Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or True Blood/Southern Vampire Mysteries in any way. If I did, I sure as heck wouldn't be writing fanfiction, lol. The characters in this story belong to their respective authors and creators. This is their sandbox – I'm just playing in it.

Author's Note: After reading fanfiction on this site for about five years, I finally decided to write my own. There's no outline for the story, but I have a general idea of where I'd like to go. I got inspired by a lack of HP/TB cross over work. There are some really great stories out there. Royal Ember's An Ancient's Love and In the Shadow of the Oak are some of my favorite True Blood fan fiction and I draw a lot of inspiration from their work. The Historical Importance of Runic War Warding in the British Isles by samvelg is also another favorite of mine that inspired this story. Please check those stories out, even if Royal Ember hasn't updated in a while, the unfinished stories are still some of the best fanfic I've ever read. I don't have a beta, so there will undoubtedly be grammar errors – go easy on me if you review ;) it's been a while since I was in an English class. Enjoy & leave reviews :) This story is cross-posted under the same username at ao3

Edited on 12/31/19

CHAPTER ONE: THE MAGE AND THE VAMPIRES

Morgan POV

Morgan cursed as she glanced at the time on her phone. She was going to be late if she didn't leave her house now. She grabbed her black leather jacket and made her way to the door, stopping by the mirror in the entrance hall of her home to do a last-minute check of her appearance. The mirror's reflection showed her disguised face – thanks to her Black ancestry, she was a Metamorphmagus. Bright red hair and her father's grey eyes – Black eyes – stared out of a more rounded, but familiar face. She was not taking any chances of revealing her identity after going through so much trouble to hide her presence in this area for the last few months. Moving her eyes past her face, she checked her black body-suite style romper in comfortable cotton-silk blend cinched with a green belt and the dark green heels on her feet. Satisfied that she looked appropriate for a meeting with the local vampire authority that also sufficiently hid her true identity, she pulled on her jacket, grabbed her purse and headed for her car.

Swiftly changing gears while entering the highway, she thought about the upcoming meeting. She had, technically speaking, broken protocol by living in this area for months before contacting the vampire authority in the area to let him know about her residence in the area. Morgan really hoped that the fact that a witch was now inhabiting Area 5 had flown under the radar of Eric Northman. She wasn't truly worried – she was a highly skilled witch – not like those hedge-witches that vampires normally dealt with. Technically she was a mage, but like hell was she divulging any information that wasn't need-to-know to the supernatural community. The only reason she made an appointment to inform the Sheriff was to actually blend in, in the case that her residing in the area became known. Better to take care of these problems now than explain after the fact to an irate Sheriff that she had essentially been squatting in his backyard when – not if – her thrice-cursed-damn Potter Luck decided to make an appearance.

Thankfully getting the audience with Mr. Northman didn't require her to jump through hoops of bureaucratic nonsense like she had feared may be the case. She just requested a meeting through his bar's – Fangtasia, really? – website and the following evening a female, who introduced herself as Pam, with the heaviest southern accent she had ever heard called to confirm the time and date with her. That was two days ago and now she was headed to the most absurd bar she had ever heard of. Thankfully the bar was not open to the public today – she guessed that Mr. Northman took care of his Area business and took all appointments on these nights. Morgan was ready to get this meeting over with so that she didn't have to have any further dealings with society for a month – minimum. She was an introvert – sue her.

Surprised to find herself already nearing the exit for the street the bar was located on, she focused on her driving and soon found herself pulling into the parking lot of a typical bar/club combination. Double checking that her always-present weapons were indeed present and unobtrusive in the full-length romper she wore, she grabbed her purse, locked her car, and made her way to the front door of the establishment. She immediately made note of the eleven vampires and two humans inside of the bar during her cursory glance around the building. Morgan noted who had to be Mr. Northman located at the end of the building sitting – was he seriously sitting in a throne? – and having a conversation that was just under a human's hearing range with a female blonde vampire standing just to the side of his seat.

There seemed to be a bit of a queue to speak with the Sheriff, so she quietly made her way to the end of it and listened to what she could of the conversations of the vampires in front of her. Vampires always tended to be a bit arrogant in her opinion – they mixed so much with the non-magicals that they often failed to remember that there were supernatural beings that for all intents-and purposes looked and smelled quite human. The vampires around her promptly took note of the heartbeat they could hear from her, lowered their voices to a range that would be too low for most humans to hear them, and then promptly started talking about her. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes but kept an outward mien of polite disinterest of those around her. The only vampires that didn't follow this pattern were the two blondes at the back of the building. Mr. Northman and the now identified Pam stopped their conversation and glanced at her before resuming their talk.

The next twenty minutes passed by slowly as each vampire had their audience with the Sheriff. Mentally, Morgan was rolling her eyes at the inane things these vampires brought to the Sheriff's attention – an attitude shared by Mr. Northman if his increasingly short replies were anything to go off of. After they were done with their conversation with Mr. Northman, most of the vampires left the bar, but a few meandered over to the bar to order a True Blood and continue their earlier conversations. Finally, the last vampire before her finished their conversation and it was her turn at last.

Morgan's internal derisive commentary about the vampires and wishes to go home already came to a halt as she finally made eye contact with Eric Northman. When her eyes met his ice blue ones, her magic, which she always kept tightly wrapped around her to fly under the radar more efficiently as it made people uncomfortable, stopped for lack of a better word. Morgan had never felt anything like this happen in any of the life threatening situations she had been in, so she relaxed from the immediate tense stance that she had taken – not that anyone noticed she was tense to begin with – she was trained better than to give anything away via body language, even to undead eyes. She broke eye contact with the large blonde and moved her gaze to the smaller blonde female vampire who looked at her with interest.

Morgan suddenly had the desire to start rethinking her entire approach to tonight's meeting and the information – her magic practically electrocuted her when she thought about her original plan. She had no idea why her magic chose now to exert its will, but she wasn't going to ignore it – her magic had saved her too many times for her to ever ignore it or take it for granted.

The blond vampire suddenly started speaking, breaking her out of planning out the repercussions of just what exactly she was about to do. Giving her the most thorough once-over she had ever had the displeasure of being subjected to, he spoke in a quiet, deep voice, with the barest hint of an accent, "Good evening, my name is Eric Northman and I am the Sheriff of Area Five and this is my progeny, Pamela. You're obviously not a vampire, so the question is, why have you requested an audience with me tonight, Ms. James?"

Mentally rolling her eyes, Morgan hazarded a guess that he was also a little unnerved from their impromptu stare off and his attitude was a mixture of his normal one with a little bit extra sass mixed in to both compensate for being surprised and throw her further off balance – which, if she was a normal human and not a witch highly trained by both magical and mundane government agencies, she probably would be. Giving herself a few seconds to gauge the mood of the room, she internally sighed and decided to just get it over with – let the dice fall where they may. "Hello Mr. Northman and Ms. Pamela. I formally request guest protection rites and an oath of confidentiality."

Both blondes in front of her dropped their masks of polite disinterest and looked her over with new eyes while the noise in the rest of the room abruptly ceased. Feeling the eyes of the room on her, all Morgan could do was hope to every deity there was that the scene she just caused wouldn't make it back to the supernatural community in England. Knowing her luck, it would, and she could expect a Floo call by tomorrow evening at the latest. Tom was going to absolutely fucking kill her.

Eric POV

Sitting here week after week listening to the petty problems of the vampires that resided in his area was grating on his very last nerve. As a vampire with over a millennium of life behind him, it was rare for him to feel anything other than annoyance or the occasional bought of lust during a feed and fuck. Making derogatory comments about his residents to his progeny in Old Swedish was the only real relief he got from the monotony of nights like these. The human woman who had was next in line was quite beautiful though. If this were any other night and she came into his club, he would have already been planning on taking her back to his office in order to satisfy his more carnal urges. However, on these nights, he limited himself to Area business only unfortunately.

When she stepped up after the vampire in front of her was done with their business, he finally got a good look at her face when she turned toward him. Meeting her eyes, he felt a rush of something unidentifiable go through him, stilling him. Eric was thrown off balance – a feat in and of itself due to his long life. He did not appreciate it. The redhead in front of him was the first to break their stare off, moving her eyes over to Pamela. He decided to unnerve the human, a Ms. James if he remembered the name on his appointment docket correctly, just a little bit in a fit of pique. After giving her a good look from her fire engine red hair to her green heeled feet, he finally broke the silence, "Good evening, my name is Eric Northman and I am the Sheriff of Area Five and this is my progeny, Pamela. You're obviously not a vampire, so the question is, why have you requested an audience with me tonight, Ms. James?"

She looked decidedly unimpressed, her heartbeat showing that she was truly unaffected the stare that had most humans at least blushing if not outright sputtering. Ms. James glanced around the bar out of the corner of her eye for a second before meeting his stare again and thoroughly shocking him with what came out of her mouth next. In a distinct upper-class English accent with hints of – was that Scottish brogue? how odd – she said, "Hello Mr. Northman and Ms. Pam. I formally requesting guest protection rites and an Oath of Confidentiality."

Well, now he was sure that the next few minutes would definitely not be boring at all. He exchanged a quick, knowing glance with his progeny. Pamela had only heard the formal invocation of guest rites a few times, and all of those times were over a century ago and still while they were living in England immediately after her turning. He gave her a small nod toward the bar to signal that she should clear out the now gawking and silent onlookers so that he could make some headway to unraveling this mystery that had walked into his bar. While possible for a normal human to invoke guest rites, it was highly unlikely that they would know about them in the first place. So, the redhead was a supernatural of some sort. Taking a discreet sniff of the air, he ruled out Were and full shifter and got a little tense at what that left – witch. A look to his progeny sent her to the bar to get drinks – wine for Ms. James and a True Blood for them – along with some bread in order to complete the rites she invoked. Eric then got up off of his throne and went to grab a small end table for the ceremony. After everything was sat down, he picked up the wine glass and bread, offering them to Ms. James. He invoked with a formal air, "Take part of the wine and bread of my home and be safe in my company for this night."

Ms. James took a sip of the wine and a bite of the bread while Eric and Pam took a drink of their disgusting True Bloods. A small gust of wind blew his hair back, signifying their magic's acceptance of the rite and the consequences that should befall them if either party broke the rite. After the formality was finished, Ms. James further shocked Eric by asking to set up a privacy ward in order to prevent any outsiders or technology from capturing what would she was about to say. Intrigued against his better judgement, he gave his assent. Pam looked at him like he had just declared he loved the vermin that came to the club for allowing a witch to do magic in his club. He knew it wasn't the best idea, but his instincts didn't have anything against it, so he didn't feel like it was a danger. He was shocked for the third time that night when he felt the almost visible wave of magic pass through him to create a barrier just outside of their little group – she had set up an incredibly powerful piece of magic without any kind of external focus, like a wand, that most magicals were partial to. Feeling magic was something that a vampire attained with age like many vampiric gifts or traits, but that was still the single most magical thing he had ever felt in his 1000-plus-years of life. He gazed at Ms. James with an intense look of scrutiny on his face, trying to understand just who this little witch was.

"I apologize for the subterfuge, but once you know who I am, I hope you will understand why I did not give my true name over the phone. However, before I reveal my identity, I would appreciate that Oath. It would just need to state that you will not divulge my identity to a third party, living or dead." Ms. James said after a minute of silence.

Eric took a fraction of a second to answer, "I will grant you your Oath if you don't mind adding in a qualifier that prevents us from facing the consequences of breaking the Oath if your identity puts our lives in danger." Living a millennium tends to condition one to cover all of their bases and leave allowances for hypothetical eventualities.

Ms. James immediately agreed and started the words of the Oath. "Do you Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area Five and you Pamela, progeny of Eric Northman, vow to keep my true identity a secret from all, living or dead, unless the knowledge of my true self puts you at serious and imminent risk of the True Death?"

Clever, he thought. Adding in their occupations so even if their names were not their true ones, the Oath would still bind them as tightly as possible without their true names. The qualifiers for the condition of the Oath were a nice touch too. A human who wasn't oblivious to their nature, a nice surprise. "I do so swear," both he and his progeny intoned, once again feeling a breeze signifying magic's acceptance of their Oath.

As soon as they said the words, Ms. James appearance started to change. One minute he was looking at a woman of average build and height with red hair and grey eyes, pretty but not necessarily eye catching. Her face got sharper, cheek bones gaining prominence and height as her face thinned out. Her hair went from a bright, vivid red to the color of ink, staying the same length, more than halfway down her back in wild waves and curls that looked windswept and perpetually messy. Her eyes were the most startling change. From a handsome, but normal, grey, they were now an electric green. They were dark and light at the same time, caught between an emerald and neon green and they glowed. She had gained about four inches in height, standing at almost six feet tall with those green heels of hers, making her body look thinner but still retaining her curves on her chest and legs. After staring at her in quiet shock for a few seconds, he inhaled to question her about her need for this level of cloak-and-dagger when he nearly choked on her scent. Power – it was like smelling lighting strike right in front of him, all ozone and heavy atmosphere with an underlying scent of ash and blood. She smelled like power and death. Completely stunned at her scent, he was shocked when Pam suddenly started talking after what must have been a few moments too long without him noticing or saying anything.

With her usual affected Southern twang and sass, Pam glared at the witch and enquired, "So, we have a witch in disguise in a vampire bar. However, I've never seen a witch with the ability to shapeshift or cast wards like that without a wand. You will tell us now who you are and what you hoped to accomplish by coming here tonight." Inwardly, Eric winced a little. He knew this witch, if that was what she truly was, was powerful and might not take kindly to his progeny's sassing her. He sent a sharp jab through the bond to his progeny, not-so-subtly letting her know to tread carefully. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and the corner of her mouth ticked down when she must have registered the seriousness of the situation after taking in his expression.

Giving another one of her unimpressed stares, this time directed at Pam, she said, "I am a mage, not a witch like the magicals you have most likely dealt with in the past. My true name is Morgan James Potter-Black, or one of them anyways, and I am here to announce my presence in Mr. Northman's area. I recently moved here and have already registered with the regional branch of the American Magical government. However, I am listed under the alias, James, with them, as you can imagine I would l would like to be able to live in relative peace, and that wouldn't be possible if the masses could easily access my address."

Eric was silent as he thought over the raven headed witch's – mage's – reply and tried to digest everything that was just thrown at him. Mage – he hasn't heard that term in a few centuries. Mages shared as much similarity to witches and as vampires did to humans. They might look the same, with only few differences, like glowing eyes or a scent that reflects their power, but their biological make up is different. Most people did not realize that vampires were inherently magical creatures. They were animated through magic and could do some simple magic even if they were non-magical before their turning. However, blood magic is a vampire's forte. Usually a vampire had to be over 1000 years old before they could start adequately practicing the art and Eric had watched his Maker explore the art as he started to delve deeply in it. Mages and vampires shared a common trait – they were beings made of magic. Witches and wizards had a magical core – an area in their body, some even theorize that it is the soul itself, that is the source of magic for a witch or wizard. The key difference here is that is possible to separate a witch or wizard from their magic – via binding or draining it from them via spells of a dubious nature. Mages lived and breathed magic, shedding it like one does hair or skin cells.

Nobody knew what exactly bred a mage. There are no observable traits that can predict them. Most people think that its Magic's way of rebalancing the world - or they are born during a time of great strife and marked by fate to have a hand in it. Mages didn't need a focus to perform magic – which explained the lack of wand – and were highly sought after when ever one was alive for both moral and immoral reasons. Mages could ward entire cities or slay a dragon. They were also the source of some of the best tasting blood in the world for the species that had a taste for it. Then there was the subject of her identity. Morgan Potter-Black, with a million other names: Girl-Who-Lived as a child, Woman-Who-Won as an adult, Lady Potter-Black in the Magical Peerage system of England. Eric had made it a point to stay up to date in the news of the various supernatural communities of Europe, so of course he had heard some of the speculation about the upheaval that the Magical Community of Britain went through starting little more than a decade ago. All of that change was centered upon a handful of people – with the mage in front of him seeming to lead the charge. He could indeed see why she registered with her government under an alias. It also gave him a good idea why she had seemingly moved to the middle of bum-fuck-Louisiana. She was either running away, taking a break, or retiring from the spotlight. She didn't seem the type to run from her problems just from the few minutes he had spent in her company, so he would place his bets on the last two options. He also noticed that Morgan didn't address her shape-shifting or that the she apparently had more legal names than she listed. A mystery to unravel – thank the gods, he was getting dreadfully bored here.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Eric states, "While I can certainly see why you registered under an alias for the Magical government, what I don't understand is why you came here and divulged your true identity. You could have kept up the disguise and nobody would have been any wiser. Magic is a very good veil from which to hide behind. Why give up your anonymity? Even with the Oath, you have to know that the vampires present beforehand will definitely spread word of a supernatural being that looks human invoking the ancient rites and asking for an Oath? If anyone were looking for you, that would be a pretty large indicator of just where you are holed up – convincing disguise or not."

Morgan POV

Morgan would've let out a sigh of relief if she had been any less aware that her body language was being scrutinized right along with the explanation she just finished giving about her reason for being here. She gazed at Mr. Northman, attempting to gauge how he was reacting to her – admittedly – rather information heavy response. He was looking off into the middle distance, somewhere over her left shoulder. He had had that same expression on his face since she guessed he finally got a whiff of her true scent after she shifted back into her true skin – well, almost true skin. Morphing does funny things to your scent, or so she's heard from other supernaturals. Something in her magic recognized she was trying to disguise herself when she morphed, so she assumed that her magic obfuscated her scent as well. Rather handy, that. He had looked rather shell-shocked, a bit of an extreme reaction in her opinion, before sharing a look at his progeny and then proceeding to stare off into the middle distance probably mentally sorting through information and cross referencing with his own recollection of mages and Magical Britain in general.

After several moments during which she alternately gazed at Pamela and Eric, the male vampire finally looked at her and broke the comfortable silence in the bar. "While I can certainly see why you registered under an alias for the Magical government, what I don't understand is why you came here and divulged your true identity. You could have kept up the disguise and nobody would have been any wiser. Magic is a very good veil from which to hide behind. Why give up your anonymity? Even with the Oath, you have to know that the vampires present beforehand will definitely spread word of a supernatural being that looks human invoking the ancient rites and asking for an Oath? If anyone were looking for you, that would be a pretty large indicator of just where you are holed up – convincing disguise or not."

Why indeed? She would have to play this carefully. While these vampires weren't really a match for her, she tries to avoid altercations whenever possible – trying to stay off-the-radar is a little hard when pissing off the local power in the area. She couldn't exactly say she came in here with every intention of doing exactly what he had suggested, but she didn't want to lie to him either. Her magic was giving her little shocks every time she gave a serious thought to outright lying to him. Obfuscation, half-truths, and prevacation seemed to be okay with her finnicky magic, but not outright lying – how odd. Mentally shrugging her shoulders – she can feel the ghostly smack on her shoulder from Narcissa at even thinking about shrugging – she resigns herself to mostly telling the truth and hoping that the blond is as laid back as she thinks he is. "It seemed to be a very bad idea to lie to a vampire with over 1000 years of life behind him about something as simple as who I am. I hazarded a guess you wouldn't care enough about a mage from a small part of an even smaller percentage of the population in Europe – regardless of what happened over a decade ago. Not to mention you would have figured out who I was eventually. I plan on staying here for a while and I have notoriously bipolar luck, so sooner or later I would be brought to your attention, either directly or indirectly. I decided I'd rather deal with the lesser fallout by telling you now than the fallout from an angry vampire after finding out he had been lied to."

He gave her a considering look, once again exchanging a knowing glance with his child. She wondered how their bond manifested itself. Vampire bonds were something that she hadn't really had the chance to study, with vampires being notoriously inclusive and secretive and what-not. Startled out of the tangent her thoughts had taken by Mr. Northman's voice, which had taken on a slightly sarcastic tone, "You guessed correctly. I would have been more than a little irritated to learn I had been lied to about the identity of a resident in my own Area. I'm also guessing that there is probably more to your reasoning for actually telling me the truth, but I'll let you keep your secrets for now. While you are certainly not obligated to, I would appreciate it if you could leave your contact information with Pamela so that I could get in touch with you if any problems of the magical variety pop up. The hedge-witches in this area don't have a particularly good relationship with vampires, and a mage no doubt would be more knowledgeable than a witch anyways. I will of course, compensate you for your services."

Morgan internally weighed the offer. She was glad he didn't take offense – she really didn't have time to deal with pissy vampires – she wasn't exactly sure she wanted to be essentially "on-call" for any magical mayhem that may go on in this area. There was a pretty large ley line that ran a few miles north of where she lived which, combined with her bipolar luck, is almost a guarantee for magical mayhem. She was about to say just exactly that, but promptly changed course once her magic gave her yet another shock. She was getting tired of this. "I can do that, Mr. Northman. Like I said earlier, my luck tends to land me in the most awkward situations, so the least I can do is provide you with my information. However, in the case that you actually require my services for something I had no part in creating, how do you plan on compensating me? You surely know I have no need of money."

He squinted at her like she was a particularly interesting lab experiment that had somehow not gone the way it was planned to, but he wasn't mad about the outcome – just perplexed. "What about property?" he asked.

"I have more than enough property spread throughout every continent except Antarctica – not really interested in accumulating more paperwork for my bankers." she retorted.

Again, with the squinty, this time accompanied by a, dare she think it, cute, face tilt. "What exactly would you want in payment in exchange for you aid?" he asked after a few seconds of cute face-tilt-squinting at her.

Giving him a once-over while she pretended to think, she finally looked at his face again and smiled a Cheshire-cat grin – all teeth and mischievousness. Mr. Northman seemed unaffected, but his eyes gained a little bit of weariness to him. Probably from having a progeny who likely used that same expression on him. Men tended to react the same when given the off-putting smile from the females in their lives – something she took advantage sparingly for maximum effect. After letting him stew for a second, Morgan finally replied, "Information, Mr. Northman. You can pay me in information that we both agree is equitable to the job being done. Information that you will take an Oath beforehand ensuring that what you are divulging is true to the best of your knowledge."

He looked distinctly uneasy now, so she elaborated further, "Nothing harmful to you or your bloodline, of course. Mostly I'm just interested in an insider's view of the vampire hierarchy and history. European vampires are even more inclusive than British wizards and I've always been a curious thing."

After a long moment where they both stared at each other, Mr. Northman likely trying to gauge her sincerity, he finally gave in. "We have a deal Ms. Potter-Black. Please leave your information with Pamela before leaving my bar. I'll be seeing you in the future, mage."

Finishing his sentence, Eric suddenly rose from his gaudy throne and swiftly departed to a side hallway that probably led to his office – or the exit. Nonplussed by his abrupt departure, Morgan turned her attention to Pam, who was already coming toward her with her phone out and ready for Morgan's contact information. After relaying her phone number, email address, and physical address to Pam, she exchanged a terse farewell with the female vampire and made quick work of exiting the bar.

Once she made it to the parking lot, she noticed the only two other cars in the parking lot besides her black '67 Camaro – the only reason she didn't have her Aston Martin there was the whole "staying low" thing. Camaros were pretty common in the States, right? Okay well maybe not fully restored classic ones with matte black finishing but sue her – she liked her transportation fast. The minivan was a surprising choice, but she wasn't one to judge – however, the pink color ruled out Mr. Northman as the owner. Unless he was on the losing side of a very funny bet, she just couldn't see him driving the van even if it was the last car in the city. The candy-apple red Corvette on the other hand, now that she could definitely see Mr. Northman driving. It was a little flashy for her taste, but different strokes and all that. Pam driving a minivan was a bit surprising and gave her a little more insight to the stand-offish vampire.

Mentally shaking off her wandering thoughts, she opened her car door and sat down. She looked in her rear-view mirror and could see someone – a very tall someone – close the door on the opposite side of the building from where she just exited, heading back in Fangtasia. She silently reprimanded herself for being so preoccupied with her thoughts that she was unaware of a predator in her immediate vicinity. Giving in to the urge to physically sigh, she put her car in gear and headed toward her house. She was quite looking forward to a spot of tea and curling up with the idea of no social interaction for the coming months to keep her company. She couldn't wait. She wondered then, why her magic seemed to disagree with her.

Eric POV

He listened to Ms. Potter-Black give her address to his progeny from the privacy of his office where he didn't have to keep such rigid control over his expressions. He had been at his limit for being surprised and actually showing it on his face, and he had hardly spent more than 15 minutes in the woman's company. He was frankly intrigued – she smelled dangerous, more dangerous than any non-Vampire supernatural he had met. Curiously, this didn't send his instincts into a frenzy. He thought about calling his Maker and asking him about his reactions to the mages he met over the course of his life. Godric had been around almost double the amount of time Eric had walked the Earth. Surely, he would have more information about them and his odd reaction to the woman.

Hearing her exit his bar, he quickly got up and went to the side exit of the bar, not able to resist getting one last look at her and also to check out the car he had heard when she arrived. He wasn't disappointed. Her car matched her personality rather well he thought. Understated and a statement on its own. Eric also couldn't resist getting one more look at her figure, this time from a different angle. She looked muscular now that he was seeing her walk. She had thighs that were larger than her typical frame and height would suggest, and her legs and ass didn't move a lot when she did walk, indicating a lack of fat. He took a second look at her while she walked and recognized the gait, the style of walking she had that was familiar to him. Even in high heels, she walked remarkably similar to how Godric walked. Predatory, even in rest – dangerous and with both knowledge and experience so ingrained that it integrated itself into their unconscious walking pattern. He'd seen very few beings – vampire or not – walk like that. Feeling a chill run down his spine, Eric suddenly had the thought that his life was probably not going to be boring with Ms. Potter-Black taking up residence in his Area. He wasn't sure if liked the idea or not.