Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize in this story, nor the pic on the cover. (Which, btw, is the worst cover I've ever come up with on this site. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be eternally grateful.)

A/N: So, very exciting, I've joined the Wasps as a full team member! I'm their new Beater 2. Not very exciting, the latest round was interspecies relationships. I had a lot of ideas and a lot of possibilities, so I hope I made the right decision. In the end, that will be determined by whether you guys like this, so feedback is very much appreciated :) This guy was from Rowling's notes, and was a character she scrapped early. I've decided to put him in canon verse between the wars. You guys should also know that I took a TON of liberties when it comes to vampire characteristics and filled in the gaps of knowledge based with inspiration from other literature, mostly. On a different note, I am so annoyed. This story was ready really late last night so then FFN flipped out and didn't let me in, so I had to get four hours of sleep and wake up earlier than normal for work to upload before the deadline. Anyway, enough of my sob story, go read! Written for (skip):

QL Rnd 10: Wasps' beater 2: interspecies relationship (vampire/human), extra prompts - 6. reach, 8. no using the word 'forbidden' and 14. euphoria (Btw, the word count is under three thousand, I promise! I'll email you the doc if you need confirmation); hogwarts school, year 4: care of magical creatures (vampire), herbology (working hard), history of magic (the truth is hidden); prompts: words - mistake, dangerous, whirlwind / mood - withdrawn, worthless, resentful, humiliated / emotion - happy, shame, suffer, worry / color - black, white / action - go to sleep / adjective - perfect, queasy / quote - Jesse Owens quote / song - What Hurts the Most, by Rascal Flatts / uwl - 3333 / lwl - 2001 / event - sitting in a mess hall; open cat 4: fanon; title challenge iii: this title;

The battles that count aren't the ones for gold medals. The struggles within yourself – the invisible battles inside all of us – that's where it's at. - Jesse Owens

Vows of Silence

It was nighttime, but that was to be expected. After all, Nikolai Trocar hadn't seen daylight in a very, very long time.

There wasn't a moon tonight, only thousands of dazzling stars; out here in the country, you could see every single one.

But the thing that struck Nikolai most was the castle. It was looming, powerful, and every bit as magical and daunting as he remembered as that very first day at Hogwarts.

It was after the turn of the century, before the Great Muggle War, and Nikolai didn't know it then, but it would be the greatest time of his life. Nikolai could have floated on air all the way through: he was a Ravenclaw, the brightest in his class, and a lover of all his classes, with a world of possible careers open to him. He had friends and romances, laughter and mischief, and an incredible school spirit that stemmed from his love of Quidditch and freedom.

It was just three days after Graduation when he was Turned, and to this day it's his worst memory. He's endured a lot: great Wars, deaths of the rare mortal friend, a family and a Wizarding World that rejected him.

But it all comes back to that day, despite being powerless to stop it, it kills him every time he remembers, the words if only playing on repeat.

(It was a celebration to get smashed post-graduation, and a cloud of misjudgment lead him to Knockturn Alley, where the vampires were in for a little fun. They slipped their venom in his drink, they killed him and let him rise again, and he never heard what happened to them.)

He feels guilty, sometimes, for feeling so sad and lonely; some Vampires have gone centuries without making a friend. He has yet to reach a hundred.

But what Nikolai is truly grateful for is that after all these years, he's retained his humanity.

It was not an easy feat. After he was turned, he was reclassified as a beast and stripped of his wand. What followed was a whirlwind of loss as he withdrew into himself. His family and friends abandoned him, and he was humiliated to resign himself to a new fate where only those like him would give him the time of day. His bright future had been doused; no chance at a job, no chance at a life. There was really only one option – live the life of a vampire.

So Nikolai made himself a new option.

His family had quite a bit of wealth, and he withdrew as much as he could for safekeeping. He lived off of it for years, and used it to buy supplements for human blood – that of animals, or the new lollipops. (His first bite was a week after he changed, and it was his last.) It was hard to ignore the lust for human blood, but the thought of turning someone else into the new Nikolai that he hated was too much.

And he learned. He invested in books and potions ingredients and holed himself into a rather large home far from everything. He absorbed as much knowledge as he possibly could and held on to the shred of hope that one day, he would be of some use.

All of this learning was done by the artificial light of candles, and Nikolai can still remember the moment he punished himself for not valuing the sun while he had the chance.

Every night, he went outside. If it was all he was going to see of the outdoors, he would make the most of it.

(This is when he became entranced with the stars.)

The world was rapidly changing around him, and he was beginning to feel like he was indifferent, as if he didn't matter in the grand scheme of things because the world kept moving around him and he had no worth in it. But then he looked to the stars, and he realized there was nothing more permanent in the lives of everyone on Earth than the presence of balls of light far away. The sun, the moon, and the stars: they were constants, and they were important, and those facts were what Nikolai held onto with dear life.

As his interest in Astronomy grew, he ordered more books, kept up to speed on all news related to it, and got the best telescope that money could buy. It meant that much to him, and he wanted it to mean something to others. He offered his assistance to divination departments at the ministry, to the unspeakables, to anyone who needed it, but all of them, it seemed, didn't even want it.

So that was why it was with great surprise and incomparable joy that he received a letter from Albus Dumbledore, inquiring about his interest in the subject.

Albus had been his Transfiguration professor and he had great respect for the man who had vouched for him and his skill after he was Turned.

After a few letters were exchanged, Albus told Nikolai that they were in the market at Hogwarts for a new Astronomy teacher, and wanted to interview him for the job. Albus came to his country house personally, and Nikolai, after days of queasiness, reflected that he probably did not give Albus a chance to speak once, only spouted off everything he had ever learned and every reason why he wanted the job.

"These are celebratory times," he had said. "We must be careful. If you are to accept, you must know that what you are must be kept an absolute secret. Voldemort has only recently fallen, and parents will not respond kindly to a potentially dangerous creature teaching their children."

It hadn't taken him even a moment to respond. "I understand. No one will know." He tried to show Dumbledore how much he steadfastly agreed.

Albus Dumbledore had a twinkle in his eye, and in that moment Nikolai could have sworn he was back in first year. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Trocar."

Closing his eyes and smiling as he pushed away the rare positive memory, he made his way through the doors and into the Great Hall.

His first night as a teacher was with, fittingly, the first year Ravenclaws, and it was after that class that Nikolai regretted ever taking the mickey out of his Professors.

Also, Nikolai had always assumed that from a students' perspective, you were friends with one group and could completely like another, but that his teachers saw value in all his students. There were no such things as favorites.

But after a week of experiencing every house and every year, Nikolai was as sure that he had a group of favorite students as he was that he had been one of those favorite students. But he was determined not to show it as much as some of his Professors' had.

There were kids who really didn't care. There were kids who enjoyed taking the mickey rather than learning. Then there were those kids who you could tell were really struggling, but Nikolai didn't want to talk to any students directly so early in the term. He only hoped that they would eventually come to see him with questions, but there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that they would not.

But despite everything, Nikolai found himself loving every minute of each of his classes. The sometimes strange questions and often wandering minds of students, was all made up for by the enthusiasm he had received from an eager select few in every year, and the he was finally doing something.

He was, as always, trying to learn. How to discipline, how to take charge, how to be a fun teacher and yet a strict one, and he only hope that more and more students would begin to enjoy his classes.

Young Bill Weasley of Gryffindor had approached him after class, dismissing his friends who thought it was funny and hounding Nikolai with questions with the origins of constellations. One of his NEWT students, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had spoken to him because he seemed genuinely interested in Nikolai's background in Astronomy, and during the conversation he learned that Kingsley had plans of Auror proportions, but had always loved the class.

Nikolai now sat in the Great Hall, observing all of his students as they ate and chattered. He caught some rather enthusiastic but troublesome third year Slytherins exchanging mischievous grins, and a shy Hufflepuff girl a bit older who was struggling a bit with the subject but always seemed interested, talking to a Ravenclaw bloke who had given Nikolai some attitude.

"How is teaching treating you, Nikolai?" said a voice to his right, startling him. It was Filius who had spoken. He upturned his mouth slightly.

"It couldn't be better."

Filius laughed. "Wait until exams, then say that again."

To his left, Pomona joined in with Filius. "You can say that again. Grading is the most deplorable task," Pomona told Nikolai seriously. "But if you don't assign them anything, they never review and learn! But trust me, your time pays the price. I can't believe we've gone all these years without grading quills; I would pay a million galleons for something like that."

"It's not deplorable, Pomona," Severus Snape spoke up, not looking up from his meal. "It is my favorite part of the day."

Pomona chuckled good-naturedly. "Of course it is, Severus."

He shook his head. "Trocar, do not underestimate the power of a mysterious grade. It has the students shaking in their boots and aching to work harder. However well they did on my essay –"

"You've already assigned them an essay?"

"First year, first essay, first day of class. What a pity. Anyway, I marked the grades in my notebook, but despite how good or bad it was, I only make a few comments and put a check on the essays that I return, so that way they're always trying to improve their grade."

"You're horrible."

"I only do it for the first years," he protested. "It keeps them on their toes."

"And I'm sure you'd just love to be kept on your toes when you're eleven years old and possibly experiencing magical learning for the very first time," a new voice spoke up with a hint of a exasperation. Nikolai recognized it but couldn't place the face, so he turned around to look as Severus responded indignantly: "My class, my rules, Septima."

Septima Vector gave him a smile as he turned around, one he returned as he studied her. She was young: Severus' age, he thought. She was dark skinned and dark haired and he thought she was pretty, but what struck him was her eyes. They seemed alight with a wisdom and humor of her own special brand, and Nikolai resented her for it. It had been a long time since he could look at the world in such a way.

But you're getting there, he reminded himself. And just before he fell asleep that night, her eyes flashed before him.

"Nikolai! I didn't know you'd be here."

It was a very early Monday morning two months into term when Nikolai walked into the second floor staff room.

Nikolai turned around with a start. "Ah…yes, well, I'd best be going now, actually. I've an appointment in Hogsmeade before my classes this afternoon and want to get some grading done before breakfast.

"Now? It's not even dawn yet. Just stay and chat for a while."

Nikolai turned back to where his tea lay, looking out the window as he did so. It was still very dark, but he couldn't push it. Five minutes, he told himself. "Alright."

"So is grading as bad as you thought it would be?"

(Septima wouldn't voice it aloud, but when she looked at him then: all paper white skin and ink black expressions, it scared her to think that someone who was so ink on paper could barely be read, for the only expressions he ever gave were in the form of a slight tip of the corner of the mouth, up or down. And all she was doing was fishing for some sort of genuine emotion. She didn't know why, but something about him very much intrigued her, and she wanted to know more.)

"There turned out to be nothing to worry about. I wish I could really know my students a little more though. I have a few who are over enthusiastic, but most are very much interested in the subject while simultaneously being interested in class ending."

Septima laughed, and Nikolai thought it was light and airy. "I have two sorts of students; ones who take it because they want to be challenged, and ones who take it because their parents want them to be challenged."

"I was in the former. Arithmancy was one of my favorites, back at school."

"Really? I'm surprised you ended up in astronomy, then."

He shrugged, offering her one of his half smiles, eyes not meeting hers. "Circumstances changed."

She did not inquire further, and for that he was grateful. As she moved up next to Nikolai to begin making her own tea, he felt himself move towards the window, so that he could both look out of it and put some distance between them. Still, there was not a slimmer of sunlight rising up beyond the trees.

"What are you doing here so early?" she broke the silence.

"Didn't sleep very well last night, didn't fancy waiting until breakfast for something to drink."

"Ah. I do this every Monday. It's far easier to collect and prepare yourself for the week ahead with a strong cup of tea and a strong silence by lack of students."

At this, he chuckled, and Septima was so shocked she stared at him as he did so. It seemed as if laughing was something he didn't allow himself to do often, and she wondered why.

"There's nothing better than quiet," he began to agree, "but I've had nothing but for so long, the Great Hall is refreshing."

"Well, we're not being silent now, are we?"

"True. Every Monday then?"

"Unless I happen to die."

"Perhaps I'll see you around then." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Septima grinned at him, and he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. "Perhaps you will."

Their first kiss was two months later, and there was snow boarded up on the windows. The sunlight did not penetrate it as dawn broke, and the cold was creeping in, and his heart wasn't beating, it hadn't in a long time, but in the moments that passed in between when she entered the room and when he withdrew from their kiss, he had never felt so alive.

It was she who had crossed the room, she who had reached a hand to his cheek while the voice in Nikolai's head shouted too close in a repeated mantra.

"You're cold," she said, rather bluntly.

You have no idea, he thought in response. "I've always been like that."

She looked into his eyes, and he saw a decision there, and a split second later her lips were frozen to his.

And when he molded his lips back to hers, it was euphoria.

This is a mistake, he kept telling himself when it continued. Nikolai would meet her, they would talk, and they were real friends. (And Merlin, how long had it been since he'd had a mortal friend?) But she fancied him, for some reason, and Nikolai took his little amount of self-control to mean that he fancied her too.

When he was with her, it felt like happy memories – Quidditch and laughter and promise – and old and new pleasures – butterbeer and blood (he couldn't help it) – all rolled into one, and all in a blanket of warmth. Not an inside warmth, for he knew it didn't and could not exist, but a warmth between them, a halo around him that made him feel incredible.

But it was when she asked him why they had not told anybody when he realized that it couldn't go on. He couldn't lose this, he'd worked for far too long. And it wasn't fair of Septima to love someone who couldn't possibly love her back.

(But there were tears in her eyes when he told her, and he hated himself for putting them there. He almost blurted it out right then.)

"We can't do this anymore," he said, trying to maintain his normal voice. "It just won't work."

"Why?" she asked miserably.

Nikolai refused to meet her gaze. "I can't tell you that."

She was silent for a long moment, and Nikolai wanted to pull her close and call it off.

Septima shook her head, her tears falling faster now, and Nikolai looked away from them. "Fine," she said, and turned abruptly. "Fine. Goodbye, Nikolai. I want my Monday staff room back."

It was strange, working with her. But they got used to it eventually, and Nikolai continued to teach for years. He wouldn't trade it for the world.

(But late at night, once in a very long while, he thinks he might have traded it all for just one I love you.)