You come out at night
That's when the energy comes
And the dark side's light
And the vampires roam
Building a Mystery, Sarah McLachlan

All things considered, Dudley found Nottingham to be quite lovely this time of year. His skin was naturally cold now, and so the nip in the air felt more like a balmy breeze. The castle was drafty, but he'd never have known it if it wasn't for the fact that he could see the torchlight flicker with every slight gust of air. He wasn't at all afraid that those bursts of air were actually the ghosts rumored to haunt the structure. Not at all.

Though, his feet did carry him quickly through the hallways from his coffin room - where his 'bed' was locked up tight - and down to the massive ballroom where Desdemona was due to hold a meeting of her Descendants (her term, not Dudley's). He scurried, only glancing over his shoulder half a dozen times as he rounded corners and slipped through doorways. When he finally reached the open, well lit ballroom, he closed the double doors behind him and snuck to the back of the small crowd that had formed at Desdemona's feet.

As far as beauty was concerned, his vampire mother (her term, not Dudley's) was a bombshell — blonde, curvy, long, and lean. She was draped in deep reds with her breasts all but popping out of the low cut top of her expensive, floor length dress. So much of her pale skin was on display; silky arms and creamy legs, and he might have spent too much time staring at the dark crimson pout of her lips and the way her charcoal makeup brought the red hues out in her eyes.

But, really, she wasn't Dudley's type. She wasn't shorter than he was, for one thing, and while the way her blonde hair curled over her shoulders suited her just fine, Dudley considered it second rate compared to the straight brown do that Tracey wore. And Desdemona painted her face to accentuate her natural bone structure, but Tracey didn't need any of that tosh. No, she was gorgeous without the help of all those creams and powders and whatnot.

"Our coven is growing stronger each day." Her voice was like a lullaby, its melody sweeping softly through the group of vampires, who were all watching her with rapt attention. Desdemona's small hands balled into a triumphant fists as she raised them into the air. "The time has come, my children. We must make our mark on this world, lest the others take what's rightfully ours."

Dudley wasn't sure what she was on about, if he were totally honest with himself. Covens and marks, and what did she mean 'her children'? He found the notion creepy, at best. Petunia and Vernon Dursley were his parents, thank you very much, and he had never much fancied having any siblings; it was why he'd hated Harry for so long, after all. This coven business sounded nothing short of a chore, and it wasn't long before Dudley found himself zoning out of Desdemona's speech and watching the vampires around him instead.

He was surrounded by a variety of what appeared to be ordinary people. Dudley knew better, though. They were bloodthirsty revelers, the very worst sort that his parents had always warned him about. And, even worse than that — they weren't human, but creatures of the night who subsisted on a diet of plasma and human blood. They couldn't walk in the sunlight, and so their complexions were slowly paling from the lack of sun.

"We will mark the beginning of our rise to power within the British Isles with a Masquerade Ball, held here in our very home!" Her red lips parted to reveal sharp canines protruding from between the rest of her pearly white teeth. "Your task, my kin, is to bring in the citizens of the country to experience our revel. By the end of the night, it is my hope that our coven shall double in size!"

Shit .

Dudley's eyes widened and he gazed incredulously around the room as Desdemona came to the end of her speech and dismissed the gathering. His was the only reaction that made any sense; the rest of his coven buzzed excitedly and dispersed from the room in search of their future progenies. Only one thing filled his mind then: find Tracey.

He scoured the halls of the castle for an exit. It was dark, lit only by the scant light provided by the sconces that were affixed to the walls at regular intervals. There were only a limited number of directions he could go, and Dudley knew well enough that he wouldn't be able to exit the castle from any floor but the ground floor. But, try as he might, he couldn't find a door leading out into the crisp autumn night. As he pushed through doors that led to kitchens, drawing rooms and one very scary room that had a lot of leather and smelled so potently of blood that his fangs popped from his gums before he could try and quell them, Dudley feared he'd never emerge from the castle. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought it was magic that was keeping him from finding the exit.

But that was ridiculous, of course. Magic couldn't do such things, and besides, Draco had told him many times in the past fortnight that Desdemona and her vampires didn't have magic. And why would Draco lie?

Dudley kept on through the castle, shoving through doors he was sure he'd been through before. Every once in a while, he'd come upon a suit of armor he swore was watching him as he seemingly went round in circles, but then, that was mental. Suits of armor didn't watch .

"Brother Dursley!" A hand clapped him on the back and the jovial tone of a vampire he'd come to know as Mr. Ian Woon made him pause mid-step. "It appears you may be lost. What is it you're looking for?"

"Uh, hello." Dudley scratched the shell of his ear and pulled on the lobe as he tried to figure out the best lie to tell. "I, er… I wanted to head out to town — to Nottingham — to find a progeny."

"I believe you'll find that all the best humans have been plucked from Nottingham already, young chap!" Mr. Ian Woon pulled off his wire framed spectacles, that Dudley was certain weren't needed as a vampire's vision was sharp and clear, and cleaned the lenses with his plain cotton shirt. "The others have decided to head north in search of fresh blood. I, however, have decided to go west. Perhaps you might want to try the south?"

Dudley blinked, not entirely sure what he was going on about. "And how do I know which way is south, then?"

Ian laughed, thrusting his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "The others exited the castle that way." He pointed over his shoulder. "So then, you'll want the door in that direction." He pointed toward that bloody suit of armor he'd passed no fewer than six times. "That's not to say that you're committed to south if you leave through the southern door, mind you. Perhaps you'd rather come with me to the west? I hear there is a colony of gingers who are simply delectable."

Dudley shook his head. "Er, no thank you." He took several steps backwards, keeping his eyes on Ian until the man turned on his heel and clicked his boots to the end of the hallway. When he turned back towards the southern exit that Ian had pointed out, Dudley glanced up to the suit of armor and glared at it.

"Nutter," he was sure he heard it whisper.

But it couldn't have whispered to him. Suits of armor did not whisper .

Ian's directions were spot on, much to Dudley's relief. A door he was sure he'd tried to exit multiple times — although, frustratingly, he had no way of proving his suspicions — opened to the outside. It was the same road he'd traveled many times in the last two weeks to get to Tracey's flat, and so he sped through the quaint little village that sat at the foot of the castle, and hailed a taxi to Sheffield.

Once he got to Tracey's flat, he rapt on the door once. She pulled it open as if she didn't have a care in the world who would be on the other side, even though she had wizards and vampires amongst her acquaintances. Seeing her was like taking a breath of fresh air. If it were him, and he had someone knocking on his door in the middle of the night, Dudley would have very likely ignored it until they went away. He was thankful, though, that she wasn't as frightened by the world as Dudley found himself to be.

"Dudley," Tracey greeted, and stepped aside to allow him in. "You weren't due to check in tonight. Finally taking me up on my offer?"

If he were a normal bloke with blood flowing through his veins, Dudley would have blushed. No, he hadn't been able to take her up on the offer she'd given him. Not yet, anyway. And, not because he wouldn't love to wrap his hands in her hair and snog her within an inch of her life. It was more that he had urges — really dark, wild urges — that made him feel as though he'd lose all his composure and wouldn't be able to stop himself from hurting her somehow. Even now, he could see the way her pulse thudded in her neck, could hear the thunderous sound of blood rushing through her veins.

He licked his lips as he passed her by, and pointedly stared at the floor as he sat down in her chair. The armchair was safe, the armchair meant she couldn't sit next to him.

"There's news," he said quietly, speaking to his feet.


It turned out to be a long fortnight for Hermione, with very little news making its way back to Potter Cottage. But, as the universe typically dealt in chaos, it should have been no surprise at all that numerous updates about the goings on of The Order began to flow in, all at the same time. It started on a Saturday night, with Charlie showing up unexpectedly through the floo with a thick roll of parchment clenched in his fist and a frustrated scowl laid deep into his bearded face.

"Those bastards want to eradicate vampires entirely," Charlie hissed, slamming the roll of parchment onto the War Room table. He unfurled it and pointed at the messy handwriting. "Round 'em up and toss 'em into Azkaban until they starve to death. D'you see this?"

Hermione's eyes roved the words.

For magical-kind's protection —

In an effort to reduce death by exsanguination —

Tagged with a magical tracker —

Put to death —

Her hand covered her mouth as she continued to read. "They can't be serious! It's totally barbaric! What is Kinglsey playing at?" She turned to Harry, whose eyes were still scanning the long document. "It's hardly the vampire's fault that they were bitten and turned! This is entirely unacceptable, and I have half a mind to storm into the Wizengamot myself and—"

"We can't do that, Hermione. You know we can't." Harry balled his hands into fists and shoved them in his pockets. "We have to fight this the right way, and quickly. Charlie, how long can you stall this bill?"

Charlie ran a hand over his stubble and grimaced. "A week, maybe two? If I can talk Percy into further amending the bill, or if we can find someone to address the Wizengamot to counter and negotiate, maybe a month. But, it's not going to be easy. There are some very old families sitting for the approval and the attacks have started to affect their bloodlines."

"You mean Malfoy," Hermione intoned, crossing her arms over her chest. Charlie nodded and she blinked slowly. "Of course they take drastic action when it's one of their precious Sacred Twenty-Eight! Dudley's attack — the muggles that've been turned before him — there's nothing at all in The Daily Prophet . It makes me sick."

Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a flash of pale blonde hair as its owner pushed her way between them and slammed a copy of The Quibbler down on top of the Ministry bill.

The New Generation of Vampires: An Opportunity

The headline brought a smile to Hermione's face. "It's brilliant, Luna! When does it circulate?"

"Daddy's printing it now, so we'll release it at midnight." Luna turned to Charlie. "Thank you for the interview yesterday, Charles."

Charlie's bright blue eyes sparkled down at her. "It was no trouble at all. You've kept me anonymous, yeah?"

"Of course." Luna reached out a hand and let her fingers trail along the freckled skin of Charlie's arm. "Wouldn't dream of revealing your identity, though perhaps I might have a few on-record statements that relate to dragons? That is your history, isn't it?"

Charlie watched as Luna's fingers danced their way from his wrist to his elbow, as if playing dot-to-dot with his freckles, and tilted his head to the side. "It is. Might become my future again if my berk of a brother would stop behaving like a wanker at the Ministry."

Harry tried to cover his laughter with a cough, but failed. "Percy honestly doesn't mean any harm."

"The path to hell, Potter," Charlie reminded Harry, as he'd done several times when it came to Percy's role at the Ministry. "He didn't take too kindly to me asking him to retract several items in the bill after he'd written it, but Luna and I specifically called several facets important to the bill into question."

"Brilliant." Hermione grabbed the copy of The Quibbler from the table. "Luna, make sure that this is delivered on the same day as the The Daily Prophet , yeah? Order of the Phoenix funds will pay for every magical household to receive a copy."

"Right." She ducked her chin, and beckoned Charlie with a crooked finger. "We've got a lot of planning to do regarding a follow up article, Charles. Have you got time?"

Charlie followed her like a man under the influence of Amortentia; Hermione could practically see the hearts in his eyes. "Yes, love. All the time in the world for you."

"Well." Hermione rolled up the vampire bill and wrapped The Quibbler around it. "Couldn't ask for better timing than that, I suppose. We need to make a move soon, Harry. If this bill is passed, Dudley and Draco and countless others are going to be rounded up like cattle for slaughter."

"I know." Harry ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a long breath. "Gawain isn't happy we haven't checked in about the vampires in London. George sent a missive this morning — Sanguini is not in London. I checked with Neville, but haven't heard back."

"Spooky." Neville stepped into the room with a massive smile on his face. "Perfect timing, I guess. Got your message, Harry. Hello, Hermione."

"Hi, Neville." She lifted a hand in greeting.

"Sanguini was spotted in The Hogs Head last Hogsmeade weekend." Neville leaned against the round table, crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. "Not out of the norm, mind you. He's a pretty sociable bloke, but there was a bit of a crowd with him this time."

"A crowd?" Harry asked, and leaned against the wall opposite Neville.

Hermione's eyes darted from Neville's to just over his shoulder. The 'missing' wall of the War Room showed the outside world, and walking along the path towards their cottage, in the dead of night, was Theo. He looked annoyed, and she wondered why he'd decided to walk to their door rather than apparate or floo like everyone else.

"Yeah, and someone tried to force open Hogwarts' gates last night." Neville laughed. "Didn't make it far, though. Headmistress McGonagall has had extensive wards in place ever since the alert from the Ministry came out that vampires are growing in numbers."

"They tried to break into Hogwarts?" Hermione drew her eyes away from Theo as he approached the side of the cottage and moved out of sight. "Who would be that dumb?"

"That's the thing," Neville said, "it didn't seem as if they knew what they were breaking into . There wasn't any damage, and there wasn't a detectable magical signature. McGonagall thinks they might have been a muggle, of all things."

"Mu—" Harry's eyebrows shot up his forehead, scrunching his lightning bolt scar into a small dash.

But he was cut off as Theo's sardonic voice sliced through the room. "Alecto Carrow was finally spotted." He breezed into the room with a vicious scowl on his face and perched against the table next to Neville, forcing Hermione to take a step to the side. "Let me rephrase, yeah? Alecto the vampire was finally spotted."

"Vamp—" Neville paled, shadows passing through his eyes as he canted his chin toward Theo and all but begged him to be joking. "She's horrible. We can let the Ministry kill that one, at least?"

"I'm sorry." Hermione threw her hands into the air, a gesture that demanded the attention of the others in the room. "Did you just say Alecto Carrow was spotted, as a vampire ?"

Theo's eyes were dark and flicking between her eyes, as if considering her. "For anyone not paying as much attention as Granger here," he said, turning back to Harry and Neville, "that makes two prominent Death Eaters turned vampire that we know about, and there are a handful of Death Eaters who have been missing for the past year."

" Former ," Hermione whispered, her mind instantly going to Draco and his predicament. "Former Death Eaters."

"In Draco's case, yes. In Alecto's, no." Theo conceded, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Thing is, I wonder how many of the former followers of The Dark Lord are going to turn up with a thirst for blood."

"But that's mental!" Harry burst out, volleying his gaze around the room as if expecting — willing — someone to suddenly shout 'just joking, mate!' "Who would want to take Death Eaters and turn them into immortal bloodsuckers?"

The room was silent as they all contemplated that exact question. They were missing a piece, Hermione was sure of it. Something was connected here, but she couldn't see what it was.

"Oh, good, it's already a meeting." Tracey stepped into the room and immediately sidled up to Neville's other side, rested her bottom against the table, and wrapped one hand around her opposite arm. "Is this what it looks like when we're not here? You lot just stand around and lean on things looking very serious?"

Her gaze traveled around the room, resting on everyone's faces before moving on. She chewed something — Hermione assumed gum — and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

"How is Dudley?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Her lips twitched. "Dreadful vampire, mate. Terrible. But, Malfoy has walked him through the finer points of the bloodsucking lifestyle, and the other muggles that Desdemona's turned are actually quite a bit worse than he is at being a vampire, if that's possible."

"I'm sorry." Hermione turned her entire body towards Tracey, eyes wide. "Did you say the other muggles ? She's turned more?"

Tracey lifted her chin. "Dudley checked in tonight. If the count from him is accurate, she's got at least a dozen living together in her castle."

"A dozen ," Hermione hissed in disbelief. "Harry — we're missing something. Death Eaters, muggle vampires, what is it?" Hermione began to pace the room with a finger to her chin and her eyes closed. "Bugger. We're missing something."

She rested her hand against her forehead, and muttered to herself about Sanguini, Desdemona, and various facts they knew about vampires. She paid no attention to where she was walking, circling the room and expecting everyone to move out of her way as she paced and paced and paced.

"I think your muggleborn is broken, Boy Wonder," Theo whispered, but it was loud enough to pull her attention back to the room.

"No, she does this when she's thinking things through." She could hear the smile in Harry's voice. "Hermione, what is it?"

She remembered it so vividly, the last time wizards and muggles alike went missing. She would never forget the fear that crackled through the air in magical communities and muggle villages. It had been war then, and she was sure that it was war now.

"We need Draco," she admitted quietly, finally opening her eyes to see, of all things, a pair of dark gray ones staring back at her from only a foot away.

"Hello, Granger."

"Draco?" It was as quick as a breath — the surprise of seeing him coupled with the relief that he'd shown up. "What are you doing here?"

"Tracey sent her Patronus." He greeted Tracey with a curt nod and then moved away from Hermione to the opposite side of the room, with his arms crossed over his chest. "Seems we have a bit of an opportunity."

"What sort of opportunity?" Harry asked. He pulled out a chair at the table and deposited himself into it like a haphazard lump.

The rest of the room followed suit, and while they were all staring at Draco and waiting for him to divulge whatever information he had, Draco stared relentlessly at Hermione with stormy eyes and quirked lips.

"Desdemona is throwing a masquerade ball," Tracey said as she leaned back in her chair. "Dudley's able to bring a guest and he thinks that, with the number of vampires present, Draco can show up with a familiar on his arm."

"A familiar ?" Theo's eyes flicked between his two former Slytherin friends, and then followed Draco's gaze straight to Hermione. "Oh. Well, what could possibly go wrong?"

Hermione knew exactly what could go wrong… but, as the table broke out into a round of arguments both for and against her joining Draco in a coven of vampires to gather intelligence, Hermione stayed silent, unable to tear her stare away from the one that hadn't relinquished its hold on her.