Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters and events don't belong to DracoLover. Don't kill her… me… please…
Author's Note: You know, I still desperately want to watch Queen of The Damned… I'm becoming a vampire by sleeping in the day and waking up at 8:00pm already!! I'm becoming insane!!! (runs off screaming insanely…)
Characters: Setticemia Piacere (Blood poisoning Pleasure) {new teacher of Divinations}
Bestemiare Goccia (Blaspheme Drop) {1st year student}
Draco Malfoy {in his 7th year}
"RUN YOU FOOL!!" Bestemiare screamed wildly while they ran through the burning walls of the castle.
"I am Mistress, I am!!" Setticemia screeched back. They both stumbled through the quickly diminishing abode of darkness where for hundreds of years, they spent their time there, killing, crying, reproducing and living the paths of the living-dead.
"Catch them!!"
"Kill them!"
"Burn their stoned hearts!"
"Cleave their heads!"
"By Christ's power! Head our shouts and stop!"
"Come here and face us!"
"You may run but you cannot hide!"
"Destroy those demons!"
The catcalls and commands came from the survivor's backs. They flew through the halls, their scratches bleeding, their powers fading.
"Run! We have to hide from them!" Bestemiare cried out, being so panicked of herself and her companion.
"But where?!"
"To the Tower! Let's fly!" the elder pointed forward and she sped off, Setticemia racing after her.
"Where did they go?" the groan of tire spread over the crowd of hunters.
"Maybe they flew out the window!"
"That can't be! The sentries are watching downstairs and outside. Three villages are here hunting those demons!"
"Then where?"
"The Tower!"
"How will we do this?" Setticemia looked to the full blood moon.
"We must use our powers. We have to curse this Tower and the rest of the castle," Bestemiare replied softly.
"Curse the Tower?! This Tower that has given itself up to our blood lusts and our own hunts for food and pleasure?! NO!" Setticemia bared her ghostly white fangs.
"We have no choice, my dear. And don't you ever dare bare your fangs at me!" Bestemiare hissed coldly.
The younger one bowed her head, "I apologize, Mistress. It won't be repeated."
"Good." The elder nodded, "Let us begin the casting. This will take a while. Set the door, young one and hurry."
Setticemia bit her lip and a trickle of blood streamed down her chin. Her finger brought out a tiny empty vial and it was filled with the blood of the undead in an instant. As soon as it was filled, the wound healed and she handed it over to her superior.
Afterwards, she floated over to the door and placed her icy hands upon the iron and wood.
"Gelare," she hissed and from the corners onwards towards the center, the wood hardened and stiffened then started to sparkle with the brilliance of rock-hard ice.
"Bravado, my child!" Bestemiare clapped briefly. "Let us start. Here is my blood. You know what to do with it, don't you?"
"Yes, my lady," Setticemia nodded and took the elder's vial. "Once the moon is clear?"
"Yes."
"In a few more seconds… there!" she bared her fangs and glared at the moon. The unusual reddish moon obliviated the passing clouds and an icy chill swooped up and around the castle. "Prep eternita e suo non a morto!"
"To eternity and its undead!" Bestemiare called out in an echoing voice. The distant shouts of the hunters stopped and the ground trembled with anticipation.
"We call unto thee! Cast your flame and your perils upon this abode! Upon the abode of your children!"
"Keep us hidden, la mia signora!" Bestemiare threw up her hands, her thick wavy ebony hair flying with the chill winds.
"Give us power to cast our abode into true darkness!" Setticemia bellowed, the vial filled with her superior's blood in her hands. "Cast us into eternity!" she screamed and she threw the vial to the ground, an earth rendering shudder following immediately.
"Cast us out of this world!" Bestemiare repeated again and again. She threw down the vial containing Setticemia's blood to the stone floor. The haunting grey clouds hovered in the sky, thunders bellowed loudly.
"Eternita!" Setticemia shrieked.
"Non a MORTO!" the elder clawed in the air, her long nails growing longer and longer, redder and redder; her eyes glowing bloody red and her hair streaking with white and black.
"What was that?" a peasant held up a pitchfork in fear after the slight quake that shook the castle and its foundations.
"Those demons are up to something!"
"But what?" more panicked voices issued.
"Let's get out of here!" several people turned and fled down the halls.
"NO!!" the leader shouted back but was unable to stop them from fleeing. "You fools!" he stomped wildly, his torch flickering weakly. "Bastards!" he shook his fist madly and turned towards the flight of stairs leading up the tower. "Let's go! NOW!"
"B—but sir—"
The booming sound of thunder shook the castle's walls; the crackle of lightning shook their spines.
"But what?!" the leader glared menacingly.
"N—nothing…"
"Let's go! UP NOW!" the leader stomped up the stairs, the band of peasants and villagers behind him.
"Let us in you fiends!" came the harsh calls from behind the door.
Bestemiare turned towards the frozen door and looked at her follower and sneered, "Destroy the block. Destroy them."
"Yes, mistress," Setticemia nodded and raised her arm towards the frozen door. "Esplodere," she merely hissed and the door exploded into shards and sickles of ice and wood.
"There they are—" the peasant at the door paused and started to back away, his eyes wide with fear and his mouth hanging open. "SIR!" he scrambled to the back and ran for his life.
"Get him," the looming woman said softly. In a second, the crowd fell to their feet as the sudden whoosh of the younger demoness flew by them, chasing after the screaming wretch.
In a matter of seconds, the shrill cries of the panicked and dying peasant were heard through the echoing walls of stone. The crowd trembled in the stairway, the ominous figure standing over them, looking down on them.
"We'll take you on!" the leader stood up weakly, his knees shaking with fear.
"I'll take you by myself. I'll take all of you by myself." Bestemiare jeered.
The leader was taken back for a moment but he lunged forward, his long sword in hand, his torch waving in his other arm.
"Esplodere," the woman snarled through her bared fangs. The charging man instantly screamed and then exploded, bits and pieces of flesh and muscle flying in every direction.
The crowd instantly dispersed as they stumbled carelessly down the steep staircase.
"Morire."
"Mistress, I finished those in the halls and those outside. I let some escape," Setticemia said as she walked up the stairs, lined with sprawled corpses, terrible and haunting death masks upon each and every face.
"Wonderful, child. The curse shall take place in a matter of seconds. Let us be off!" Bestemiare floated a few inches above the bloody ground. "Did you take your fill?"
"Yes, mistress," Setticemia licked her dark red lips. She flew towards her mistress silently.
"Let us be off, as I say," the elder creature whispered and they flew towards the blood red moon and the incredibly dark starless sky.