. No need to rush the sad and inevitable, she figured.

"You've matured, you say?"

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow and smirked.

"Alright. We can go with that. Although if I was to recall all I know of you I would find it very hard to pair the word "mature" with your name."

This was true, of course. At least given the extent of what she actually knew of Dante and Ophelia (which wasn't a whole lot if she was to be honest with herself). But hearing the story about his father and sister and his resolution to step in for Ophelia was in Silvery's eyes quite mature after all. And she was now thirsting to learn more.

"Can I ask you something personal? I'd like to know what happened to you. I mean, how you got...burned. Who hurt you? And how?"

[Dante Fuilteach]

Dante grinned, pleased that his blood was so welcome a gift. "I like to think that Ophelia will remember enough of herself not to hurt you, Silvery," he mused. "She has so few friends. You and Lucretia, and there was that charming Elvira, but if rumour is to be believed, she passed away. I shall have to look into that, see if there is any truth to it. But of course, I am proof that rumours of death can be greatly exaggerated!"

He nodded. "Yes, a vial, and preferably a wax seal to prevent it evaporating. It will do no good to break a vial of dried blood, after all. Would you prefer your shop, or the S.T.V. for the job?" He passed a familiar figure in the street, good old Sam Burke, and nodded to him by way of greeting. Sam was obviously too busy to stop for a chat tonight.

He laughed as he walked with her. "I know. It is rather hard to believe, is it not? We vampires are known for being stubbornly resistant to change, but we are somewhat immortal. We have to adapt, sooner or later, or we will become fossils, remnants of times gone by. Perhaps even a brat prince such as myself can mature?" he asked, and gave her a broad smile.

He took a deep breath, the memory of the fire hitting him hard. It was no great secret, and he shouldn't have found it quite so difficult to retell the tale again, but it did bring back such exquisitely painful memories. He sometimes awoke from sleep, screaming in terror from some flashback of the event, terror and heat and pain all as vivid as the real thing. Once he calmed down enough to realise he was safely at home, in his coffin, he breathed a sigh of relief. His father knew better than to approach him when this happened.

"I was careless," Dante said quietly. "I was in Transylvania, tending to my late Aunt Wilhelmina's castle. Belief in vampires is not just folklore in that part of Romania, oh no! It is part of their culture. They are smart enough to realise a wooden stake to the heart will not kill a vampire." His fists clenched as he spoke his next words. "They have learned that fire will kill us."

He kept his eyes fixed on the pavement just ahead of hem, his golden eyes burning red from anger, and though he would never admit it, fear. "A friend, Jadrin, had met with me near the castle. He gave me some letters from Sebastian, and I was so overcome that I wept. The locals noticed that I didn't weap salt tears like them, but blood, and by the time I made my way back to the castle, I was accosted by vampire hunters before I could reach the drawbridge."

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails drew blood from his palms as he continued with his story. "They accused me of being a vampire. I offered them money to leave me alone, and one of them threw an oil lantern at me. My clothes caught fire, and soon I was engulfed. The pain was... unmerciful. I had thought accidental sunlight burns were the worst I would ever suffer, but this... This was a level of hell all its own. All I can remember is the pain, and rolling on the ground trying to extinguish the flames. I must have rolled into the moat, because when I came to, I was in the water. When I emerged... I was hideously disfigured. People recoiled in horror whenever I approached. When I finally saw my reflection, I wished the fire had killed me outright."

A bloody tear streaked down his cheek, but he didn't notice. He was standing still in the middle of the street, staring at the cobbles but obviously lost in the memory. "Sometimes I still wish it had."