So, this is my first piece of Vampire Knight fanfiction and only my second fanfic yet. Oh, and this is my first multi-chapter story...ever. Quite sad, yes, I know -_- Here's to hoping I can see it through to its end! *Beta thinks you can, he!

So anyways, I absolutely love this couple and just had to write a story about the two of them. This is just a short dual prologue from Yori and Aidou's perspectives. Though the prologue is formatted this way, I have more of a...third person-omniscient POV for the actually story part :D

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Vampire Knight. That goes to Matsuri Hino. However, I do own this particular fanfic, so I still have something ^~^

So, enjoy, and hope you review!

EDIT//: I, now, have a fantastic (and thankfully very patient) Beta who completely took this prologue and actually made it WONDERFUL (homygawd D8, what blasphemy is this??) And I really have to thank her for taking the time and doing such an amazing job of taking my muck writing and turning it into something...100000+ x better! So, if you have already read this...read it again and admire MarginalMary's handiwork. Do it. Do it NAOW D8

*beta thinks, "Stop it!…You're gonna make me blush."

She hated him.

Well, "hate" was a heavy-handed and ubiquitous word, but she would be lying if she smiled sweetly and said she approved of the way he acted at times – or acted at any time. She supposed that there were three main reasons for her dislike, each more compounding than the previous, and each played an essential role in what he did to vex her.

Firstly and most obviously was his manner of parading through life as if he owned every piece of land on which he set his foot and so reigned supreme over other people in its general vicinity. With his head held so loftily and that cocky grin always in place, he seemed to invest an undue amount of pride in his every step.

Everyday, those grand, gothic gates leading to the mysterious Moon Dorm creaked open, and everyday he was there to greet them, aiming that invisible gun of his and winking, smiling, waving, and flirting his fangirls into a nauseating frenzy of hysteria. And, his fans were far from few. Much to her chagrin, he basically included the entire female populace of the Day Class in imaginary target practice. On the days she accompanied her friend the prefect to exchange-of-classes duties in the evening, Yori would be there, silent and virtually invisible. Either beside Yuuki, who was constantly flinching and bodily jostled, or observing from the back and out of the way of the core craziness, Yori watched his scene unfold. But despite regular exposure to his antics, she still winced from the girlish squeals and amorous shrieks every time.

He had such an ostentatious, flippant, irritating, overbearing attitude, ah! She could not quite imagine the motivations of anyone who would want to throw himself or herself at his prancing, posing, I-hover-above-the-ground-because-my-nose-is-stuck-up-in-the-clouds feet.

Oh sure, he was good looking – of course, she could not deny that fact. One would have to be blind not to see how enticingly handsome he was. So potent was the extent of his charisma, perhaps she would even go as far as to say the blind would somehow be able to ascertain his brilliance. There was his tousled, golden hair that bounced, perfectly coiffed, atop of his head, giving off the ruggedly handsome, boyish impression of having just hopped out of bed. Also, there were his salient eyes, so blue, icy, and piercing. In them glowed an enigmatic power that caused even the most casual viewer to experience disturbing shivers of both delight and apprehension. It was no secret that he came from an affluent family – something which only heightened his allure and her classmates' overzealous delusions of ballroom dancing, bountiful gifts, unparalleled attentions, and declarations of eternal love. Whether it was his enthralling good looks, his family's opulent wealth, or both that fueled the infatuation of the Day class girls, Yori didn't really care to know. But to cheer their little heads off constantly and swoon about theatrically every time he happened to be near really was too much. To her, his image and the fantasy it inspired all seemed a weak platform on which to like someone…because it was.

Secondly and most disdainfully, his cruel way of treating Cross Yuuki, her best friend and roommate, really burned Yori's last nerve.

When first, Yori stepped unceremoniously onto the grounds of Cross Academy to attend junior high, no one had really cared to acknowledge or include her – not that she had any particular ambitions to be popular. By nature, Yori was a quiet person and rarely displayed much emotion. She had never been complemented for being pretty nor had she ever been rebuked for being ugly. She was modestly praised for good deeds and achievements, but Yori had never been archly coddled or vociferously lauded. Mostly, Yori had simply sat there, silent-like and almost unchanging with a placid expression that rarely faltered.

Nobody wanted a doll for a friend.

Well, that's what she had thought, until Yuuki came along. That first day, the sparkle-eyed girl plopped down in the seat beside Yori, nearly bouncing her head ajar from utter excitement. Despite Yori's initial emotionless exterior, Yuuki still asked for her opinions and listened to her in conversation. Yuuki had been surprisingly intent and focused on what Yori had to say – a quality in others that was fairly foreign to Yori because people had rarely solicited her thoughts on anything at all.

Even with Yuuki's bubbly and artless personality that seemed to bandy about frolicking around Yori's stoic head, Yori had found herself opening up effortlessly and being taken in by Yuuki's offer of true and steadfast friendship. Later that day, a rather fortuitous coincidence had been discovered. Their fledgling friendship, built upon the virgin grounds of Yori's heart, would have the chance to grow as she and Yuuki were to be roommates for the duration of their enrollment at Cross Academy. Be it luck or fate, Yori could not know, but of one thing she was absolutely certain: unintended, Yuuki had claimed a place for herself in Yori's life, and that place would be forever cherished ground.

And so, with Yuuki being one of the first and few friends she had the genuine and unexpected pleasure of having, Yori obviously wanted the best for her chocolate-haired companion and to make sure that no harm came to her.

But, the pretty-eyed boy just had to make that difficult. Yes, Yori was not blind to his behavior. She had noted all his various attempts to make her dear friend suffer the wrath of his fangirling mob. Honestly, he employed such a superficial and malicious technique to annoy Yuuki; he had others, his salivating worshipers, do his dirty work. More alarming than the malicious glares, bumps, and bruises Yuuki received for her efforts and at his instigation, Yori could not understand why he chose to trouble Yuuki so. The majority of the girls already despised the prefect for keeping them away from their beloved Night Class and unintentionally "hogging" the attentions of its otherworldly beauties. Then, for reasons unknown to Yori, the golden boy just had to hug Yuuki and taunt the unfortunate girl in front of her classmates. Usually his cruel game resulted in exhausting legwork and sleep deprivation for Yuuki as the poor, tiny thing tore crisscrossing paths through the academy grounds for hours on end in her attempt to escape the envious clutches of his vengeful, rabid female fans.

That was what Yori defined as an "abuse of power."

And of course, there was the third and most disturbing reason for Yori's aversion to him. How could she ever forget – there was also that!

Yes, Yori knew. She knew that the entire body of the Night Class was composed of vampires. Yes, vampires. It had not been a mystery too perplexing for her to solve. Was it such an outlandish and impossible conjecture that her rational mind had originally rejected and utterly denied it? Yes. But, nonetheless, Yori knew it to be the case as she had never been one to cling to an ingrained perception when a different truth was evident.

One night after waiting for her friend and while settled in bed with a thick book, Yori had glanced up in concern when Yuuki had dragged her much abused feet inside and slumped into her bed with a weak "Goodnight." Not five minutes later, Yuuki had begun muttering incoherently in her sleep about the darkness, the mysterious dorm president of the Night Class Kuran Kaname, and some slurred allusions to their sulky classmate and Yuuki's foster brother Kiryu Zero. As Yuuki tossed and turned, Yori had put down her book and tiptoed over to the other girl's bedside with the intent of waking Yuuki to assure her that the nightmare was only a dream.

Yori had raised a speculative eyebrow when she heard Yuuki complain meekly, "Aidou-senpai…stop…" She had paused to wonder what new offense the playboy committed to crop up in Yuuki's dreaming hours. Yuuki's hand that lay lazily beside the sleeping girl's cheek had a small wound on the heel of her palm, a brush burn accompanied by a double pinprick of sorts. Yori had dismissed this potential clue off, deciding that it was nothing.

It was only later into the night she had first heard that ill-fated and cursed word, mumbled through the somnolent lips of the one person Yori trusted in the entire academy.

"...Vampire."

Of course, she had thought it rather odd that her friend would be thinking about made up monsters from storybooks while apparently in the midst of a nightmare inhabited by Kaname, Zero, and Aidou. But then, Yori had remembered a strange conversation between she and Yuuki only weeks prior. Yuuki had posed a nervous question, "Do you believe vampires exist?" And, then there were also those suspicious bandages that Yuuki would wear occasionally around her throat – like Yuuki was hiding a reoccurring wound. Her explanation – or lack thereof – had been shifty indeed.

So, the late nights patrolling, the inexplicable bandages, the intensified brooding of their silver-haired classmate, the queer inquiry as to Yori's belief in mythic beasts – and, now, twin punctures in Yuuki's palm and sleep talk about vampires. What did it all add up to? Bit-by-bit, ever so slowly, the pieces coalesced within Yori's reaching mind. She probably would not have discovered this new reality had Yuuki never come into her life, but as she already had, Yori was still forever grateful for the joy Yuuki had shined into her lonely world. Nevertheless, it was an unfortunate piece of information that shattered her immediate outlook on the natural order of the world.

However, as was indicative of Yori's steady disposition, she supposed that nothing else had really changed – girls still sighed delightedly at the mere mention of the Night Class, boring lectures were still given in every course while Yuuki slept right through them, and the rest of the world still spun on its axis at a 23 degree and some change angle.

Despite the reassuring normalcy of these facts, Yori could not quite work out why vampires were even on campus. She contented herself by concluding that, as her nightmarish schoolmates had not gone on any killing sprees to her knowledge, they were safe to be around – to a point, anyway.

Yori was still wary of the fact that vampires were nearby at all hours of the day and particularly night, and was constantly twitchy with anxiety when she thought of little Yuuki patrolling the grounds in darkness. But, Yori was careful to never reveal her worry to its fullest extent – which took negligible effort as Yuuki was not known for her powers of insight. Further, it did not escape Yori's attention that the beautiful boy all her classmates drooled over, the one who was forever pestering Yuuki, was one of those so-called bloodsucking monsters who only existed in fiction…supposedly. And that did not sit well with Yori at all. Thus, his being a vampire simply added to her dislike of the well seeming playboy.

Yet, she was not one to jump to conclusions or be unduly judgmental. Who was Yori to hate him for being what he was or what he appeared to be when she knew nothing of his true personality or core character? And hate was, after all, such a strong, overused word.

But, she could disapprove of him.

Yes, Wakaba Sayori had due cause to dislike that Aidou Hanabusa – just a little bit.

Damn her.

That was not a particularly kind thought, he knew, but the whole situation was just a colossal enigma his genius mind could not quite unravel. Yet, it wasn't earth shattering. No one's life depended on it – heavens, no.

But, dammit, his lack of understanding was really annoying. The mere fact that he did not know the cause of a freak occurrence such as this compelled him to find out more. As was at the core of his inquisitive nature, he burned to flush out the mystery.

Was it even possible for someone like her to exist? Was it possible for a human like her to exist? Well, he supposed the proof was undeniable – she was living. So he would begrudgingly concede that such an anomaly was possible. Regrettable and irrational as the prospect may have been, the scientist in him could not deny that she was, indeed, alive.

He admitted to himself that he was being somewhat egotistical, but, considering the substance on which he based his self-worth, he had the right. Damn it all. With the slight exceptions of Ruka, Seiren, and Rima, never in his considerable lifetime as a vampire noble had he met such a female being – human or inhuman – who could resist his impeccable charm and devilishly handsome looks. That fact aside, he judged his current plight to be unfair. She was a mere human, for goodness sake. She was supposed to be just another simpleminded, weak, and easily manipulated human. Yet if that was the case, then could someone please tell him why this girl deviated from the status quo? Why was she different from all those other impressionable Day Class girls?

Granted, there was also Cross Yuuki, who challenged precedent and the laws of his attraction, but that incongruity could be explained away because he was rather vindictive to her – just a little bit cruel to her, maybe. But, he couldn't help but feel indignation towards the puny prefect; Kaname-sama deserved much better than a frail human girl, after all. She was beneath their pureblood president. Hell, Cross Yuuki was beneath the entire Night Class. In his opinion, he was just looking after the best interests of their supreme leader…while also venting his mild disdain and jealousy on the prefect. Annoying her was cathartic; he had read that it was unhealthy to keep his emotions pent up inside.

He just could not understand why a pureblood such as Kaname-sama would associate with such a worthless human. True, her blood, which for the official record he had never truly tasted, was tantalizingly delicious, but that hardly justified any meaningful relationship between she and Kaname. She was an uncommonly yummy blood bank – period, the end. That should have been the end, but his pureblood king seemed to feel otherwise. Why, dammit!?

While on the subject of things-about-Kaname-sama-that-he-could-not-rationalize, Hanabusa could not comprehend why Kaname-sama would want peace between vampires and humans, either. And, to go to such great lengths to achieve it! To Hanabusa, the mission of the Night Class sounded like futile, idealistic crap. The eccentric fool, otherwise known as Headmaster of Cross Academy, was certainly reaching if he thought there was a big, happy hybrid family ending in the near future. The only reason any of the vampires in the Night Class were here was because Kaname-sama wished them to be here. Without his expressed desire to do otherwise, they would probably quit the blood tablets and this academy faster than anyone could say "Level E – look out!"

Regardless, Hanabusa could do no more than shake his head morosely when he thought of those two Kaname-related mysteries. However, this other discontinuity – the straight-faced human girl who rebelled against nature by rendering his attractive force ineffective – he would have to address that issue quickly lest Idol-senpai-resistance become contagious.

He had to wonder if she was mentally defective. Surely, that must be the cause, seeing as no girl in her right mind could look at him and feel nothing. What could have possibly gone wrong in the universe for a member of the opposite sex be immune to him? He, the genius playboy of the Night Class, could not wrap his head around this new and provocatively annoying discovery. If he were to judge it honestly, her indifference was offensive.

Upon entering Cross Academy, he had been completely self-possessed. As a prodigy and noble, coasting through classes would require 0 effort. He always got what he wanted with just a smile. The rare occasion when he did not could usually be rectified with the barest show of power. He never missed an opportunity; he never allowed a moment to be wasted; he never conceded defeat.

Charming, intelligent, powerful, and persistent– the combination of these attributes meant he could get any girl he wanted. That was what he had thought.

He would see the sharp-eyed, impassive girl from time to time. As the ornate, wooden double doors swung open day after day to announce the Night Class' arrival to the outside world, he noticed her sometimes standing beside the prefect or at other times waiting quietly for her friend in the background. That was not to say she was always present for his evening show. Sometimes, regrettably most times, she wasn't there at all. After three weeks of throwing all his best moves at her, he had simply given up. For the first time in his considerable relationship with the opposite sex, he was stonewalled. Being at a complete loss for what more he could do, he had resigned himself to failure number 1.

Hence, he had learned to turn away with barely a scoff in her general direction. He would simply continue forward, wooing his many fans – at least they obeyed the cardinal rule of Aidou-girl interaction. In these moments, he contended that this girl was simply unworthy of his valuable time. One girl? He could so easily pretend that this infinitesimal glitch in reality did not exist at all.

But it did – it most certainly did.

And was he affected?

Hell yes.

On days when his thoughts wandered in the midst of boredom, one could find him mightily pissed off. Just the simple fact that some little girl thought she could treat him that way – him – the epitome of noble vampire, miracle genius, ladies' man, and right-hand of Kuran Kaname-sama. She treated him like...like...well, like someone undeserving of her notice!

It was the very definition of "blasphemy."

What was more: it irked him to no end that her emotionless eyes could appear so sharp. He preferred his acquaintances to fit into neat, pre-generalized categories. There were the dullards with the emotional spectrum of an amoeba and without a shred of good sense, and then there were the livelies who were colorful and bright. It was easier to predict and thus manipulate people when they were either black or white. But, sharp and unfeeling? How tedious!

Her disregard of his finite divisions between people was merely another offense brought to bear by her defiance. How many was that now? She existed; she defied nature. She was indifferent; she defied the law of his gravity. She was flinty and impassive; she defied his guidelines of personal relations. And his pride was just a bit bruised.

At moments when she waltzed into his innocently meandering thoughts, he had been overcome by the sudden and intense urge to blow up at every little, unrelated thing. When he had actually allowed himself to mull over the various occasions he had distinguished her bored expression standing out against a veritable sea of fawning, thrilled ones, Hanabusa required 24 hours to nurse his rent ego before anyone had been allowed within a 15-foot radius of him.

Even Ruka had refrained from annoying him when he was in one of "those moods." Yes, his classmates had begun playfully calling them that after he unintentionally tried to impale Ruka with a flying shard of ice. At one point during his episode, Hanabusa had come that close to accidentally freezing their pureblood dorm president's hand when he approached to find out what was wrong. Hanabusa was then faced with the terrifying prospect of a confused, amused, and slightly angry Kaname-sama. Being forced to, once again, balance a bucket atop his head for an entire day had done nothing to improve his state of mind. Refusing to talk about the source of his temper tantrums to preserve his reputation, he knew that everyone's patience with him was waning, and he could not blame any of them for it.

After mentally raging against fate and venting his frustrations physically in the form of an iced over room, he had regained his senses. Gradually driving himself insane for several weeks and finally relieving his tension and stress, he had just wanted to scoff at his own ludicrousness – as if he would care so much! She wasn't even that pretty by his lofty standards – quite average to be honest.

Yet, the whole affair made him restless. She had meted out a ruthless beating to his ego without so much as a word of apology or even intent. What did it all mean? Maybe, she was truly out to get him.

Antsy and pissed, pissed and antsy – it was a bland cycle, one that did not suit him at all. It was seriously ridiculous that he had been so piqued over someone so insignificant, and he could not help but wonder why this inconsequential failure bothered him so.

He wondered quite a few things in fact: why did she gaze at him with such condescension? Why did she stray from convention? Why wouldn't she melt like putty in his hands and conform like all those other damned girls!? What could he possibly do to win over this exception to his fanbase once and for all?

He wanted those answers, and he wanted those answers yesterday. However, there was a problem. He could not rely on his smarts or his powers to get his way this time. Acquiring the answers he sought would be impossible unless he approached her personally. Maybe then, he would determine the origin of her unresponsiveness and slake his burning curiosity. And, perhaps, Hanabusa would even feel satisfied enough to rid himself of the lingering disquiet that was pushing the limits of his endurance. He was seriously tempted to seek her out.

But in doing so, he would be admitting that he was affected – admitting that she had gotten under his skin. Doing so would be lunacy! He wouldn't be caught dead chasing down some human girl that no one else seemed to notice.

So, what was there left for him to do? He could continue to augment his antagonism with random waves of anger until he finally resorted to ripping out the roots of his hair and screamed bloody murder…or he could ignore it – upend his natural curiosity, banish it from his mind, toss it out the proverbial window, and just…ignore her.

After all, there was a number of other quandaries to occupy his mind besides this pointless abnormality! Such as…why their pureblood dorm leader was so enamored with that air-headed prefect? See, so many better options!

Yes, he decided. Aidou Hanabusa had far more important things to worry about than Wakaba Sayori.