Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written for the Quidditch League – Season 4 Fanfiction Competition – Finals Round 1

Finals Round 1 – OTP chaining

We're going to focus on your writing technique and team coordination to kick off the finals. The theme this round is literary devices and techniques that many writers use to make their stories more exciting and engaging.

The Mods came up with 9 devices in total, but all of you will only be using 2 of them in your story. Easy enough, but this is going to work like a game of dominos. The first person to submit will use device prompts a and b in their story; the second person to submit will use prompts b and c; third person c and d… and so on.

Oh, and one last thing, you'll be writing about the previous player's OTP in your story. So if player 1's OTP is Dramione, that will be the pairing player 2 writes about, and so on.

Wasps Chaser 2: Player 8 – An example of juxtaposition AND a flashback/forward scene

Player 7 OTP (Firediva0): Tomarry

Additional Prompts:

#6 (word) forgive

#9 (creature) Vampire

#13 (word) tradition

Chaser 2 for the Wimbourne Wasps

Word count according to LibreOffice: 2990

My Darkest Light

"Duck!"

The shout rang out across the field, and he complied without a second thought. It had been ingrained into their beings to obey those shouts; obeying could mean the difference between life and death, and sometimes, between survival and things worse than death.

He dragged one of his fellow soldiers down with him, mentally grimacing when scared blue eyes locked with his own. The kid could be no older than twelve. Harry looked away. They were dying younger these days.

"Ah, Harry."

Harry grimaced, trying to wipe the expression from his face before Slughorn could see it. He really, really should have thought up an excuse to avoid coming. If he didn't need to keep Slughorn in a good mood to get that memory for Dumbledore, he would never have come.

Before he could properly calculate his escape route, Slughorn dropped a heavy arm around his shoulders. Harry did his best to smile.

"Professor." Dear Merlin, he hoped that his voice didn't sound as strained as he thought.

"Just the lad I was looking for." Slughorn grinned at him, and Harry felt his stomach drop. "Come, let me introduce you to Eldred Worple." Slughorn started ushering him towards a middle aged man, who was in the company of a tall, emaciated man.

Harry kept his eyes on the younger, dark haired man. He looked utterly bored, but there was something in his eyes that made Harry's hair stand on end.

They stopped in front of the strange pair, and Harry almost shivered when those dark eyes roamed over his figure.

He felt like prey.

He hated it.

He should have known then.

Harry rolled away, a curse leaving his lips before he was on his feet. He ignored the body that fell behind him, and he didn't look back at the kid that was still lying on the ground.

It had only been a year, but he had learned his lesson.

These kids were far too green to be out here. He had seen far too many die. Getting attached was pointless. He would most likely have to kill them the next time they came face to face.

He twirled out of the way, slashing his wand down, letting a wall of fire consume everything in the vicinity.

They liked the young ones best. Harry understood; after all, what parent wants to kill their child? There were only two people higher on their list. Harry himself was one, and the other… A curse flew from his wand and a head landed at his feet. Well, better not think about the other.

Harry had made his escape from Slughorn as soon as he could. He met up with Hermione, who seemed to be hiding from her date, and both huddled in a darkened corner.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she scowled.

"I know," she said. "Don't rub it in." She sighed, leaning against the wall. "How's your night been?" Harry gave her the look such a question deserved. "That good, huh?" He didn't appreciate the grin that was starting to appear on Hermione's lips.

"There was one interesting thing, though," he said, not wanting to know what was going on in his best friend's mind. "There's a vampire here."

Her mouth formed a small 'O'. "Really? Do you think he would talk with me? I have so many questions!"

Harry grinned; he had known that she would react like that. "I don't know. You can ask him. Slughorn said his name is Sanguini. He's that tall, dark haired guy, eying those girls as if they were the tastiest thing he'd ever seen."

"Harry!" Hermione lightly slapped his shoulder. "Don't be prejudiced."

"I'm not!" Harry raised his hands. "But you have to admit, he's looking a little hungry, and I doubt that he actually wants to eat the pastry that was shoved at him."

They both eyed the disgusted expression that flashed across the vampire's face, and neither could stop the chuckles that trickled out of their mouths.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. So stupid. They had been so stupid, so naive. Then again, no one had seen it coming. Which was in and of itself stupid.

How could they have expected anything else? How could they have been surprised? Considering the way they treated everyone else, they should have expected it. Hell, some days Harry didn't even truly blame them.

Not that it mattered; now it was simply a matter of survival, and neither side was willing to give up.

His breath was knocked out of him as he was tackled to the ground. He groaned as his back hit jagged rocks, leaving yet another bruise on his already battered body. He felt hot breath on his neck, and he struggled to free himself, cursing his diminutive height.

The one above him snarled when he was able to free one of his hands and stab a silver dagger into his side. The vampire slammed his head against the ground, but Harry held onto the dagger, the only defense he had. It wasn't fatal to them—not like it was to werewolves—but it, at the very least, slowed them down, if the vampire wasn't too old. And on the battlefield, none of them were too old.

He twisted the dagger, and the vampire screeched in agony. Then, the next second, a spray of blood hit Harry's face, and the vampire's head rolled off to the side.

Harry pushed the body away and staggered to his feet, only to be steadied by a strong arm. He looked up, and found his eyes locked with bright crimson ones.

The scream startled them out of the quiet, little corner they had found for themselves. They could only watch wide eyed, as the docile looking vampire ripped Worple's throat out. Hermione looked horrified, and Harry was sure he didn't look much better.

Panic settled over the students, and Harry could see them trying to run from the room, while some of those present tried to curse the vampire, but none of the curses hit, a shield of some sort forming around Sanguini.

Sanguini dropped the body and tilted his head to the side. He looked curious, as if he hadn't just killed a man.

"I must thank you." Harry had never heard such a soft, mesmerizing voice. It didn't sound like the voice of a killer. "Your generosity allowed my brethren and I into this building; for that, we will always be grateful."

Harry heard Hermione's soft gasp and followed her gaze towards the tall windows by the balcony. His eyes widened when he saw the shadows creeping into the room.

He almost jumped out of his skin when a hand wrapped around his mouth. He glanced back, seeing Luna and Zabini behind them. Zabini motioned to a door that Harry hadn't previously seen.

He struggled when Zabini started to push him towards it. He couldn't just leave!

"Stop it!" Zabini hissed. "We have to run. Now!"

His eyes found Hermione's terrified form, and she nodded. "We have to warn everyone."

Harry let himself be pushed out of the room, doing his best to ignore the screams that followed him out.

"This is the third time I've saved your life."

Harry snorted, looking away. "Third time's the charm; isn't that what they say?" Harry shook his head. "I didn't know you were keeping track. Besides, I would have handled it."

Harry didn't need to turn around to see that his companion was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Voldemort would never actually do something as plebeian as roll his eyes, not even on a bloody battlefield surrounded by nothing but death.

"I told you not to come, Harry."

Harry snarled, turning around. "And I told you we need every capable soldier we can get!"

"You're not a soldier!" Voldemort pushed him against a partially collapsed building. "You're our future! Their hope! They fight for you!"

"They die for me!" Harry felt his throat tear, his voice coming out far rougher than usual. He looked away from those condemning eyes, hating that he could understand what went on in that mind so well.

Voldemort took a step back, his hands falling away from Harry's shoulders. "Yes, they do." Harry looked back at him when he heard the soft whisper: "They die for hope."

Harry grimaced. He turned away and walked back into the midst of battle, hoping it would be the last one, and knowing it wouldn't be.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, seeing the bright red hair amidst the sea of students.

Ron whirled around and struggled to make it to them. "What the bloody hell's going on?" he asked as soon as he reached them.

Harry spied Ginny making her way towards them, Neville stumbling after her.

"Vampires. Vampires attacked Slughorn's party."

Ron's eyes widened. "What?" Harry almost didn't hear him over the buzzing in the hall.

"Silence!" Dumbledore's voice boomed across the Great Hall, which wasn't as full as it should be. Harry could see that at least half of the students were missing. Merlin, he hoped they were safe. "Students, please, follow the Head Boy and Head Girl's instructions. The Floo destination you'll arrive at is safe. Please remain there."

Students started moving in droves towards the two fireplaces. Hermione grabbed his and Ron's hands and tried to follow, but Harry was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He looked back and saw Dumbledore behind him.

"Just a moment, Harry."

Harry turned around and motioned for Hermione and Ron to go, before turning back to Dumbledore. He had never seen the Headmaster looking so old.

"I gave the Head Boy and Girl the address to Grimmauld Place. It is the only place I could think of that I know they cannot reach."

"Professor, what's going on?" If anyone knew it would be Dumbledore.

Dumbledore seemed to age even more. "I fear we are reaping the consequences of our actions." Harry opened his mouth, but Dumbledore shushed him. "Go now. We will try to send as many as we can after you. At the very least, we will delay them as long as possible."

"Professor-"

Dumbledore pushed him forward, towards the Floo, "Goodbye, Harry."

As the green fire swallowed him, a part of Harry knew that it truly was goodbye.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, trying to make himself heard above the noise of the battle.

Ron glanced towards him, a smirk appearing on his lips for just a moment. "Escape, did you?"

Harry glared, huddling behind a crumbling wall with his oldest friend.

Ron chuckled, shaking his head. "He won't be happy."

"He already let me know that, thank you."

Ron grinned at him. "Even in these times, you still butt heads. Honestly, I don't know how both of you make it through a day without killing each other."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Hermione."

Ron grimaced, looking away. "Fine, you made your point." Then Ron looked back, a bloodthirsty smirk spreading on his lips. "Ready to kill some leeches?"

Harry's answering smirk was just as deranged.

Harry felt numb, there was no other word for it. Hogwarts hadn't been the only place vampires had attacked. The Ministry had practically been decimated. Bloodbath was the only term that could be applied to what had happened in Diagon Alley. Hogsmead was no better.

In the space of one night, the wizarding population of Britain had been crippled. He looked at the scared faces of the ones sitting around the table in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. All of them were former Order members. They were far fewer than the last time they had all been together at this very same table.

Harry knew no one else was coming.

A little over three hours ago, the Floo had stopped flaring green, and when he had seen a bloodied McGonagall make it out of the Floo, he'd known that no one else would follow.

Of the Hogwarts professors only two had made it back to them. McGonagall and Snape. He had never thought that there would be a day where he would be happy to see the Potions Master.

"What now?"

Harry glanced at Tonks, her once bright hair a dull grey. As far as Harry knew, both her parents had been killed.

Silence followed her question, and Harry fisted his hands in an effort not to reach for his wand. He looked up, his eyes locking with Snape's for a fraction of a second, then glanced at the people around him. He tried not to linger on Mrs. Weasley heartbroken expression, nor think that Mr. Weasley would never ask him about Muggle things again.

"We contact Voldemort." Harry looked right at Snape. He ignored the confused looks and the shouted questions. "Now."

For a moment, he thought Snape would sneer and be the same as always—a part of him wanted that, wanted that shred of normalcy—then the dour man gave a sharp nod and was gone before anyone could stop him.

Harry ignored Ron's cackle as he eviscerated a vampire. Sure, his best friend might sound a little mad, but then again, weren't they all a little mad these days? A little darker?

Harry didn't even look when the kid that was beside him fell to the ground; he pointed his wand, "Fiedfyre!" and watched both vampire and kid go up in flames.

The kid had been bitten, better he burn now than let him turn and return to the battle later, only this time fighting for the other side. This too, they had learned early on in the war. He had lost count of the number of loved ones he had seen die, only to have to kill them a second time.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, and if a little part of him died with them every time no one but him had to know. Well, him and Voldemort.

Truce.

He still couldn't believe that Voldemort had actually agreed to it. Then again, when you were faced with extinction, allying with a former enemy didn't seem so bad. Enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that.

Voldemort had offered the Manors of his followers, the ones sufficiently warded at least; the students and the few adults at Grimmauld had been spread through those Manors, and Grimmauld… well, that had been turned into Headquarters for the Light and Dark coalition. They were neither Death Eaters nor Order Members at the moment. Voldemort, however, was still very much the Dark Lord, and Harry… well, it seemed that even in this situation he couldn't escape the title of Chosen One.

The Light turned to him to save them. Not from Voldemort now, but from the Vampires. Hermione had always said that he had a 'saving people' thing.

"Potter!"

Harry looked back up; Voldemort was glaring at him, though malice was lacking in his eyes.

"Yes?"

Voldemort sneered. "Tell your Light people that if they want to survive this war, they aim to kill. There are no second chances, understood?"

Harry sighed, leaning back in his armchair. It had only been a month. It felt like a year. "They would do as you tell them if you looked human, you know?" Harry closed his eyes, throwing an arm over his face. "It's human versus them, now."

He startled when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and lower his arm. He looked up into crimson eyes, which looked far more human than he remembered. "I know," Voldemort told him. "I am working on it."

Voldemort dropped his wrist, and Harry got up.

It was time to gather the troops.

Harry glanced up when he heard a roar coming from the far left of the battlefield. He stared, as did many others, at the gigantic dragon looming over them. Only one person could control Fiendfyre that well.

He grinned.

Voldemort wanted to play, who was he to deny him?

He fueled magic into his own Fiendfyre, an answering roar coming from his own dragon.

"Retreat!" He heard Ron shout, and laughter bubbled up his throat.

He caught crimson eyes across the battlefield, a fierce grin mirroring his own, and they unleashed hell upon their enemies.

"I was wondering where you were."

Harry turned around, ignoring the soft groans coming from behind him.

"Why were you looking for me?"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "It has become tradition for you to welcome the new soldiers. They will be arriving shortly."

Harry snorted, shaking his head. "You don't scare the children anymore, Voldemort. They quite enjoy looking at your pretty face."

Absorbing one of his Horcruxes did more than give Voldemort a pretty face, much to Harry's surprise, his sanity made a comeback as well; well, most of it anyway.

Harry turned back around. He didn't tense when he felt Voldemort move closer to him, not even when he felt the heat coming from the taller man.

"You've become quite Dark, haven't you, my Chosen One?"

Harry snarled, turning around, "I'm Light!"

Voldemort made show of looking at the shackled vampire, bones broken, blood sluggishly flowing from open wounds.

"You're the darkest Light I've ever known."

"And you're not as Dark-" Harry was cut off before he could finish. He felt soft lips on his, claiming him with a hunger that would put any vampire to shame. His hands fastened on Voldemort's robes, to either pull him closer or push away, not even Harry knew.

Moments later Voldemort pulled away.

"Come, my Chosen One. Let us greet our soldiers."

Harry took his hand.

Harry met Voldemort in the middle of an ash covered battlefield, one of many that were now spread across Britain.

Voldemort pulled him into his arms, devouring his lips with ravenous hunger. Harry smiled into the kiss, knowing his lover would forgive him for joining the battle, as he had done many times before.

A.N.: Thank you to my wonderful teammates, agentmopped and Kefalion, for beta'ing this story. You guys are amazing.