Author's Note: (Feb 2002) I would advise anyone who endeavours in reading this piece of fanfiction: don't expect too much. Indeed, the plot will pretty much die out by the time I get to chapter 7.
That said, perhaps you'll just enjoy the characters as they are portrayed here. Also, you should have read my "Symphony's Sonata" (story id=575748) because this is the sequel to that fic.

Disclaimer: Castlevania and all associated characters are not mine.

Maria sighed as she peeled the potato in her hand, and her sister Annette, gave her a concerned look.
“Is something the matter, Maria?” Annette asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Maria opened her mouth to say something, but the words would not come. She shut it, her lips pressed tightly together. Annette smiled at her younger sister. “It’s Adrian, isn’t it?”

Maria blinked, then nodded.
A month ago, she had convinced the outcast bastard son of the infamous Count Dracula to become more human. Alucard -or Adrian, as he now insisted everyone call him- had agreed to live with her, had even abandoned his solitary reserve to try to grasp the remainder of his humanity, but now...

“There’s ...nothing,” murmured Maria, distraught.
“Be patient, Maria. It’s only been a month and he may need more time, even though your love has not wavered,” Annette said soothingly. “He loves you, and I don’t think that will ever change.”

Maria looked at her sister, surprised by this revelation.
“How do you...?”
“Know?” Annette finished for her. “He talks to me sometimes and often he asks of you. I believe he’s afraid to be very intimate with you yet; sort of hesitating. I can see it in him though, his love for you. Although you’ve only known each other for a short while, his is a love beyond most mortal men, and yours is as well, Maria.” She shook her head then, almost surprised at her own words.

Maria, though, nodded, “You are very perceptive, Annette, thank you... I wonder, have you always been this way with people?”

Annette simply shrugged and gestured to the pile of potatoes they had yet to finish peeling.

Outside, Richter was showing the dhampire how to chop firewood. It would begin getting cold in a few weeks and now was as good a time as any to start stocking up on supplies.

“Here, now you try,” Richter said, holding the ax out for Alucard to take.

Alucard took it and held it in his hands awkwardly. Being a nobleman, he was unused to such labor.

“No offense, Richter, but I am not practiced in such a menial human task. Nonetheless...” He raised the ax well above his head and brought it down on the wooden log in a fluid swing, splitting it easily.

“Not bad, for a first try.” Richter whistled and cocked his eyebrow, staring at the ax which was embedded right down to the bottom of the chopping stump.

Alucard frowned slightly. “It seems I have swung too hard...”

“Suppertime!” Annette called from the kitchen behind them.

“Don’t worry about it, Adrian, we’ll hack another one tomorrow,” said Righter, turning towards the house.

Later that same night in the sub-house separate from the Belmont mansion, which was now where Maria lived with Alucard, the demi-vampire came up behind his partner.

“I have a request, my dear,” said he.
Maria spun around, not from surprise, but because she hated being addressed so courteously after all this time; he still insisted sleeping on the floor, too. It was hard to be angry when she looked at him, unfortunately. He didn’t mean to be offensive, that was just the way he was, but it was hard for her to reach him through that barrier of aloof politeness. His eyes told otherwise; in them was a deep affection clouded by a perpetual sadness that she could not explain.

“What is it?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
Infuriatingly polite, yet always to the point, he said, “Cut my hair.”

“WH-at??”
“You heard me,” Alucard said without inflecting his tone. He held out a thin blade and gestured her to take it. “Cut it.”

“B-but... Are you sure? Why do you want it...?” Maria stuttered, almost appalled at what she was about to do, while taking up the blade and a lock of his beautiful white mane.

“It is terribly impractical and it gets dirty far too fast. This long,” he motioned just below his shoulders, “should do.” Then, seeing the shocked expression on her face and her open mouth, he gave her a lopsided grin. “But if my lady wishes, she may keep a long part for herself.” He turned around before she could reply, so she had no choice but to take the blade to his hair.

Lock after lock of his hair fell to the floor like solidified moonbeams. Maria found it harder for herself to cut it with each falling strand of hair even though -whether through the sharpness of the blade or the suppleness of his hair- she did not need to apply very much pressure to the knife. She was careful to not cut it all the same length, but so that a part of his hair still reached his lower back. She stepped back and slumped against the table as if exhausted. He regarded her handiwork thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s a little long yet, but a good job done.” He tossed his head, his hair resettling on his shoulders.

Maria placed the blade on the table and went to embrace him. “Thank you, but your lady wishes to keep this long part for herself,” she said, pulling lightly on the longest part of hair at his back.

He stiffened, still unused to physically touching anyone, herself included. Then he went limp, as limp as one can get while still standing, and inhaled sharply. Maria looked up quickly, alarmed. His face seemed even paler than usual, if that were possible, and he raised a hand to his eyes as if very tired. Although her arms were still wrapped around him, he seemed to be leaning on her for support.

“Adrian...?” she asked, quite concerned.
He did not answer immediately, but she could see in his eyes an inner struggle. She recognized that haunted look suddenly.

“I... It’s nothing, Maria. I’m sorry.” His voice sounded normal as always, smooth and cultured, but she could tell something was definitely wrong.

“Is it possible...? You...,” she paused, thoughtful. He nearly glared at her. “You still need blood, don’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

His body seemed to have gained strength from somewhere as he was tensed to turn away from her and run.
“Yes,” he said, “for now I need it. After what happened at Castlevania my body requires a gradual adjustment.”

Maria clung to him as she said, “Take mine.”
“What?!” came the expected reply, and then, “No!”
“Who else would you take it from? I know what I’m saying; I trust you.” She held him harder because she knew he tried to pull away.

“. . . . . . ,” He managed to free himself of her only to pace around the small room.
“I didn’t bring you back just to watch you waste away.” She was suddenly angry. “And would you stop being so chivalrous!” she nearly yelled at him. He winced though, uncharacteristically. His energy spurt died on him suddenly and he collapsed into a chair.

“No,” he repeated firmly, “I’ll not bite you.”
“Then it is I who must make a request of you,” she said sternly.
“What?” he asked, even though he knew what was coming, annoyed by her persistence.
“I’m asking you to take my blood,” she said, her voice having a harder edge on it now. “You cannot turn down a request.” She crossed her arms, waiting expectantly.

Alucard sighed heavily. “You’re right, I cannot.” He slouched even further in his seat. For a nobleman, he sure slouched pretty well. He then motioned for her to go into the bedroom; he followed shortly.

Seeing her sitting there so seriously made what blood he had left run cold. Half of him wanted to run, wanted to turn away, but of course the other half... He moved to sit beside her on the bed.
With a somewhat hollow look in his eyes, fogged with that fathomless sadness, he looked at her for a long while without moving. He was going to have to be extremely careful this time, so he mulled over how to approach it. He opened his arms and beckoned her. She complied. Alucard had never remembered hating himself so much as he did this very moment while he brushed her golden hair away from her neck.

“I love you, Adrian,” Maria whispered softly.

He trembled. “I know.” His head bent down, lips touching the flesh of her neck. He could feel his fangs lengthening, reaching for the blood. Then they sank in. He felt Maria move once in his grip, but that was far away. Very far away. It seemed his mind and his primal instincts were not with his body, but somewhere else... inside perhaps...

All he could feel now was the pounding of her heartbeat echoed by his own; the sound of her pulse was deafening. The blood flowed into him, down his throat, lining his stomach, and sweet thick stuff warmed him. He felt emotions, entangled. Whether they were hers or his own feelings from deep within, he did not know, nor did he care. It was some obscene pleasure that was arousing him. It all blended with the heartbeats, the blood, to produce a strange harmony that he could not suppress. This harmony was his vampiric side that sang to him every time he drank the blood of another. It was singing to him right now, in a grand symphony. . .

STOP! His human side cried out amidst the bloodsong.
His eyes shot open, and with what will he could muster he pulled away. He threw his head back and breathed heavily. His ears continued to ring with the beating of his own heart.

“What have you done!!” It was Richter standing in the doorway. Incapacitated after feeding, Alucard could do nothing as Richter flew in, shoved him up against the wall and held a silver dagger to the dhampire’s throat with the swiftness of a pure slayer.

“How DARE you, Dracula-spawn!? to feed on the one who believed in you, you bastard!” The Belmont bellowed, hurting poor Alucard’s sensitive ears. “What kind of monster are you!!?!” Those words sounded familiar. Alucard was beginning to come around, which part of him it was, was uncertain. He snarled, but his incisors retracted. He squirmed; Richter raised the dagger.

“Don’t... Richter!” There was a slight tugging of his coat.
Staying his hand for a moment, the legendary slayer could barely hear the weak plea through his rage, but Alucard heard it loud and clear. The demi-vampire pushed Richter away with all his strength and sent him stumbling back against the opposite wall. By the time the Belmont stepped forward again, the dhampire was helping a very pale Maria sit up. A small trickle of blood slid down her neck.

A little confused, but still wary, Richter asked, “Maria, are you all right?”
She smiled weakly and said, “Yes. . . Don’t. . . Adrian. . . Not his fault.” Cradling her, Alucard shushed her and nodded slowly, giving her a genuine smile. It looked rather strange on him.

“I’m sorry, Richter. I really shouldn’t have, but she requested it," said Alucard rather matter-of-factly. "After all, I was growing weary from lack of blood since vanquishing my father last month. I do not require it often but in order to live as a true human I must gradually wean myself from the bloodlust.” He paused looking down at Maria who still watched him adoringly despite her exhaustion.

Richter shifted uneasily. “Then, I’m sorry I called you those terrible things, Adrian. I should have known that you would never kill her.”

Alucard flashed a sardonic grin. “Those things I may be, but I could never kill this girl. She is too strong, even for me. . .” he said not taking his eyes off Maria.

Richter nodded to himself and then exits the room. Annette lurks in the hall and Richter draws her aside.

“How do you feel?” The dhampire asks of his ‘victim’ while still holding her to him.
“Drained. . . How do you think I feel?” she says barely above a whisper.
He slides his hand, stroking the side of her body slowly, a look of concern creeping gradually across his face.
“But are you well?” he insists.
“I am. Did you really think I would die?”
Alucard opens his mouth to say something and then shuts it again. He had never been so inarticulate. Maria raises a fingertip to his lips to silence him. Burying his face in her hair he mumbles, “Never again, love, never. . .!”

“I’m sorry. . .”
Both their needs were now met: filled with her blood, Alucard’s bloodlust had subsided, and Maria’s need to bridge the gap between them was now fulfilled. He removed his hand from her side and placed it over her heart.

“Yours and mine now beat in time with each other, Maria.” The glare from his golden eyes softened.

She placed her hand over his.