A/N: IT TOOK ME SIX MONTHS TO WRITE THE FIRST DRAFT OF THIS CHAPTER! Sorry that's in all caps, it's just so patheticbut yeah, I'm back on a bit of a writing kick to the point where stories bombard me while I'm in the shower so I have to scribble them down on tiny bits of notebook paper while I'm still dripping wet until the Inspiration Locomotive runs out of steam ten pages later, but that's usually LOTR. This story comes to me in math class and during my utterly uneventful lunch periods when I'm sitting in front of my locker reading Anne Rice or Anna Quindlen because I won't go in the cafeteria because the table tried to kill me in December. Yeah. Up and down, up and down, inspiration's so erraticanyway. I hope I'm a good enough writer that I can successfully introduce another new character, who may or may not show up again. I only have the vaguest thread of a full plot going all the way to the end of this chapter; I'll just have to wait and see how I write it and that means you will too. Hah. Um, many apologies. Thank you's to people that review.
Disclaimer: Own Nikolai. Own Calandra, no own Draco, think those are only people who show up in this chapter. No own anything HP related; JK own HP. See other freaking disclaimers for details.
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The moon shone down upon the streets of what might barely be called a city, oblivious to the single vampire prowling its streets. It also shone down upon a large, creepy stone mansion holding closer to a dozen vampires. The single vampire, leaning on the arm of a pale mortal boy, was a bit put out at having to leave the mansion and slink around the mortal city for another two and a half hours. Calmly discussing Greek mythology with Draco, she resisted the urge to scream at him, and kept her face neutral. The child knew nothing about her mother religion--that's one of those things that make vampires hate mortals so much. They know next to nothing. They rarely manage to learn even just a handful of languages. Or maybe Calandra was underestimating; she had no idea.
Draco knew nothing of this, soaking up the things Calandra was telling him like a blond, sarcastic sponge. They strolled around aimlessly, talking the hours away until they could go home. He was happy. She was bored. Eventually, she changed the topic to avoid going ballistic.
And the hours rolled by.
After what seemed like an eternity, they began heading back to the Palladium. When they got there, the deep red convertible was still in front of the house.
"First to come and last to leave. Shit." Calandra sounded irritated.
Beckoning to Draco, she slipped through the gate, threading her way through the trees to the back of the house. Though Draco didn't know it, she was also shielding both of them--if she did otherwise, Nikolai would most likely come bursting out of the house and drink Draco dry on the spot. He had a habit of doing things like that.
Draco followed Calandra around the house to the base of an ivy- and black rose-covered wall. Looking up, Draco could tell by the balcony that they were directly below Calandra's room. He opened his mouth to ask what we they were doing, but Calandra put a finger to her lips to shut him up before he could say anything. Leaning very close to his face, she told him, in a barely audible whisper, "You don't want to meet Nikolai. Trust me."
She then grabbed hold of the climbing vines that covered the back walls and began climbing up to her balcony with the agility of a cat. Draco followed suit, trying not to grab the thorny black-rose vines but managing to do so a couple of times. Occasionally Calandra stopped and waited for him; she was much more used to climbing this wall than he was and therefore climbed it much faster--or so Draco's human logic told him. The simple truth was that she was a vampire, and vampires can climb up walls. However, humans are notorious for denying the simple truth.
When they got to the top, Calandra stepped onto the balcony and through the already open window. Draco followed suit, figuring that she had left her wand inside. They sat down on Calandra's bed, and fell to talking in low voices about nothing important, waiting until Nikolai left. Calandra silently prayed that Nikolai actually would leave without coming up to bother them, knowing that the chance of that happening was a bit slimmer than she'd like. But she absolutely couldn't come off as be afraid of him. Could not. Ah, this was futile.
After another half an hour, Calandra sullenly wondered if Nikolai planned on ever leaving. She was rather comfortable reclined on her red silken pillows, but was getting annoyed watching the fidgety human. By this time, he had flipped completely over so that his head was at the foot of the bed and his boots were resting on the wall just above the headboard. Truthfully, she was mostly annoyed at herself for forgetting to account for Nikolai's total lack of decency.
Calandra stiffened; Nikolai's presence was coming closer. Her door banged open, and a tall vampire with long brown-black hair and strong features entered.
"You didn't think I'd leave without saying hello, did you, dearest?" Nikolai's voice was sickeningly sweet, and Calandra's immediate reaction was to curl her lip in an expression of utter disgust and contempt.
"Say hello then, and get out of my chamber."
Nikolai didn't listen, his black eyes fixed on Draco with interest. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your charming friend, Calandra?"
Draco was a little disturbed by now. Who was this sinister black-haired man? Why did Rose seem to hate him so much? And why the hell did he call her ?
"No," Calandra responded.
"Well, since you obviously don't care about him enough to ensure that he knows your other friends, you won't care if I take him from you...right?"
In one moment Draco went from disturbed to highly disturbed and even more highly confused. Nikolai had moved swiftly from the doorway to the foot of the bed, right by Draco, in the blink of an eye. In the same span of time, Calandra had thrown herself on top of him, shielding him from the tall man with the French accent.
"I'm not going to yield this child to whatever you have in store for him, be it painful or merely disgusting," Calandra snapped. Draco was now really worried.
Nikolai looked highly offended, but only for a moment. "Whatever could you mean by that?"
Calandra glared up at him, a look to stop a tiger in its tracks. "We all know you're a sadist. It's no use pretending to be empathetic. You're more soulless than the rest of us, by a long shot." Nikolai seemed unperturbed.
"Well, I suppose--"
"You talk so much, Nikolai," Calandra interrupted, sounding somewhere between patronizing and threatening. "You are a god, in your imagination. But would you care to test your godly strength, and see how it matches up with mine? After all, you must remember which of us is the elder here."
Nikolai's expression changed from one of placidity to one of anger and fear, and he looked at the petite adolescent girl with loathing. She smiled sweetly at him, and Nikolai turned on his heel and strode out of the room, pausing at the door to state that "someday three thousand years won't be that large a difference."
Calandra sneered at his retreating back. "In another twenty thousand, if you survive that long," she replied.
Draco looked up at her quizzically. "Three thousand years?" Calandra stared at him, her black eyes wide with shock. Draco ignored this. "And there's no way you're older than he is...unless...."
Draco wasn't an idiot. A heartless bastard, definitely, but not an idiot. There was really only one immortal race out there, and both Calandra and Nikolai fit the picture perfectly. It would explain so much.... He opened his mouth to run this theory past his friend, when he was bitten hard on the neck.
A wave of pink obliterated all his senses, he was drowning in something soft and fragrant...andpink. How pretty. Oblivion enveloped him as, back in the real world, Calandra closed the puncture marks with a drop of her own blood and sat back, picking up a copy of Hatshepsut by Evelyn Wells and opening to her bookmarked page. That should take care of everything for the time being, she thought to herself as she waited for him to regain consciousness. He wouldn't remember.
Draco blinked his eyes open, looking at Calandra as she pored over the Egyptian queen's biography. She looked up at him. "Rose?" he asked blearily, massaging his neck.
"You dozed off," she informed him. "If I were you, I'd go to bed now. And not with my head hanging off over the footboard, either."
She closed her book and left, thankful for her preternatural abilities of manipulation. The vampires wouldn't last a day without them.