A Confession
The moon hung in the pitch-black sky, half obscured by clouds.
It was morning, but only on the technicality of hours. The cockerels from the surrounding farms hadn’t yet woken up to begin their raucous morning chorus, but it was only a matter of time before they did. The air smelled crisp and cool, a welcome change from the hot, dry scent of the summer day it had followed and would likely precede. There was a light breeze blowing, but that would no doubt fizzle out by the time the sun had risen to burn away the clouds.
Throughout the village people had slept with their windows open, each hoping to tempt in the breeze to chase away some of the heat of the day. It was easy to see, even without the perpetual light pollution of a city, for every pane of glass reflected the moon like countless mirrors.
Nobody was up yet.
Not a single light burned in any of the windows, no hint of orange could be seen at all. Good. That was exactly how Ulquiorra liked it. He sat in the garden of his grandparents’ house, relishing the feel of the cold air on his skin. He tended to sleep through most of the long summer days and spend the cooler evenings and darker nights awake. It wasn’t a problem. He had no friends in the village to miss him and he could do little more than long for when school started again.
When the holidays were over, he would be going into his third year.
He loved it so far, even if he had trouble showing it. He had been Sorted into Hufflepuff. They weren’t known for their wit or intelligence, or for cunning and ambition and they certainly weren’t what people would call brave or chivalrous, but that didn’t mean that they were cowardly, stupid or content to fail. No, they were hardworking and loyal and that wasn’t because they had little else going for them. Hufflepuffs would never abandon an ally, they worked hard to achieve their goals and got their marks that way. It wasn’t that they were unremarkable, it was just that they didn’t feel the need to brag about their achievements. They weren’t lacking anything -- they were all-rounders.
Ulquiorra loved the lessons and excelled in his classes. He wasn’t top of the year, but his record was nonetheless outstanding. He favoured Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Charms, though he hadn’t yet failed in any of his lessons. He was even looking forward to studying the optional subjects he had chosen.
It was all going far better than he’d ever expected.
Well, except for one thing. His best friend was in a different House to him. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected to ever have a best friend. Before starting Hogwarts, best friends were something he’d only read about in the books he had owned and devoured as a child. He was used to having nobody. It had been that way ever since one unfortunate incident that had happened during in his childhood.
Even so, against all of his expectations, he had Justin Warrick. He was a Ravenclaw. He hadn’t been put off by his quiet nature and the two had become friends in their first year through lessons and a shared tendency to hang around in the library. They had been that way ever since.
It was with Justin’s owl, Noctua, that he was sitting that dark morning. The two boys had been exchanging letters all summer using him because Ulquiorra didn’t have an owl of his own. His Grandparents had said that it would look strange to the other villagers if he had a pet owl and advised that he get a cat instead. The result of that decision was lying curled up in his bedroom.
Ulquiorra looked down at Noctua and reached out to stroke him. He stopped short of the owl’s feathers, eyes fixed on his hand. It looked ghostly grey in the moonlight. The soft white light made him look more washed out and even more drained and ill than usual. He looked away and dropped his hand to his lap. He was filled with indecision and pangs of guilt over something he couldn’t help. He reluctantly reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled free a carefully folded and sealed piece of parchment that he had addressed to Justin.
He didn’t open it to read it through - he’d memorised it perfectly.
He frowned at the hidden contents and avoided the questioning look that Noctua gave him when the letter came into sight. He knew what such a letter could do to Justin, what feelings and fears the words he had penned could evoke. Did he want to send it? Did he want to, potentially, destroy the friendship he valued so much? He clamped his teeth together and drew a shaky breath.
“It is about time I told him,” he said.
He steeled himself and offered the parchment to the owl, not looking at him when he did it. Noctua clamped it in his beak and ruffled his feathers, preparing to fly to the destination. Ulquiorra bit his lip and hastily dragged his hand across his eyes when they began to sting.
“Do not give it to anybody else,” he said, his voice quieter than before.
The owl hooted, shuffled on the spot, and then took off into the night.
*
Days passed without reply.
Ulquiorra hadn’t told his grandparents about what he’d planned to do. They noticed that he had been more withdrawn than usual and expressed concern, but Ulquiorra didn’t explain. He holed himself up in his room by day, coming out only to eat, and sat under the stars by night.
By the third one, he was starting to give up hope.
He had spent much of the afternoon reading the draft of the letter he had sent, reassuring himself that it didn’t come across badly, despite the information it contained.
“To Justin,” it began. “We have known each other for some time now, and I think it is about time for me to admit something to you that I have been avoiding since we became friends.”
Ulquiorra scowled down at his neat script. His writing was tidy, but entirely more formal than one would expect of a boy of thirteen. Every line and hoop was measured and nigh identical, even in the drafted version. It didn’t lack personality so much as give the distinct impression of seriousness.
“I am, as you may have noticed, different to our peers. The reason for this is a simple one - I am part human. A quarter, to be precise. My father, though I never knew him, was a half-vampire. I understand that this information may be distressing to you on account of the reputation that the species as a whole has earned itself.”
Just writing those words made his chest hurt. He wasn’t ashamed of what he was and he wasn’t ashamed to be his father’s son, but he knew what his heritage could mean to a full human. Compared to the hatred and revilement part-humans of certain mixes faced, Muggleborns had it easy.
“I am aware that I have probably left this too long. I apologise for that. It is not an easy thing for me to say as, as I am sure you can imagine, the reaction to such information has the potential to be, understandably, negative. I did not tell you sooner because I was always scared of how you would react. I am still scared of how you may react. That is why I am sending you this letter, instead of telling you in person.
I’m sorry.”
It had been hard to write. It had been hard to pen the letter that would, potentially, destroy the only friendship he’d ever really had. It was important to him. Justin was important to him and it was for that reason that he couldn’t not tell him. He dearly hoped that he had the ability to see past the horror stories and still see him, but, if he didn’t...
“I will understand if you do not wish to be friends with me anymore.
-Ulquiorra.”
He scrunched up the paper in his hand and looked out of the window. It was already getting dark. His grandparents were still awake, but he knew that they would not be for much longer after the sun’s light disappeared completely. Ulquiorra dropped the paper onto his desk and lay back on his bed. He frowned to himself, wondering what went through Justin’s head when he read the letter and whether he’d reply at all, or whether he would simply give him the cold shoulder the next time they met.
He drew an unsteady breath and turned onto his side, clutching his pillow.
He knew that there was no use worrying about it. Whatever would be, would be. He closed his eyes against the orange light of the sunset seeping in through his window and forced himself to sleep, at least until it was dark.
*
For all he hadn’t expected to sleep, he was awoken by a soft whumph and the sudden feeling of a weight on his bed. He opened one eye and peered at the source of the disturbance. His room was dark, but there was just enough light coming from outside to supply his sensitive eyes with enough to see by. It was, quite clearly, Noctua. He must have soared in through his open window.
He hastily got to his knees and took from him the letter he carried. A small burden in weight, but the contents had the potential to weigh heavily on its recipient. He furtively read the envelope, for all there was no reason. It was Justin’s owl and it made sense for it to be Justin who had penned his name. Even so, he stalled in tearing it open to just make sure. He was eager to see his answer, but worried too.
He took a breath and slit it open with a finger. He pulled the parchment free and straightened it out, the crinkling of crisp paper seeming almost intolerably loud in the nervous quiet of his room. He was, of course, prepared for the worst.
“To Ulquiorra,” the letter began. “Sorry about the delay. My dad and I ended up taking an impromptu holiday, so I didn’t get the letter until we got back. I wanted to sleep on it, to make sure that an ill-advised impulsive response wasn’t going to find its way to you. I wrote one, and enclosed it with this, but I wanted to wait.”
Ulquiorra’s keen eyes scanned the words by moonlight, his vision as crystal clear as any human's would be by lamplight. He swallowed, but kept reading to the end. True enough, there was a hastily written response with the much longer one that he was reading. He glanced at it, saw the words “It’s all right, I don’t care what you are. I still want to be your friend.” scribbled on the scrap of parchment. He felt slightly heartened.
“Well, I thought about it and I do still want to be friends with you. It’s all right. You’re no different now to how you’ve ever been. The information doesn’t really change a thing, but I’m glad you could finally tell me. I hope the delay in my reply didn’t cause you too much worry.
-Justin.”
Ulquiorra took a deep breath and let it go. He read the letter again and again and felt better every subsequent time. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t scared of what he was and, for some reason, he didn’t judge him on it and hadn’t started seeing him any differently due to it. He smiled - a rare thing - and got himself together enough to send him a letter back. It was short, but contained all it really needed.
“I was afraid that you would say no.”
He gave the parchment to Noctua and let him wing his way back to his owner. In the wake of the letter and the silence that followed, Ulquiorra found himself at ease. The tension and concern that had followed him around like a dark cloud since the beginning of the holidays had suddenly lifted and he felt lighter, happy for the first time since the start of the summer.
Justin’s reply came more quickly than he anticipated. He had expected him to be asleep at such a time, but perhaps his owl had woken him. In any case, he was glad of the prompt response and even gladder at what the parchment said.
“I wouldn’t do that. You’re my best friend. I just wish, for the first time, that the holidays weren’t quite so long or that I could see you during them.”
The holidays didn’t seem to drag on as much after that and their continued correspondence seemed to make them go somewhat faster. A few weeks of sun (and the odd day of thundery summer rain) later and they were due back on the Hogwarts Express. They hadn’t managed to get to Diagon Alley at the same time, so when Ulquiorra finally located Justin’s carriage on the train it was the first time they had seen each other since they broke up for summer at the end of the last school year.
He was rather relieved to see the carriage otherwise empty and nodded to him. Justin looked rather pleased to see him. He dragged his trunk in and shoved it under one of the seats to save him the trouble and then, rather unexpectedly, hugged him.
It took Ulquiorra by surprise.
He hadn’t expected such an open display of affection, not least after admitting to him what he had over the summer. There was still rather a long way between acceptance and normalcy, but Justin seemed to have bridged that gap with no effort. It didn’t stop him freezing in his grasp, though. It was just for a moment -- an impulsive stiffening of muscles before he managed.
“Sorry,” Justin said, not even having the good grace to look awkward.
Ulquiorra shook his head and sat down, feeling even better now he was with Justin and a step closer to getting back to school. He knew that his mood would only lift further once it set off, but it was certainly a good start.
“How was your holiday?” Ulquiorra asked. “Aside from what you wrote to me about.” He amended.
“Not so bad,” Justin replied, shrugging casually. “My dad was fairly normal throughout. Insisted we do things on his days home from work because we don’t usually get to because I’m at school, but all right.”
Ulquiorra nodded. He knew that Justin’s father could be a little ... controlling, so he didn’t comment on the subject. Justin loved him regardless of those tendencies.
“Mine was mostly boring,” he said, glancing out of the window as the train doors closed. His grandparents hadn’t accompanied him to the station this time. He didn’t mind. “I don’t much like summer. It’s too hot.”
“We had some rainy days,” Justin said with a smile. He knew that Ulquiorra wasn't especially fond of rain, even if he did profess a slight fondness for storms. “It looks like today is going to be one of them.”
Sure enough, he was right. After the train sped out of the station and once it had left the city behind, it was easy to see the sky growing a steadily more uniform grey above them. By the time the witch with the trolley came around, rain streaked the windows. When the clouds grew darker and the carriage lights came on, Ulquiorra decided to address that rather sizeable elephant in the room.
“I’m sorry I worried you with my letter,” he said quietly, closing up his box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. “I was worried about sending it, but I decided that I would prefer you to find out the truth directly from me and risk losing your friendship than to have you find out the truth by rumour.”
Justin shook his head, his expression almost distressed. “I wouldn’t have cared no matter where or who I heard it from!” He frowned, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to hug him to make him feel better. “I’m glad you trusted me.”
Ulquiorra gave him a questioning look. “Trusted..?”
“Trusted me enough to tell me,” Justin explained, squeezing his shoulder in lieu of a hug. “I was just a little worried that you wouldn’t believe me when I said I still wanted to be friends.”
Ulquiorra blinked, eyebrows drawing together in a rare expression of confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I didn’t know whether you’d ever dealt with this before,” Justin admitted. “You sounded so worried in the letter, it wasn’t sure whether you’ been hurt by it before.”
Ulquiorra understood then. It made sense. He nodded. “When I was very young, some of the other children from the village - friends at the time - did find out about it. They got scared and ran away, told their parents. I don’t live in a village with a heavy slant towards the magical community and my grandparents ended up having to send an owl to the ministry about the backlash. It was small scale - not everybody believed the children, but it was enough to warrant a team of Obliviators and a stern warning about getting close to people and letting them know what I am.”
He looked down at his too-pale hands, vividly remembering being told that he shouldn’t really have friends if he didn't want this to happen again by a less-than-pleasant Obliviator. It was a lot for a child to bear and it had hurt a lot at the time. He remembered crying.
“The experience made me very wary of telling anyone,” he said quietly.
Justin looked simultaneously horrified and sympathetic. He was momentarily lost for words and simply shook his head in disbelief. He rather hoped that his father, an Obliviator, wasn't on the team dispatched for that job.
“At the time the Ministry were still dealing with the fallout from the defeat of Voldemort,” Ulquiorra added. “I doubt they really wanted to have to invest much time in cleaning up the unintentional mess of a single part-human boy in some backwater village.”
“But that’s hardly fair,” Justin said, frowning. “It wasn’t as though you did anything.”
“No, but with the way they’d acted, you would think I had bitten them,” Ulquiorra said, rolling his eyes.
“And you hadn’t?” There was a small degree of nervousness marring the question, but Ulquiorra shook his head to put Justin’s mind at rest.
“No,” he answered, completely honestly. “I never have. I have never needed to.”
“You don’t need to drink..?” Justin left the question hanging.
“I do, but I handle it with the help of either St. Mungo’s or the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, depending where I am.” Ulquiorra explained. “In Muggle medical practices, blood donation and transfusion is used instead of Blood Replenishing Potions. I believe St. Mungo’s and, by extension, The Hospital Wing, have an arrangement with a Muggle Hospital for situations like this.”
Justin seemed to relax slightly knowing that.
Ulquiorra glanced out of the window at the rapidly darkening sky. It looked like a storm was brewing in the clouds and, if they were unlucky, they’d end up suffering the rain when they reached the castle. He was rather glad that Justin had taken him and this... problem with good humour. It made him feel better.
“So...” Justin said after a few moments of comfortable silence. “Is there anything different..? Between you and a full human? Is there anything unusual that you can or can’t do because of what your are?”
Ulquiorra thought about it. It was a difficult thing to compare, having only experience of one side. “I suppose. I am more resistant to curses, hexes and jinxes. I burn more easily in the sun - that is why I dislike summer. Not to the degree of turning to dust, I just have slightly more resistance less resistance to prolonged exposure to sunlight than normal people." He shrugged. "More acute senses -- I have much better night vision than most, I think, but I cannot say for sure. I have never been human. Fully, anyway."
“That makes sense,” he said. “There doesn’t seem to be much of a difference between you and everyone else. Do you... mind?”
Ulquiorra shrugged. “I don’t mind being what I am, but it would be more tolerable if people weren’t so unpleasant about the idea of it.”
“I bet,” Justin said. “I read about vampires over the summer. They do have a bit of a scary reputation.”
“I’m aware of that,” Ulquiorra sighed, sinking into his seat. “Thankfully, nobody seems to have realised or at least said anything yet, but it is only a matter of time.”
Justin’s eyes widened. “Nobody else has reason to know yet, do they?”
“Just the teachers. I shouldn’t imagine that they would divulge the information carelessly to other students,” Ulquiorra said, shrugging again.
“Are you planning on letting more people find out?”
“Justin,” Ulquiorra said after a moment. “As soon as we cover vampires in Defense Against the Dark Arts, somebody is going to make a connection. My skin should provide a clue if nothing else.” He looked down almost sadly, dreading that lesson.
Justin looked equally as sad about it. “I suppose somebody will,” he muttered. “I just hope that they’ll be reasonable about it.”
“Hopefully. I have never done anything to anyone, though I am not sure that it will matter once the information gets out. It is much the same as what werewolves go through. They have friends for years who, as soon as they discover what they are, can't stand to look at them any more. It is not as though I am suddenly going to start biting people."
Justin looked distressed for him. He sat closer and put an arm around him to squeeze his shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to go through it. I wish people weren’t so pointlessly horrible about things like this. I wish I could make things easier or better for you.”
“You’re willing to be my friend despite knowing,” he said, looking at him. “That’s all I could ask for.”
Justin pulled him into a hug, grinning broadly. “I’m glad you finally told me instead of worrying about it.”
“I’m happy that you don’t think that I’m going to suddenly turn psychotic and start biting people.” Ulquiorra admitted.
“If... you don’t mind me asking...Could you bite someone?” He asked curiously, even slightly awkwardly.
Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. There was something in his eyes that suggested amusement and a slight tug at the corner of his mouth that would be, in anyone else, unnoticeable, but was for him, at least, a smile.
“Sorry,” Justin said, nearly grinning at his expression. “Let me ask again now I have engaged the ability to ask a question properly. Do you have fangs?”
“Yes,” Ulquiorra said. There was a very good reason why he didn’t tend to smile.
“Have you ever ... thought about biting someone..?” He asked after a moment of apparently scrabbling with how to address such a subject delicately and coming up empty.
Ulquiorra looked at him and frowned slightly, nodding. There was really no use denying it. He was designed for such a purpose and he had both the necessary equipment and the need to drive him. He dropped his gaze when Justin took on a nervous and concerned manner, eyes wide, even if he did pull him reassuringly closer. Worry was expected, given the subject matter, but knowing that it was likely didn’t stop the pang of hurt that hit him when Justin looked at him like that. He didn’t seem afraid, but it didn’t stop him worrying. Even so, he endeavoured to explain.
“I have thought about it,” he confessed. “On a theoretical basis.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, searching for how to phrase his explanation.
“It’s something I am supposed to do,” he said. “I have considered what it must be like, but understand that I have never really had the desire to do it. The thought disgusts me somewhat. You can have the ability, but not the will, and still theorise about a process, can’t you?”
“Yes,” Justin said at last, his expression shifting from concerned to slightly guilty. He’d upset him by looking worried and he knew it. “Sorry, it’s just the idea of it. It’s obvious that you’re disturbed by the idea, so I don’t mind admitting that I am as well. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s all right,” Ulquiorra said, still looking a little sad. “I know that you did not mean anything by it.”
Justin gave him another tight squeeze and then let go, perking up slightly.
“Are they sharp?” Justin asked suddenly. “And feel free to tell me to shut up - I’m just interested in learning about you.”
“The fangs?” Ulquiorra asked.
“Yes,” Justin said.
“They are. They’re functional,” he told him. “I cut my tongue rather often on them when they were coming through.” He pulled his lip upwards, wrinkling his nose in the process. Sure enough, his canines were elongated and rather clearly sharp. Too far back to ever stick out over his lip like the fictional variety of his species, they looked like they had a purpose, rather than being mere decoration.
Justin grinned at the sight of him. The expression on his face at the display was at least as unusual as the fangs themselves. “They do look rather good,” he said, and it made Ulquiorra smile again. He gave him another hug and seemed entirely at ease with him for the remainder of the trip.
The rest of the train journey progressed without much incident. As Ulquiorra had dreaded, it was lashing down with rain by the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station and everyone was soaked by the time they reached the Great Hall.
As far as Ulquiorra was concerned, it didn’t matter all that much, as unpleasant as it was. Not even the torrential rain of early autumn could put a damper on his good mood. Justin had accepted him for who he was, despite everything. That was worth considerably more to him than a clear sky.
It was morning, but only on the technicality of hours. The cockerels from the surrounding farms hadn’t yet woken up to begin their raucous morning chorus, but it was only a matter of time before they did. The air smelled crisp and cool, a welcome change from the hot, dry scent of the summer day it had followed and would likely precede. There was a light breeze blowing, but that would no doubt fizzle out by the time the sun had risen to burn away the clouds.
Throughout the village people had slept with their windows open, each hoping to tempt in the breeze to chase away some of the heat of the day. It was easy to see, even without the perpetual light pollution of a city, for every pane of glass reflected the moon like countless mirrors.
Nobody was up yet.
Not a single light burned in any of the windows, no hint of orange could be seen at all. Good. That was exactly how Ulquiorra liked it. He sat in the garden of his grandparents’ house, relishing the feel of the cold air on his skin. He tended to sleep through most of the long summer days and spend the cooler evenings and darker nights awake. It wasn’t a problem. He had no friends in the village to miss him and he could do little more than long for when school started again.
When the holidays were over, he would be going into his third year.
He loved it so far, even if he had trouble showing it. He had been Sorted into Hufflepuff. They weren’t known for their wit or intelligence, or for cunning and ambition and they certainly weren’t what people would call brave or chivalrous, but that didn’t mean that they were cowardly, stupid or content to fail. No, they were hardworking and loyal and that wasn’t because they had little else going for them. Hufflepuffs would never abandon an ally, they worked hard to achieve their goals and got their marks that way. It wasn’t that they were unremarkable, it was just that they didn’t feel the need to brag about their achievements. They weren’t lacking anything -- they were all-rounders.
Ulquiorra loved the lessons and excelled in his classes. He wasn’t top of the year, but his record was nonetheless outstanding. He favoured Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Charms, though he hadn’t yet failed in any of his lessons. He was even looking forward to studying the optional subjects he had chosen.
It was all going far better than he’d ever expected.
Well, except for one thing. His best friend was in a different House to him. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected to ever have a best friend. Before starting Hogwarts, best friends were something he’d only read about in the books he had owned and devoured as a child. He was used to having nobody. It had been that way ever since one unfortunate incident that had happened during in his childhood.
Even so, against all of his expectations, he had Justin Warrick. He was a Ravenclaw. He hadn’t been put off by his quiet nature and the two had become friends in their first year through lessons and a shared tendency to hang around in the library. They had been that way ever since.
It was with Justin’s owl, Noctua, that he was sitting that dark morning. The two boys had been exchanging letters all summer using him because Ulquiorra didn’t have an owl of his own. His Grandparents had said that it would look strange to the other villagers if he had a pet owl and advised that he get a cat instead. The result of that decision was lying curled up in his bedroom.
Ulquiorra looked down at Noctua and reached out to stroke him. He stopped short of the owl’s feathers, eyes fixed on his hand. It looked ghostly grey in the moonlight. The soft white light made him look more washed out and even more drained and ill than usual. He looked away and dropped his hand to his lap. He was filled with indecision and pangs of guilt over something he couldn’t help. He reluctantly reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled free a carefully folded and sealed piece of parchment that he had addressed to Justin.
He didn’t open it to read it through - he’d memorised it perfectly.
He frowned at the hidden contents and avoided the questioning look that Noctua gave him when the letter came into sight. He knew what such a letter could do to Justin, what feelings and fears the words he had penned could evoke. Did he want to send it? Did he want to, potentially, destroy the friendship he valued so much? He clamped his teeth together and drew a shaky breath.
“It is about time I told him,” he said.
He steeled himself and offered the parchment to the owl, not looking at him when he did it. Noctua clamped it in his beak and ruffled his feathers, preparing to fly to the destination. Ulquiorra bit his lip and hastily dragged his hand across his eyes when they began to sting.
“Do not give it to anybody else,” he said, his voice quieter than before.
The owl hooted, shuffled on the spot, and then took off into the night.
*
Days passed without reply.
Ulquiorra hadn’t told his grandparents about what he’d planned to do. They noticed that he had been more withdrawn than usual and expressed concern, but Ulquiorra didn’t explain. He holed himself up in his room by day, coming out only to eat, and sat under the stars by night.
By the third one, he was starting to give up hope.
He had spent much of the afternoon reading the draft of the letter he had sent, reassuring himself that it didn’t come across badly, despite the information it contained.
“To Justin,” it began. “We have known each other for some time now, and I think it is about time for me to admit something to you that I have been avoiding since we became friends.”
Ulquiorra scowled down at his neat script. His writing was tidy, but entirely more formal than one would expect of a boy of thirteen. Every line and hoop was measured and nigh identical, even in the drafted version. It didn’t lack personality so much as give the distinct impression of seriousness.
“I am, as you may have noticed, different to our peers. The reason for this is a simple one - I am part human. A quarter, to be precise. My father, though I never knew him, was a half-vampire. I understand that this information may be distressing to you on account of the reputation that the species as a whole has earned itself.”
Just writing those words made his chest hurt. He wasn’t ashamed of what he was and he wasn’t ashamed to be his father’s son, but he knew what his heritage could mean to a full human. Compared to the hatred and revilement part-humans of certain mixes faced, Muggleborns had it easy.
“I am aware that I have probably left this too long. I apologise for that. It is not an easy thing for me to say as, as I am sure you can imagine, the reaction to such information has the potential to be, understandably, negative. I did not tell you sooner because I was always scared of how you would react. I am still scared of how you may react. That is why I am sending you this letter, instead of telling you in person.
I’m sorry.”
It had been hard to write. It had been hard to pen the letter that would, potentially, destroy the only friendship he’d ever really had. It was important to him. Justin was important to him and it was for that reason that he couldn’t not tell him. He dearly hoped that he had the ability to see past the horror stories and still see him, but, if he didn’t...
“I will understand if you do not wish to be friends with me anymore.
-Ulquiorra.”
He scrunched up the paper in his hand and looked out of the window. It was already getting dark. His grandparents were still awake, but he knew that they would not be for much longer after the sun’s light disappeared completely. Ulquiorra dropped the paper onto his desk and lay back on his bed. He frowned to himself, wondering what went through Justin’s head when he read the letter and whether he’d reply at all, or whether he would simply give him the cold shoulder the next time they met.
He drew an unsteady breath and turned onto his side, clutching his pillow.
He knew that there was no use worrying about it. Whatever would be, would be. He closed his eyes against the orange light of the sunset seeping in through his window and forced himself to sleep, at least until it was dark.
*
For all he hadn’t expected to sleep, he was awoken by a soft whumph and the sudden feeling of a weight on his bed. He opened one eye and peered at the source of the disturbance. His room was dark, but there was just enough light coming from outside to supply his sensitive eyes with enough to see by. It was, quite clearly, Noctua. He must have soared in through his open window.
He hastily got to his knees and took from him the letter he carried. A small burden in weight, but the contents had the potential to weigh heavily on its recipient. He furtively read the envelope, for all there was no reason. It was Justin’s owl and it made sense for it to be Justin who had penned his name. Even so, he stalled in tearing it open to just make sure. He was eager to see his answer, but worried too.
He took a breath and slit it open with a finger. He pulled the parchment free and straightened it out, the crinkling of crisp paper seeming almost intolerably loud in the nervous quiet of his room. He was, of course, prepared for the worst.
“To Ulquiorra,” the letter began. “Sorry about the delay. My dad and I ended up taking an impromptu holiday, so I didn’t get the letter until we got back. I wanted to sleep on it, to make sure that an ill-advised impulsive response wasn’t going to find its way to you. I wrote one, and enclosed it with this, but I wanted to wait.”
Ulquiorra’s keen eyes scanned the words by moonlight, his vision as crystal clear as any human's would be by lamplight. He swallowed, but kept reading to the end. True enough, there was a hastily written response with the much longer one that he was reading. He glanced at it, saw the words “It’s all right, I don’t care what you are. I still want to be your friend.” scribbled on the scrap of parchment. He felt slightly heartened.
“Well, I thought about it and I do still want to be friends with you. It’s all right. You’re no different now to how you’ve ever been. The information doesn’t really change a thing, but I’m glad you could finally tell me. I hope the delay in my reply didn’t cause you too much worry.
-Justin.”
Ulquiorra took a deep breath and let it go. He read the letter again and again and felt better every subsequent time. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t scared of what he was and, for some reason, he didn’t judge him on it and hadn’t started seeing him any differently due to it. He smiled - a rare thing - and got himself together enough to send him a letter back. It was short, but contained all it really needed.
“I was afraid that you would say no.”
He gave the parchment to Noctua and let him wing his way back to his owner. In the wake of the letter and the silence that followed, Ulquiorra found himself at ease. The tension and concern that had followed him around like a dark cloud since the beginning of the holidays had suddenly lifted and he felt lighter, happy for the first time since the start of the summer.
Justin’s reply came more quickly than he anticipated. He had expected him to be asleep at such a time, but perhaps his owl had woken him. In any case, he was glad of the prompt response and even gladder at what the parchment said.
“I wouldn’t do that. You’re my best friend. I just wish, for the first time, that the holidays weren’t quite so long or that I could see you during them.”
The holidays didn’t seem to drag on as much after that and their continued correspondence seemed to make them go somewhat faster. A few weeks of sun (and the odd day of thundery summer rain) later and they were due back on the Hogwarts Express. They hadn’t managed to get to Diagon Alley at the same time, so when Ulquiorra finally located Justin’s carriage on the train it was the first time they had seen each other since they broke up for summer at the end of the last school year.
He was rather relieved to see the carriage otherwise empty and nodded to him. Justin looked rather pleased to see him. He dragged his trunk in and shoved it under one of the seats to save him the trouble and then, rather unexpectedly, hugged him.
It took Ulquiorra by surprise.
He hadn’t expected such an open display of affection, not least after admitting to him what he had over the summer. There was still rather a long way between acceptance and normalcy, but Justin seemed to have bridged that gap with no effort. It didn’t stop him freezing in his grasp, though. It was just for a moment -- an impulsive stiffening of muscles before he managed.
“Sorry,” Justin said, not even having the good grace to look awkward.
Ulquiorra shook his head and sat down, feeling even better now he was with Justin and a step closer to getting back to school. He knew that his mood would only lift further once it set off, but it was certainly a good start.
“How was your holiday?” Ulquiorra asked. “Aside from what you wrote to me about.” He amended.
“Not so bad,” Justin replied, shrugging casually. “My dad was fairly normal throughout. Insisted we do things on his days home from work because we don’t usually get to because I’m at school, but all right.”
Ulquiorra nodded. He knew that Justin’s father could be a little ... controlling, so he didn’t comment on the subject. Justin loved him regardless of those tendencies.
“Mine was mostly boring,” he said, glancing out of the window as the train doors closed. His grandparents hadn’t accompanied him to the station this time. He didn’t mind. “I don’t much like summer. It’s too hot.”
“We had some rainy days,” Justin said with a smile. He knew that Ulquiorra wasn't especially fond of rain, even if he did profess a slight fondness for storms. “It looks like today is going to be one of them.”
Sure enough, he was right. After the train sped out of the station and once it had left the city behind, it was easy to see the sky growing a steadily more uniform grey above them. By the time the witch with the trolley came around, rain streaked the windows. When the clouds grew darker and the carriage lights came on, Ulquiorra decided to address that rather sizeable elephant in the room.
“I’m sorry I worried you with my letter,” he said quietly, closing up his box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. “I was worried about sending it, but I decided that I would prefer you to find out the truth directly from me and risk losing your friendship than to have you find out the truth by rumour.”
Justin shook his head, his expression almost distressed. “I wouldn’t have cared no matter where or who I heard it from!” He frowned, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to hug him to make him feel better. “I’m glad you trusted me.”
Ulquiorra gave him a questioning look. “Trusted..?”
“Trusted me enough to tell me,” Justin explained, squeezing his shoulder in lieu of a hug. “I was just a little worried that you wouldn’t believe me when I said I still wanted to be friends.”
Ulquiorra blinked, eyebrows drawing together in a rare expression of confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I didn’t know whether you’d ever dealt with this before,” Justin admitted. “You sounded so worried in the letter, it wasn’t sure whether you’ been hurt by it before.”
Ulquiorra understood then. It made sense. He nodded. “When I was very young, some of the other children from the village - friends at the time - did find out about it. They got scared and ran away, told their parents. I don’t live in a village with a heavy slant towards the magical community and my grandparents ended up having to send an owl to the ministry about the backlash. It was small scale - not everybody believed the children, but it was enough to warrant a team of Obliviators and a stern warning about getting close to people and letting them know what I am.”
He looked down at his too-pale hands, vividly remembering being told that he shouldn’t really have friends if he didn't want this to happen again by a less-than-pleasant Obliviator. It was a lot for a child to bear and it had hurt a lot at the time. He remembered crying.
“The experience made me very wary of telling anyone,” he said quietly.
Justin looked simultaneously horrified and sympathetic. He was momentarily lost for words and simply shook his head in disbelief. He rather hoped that his father, an Obliviator, wasn't on the team dispatched for that job.
“At the time the Ministry were still dealing with the fallout from the defeat of Voldemort,” Ulquiorra added. “I doubt they really wanted to have to invest much time in cleaning up the unintentional mess of a single part-human boy in some backwater village.”
“But that’s hardly fair,” Justin said, frowning. “It wasn’t as though you did anything.”
“No, but with the way they’d acted, you would think I had bitten them,” Ulquiorra said, rolling his eyes.
“And you hadn’t?” There was a small degree of nervousness marring the question, but Ulquiorra shook his head to put Justin’s mind at rest.
“No,” he answered, completely honestly. “I never have. I have never needed to.”
“You don’t need to drink..?” Justin left the question hanging.
“I do, but I handle it with the help of either St. Mungo’s or the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, depending where I am.” Ulquiorra explained. “In Muggle medical practices, blood donation and transfusion is used instead of Blood Replenishing Potions. I believe St. Mungo’s and, by extension, The Hospital Wing, have an arrangement with a Muggle Hospital for situations like this.”
Justin seemed to relax slightly knowing that.
Ulquiorra glanced out of the window at the rapidly darkening sky. It looked like a storm was brewing in the clouds and, if they were unlucky, they’d end up suffering the rain when they reached the castle. He was rather glad that Justin had taken him and this... problem with good humour. It made him feel better.
“So...” Justin said after a few moments of comfortable silence. “Is there anything different..? Between you and a full human? Is there anything unusual that you can or can’t do because of what your are?”
Ulquiorra thought about it. It was a difficult thing to compare, having only experience of one side. “I suppose. I am more resistant to curses, hexes and jinxes. I burn more easily in the sun - that is why I dislike summer. Not to the degree of turning to dust, I just have slightly more resistance less resistance to prolonged exposure to sunlight than normal people." He shrugged. "More acute senses -- I have much better night vision than most, I think, but I cannot say for sure. I have never been human. Fully, anyway."
“That makes sense,” he said. “There doesn’t seem to be much of a difference between you and everyone else. Do you... mind?”
Ulquiorra shrugged. “I don’t mind being what I am, but it would be more tolerable if people weren’t so unpleasant about the idea of it.”
“I bet,” Justin said. “I read about vampires over the summer. They do have a bit of a scary reputation.”
“I’m aware of that,” Ulquiorra sighed, sinking into his seat. “Thankfully, nobody seems to have realised or at least said anything yet, but it is only a matter of time.”
Justin’s eyes widened. “Nobody else has reason to know yet, do they?”
“Just the teachers. I shouldn’t imagine that they would divulge the information carelessly to other students,” Ulquiorra said, shrugging again.
“Are you planning on letting more people find out?”
“Justin,” Ulquiorra said after a moment. “As soon as we cover vampires in Defense Against the Dark Arts, somebody is going to make a connection. My skin should provide a clue if nothing else.” He looked down almost sadly, dreading that lesson.
Justin looked equally as sad about it. “I suppose somebody will,” he muttered. “I just hope that they’ll be reasonable about it.”
“Hopefully. I have never done anything to anyone, though I am not sure that it will matter once the information gets out. It is much the same as what werewolves go through. They have friends for years who, as soon as they discover what they are, can't stand to look at them any more. It is not as though I am suddenly going to start biting people."
Justin looked distressed for him. He sat closer and put an arm around him to squeeze his shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to go through it. I wish people weren’t so pointlessly horrible about things like this. I wish I could make things easier or better for you.”
“You’re willing to be my friend despite knowing,” he said, looking at him. “That’s all I could ask for.”
Justin pulled him into a hug, grinning broadly. “I’m glad you finally told me instead of worrying about it.”
“I’m happy that you don’t think that I’m going to suddenly turn psychotic and start biting people.” Ulquiorra admitted.
“If... you don’t mind me asking...Could you bite someone?” He asked curiously, even slightly awkwardly.
Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. There was something in his eyes that suggested amusement and a slight tug at the corner of his mouth that would be, in anyone else, unnoticeable, but was for him, at least, a smile.
“Sorry,” Justin said, nearly grinning at his expression. “Let me ask again now I have engaged the ability to ask a question properly. Do you have fangs?”
“Yes,” Ulquiorra said. There was a very good reason why he didn’t tend to smile.
“Have you ever ... thought about biting someone..?” He asked after a moment of apparently scrabbling with how to address such a subject delicately and coming up empty.
Ulquiorra looked at him and frowned slightly, nodding. There was really no use denying it. He was designed for such a purpose and he had both the necessary equipment and the need to drive him. He dropped his gaze when Justin took on a nervous and concerned manner, eyes wide, even if he did pull him reassuringly closer. Worry was expected, given the subject matter, but knowing that it was likely didn’t stop the pang of hurt that hit him when Justin looked at him like that. He didn’t seem afraid, but it didn’t stop him worrying. Even so, he endeavoured to explain.
“I have thought about it,” he confessed. “On a theoretical basis.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, searching for how to phrase his explanation.
“It’s something I am supposed to do,” he said. “I have considered what it must be like, but understand that I have never really had the desire to do it. The thought disgusts me somewhat. You can have the ability, but not the will, and still theorise about a process, can’t you?”
“Yes,” Justin said at last, his expression shifting from concerned to slightly guilty. He’d upset him by looking worried and he knew it. “Sorry, it’s just the idea of it. It’s obvious that you’re disturbed by the idea, so I don’t mind admitting that I am as well. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s all right,” Ulquiorra said, still looking a little sad. “I know that you did not mean anything by it.”
Justin gave him another tight squeeze and then let go, perking up slightly.
“Are they sharp?” Justin asked suddenly. “And feel free to tell me to shut up - I’m just interested in learning about you.”
“The fangs?” Ulquiorra asked.
“Yes,” Justin said.
“They are. They’re functional,” he told him. “I cut my tongue rather often on them when they were coming through.” He pulled his lip upwards, wrinkling his nose in the process. Sure enough, his canines were elongated and rather clearly sharp. Too far back to ever stick out over his lip like the fictional variety of his species, they looked like they had a purpose, rather than being mere decoration.
Justin grinned at the sight of him. The expression on his face at the display was at least as unusual as the fangs themselves. “They do look rather good,” he said, and it made Ulquiorra smile again. He gave him another hug and seemed entirely at ease with him for the remainder of the trip.
The rest of the train journey progressed without much incident. As Ulquiorra had dreaded, it was lashing down with rain by the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station and everyone was soaked by the time they reached the Great Hall.
As far as Ulquiorra was concerned, it didn’t matter all that much, as unpleasant as it was. Not even the torrential rain of early autumn could put a damper on his good mood. Justin had accepted him for who he was, despite everything. That was worth considerably more to him than a clear sky.