A/N: A new concept I'm working on. Depending on my feedback, I might continue this story. Right now, it's an experiment I've been planning...

Warning: This is rated M, for magic(k), mischief, and mayhem. ;) (And L for possible lemons later on.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Knight. It all belongs to Matsuri Hino.

"ღ*~+~*ღ"

"Are you sure that you don't want to talk about it?"

Zero nodded stiffly with a frown, threading his fingers through his hair as he sat hunched over on the pale couch in his editor's-slash-publicist's study. His elbows rested on his knees, digits gently pulling at his roots as he willed himself not to think about...

"How is your tattoo?" she asked gently from an elegant winged armchair, reaching out to brush his hair aside.

"Like a bad sunburn..." Zero replied, tipping his head to the side and pulling down the onyx collar of his dress shirt to let her see it better.

The tattoo was no longer red as it had been an hour ago, though the skin was still sensitive. It had skipped the scabbing phase, healing right away over the black ink. Zero had already applied aloe vera to it about a dozen times within the last hour, but the tingling still remained. It was as if he were being pierced by fangs over and over again, and the thought made his skin crawl. It pulled his mind back to the very things, the very person, the events he was trying to pretend never existed in the first place.

"It's a beautiful piece." she murmured, studying the simplistic yet ingenious lines along his neck that formed a thorny flower of sorts, and daggers.

"Could we please stop talking about my tattoo, Shizuka-san? It's making my stomach turn." he asked, shying away from the cool yet gently touch.

"My apologies." she sighed, withdrawing her hand to smooth out the bottom of her lavender kimono, folding both in her lap. "I've never seen you so troubled, it worries me."

"I thought I'd be able to live just like you and Jiro, but I guess I was a fool for dreaming that lightening could strike twice." Zero admitted.

"Society looks down on us, you know." Shizuka studied him over the top rim of her silver glasses. "I may be a princess, but there are many who have tried to kill him and myself indirectly. It's a pressure far more intense than any pureblood should have to feel, and very few can even tolerate such plays for our lives the way I have. I've started that human relations' group in order to try to successfully raise awareness, and, hopefully, eventually merge the two races closer together."

Zero said nothing. He was listening and comprehending, but was trying to keep his mind occupied with simple, demanding tasks so that he wouldn't start creating his own, pitiful fantasies once more.

Nine hundred and thirty-one.

There were Nine hundred and thirty one tomes on the walnut bookshelves that lined every inch of the wall space in her office, from the crimson carpet to the white ceiling. It was a rather irritating number, and Zero would recount to make sure that his consensus was correct. They were like eye-candy to him, all those different sizes and shapes, and the worlds they contained between those pages! They were the sweetest treat any avid reader could posses.

What he really needed was one of those tomes, something to calm him down and engage his mind. A bibliophile without books was like a smoker without cigarettes. Heaven forbid that anyone give him a writing utensil and a tome at the same time, otherwise the margins and flyleaves would have been filled up with annotations, edits and creations of his own. Why, why couldn't he shut off his brain?

"There's another young pureblood who's studying to enter my field, he likes to write too. Maybe you should get to know each other so he can teach you societal etiquette?" Shizuka suggested upon reading his internal struggle.

"Are his storied any good?" Zero asked, sighing when he saw her wince.

"Not particularly," Shizuka admitted ruefully, crossing her legs, the gesture making the gold bells in her silvery hair tinkle. "but you two have a common interest, so it'll be most convenient for the both of you."

"I don't see why I can't learn from you." Zero muttered, combing his fingers through his hair. "Well, then again, they'll probably think that you're slowly but surely creating your own cult to overthrow society, and I don't want to burden you more than I already have."

"You're no burden, I'll talk to Asato-san about it. You've already been deemed as an important individual for the human-relations movement because of your talents, so you're more likely to thrive in our culture than Jiro ever would."

"That last manuscript I wrote was utter crap." Zero mumbled, leaning back against the pale sofa. "Nothing but a self-insert piece to whine about my troubles. I'm honestly shocked at how many pre-orders it got."

"No matter what, no one will know the real story but you."

Zero grinned crookedly, lips twisting into a grimace. He leaned forward once more, grabbing one of the several notebooks laying on the coffee table, slipping a small, ball-point pen and glasses out of his breast pocket. He placed the frames on the bridge of his nose, watching the world behind those lenses pop and sharpen as he turned to a random page. Licking the tip, he pressed the nib to the paper, a bit of black bleeding onto the blank sheet.

"I don't even want to know the real story." he said simply, staring into her heliotrope irises. "So tell me, what's my cover? I'll need to hear the details to keep with consistency."

Shizuka smirked, deciding to mess with the young author.

"You know, Zero, ritualistically, when male vampires meet a pureblood of the same sex for the first time, they drink from each other's wrists in greeting to sample their blood and compare magnitude of strength. It's a sign of respect."

Zero nodded, writing the details down.

"ღ*~+~*ღ"

They were dead.

Kaname was the one who let them die.

One could even go as far as to say that he was the murderer, as he had done nothing to save them, casting the mother and her child off into oblivion as if she really were no more than an errant thought that had been long forgotten. They would never see the light of day again, nor would they be rescued from their impoverished hovel by the guilty young man who had raped and impregnated her, trying to make amends by righting all of his wrongs.

Never, for Kaname had killed him as well.

And he didn't even feel guilty.

The pureblood threw what was left of his manuscript into the stone fireplace. He watched shamelessly as the flames caressed the thick stack of papers, enveloping it within its vermilion heat, blackening the documents' edges until they curled and crumbled, bright lines of scarlet consuming, spreading along the once-snowy surface, leaving naught but gray ashes in its midst. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kaname could swear he heard her pleading cries, but he didn't bat an eyelash.

A sweetly scorched, dry scent mingled with smoke issued from the pyre - the scent of the burning bodies - the pages of his latest attempt at writing a novel.

Kaname wandered over to his luxurious bed, kicking off his shoes along the way before throwing himself face-down onto the silk sheets sprawled over the mattress. To hell with his fancy clothes, he would shed them and, for tonight, leave them where they lay, too tired and frustrated to care about tidiness, or maintaining the condition of his cuffs and ruffles.

It was a fruitless effort, and he had no idea as to why he would even try to write romances anymore.

Kaname was a pureblood. He was different from all of the others his age. While they were free to have relationships, attend school, socialize and grow up slowly, he had been reared from within a glass box, Asato's glass box to be specific. He was surprised that he was shaped like a person and not some cube, like how they grew designer watermelons. His position at the top of the food chain, so to speak, was one that involved tedious study, primping, grooming, and such, he didn't have time to pursue a romantic relationship like the rest of his peers.

Either way, who would truly come to care about him anyway? No woman would want him for love. Who in their right mind be so foolish as to love a tool of the trade for social-climbing? They only wanted three things from him; political powers, which resided in his money and status, vampire powers, which resided in his blood, and his seed, which resided in his...

Well they wouldn't be getting any of it. If he couldn't experience a proper relationship to base his writings off of, then Kaname would resort to plan B--asking another person about their experiences.

The lock to his bedroom door clicked, handle turning to bang against the back wall as an unknown persons rushed in.

"What the hell are you doing?! Oh I knew I could smell burning paper!"

Kaname twisted around on the mattress, turning just in time to witness a man with silver hair risk his precious fingers by reaching into the fireplace to salvage what was left of the manuscript. He plucked it from the flames, batting at it here and there to try and extinguish the encroaching plasma.

"OI! Do you know how to knock? Have you gone mad?" Kaname yelled, twisting around in his sheets, halfway through undressing.

"I could ask you the same thing! What kind of a freak burns books?" the man screamed back, outraged as he gently cradled the remains to his chest, getting gray ashes all over his dress shirt.

"You're the freak. Have you no manners? To barge into a pureblood's room, you must be suicidal." his eyes flashed dangerously, boring holes into the other vampire's back. "You're getting soot on my carpet!" he added for good measure, feeling the need to rant about his every shortcoming, since his first impression was turning out to be less than flattering.

"What's so special about you guys?" he asked in a low tenor, turning darkened mauve eyes to the pureblood, a flicker of pain touching them before his stance changed. "Yes, you run the entire race, but you bleed red, the same as the rest of us."

Kaname was taken aback. Never before had anyone voiced aloud his own thoughts. He looked over the young man, noting everything from his offensive stance to the way his black, horn-rimmed glasses hung low on the bridge of his nose. He was rather handsome, even with the frames, though Kaname thought he would have looked better without them.

Wasn't he expecting a visitor tonight? Yes, he remembered clearly what Asato had requested, to introduce a turned human into the aristocratic and political side of the vampire world, to educate him, as held the potential be an invaluable influence on the entire race, for being an author.

"State your name and reason for being here." Kaname commanded expectantly.

"Ichijou-san sent me here, so I don't see why I have to answer to you. It's not as if you own the house." Zero frowned, sizing up the pureblood.

"You will tell me your name." Kaname growled in a low tone, causing the man to shiver involuntarily before giving in.

"Kiryuu, Zero."

Curious. A thousand questions ran through his mind, but he decided to only harass him minimally.

"Isn't your clan of hunters?" he asked, lifting a brow.

"They disowned me when they found out what I had done." Zero replied with no emotion.

"Don't you write?"

"Yes," Zero ground from between grit teeth, eyes thinning as if he expected criticism.

Kaname hadn't read any of his works before, so there wasn't anything for him to criticize, about his writing anyway. When it came to his character though, that was another matter entirely.

"Why would you choose to be a slave to bloodlust?"

"It's none of your concern, but if you must know, I did it for longevity."

Kaname sighed, running a hand through his dark mess of hair. He gestured to a plush armchair near the bed, wanting Zero to have a seat. What kind of a headstrong person had they sent for him to look after?

"Your instincts should tell you to fear and revere a pureblood, yet you dare to bare your fangs at me." he laughed, narrowing his eyes. "The novelty of this lifestyle is your only saving grace. From this moment onwards, I will be your mentor and guide through the first year of your new life. I will teach you how to use your fangs, how to handle relations with your peers, the hierarchy, and a whole plethora of other points for cultural and social wellness in a fully-functioning vampire society. Now, even if it is my duty as a pureblood to benefit our race by refining your knowledge about us as a whole, I do charge a commission, as I am a very busy person.

"However, as I have heard about your talents, I am willing to mentor you, and put up for your room and board for the entire year if you do me one, simple favor."

Zero cocked a brow, straightening up from his affronting stance.

"There's no need, I have vast amounts of wealth. But I am curious about your proposition. What, may I ask, is that?"

Kaname looked at him for a while, before blushing in embarrassment.

"Teach me how to love."

"No." came his instant reply.

"Why the hell not?" Kaname asked, his patience growing short.

"Because I don't like your face." Zero spat, finally losing his temper before storming out of the room, calling back. "I can get someone else to teach me etiquette."

Kaname caught up to him in the hallway.

"Don't you dare walk out on a pureblood! You're so disrespectful." he growled, stopping once Zero rounded on him.

"You want respect?" he asked, grasping the pureblood's palm. "I'll give you respect."

Zero licked his lips, latching them onto the supple skin on the inside of Kaname's wrist, making his jaw drop. The ex-human took it as a sign for him to offer his own blood, shoving his arm into his face, nearly punching him in the process.

Kaname could feel his tongue coat his wrist with warm saliva, his own instinct kicking in, telling him to root for sustenance. He mimicked the movements, sucking lightly on Zero's wrist as he grazed his flesh with his fangs. The silver-haired youth bit down hard, one minute leaning into the pureblood, the next being pushed up against the wall of the dark, vacant corridor by an extremely warm body.

The hot rush of blood pulsated into his mouth--he must have hit an artery. Zero could taste Kaname's flavor, smokey sweet, riddled with testosterone. The pureblood drank just as greedily, the sweet and spicy hints soothing the burning of a thirst he never knew he had. He could feel the blood bond forming between them, deepening with every gulp, intensifying with each additional stimulus. Every movement, every sigh was intensified in that moment of encroachment in their little world.

The unbidden image of blood splattering on snow was a sound awakening in Zero's mind.

Ripping away from the pureblood, Zero's blood smeared lips parted, baring his fangs in a feral snarl that surprised Kaname, his own fangs tearing out of Zero's veins.

It was amazing! It was hot, needy, it was so... so...

Emotional.

"You're going to teach me." Kaname commanded huskily, burying his face into the ex-human's hair. "The opportunity is too great to pass up."

Had his tone done a one-eighty or what?

"One year is all I'm asking, I've never before felt so inspired, so alive."

"As long as this never happens again." Zero murmured, fear blossoming amongst the heat in his stomach.

"ღ*~+~*ღ"

A/N: Not the best opening chapter I've made, but if I continue, it'll get better. The feeling in this one is a little different from all of my other fics. I changed the ending at the last minute, by the way, as the original draft had Zero storming off and leaving Kaname behind, uninterested in the jerk that Zero was being to him. The beginning may seem drab, but I have big things planned...

Reviews: Tell me what you think? I would love you forever.