The Circus of the Damned was a very strange place in Harry's opinion. He was beginning to think he could pick out non-humans from the crowd by the slightly strange sensations they caused in him, but he wasn't a hundred percent sure yet. Anita seemed to be a very useful person to know, since the moment the staff at the establishment saw her she was treated like royalty. They were being led down a less travelled, but nonetheless, still half full corridor when he heard an irate hiss.

{Stupid big creatures,} he looked around to see if he could identify the snake he could hear speaking, {if you step on me I shall bite.}

With eyes that were increasingly good in the dark, Harry spotted a small shape over near the wall behind an elaborate looking dustbin. No one would ever accuse Harry of wilfully leaving anything in distress, and the snake was obviously not happy, so he tapped Anita on the shoulder.

"Just a minute," he requested and turned towards the other side of the corridor before Anita could object.

{Hello,} he said quietly, hoping that no one with normal hearing would pick up on it, {may I be of assistance.}

A green snake head popped out from behind the bin and black eyes regarded him as a red tongue flicked out.

{You do not taste normal,} was the snake's distinct opinion.

{I am not normal, my name is Harry} Harry replied in the tongue that came so easily to him even though he could barely tell he was speaking it. {I will not hurt you. May I take you to a place of safety?}

The snake swayed slightly, tasting again.

{My Mistress lives here,} the snake said and slithered towards him a little, {but one of the fanged ones took me to the wrong dressing room. I wish to return to her.}

{Then if you allow me, I shall find someone who can help us,} Harry replied and held out his hand. {What name shall I ask for?}

{Mistress,} the snake said and slowly slithered up Harry's wrist so he could pick it up.

Snakes could be very simplistic in their outlook on life and Harry knew the name would be no use, but at least he could try and help. Holding the snake gently he stood up and turned to find Anita and the vampire leading her both staring at him. Draco was supporting a knowing smirk and Harry tried not to blush.

"Do you have a snake charmer here?" he asked the confused looking vampire. "He's lost."

He exhibited the snake, stroking the little green creature's head to keep it calm. He had no idea what type of snake it was, but it looked quite cute.

"We have more than one," the vampire replied, seemingly not really very impressed with the question.

"Harry," Anita asked as if she was not quite sure of the whole situation, "did you just talk to that snake?"

He nodded; he had decided last year that he would not be ashamed of being a Parseltongue, and he saw no reason to deny it now.

"It's a talent Voldemort gave me when he failed to kill me the first time," he explained, walking back to the group with the snake. "Unfortunately snakes don't think like us and his idea of a name is Mistress. Seems someone took him to the wrong dressing room."

The snake slithered up his arm and decided to drape around his neck. Anita did not appear to find that particularly appealing and shook her head.

"I'm sure Jean-Claude will know who it belongs to," she said with more than a little distaste in her tone.

So they set off again with the extra member of the group. Harry was impressed when they were led into a large, dimly lit room with a very gothic style.

"Reminds me of the Slytherin common room," he whispered to Draco.

"Too much red," was the dry response.

"Ma petite, Harry, Monsieur Malfoy," Jean-Claude appeared from what seemed like nowhere, "welcome to the Circus of the Damned. Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable."

The power of the Master of the city reached out to him the moment Harry looked at their host and it enveloped him like a blanket. Every cell in Harry's body was made aware that this was Jean-Claude's space, the vampire owned everything within it in a way that had little to do with having bought the furniture. Jean-Claude was resplendent in black leather and a white shirt and Harry felt his mouth go rather dry even as the vampire smiled politely.

Anita seemed completely at ease and walked up to Jean-Claude, accepting a kiss on her hand in greeting. The woman belonged here and Harry was handed another piece of the puzzle that was Anita Blake, with no idea how to fit it with the others he had. He needed something he could actually figure out, so he caught Anita's attention by lifting the snake slightly.

It was almost as if she had forgotten about the snake problem entirely in the space of a few moments as she appeared to blink and recall that there was a situation to deal with.

"Harry made a new friend on the way in," Anita said, and beckoned him over. "One of your residents has lost a snake, any idea who it could belong to?"

The moment Jean-Claude set eyes on the creature around Harry's neck, Harry knew that the vampire recognised it. There was a rather resigned look in Jean-Claude's eye, as if he knew something unpleasant would result in this.

"Panis," Jean-Claude said and shook his head, "my apologies, but I'm afraid I must deal with this personally."

That made Anita frown and Harry could not help wondering what was so important about the little snake around his neck.

"Panis belongs to Melanie, ma petite," was the explanation which was forthcoming, and Harry could tell Anita was immediately on edge, but he was no clearer about the situation.

Something about this Melanie bothered Anita, and she was obviously important enough to warrant the attention of the Master of the city. Both of these facts made Harry wonder if he should have just left the snake where it was and sent someone else to deal with it.

"He was taken to the wrong room," Harry offered, hoping to be helpful.

Jean-Claude looked as if he was about to ask how Harry knew that, but Anita didn't give the vampire the chance.

"Can't you just send someone with the snake?" she asked and the way she took her hand back from where Jean-Claude was still holding it, Harry did not think she was happy at all.

"Regrettably, ma petite," Jean-Claude said and Harry had the feeling the vampire was very used to dealing with Anita's moods, "this has occurred before. When the snake was returned, Melanie attempted to eat the messenger in her anger, had I not been close enough to intervene Mathew would have been dead. Hence I prefer to handle her myself."

A door opened and a new vampire appeared. This one had black hair and piercing blue eyes and he was wearing a similar ensemble to Jean-Claude, except that he had a frock coat over the top.

"Ah, Requiem," Jean-Claude greeted politely, "if you would be so good as to request Melanie delight us with her company, I believe we have something she has lost."

There was no emotional reaction at all from the vampire as far as Harry could tell, and he vanished the way he had come without a word. All very strange in Harry's opinion. Glancing at Draco, Harry knew his friend was analysing everything just as he was trying to do and he suspected the Slytherin would be making far more sense of it than he was. Once again he was very glad of the silent support.

"Please, have a seat," Jean-Claude brought his attention back by being polite, but Harry really didn't feel like sitting.

"Thanks," he said as Anita moved to sit, "but do you mind if I stand?"

"He'll probably vibrate through the chair if you make him," Draco commented as he took up the offer and chose a comfortable looking antique chair as if he owned the place.

Jean-Claude offered Harry a sympathetic smile, at least that's what Harry hoped it was.

"Of course," the vampire replied. "Perhaps some light refreshment while we await Melanie's pleasure?"

Harry was pretty sure he didn't want anything passing his lips until the whole feeding on blood issue had been sorted out, but he went along when the other two agreed. He ended up with a glass of wine, and no one seemed to care that he was underage so he took a good swig. At least it gave him something else to do other than watch Draco practice the art of small talk and remember quite how inadequate his education in the subject had been.

Thankfully it was not too long before there was a knock on the door and Requiem walked in, followed by a rather stunning woman. Long black hair fell down her back in rivulets from the most ornate headdress Harry had ever seen in real life. The dress she was wearing was snug to say the least. It covered her from neck to ankle, but the fact that it was almost transparent meant that Harry had an eyeful.

"Melanie," Jean-Claude said in what Harry was beginning to suspect was his normal charming manner, "thank you for coming."

It was quite obvious that Anita was on full alert the moment she saw the woman, and there was something about Melanie that set off Harry's alarms, but he did not know what it was. At first glance she should have been harmless; deadly beautiful, but not deadly anything else, but if Harry had not been routed to the spot by the sight of her he would have been backing away.

"I hope this is important, Jean-Claude, one of your oafs misplaced my..." the woman stopped mid sentence as she spotted the snake around Harry neck. {My baby,} those were not exactly the words he had expected from the woman's mouth, and especially not in Parseltongue, {are you well? Did that infant hurt you?}

The snake raised himself up the moment Melanie started to come towards them, and Harry helped it from around his neck so he could gently present it to the woman as she swooped down on them. Pretending he was just an errand boy and giving the snake back seemed to be a good idea at the time.

{I am quite well, Mistress,} the snake replied. {I was saved from harm by the one who carries me.}

The woman finally paid him some notice, and Harry gave her a wary smile. He almost felt like prey.

{He is a very beautiful snake,} he decided to attempt to be nice, since she seemed very protective of the snake and was now taking an interest in him.

Melanie looked shocked and then suspicious.

{You speak,} she said bluntly, {and yet you are not of my kind. Explain this young one, I do not like surprises.}

"Melanie, back off," Anita sounded defensive and annoyed, and she had climbed to her feet. "Jean-Claude, tell her to get the hell away from Harry, or we'll see how long it takes her to heal from my bullets this time."

Harry concluded that Anita and Melanie had met before and they were not friends.

{My kind say it is a talent passed down from Salazar Slytherin,} he thought it might be a good idea to diffuse the situation rather than be the cause of a blood bath.

{Salazar, you are a child of Salazar?} Melanie sounded almost wistful.

That was a difficult question because Harry was almost sure she would be able to spot a lie.

{Not exactly,} he told her honestly. {I was passed the talent by one who claimed to be.}

{Salazar was a beautiful man, a lover of snakes,} the woman told him and gave him proof that she was not a woman at all. {Do they honour his name?}

{He is one of the honoured founders of my school,} Harry replied. {He chose the snake as the symbol of his house.}

That seemed to please her and she smiled.

"Thank you for Panis' return," she said, switching back to English. "It is a long time since I have spoken to anyone in my own tongue, apart from my little ones. If you wish to speak again, my door will be open."

The way she looked at him made him shiver, but he could not help and be a little curious. This woman, whatever she really was, had obviously known Salazar Slytherin, and Harry had a feeling she knew the origin of Parseltongue in the Wizarding world.

"Thank you, Jean-Claude," she said, dismissing Harry with nothing more than a glance and then sweeping out of the room.

Harry turned back to the others and found he was once again the centre of attention.

"Harry," Jean-Claude asked politely, "how is it you speak the language of the lamia?"

"I inherited it," he said and decided that now he wanted to sit down.

He felt as if he had just looked down the wrong end of a wand and he needed to process the experience.

"She's not human, right?" he asked as he sat in the chair next to Draco.

"Yep," Anita told him, and was still looking annoyed with the whole situation, "part snake, looks human, and all immortal back stabbing bitch."

Jean-Claude gave Anita a look that Harry thought said 'was that really necessary', and Anita's answering look clearly said 'yes'. There was definitely no love lost between Anita and Melanie, that much was clear.

"Parseltongue, is a talent passed down through the Slytherin family of wizards," Draco it seemed had decided to help Harry out and explain. "It was passed to Harry when Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby."

"She said she knew Salazar," Harry added his own information. "It sounded as if they were friends."

"Perhaps is was she who gave him the gift," Jean-Claude said thoughtfully. "I have never heard another use that tongue."

Harry just shrugged and took another swig of his wine; just at the moment he really didn't care.

"Perhaps we should get to what we came here for," Anita suggested even as Harry did his best not to think about it. "How are we doing this, Jean-Claude?"

"With Harry's agreement I would like to keep a close watch on his first feeding," Jean-Claude replied, looking at Harry for his response.

"I think we'd all feel safer that way," he replied without trying to hide the fact that he was as nervous as hell.

The vampire gave him a smile for that response and Harry felt as if he'd been awarded a couple of points for trying. He just wanted this over and done with. The vampire in him scared him and he did not understand it at all. At least with the lycanthropy he had the Animagus transformation to call on as some sort of experience, but this was completely out of his known range.

"Then I would suggest more comfortable surroundings," Jean-Claude said and indicated the door. "When one is partaking of a new experience I have found that it is far better to be relaxed. You may feel light headed and overcome with a first feeding and a bed is more conducive to the situation."

Now he was being invited into a vampire's bedroom; Harry thought about fleeing for a fraction of a second.

"Would you prefer if Anita and Monsieur Malfoy wait here, or accompany us, Harry?" he snapped back from thoughts of running away when Jean-Claude spoke to him again.

Looking at Draco and then at Anita, Harry wasn't sure what to say. He wanted the support, but he was also embarrassed and he did not know if they would rather stay out of it. Draco regarded him with calm grey eyes and Harry could feel his support.

"What do you..." he began to ask.

"Wherever you need me," Draco said before Harry could finish.

"Likewise," Anita said firmly.

"With then," Harry decided before his embarrassment could take over.

Jean-Claude gave him another smile.

"This way then, mes ami," the vampire said, and directed them to the door.

With a lump in his throat the size of a fist, Harry climbed to his feet and reluctantly headed in the direction indicated. To say he was scared was understating the facts, but he had been scared before and that had never stopped him.

* * *

"Harry," Jean-Claude said with a smile as he brought forward a grinning blond man, "may I present Jason, my wolf and my pomme de sang. Jason, this is Harry."

Harry did not think the possessive language was just for show, and Jason did not seem to mind the titles in the slightest. By wolf he assumed Jean-Claude was implying that the all-American looking man was a werewolf, and he remembered Anita mentioning something about pomme de sang being a vampire's food source.

Anita appeared a little surprised which seemed to please Jean-Claude. There were connections here Harry did not quite understand, but they were floating around the room like so much flotsam.

"Normally a new vampire would be taken to one of our private establishments and mentored," Jean-Claude explained in a very patient tone. "There are those who enjoy our attentions. However, I feel that your situation is unique, and as such deserves my individual attention. When this was explained to those who needed to know, Jason volunteered to assist."

"Always up for the weird and wonderful," Jason joked, but the lightness of the young man's tone did not help settle Harry's heart.

He was so out of his depth that it was silly, and he was beginning to wish he could go and hide somewhere and pretend this wasn't happening.

"Hello," Harry thought it was only polite to greet his prospective dinner.

Standing in a vampire's bedroom with the aforementioned vampire, his pet werewolf, the leader of the local wereleopard clan and Draco was probably the most surreal moment of Harry's life, and that was quite a feat. He did not feel the bloodlust Jean-Claude assured him was there, and he would much rather have gone to Draco's house and forgotten about the whole thing. However, the memory of the previous night when he had flattened Micah with something that was neither leopard, human or vampire, but rather all three mixed, was still clear in his mind.

"Do not be afraid, mon enfant," Jean-Claude said kindly, "we will not allow you to be alone in this."

The French caught him rather off guard and he vaguely remembered from one of Hermione's time-to-improve-Harry sessions that 'enfant' was French for child. What the term of endearment meant in the scheme of things Harry was not sure, but when the Master vampire held out his hand, Harry walked towards Jean-Claude without trying to justify why in his head. He needed to do this, he was sure of that, he just hadn't figured out why yet.

"Can you feel the vampire within you?" Jean-Claude asked with a calm, yet serious tone.

That had been something Harry had been trying to figure out ever since the previous evening. He could feel something, but there were so many new sensations going through his body that it was difficult to know what was vampire, what was lycanthrope and what was his over active imagination.

"I think so," he replied, deciding that blatant honesty was the best course in this situation, "but I'm not really sure of anything right about now."

Jean-Claude smiled at that.

"Understandable, mon enfant, understandable," was the Master's response. "You will need to call the vampire to the forefront as you did yesterday afternoon, then I will guide you through feeding. If you will allow me, I may be able to assist with the first task."

Harry looked at Anita just to make sure he was not about to do something stupid, and when she nodded he gave his consent to the vampire.

"What do I do?" he asked with no attempt to hide his nervousness.

"Simply look into my eyes," Jean-Claude replied and held out his hand, which Harry took, "and do not attempt to fight me."

It was easy to look straight into the midnight blue eyes which immediately pinned him down, it was more difficult not to fight the influence he felt as soon as their gazes locked. At first the touch was light and he did his best to hold his mind open to whatever Jean-Claude was doing, but it was so alien to him. Harry had been keeping his mind closed for so long that allowing another access was completely contrary to every instinct in his body.

As the power invading his mind increased and Jean-Claude slowly moved into his mind through his open barriers, Harry thought he was coping well. The Master of the city appeared to be having a little difficulty, but Jean-Claude's power continued into his mind and he knew he could not open himself anymore. Everything seemed to be going well, until the vampire's magic touched something inside him and caused a reaction, at which point rationality vanished in a flash of panic.

"No," he said as his mind dissolved in fear and he tried to throw up every mental protection he had. "Can't let him in. Mustn't let him know."

He continued repeating the mantra which was the only thing that had kept him sane through the hell that had been his summer holiday after his fifth year. He had had no defences against the nightmares and the visions, and Occlumency had failed him, so that all he had left was his will. Harry still did not know what he had done and neither did anyone else for that matter, but one day he had woken up free of the dreams and when he returned to school not even Dumbledore had been able to shake his shields.

After that he had been taught Occlumency to help him understand this new gift, but his main barrier against Riddle had always been his own shields. They had softened since Voldemort's death, but now they tried to slam back into place and expel the invader from his mind.

"Harry," an urgent voice made it into his panicked mind, but when he realised someone was holding his arms he tried to pull away. "Harry," the voice repeated, "it's okay, no one will hurt you. You have to let go."

"Can't let him in," was all Harry could whimper, "he'll kill us all."

"He's dead, Harry," the voice told him insistently, "Voldemort is dead."

It was actually the partial stutter on the name that grabbed his attention, and it might have been an irrelevant little moment, but it was all he had and he clung to it. Slowly he began to realise that he was not where he remembered being and time seemed to have passed; for a start he was kneeling on the floor, and he was trying to hunch down with his arms over his head, but someone was stopping him. After a moment or two he cautiously opened his eyes and found Draco looking at him with a very worried expression.

"Harry," his friend asked, "are you back with us?"

Harry blinked at his friend for a few moments as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

"Yes," he replied quietly.

His eyes flicked from Draco's face to see that the other three people in the room had become four, since Asher had joined the group. They were all looking at him with varying amounts of concern.

"My apologies, mon enfant," Jean-Claude said the moment their eyes met, "I had no idea you would have such a reaction to the touch of my mind."

Harry was pretty sure he should be the one apologising, but his thoughts were far too scattered to allow him to do anything quite that sensible.

"Harry, are you okay?" Draco sounded worried.

"Head hurts," he managed to reply, although it was an ache behind both eyes rather than the throbbing in his scar that he had been used to with his episodes.

"Let's get you somewhere more comfortable," Draco decided and backed up a bit.

Harry did not even try to object as two pairs of hands took hold of him and helped him to his feet. It was only as he swayed in place and ended up leaning against the second person that he realised it was Jason.

"Steady there, kid," the werewolf said cheerfully, "I think you need to lie down."

"Bring him to the bed, Jason," Jean-Claude instructed from somewhere that Harry could not be bothered to look at.

His mind was still not working very well, and as a strong arm wound round him protectively, he leant into it without thinking about it. The very male smell that filled his nostrils as he rested his head on the available shoulder was rather pleasant, and the animal musk underlying it spoke to a part of him that only days ago had not existed. He had a sudden urge to lick the skin against which he was leaning, but Jason chose that moment to try and guide him somewhere he didn't much care to go, and he did not have the coordination to walk and lick at the same time.

"Is he going to be okay, Jean-Claude?" he heard Anita ask quietly.

He wasn't sure he was supposed to be able to hear it.

"He threw me out of his mind, ma petite," the Master of the City replied, equally quietly, "the power it took is bound to leave him dazed. We will let him sleep and then try to allow him to feed again."

It was then that Harry remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He opened his eyes from where he had let them fall closed again. There was a very inviting looking neck not two inches from his nose and he watched the blood vessel pulse under the skin as he allowed himself to be manoeuvred towards the bed. With his higher thoughts trapped somewhere behind the haze of magic still in his mind, it all seemed much more straightforward than it had before.

As Jason paused at the end of the bed, Harry decided it was time to do something, and he shook off the lethargy with a thought. Turning in the embrace the werewolf was using to hold him up he took hold of Jason's shoulders, twisted them both and pushed his food down onto the bed.

"What the hell?" was Jason's immediate response until Harry climbed onto the bed and straddled him.

He casually threw his glasses somewhere as the room sharpened and brightened in his vision and he looked down at the werewolf with careful consideration.

"Oh," Jason said in a completely irreverent tone, "you decided to come out and play after all. Like what you see?"

Harry just smiled at that, showing the werewolf his fangs quite deliberately, and then he snared the blue eyes with his gaze.

"Leave them," Jean-Claude's instruction made it to the part of his mind that was paying attention to anything but the lycanthrope beneath him, but he gave it little thought.

If someone tried to stop him he might have to hurt them, but it sounded as if the Master of the city had no intention of letting that happen, so he really didn't care who might be watching. Jason's eyes went a little glassy as Harry pushed some of the power he could feel curling through his body at the werewolf. His prey even moaned when he leant forward and licked the spot that had been interesting him earlier.

He could feel the living pulse on his tongue and it was all it took to push him to open his mouth wider and sink his fangs into the willing neck. Jason stiffened below him with a groan, somewhere between pain and pleasure that only added to the strange excited feeling that filled Harry as the blood hit his mouth. Jason was enjoying this, Harry could tell as a connection flared between them through the blood. He could feel the pleasure flowing through the werewolf, tinged with a delicious edge of pain that seemed to excite Jason even more.

There was the feeling of Jean-Claude as well, Harry could sense that in the blood as he drank in the liquid and the arousal from his prey. It was like a perfect harmony that took away just about everything else from his mind. Only when the pain began to outweigh the pleasure did he think about stopping as an instinct told him he had taken enough. Withdrawing his fangs from the pliant flesh he lapped gently as the slowly weeping wound. Jason moaned loudly at the touch, seemingly oblivious to anything but Harry.

Sitting up slowly, he watched the werewolf sprawled below him, head to the side, eyes closed and he smiled. He could feel the healing energy of the lycanthrope trying to remove the wound, but it seemed reluctant to close and Harry reached out with two fingers, placing them on the puncture marks before whispering a quiet healing spell.

As the magic flowed from Harry's hand into the werewolf, Jason's head went back; the lycanthrope keened in an almost wolf like way; bucked underneath him for several seconds and then went totally still. Harry's sexual experience was minimal, but he knew an orgasm when he saw one, and the wave of energy that flowed over him was rather breath taking.

Jason was completely out for the count and all Harry could do was blink and stare in a rather surprised manner. He had not been expecting that and now that it was sated his vampire was fading, bringing back reality with its many awkward complexities.

"I do believe you have worn him out, mon enfant," was Jean-Claude's amused opinion on the matter.