Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters yadda yadda yadda...
Bloodlust
I
- - -
If one were to look upon the main street of Hogsmeade at any time of the day other than this time, they would see it bustling with people looking upon the bright shops, admiring their desirable contents. But today, a day in end of an overly heated August, the streets were quiet, and the few lights that were on were dim. There were no night patrons patrolling the bars, no suspicious characters trying to scoop something from an unsuspecting store owner, not even London sewer rats scurrying around to devour garbage. No, right now, there was a quiet perfection to the town. Even Madam Rosmerta, owner of the Three Broomsticks, wasn't kept up by Madam Summers, the night bartender, who was most commonly loudly pleasuring herself with lonely men. Everyone was asleep, thinking it was just a normal, quiet night. But of course, there had to be something to penetrate the beauty of this moment.
There was a barely audible flapping sound, and it would appear to the naked eye as if a cloaked figure had just appeared in the middle of the street. The cloaked figure briskly walked down the street, her cloak flapping absently behind her. The figure took a left on a side street, where there was a path that lead to the Shrieking Shack. There, the figure fell to it's knees, and let out a wail, sending birds around it flying hither-dither in all directions. The cloaked figure pulled off it's hood to reveal a mass of dark hair atop her head. She began pulling on her hair, screaming and breaking the silence that was this night.
She stood up and began pacing, the moonlight shining on her pale skin, giving her a ghostly appearance. If one were to get closer to her, they would see that she was young, appallingly young to be out at this time of night, during these dire times. This was the age of Lord Voldemort, and this girl was one of the few that knew at the moment that The Dark Lord had just been defeated by naught but a small boy.
The girl rubbed her hands together in frustration. The Dark Lord, her master, had been defeated by a small boy by the name of Harry Potter. She spat at the thought of his name. The girl, through frustration, felt hunger befall her. She looked upon the city, where lights had began to flicker on, and a few people littered the street, confused looks on their faces, speaking quietly with their neighbors. The girl began to breathe more shallowly and licked her lips at the sight of the people, just imagining the taste of the fresh blood running through their arteries. She began absent-mindedly licking her fingers, almost tasting the blood. She closed her eyes and casually walked towards the patrons, knowing that one of them was in danger.
As she walked down the main strip, passing by older women who pointed and whispered at her and a few younger people as well, one of them looking joyous as he showed his friends a piece of paper. The girl rolled her eyes and walked into a local bar, the Three Broomsticks.
There was but a lone woman at the bar, who was skinny and tall with a distraught look on her face. She was wiping out a mug that was already sparkling as she stared out into space. The woman snapped her head around when the cloaked girl entered the bar with a soft 'tink' of a bell on the door.
"Hello, Christine, you're out late tonight," the bartender said to the cloaked girl, Christine, as she sat down at the bar. "Have you heard the news?"
Christine nodded apprehensively.
"Is it just a rumor, or the truth?" the bartender asked.
"Madam Summers, it is the truth, and do I lie?"
Madam Summers shook her head, and there was a moment of silence.
"Where are the men?" Christine asked. "I am surprised to see you without any tonight. Is it in light of his death?"
Madam Summers looked down at the glass she was still cleaning.
"Can you keep a secret?" Madam Summers asked, putting her throat dangerously near Christine's waiting mouth.
"If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees," Christine said, quoting Kahlil Gibran.
Madam Summers laughed. "I'm in love."
Now, it was Christine's turn to laugh. "You can believe what you wish, Madam Summers, but you have told me this many times before, each of them being false."
"But this one's really special," Madam Summers said dreamily. "He really understands me, and he's young and wild..."
"That is all love is," Christine said. "Naught but young people being wild."
"As you believe. You just say that because you've never been there."
Christine licked her lips with lust as Madam Summers tossed her head back, revealing her long throat and a spot of cleavage. No, Christine did not lust for Madam Summers as the men who often visited her did. Christine had a bloodlust, for the Christine that I have been speaking of is a vampire, 6th generation of the great Dracula.
Before she could handle herself, Christine had jumped onto Madam Summers, sinking her teeth deep into the bartender's throat, sucking the blood from her with a starving desperation. When she had finished her meal, she lay the corpse on the bar, crossing the woman's arms. Christine licked her lips viciously, taking in every drop of luscious blood as if it would save her life. She licked her fingers quickly before pulling her cloak up over her head, hiding her face in shadow. She strolled casually out of the bar, the door making a soft 'tink' with her exit. She grinned broadly as she heard someone shriek at the discovery of her last victim.
- - -
The next day, it was all over the news. "The Boy who Lived" they called him. Christine had seen the headlines on all the newspapers littering the garbage as she traveled through the back alleys in shadow. She had been, before his death, the Dark Lord's right-hand woman; a spy and mass murderer, though most saw it as a requirement to live for her. She remembered the ecstacy she had felt when she had been caught by the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, though they had forgiven her when they discovered she was a vampire, making the excuse that she was doing the killings in order to live. She had nodded, brushing off accusations that she was tied in with the Dark Lord. She would give them a girly smile, and tell them she was off to continue her business.
Of course, most of her kills were not only for the Dark Lord's satisfaction, but her own. To her, there was nothing greater than the taste of fresh blood. But this Potter boy, his death will be untimely, and it will be not one of merely satisfaction, but also, revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge, which will make this kill so much better.
Christine licked her lips and quickened up her speed until she grew her wings and flew off into the setting sun, silhouetting her body like the dark person she is.
- - -
A/N: I know you probably don't like this, but it's a bit of an experimental thing. Something I'll do a little bit when I'm facing writer's block in my other story. This will have Cedric in it sooner or later, but for now, it's mostly going to be Harry. Hope you enjoy anyway!