Eeep! I forgot to throw myself at everyone's feet and beg for reviews, so here it goes: Please review! Please!
Now, on with the story....
The night was black as ink, with neither stars nor moon to lighten it. There was a garden straight ahead of her, and she could already hear the soft murmur of scheming voices; one was strong and commanding, and the other was weak and submissive. This excited her. If there was one thing in the world she loved, it was power; having it, using it, watching others as they bent to it.
Silently, she floated across the hill and entered the shrubbery. It would have been a peaceful setting if not for the terrible feeling of evil that emanated from the tall man in the centre of the garden. She edged closer, unsure if they could hear her. She most definitely wanted to hear them, but was undecided as to their characters.
"So you say there were four of them?" Voldemort snapped.
Pettigrew trembled in front of his master and nodded mutely. He had come as soon as he had heard. Four people Flooing in from America was an unusual event, one that he had been sure his Master would have wanted to know about.
Voldemort took to pacing in front of the shaking form of his servant. The information was remarkable and yet not. Wizard's often came from far distances (he himself had once Apparated to China) but they hardly ever came from America. There had been a huge rift in the wizarding community during the Second World War about the role of magic folk in Muggle affairs. British wizards had wanted nothing to do with it, but the Americans had pressed for full involvement, some even wanted to reveal their secret world to the Muggles. The British wizards had eventually convinced the Americans to maintain the code of secrecy, but the two countries had been on rather cool terms ever since.
"Keep an eye out for them." he commanded Pettigrew. "I want to know what Americans are doing at Hogwarts. They don't usually accept transfers from there, so Dumbledore must have a particular need for them." He continued pacing, so intent on deciphering Dumbledore's intent that he almost didn't register the new presence. He whipped around, wand in hand, and leveled it at the woman standing before him. Pettigrew did the same.
"What a lovely night." Drusilla said dreamily. "The moon has been sharing her secrets with me." she whispered conspiratorially. She traced a finger along the hedge she was standing by and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. Suddenly, she turned her attention back to them, eyes flashing. "She's here. All over my precious wormy and now he burns for her." She sobbed out the last part, oblivious to the looks Pettigrew and Voldemort were exchanging. No one had ever disturbed one of his meetings, thanks largely to the extremely painful barrier spells he erected around all of his meeting places.
Drusilla turned abruptly from her sobbing at the hedge and walked up to Voldemort, her face a mix of awe and glee. "I can feel your power, milord." she said, tremulous excitement in her voice. "She won't be able to resist you." She breathed a pleasured sigh. "She's always alone - can't get her head out of the past." Dru continued. She began humming off-key and swinging her hips.
The Dark Lord sighed, as if bored. "Avada Kedavra." Voldemort said nonchalantly, and watched with a detached satisfaction as a bright green light struck Drusilla and knocked her several feet across the grass.
Voldemort turned back to a terrified Pettigrew. "That is how you deal with outsiders, Wormtail." he said, satisfied. However, Pettigrew didn't respond. Instead, he looked past his Master's fluttering robe to Drusilla, who was struggling to her feet. Voldemort whirled around, snarling.
Dru walked back towards them, looking very offended. "Now that wasn't very nice." she scolded. "Mummy only whips Miss Edith when she's bad. Mummy only wanted to tell you about her." Dru said, pouting.
Voldemort and Pettigrew stood, dumbstruck. No one (save Harry Potter) had ever survived a direct hit with a killing curse. Suddenly, it came to the Dark Lord. "You're a vampire, aren't you?" he asked silkily. Dru nodded proudly. Voldemort smiled maliciously. "But I've never seen a vampire who had the Sight before." he marveled. He stroked her hair with one of his long, scaly fingers, causing Dru to moan.
Suddenly, his hand gripped tightly around her throat. Dru's eyes popped open and Voldemort sneered. "You will tell me everything I want to know, or my wand will find a home through your heart." he whispered harshly. Dru nodded, her eyes wide with an odd mix of fear and desire. Voldemort released his grip and shoved Dru backwards.
"I know who has your secret." she said hoarsely as she got back up. She brushed a dead lead off the hem of her gown, and busied herself by pulling imaginary threads from her outfit
Voldemort furrowed his brow. "Who? What secret?" he barked.
A slow, sly smile spread across Dru's face. "How quickly they forget, men do. Five years or a hundred, they're still the same." She laughed at her own joke and leaned into whisper in Voldemort's ear. "The book."
Voldemort's red eyes widened before languidly closing. "Virginia." he breathed.
Dru nodded and smiled.
Suddenly, Voldemort turned to Pettigrew, who was still staring at Drusilla. "Go, and find the diary. We have an attack to plan." He turned back to Drusilla and offered her his arm. "My dear, would you care for some Muggle children?" he asked gallantly as they strode up the hill to Riddle House.