This work has been completed. It is four chapters in length. A new chapter will be posted every other day (meaning the story will be complete by the end of the week).

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is unintentional. Any characters recognizable belong to their respective franchises and are not the property of this author. Their use is temporary and in no way meant to reflect the thoughts or opinions of their creators.

Prologue

The first time he saw her, he thought she was the prettiest person in the world. That her expression was entirely devoid of emotion didn't bother Harry, who was used to the disapproving glare of his uncle and the upturned nose of his aunt.

Upon starting primary school earlier that year, Harry had taken to exploring the nearby park at night. The bus stopped before it each morning and afternoon, and Harry would eye the other children playing among the metal structures with longing. And so, after Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia retired for the evening, Harry would sneak out to play amongst the shadows and the moonbeams.

On this night, he had spotted the woman, standing still as a statue between the swings. Fascinated by her silhouette and afraid it might be someone from the neighborhood who would report him to his relatives, he had slunk further into the shadowy bushes, peering cautiously between the leaves.

He couldn't stop looking at her hair. Given how dark the night was, he couldn't tell its color. That wasn't what attracted him, however. It was the way it shone. The way it fell back into perfect order even as the wind ruffled delicate strands. He couldn't help but wish his hair were like that. Perhaps then he wouldn't require so many haircuts.

Harry stayed there, crouched behind the bushes, admiring her hair for hours. She remained almost entirely motionless throughout that time, and he strove to imitate that, lest he make a noise and disturb her.

So when she did move, turning away from the street as though something in the surrounding darkness had caught her attention, he was startled. She didn't look his way, however, and Harry remained crouched behind his bush for several minutes after she had gone. When he stood eventually, he looked about for the woman's retreating figure. Not seeing her, he turned away. It was late, and he needed sleep.

-:-

She was not there the next night. Harry watched for a while, hoping that she might still turn up since he was there a little earlier than he had been the night before. But after waiting for a while with no change, he emerged from the dark bushes and began a game.

She wasn't there on the third night either. Harry played for an hour, continuing the game he'd begun the night before.

She returned on the fourth night, her face turned to the wind, her eyes closed. He crouched behind the bush once more, fascinated in the way of a child who had seen little beauty in life and was thus enchanted whenever he might encounter any.

When he returned on the fifth night she was gone again.

On the sixth, Uncle Vernon locked the door to his cupboard and Harry was unable to go outside.

She was leaning against the pole of the swings when he crouched behind the bush on the seventh night. It was cold tonight, and Harry shivered lightly under the layers of his cousin's tattered hand-me-downs. She didn't seem to notice the cold, however. Probably the long coat she wore—it looked awfully warm to Harry.

"You shouldn't sneak up on someone the same way twice."

She could have been talking to anyone, really. But the suddenness of her words startled Harry violently, making him fall back. He felt a breeze and heard a gentle tap and found himself sprawled on his back, staring up at the woman. There was no doubt she had been speaking to him now.

"You didn't notice me before."

Though her expression didn't change as she stared down at him, Harry didn't find her overly intimidating. Certainly she was less ugly than his aunt and uncle.

"You've watched me now three days." Harry cringed a little, he didn't realize she'd known he was there from the start. "Why?"

Finally pushing himself upright, Harry shrugged. He didn't want to tell her. Aunt Petunia always frowned at him when he voiced his thoughts. But the look on the woman's face made it clear that she expected an answer. "Your hair's really pretty." He ducked his head so he didn't have to see her expression sour.

She didn't make a sound, and Harry, as focused as he was on her boots, could be certain she hadn't moved either. So slowly, still dreading what he would find, Harry lifted his eyes to her face. Nothing had changed. Well, not nothing. Her expression seemed somehow softer, more welcoming.

A sharp wind blew at that moment and Harry shivered. She straightened, and it was only then that Harry realized she had been crouched at all. "Go home," she commanded. Nothing really had changed in her voice either, but to Harry it still sounded nicer than the voice of any other adult he knew.

Another gust of wind had Harry shivering again and scuttling off obediently. He glanced back once before turning the corner, to see that she was still standing where he had left her.

-:-

It was three days before he saw her again.

She arrived after him this time. He looked up from the sand castle he was building and suddenly there she was. She didn't say anything, only stood several feet away, her gaze mostly focused on the darkness around them.

"I'm Harry." He said eventually.

She was silent for so long he almost believed she hadn't heard him. "I'm Selene."

-:-

The fifth time he saw her, she was already at the park when he got there. She stood to the side, by the swings again, and observed him as he went about his play.

It was almost an hour again before either of them spoke. Harry had been sneaking glances at her from the corner of his eye as he ran about the park, but for all that she didn't seem to him to be a horrible adult, she was still rather intimidating. Which meant, of course, that he hadn't tried to start a conversation.

"Why aren't you wearing a coat?"

Harry jerked. He was balanced precariously atop the slide, arms wide as he pretended to fly. His foot slipped and Harry squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of banging painfully into the slide and then falling to the ground. Instead, he felt arms wrap securely around him and he was being cradled. His eyes blinked open to Selene's face, only slightly more open than usual in her worry, but calming all the same. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pressing his nose into her neck.

It wasn't the most comfortable position, and she was cooler than any of the others with whom Harry had ever been granted extended physical contact; but it was still his first hug and he relished it. "This is the first time anyone's ever done this for me," he whispered against her skin.

Selene said nothing in answer, but her arms tightened ever so slightly around him, and she didn't put him down.

He woke to the slamming of a car door down the street, and a distinctive lightness in the horizon that heralded the coming day. He found himself on the back porch of his aunt and uncle's house, wrapped in Selene's coat.

-:-

The next time he saw Selene, she handed him a winter jacket. It was a little big, though it didn't swamp him the way Dudley's things did, and it was warm. The gloves she gave him a few days later were much the same, as was the hat. The boots, on the other hand, fit perfectly.

Years later, Harry would understand that she bought him clothes to grow into in case she wasn't there to replace them when he needed new ones.

-:-

On the night Harry came to the park with bruises from when he hadn't been quick enough to escape Dudley's gang at school, Selene stopped his play. She wouldn't let him alone until he had uncovered each and every mark on his body and explained to her how he'd gotten it.

When he was finished with his, rather long, list, she took his hand and formed it into a fist. From there, she guided him through a series of punches and blocks.

They would begin every meeting after that by reviewing what she'd taught him the night before. Then she would expand upon his knowledge; teaching him to kick and roll and fall. She was strict about how to hold himself, and when he was allowed to use the skills she taught him. But she was kind in her teaching, and Harry found himself growing more confident by the day.

Though he still slept each night, wrapped up in her long coat.

-:-

The Dursleys taught Harry to read early. It might have only been because Aunt Petunia saw no reason for her Ickle-Duddykins to be bothered by something so trivial as schoolwork, but Harry learned quickly that Dudley avoided the library like the plague. This gave Harry a safe place to sit, and of course, one cannot sit in a library without reading.

Which meant that by the time Harry was six years old, he was pretty sure Selene was a vampire.

So, when he found her one night, slumped against the climbing structure, barely conscious, he was sure of how to help. He offered his wrist without a second thought, but she pushed it away. Thinking she hadn't understood, he tried again. This time her eyes flickered open and when she glared at him, Harry felt as though she pierced through him with the unnatural blue color of her eyes. She hissed at him, revealing fangs.

Now Harry was confused. The hissing didn't frighten him any, for it had been the same soft tone Selene used whenever she warned him away from things. Her actions, however, had confirmed his vampire theory. So why wouldn't she take his blood?

He peered closer at her face. Selene obliged his curiosity by opening her mouth and baring her fangs. She let him trace them with one curious finger, but hissed again when he wandered too close to the point of her tooth.

Understanding dawned upon Harry. According to his reading, a human would be turned by a vampire bite. It had fascinated him, and he'd had every intention of asking Selene about it; about if she would turn him. Eventually. He didn't much fancy the idea of being six years old for the rest of eternity. Apparently Selene wasn't too keen on the idea either.

Moving quickly now that he understood the problem, Harry searched Selene's various pockets for a knife. Finding one, he wasted no time in slicing his wrist and shoving the now bleeding appendage at her. The scent of his blood, it seemed, was too much for Selene and she pounced upon him.

It was the first time in over a year he considered being afraid of her. But Selene's grip on his wrist was gentle, and although it felt strange to have his blood pulled from his veins, it didn't hurt. When her other arm wrapped around him, pulling his head down to rest against her shoulder, Harry took a deep breath of her scent and relaxed fully.

He was woken about an hour before dawn, still in her arms. Which was a first, but then she'd never drunk his blood before either. There was an odd coppery sweet taste in his mouth, Selene was much warmer than usual, and he was still tired.

"Never do that again."

Harry blinked sluggishly up at Selene. Her eyes were still blue. He shrugged and burrowed back into her.

She left him on the back porch.

-:-

When Harry was seven, Selene left.

She knelt before him one night and took something from her pocket. "When I was a girl, it was tradition for parents to gift their child a token when they came of age to leave the house."

The item in her hand was a necklace; made of twine carefully braided, with a small key tied to it. Harry ducked his head for her to put it on him, pulling they key out to examine it. "Will you come back?"

"When I can." She handed him a carefully folded slip of paper, "That key opens this. Do not write to me until I have written to you."

He threw himself into her arms then. She clung back just as tightly. When they let go, she whispered a strange word to him, kissed his forehead, and was gone.

Later, he would learn that hidden inside the twine of his necklace was a delicate silver chain.

Later, he would learn that the key opened a box in the post office; making Selene's gift to him just as practical as it was sentimental.

Later, he would learn that the word she had spoken to him roughly translated to beloved, and it was the word Selene's mother and sister used for their children.

And later, after he'd received his first letter from Selene, he addressed his letter, and every letter after: Dear Mum.