Dragon's Kiss

The night was dark, the forest still and quiet except for the sounds of crickets chirping. In a small clearing in the center of the forest a tall, cloaked figure stood. Slightly behind the figure were two other cloaked beings. One of them took off his hood to reveal a pale, chubby face with watery blue eyes and a rather pointed nose. He paused for a second to listen.

Suddenly overhead there came a noise like thousands of wings beating. The chubby man stumbled backwards into the brush, terrified, as thirteen winged creatures landed simultaneously, circling the other two cloaked beings in a tight ring, leaving a space for one more amidst their ranks.

The short man stood and brushed off his cloak, slipping back into the circle to stand beside his master.

"Wormtail." The cold, slippery voice came from beneath the tallest hood. "Count how many." A silver hand emerged from the servant's sleeve and one long finger pointed to each of the feathered creatures.

"Thirteen, master," the rat's voice wobbled. He and the other stepped backwards slightly, veering away from the glowing eyes that sparked with anger.

"Thirteen…" he turned from his servants and took his attention to the creatures that surrounded him. "Your leader."

A tall, extremely pale man stepped forward, his dozen wings lying flat to create a cape-like substance over his shoulders and back. His hair was braided back from the temple, his silvery eyes cold and emotionless.

"Yes?" the voice was beautiful and cold…far away yet close at the same time…a whisper and a scream. Wormtail began to whimper.

"Did I…or did I not…ask for twice seven of your services?" the master hissed. The being in front of them began to file his nails in a casual, off hand manner. "Answer me darkangel!"

The vampire looked up. "The time has not yet come for everyone to arrive…and the missing has the longest way to travel." He answered smoothly, slipping the file back into his shirt. "It would do well for you to regain some patience, Oh Great One." The last sentence sounded mocking. The gray, cloaked being's eyes glittered maliciously, though he said nothing.

At that very moment, a flutter of wings sounded, and from the darkness of the sky fell another pale "angel"…literally. He landed in the bushes some five feet away from the clearing. There was silence for several long seconds.

Then, "I'm oh-kay! No need to panic, or even worry!" a cheerful, exuberant voice with a West Coast American accent sounded out. Voldemort's eyebrows rose as the last of the great darkangels sidled into his place, thus completing the circle. "So…what's up?"

The leader of the pride (as they so chose to call themselves) swept over to the newcomer.

"Where were you?" he hissed softly.

"I had a long way to travel," whined the newcomer.

" I am starting to regret ever having chosen you as my novice…you're making me look bad!" the leader snapped.

"Sorry, man. I'll try and get here on time next meeting okay? No big, Uncle…calm down…you're turning purple!" The younger vampire burst into peals of laughter, alternatively slapping his thigh and wiping tears from his eyes. "Get it…turning purple…you're really, really white…heh heh…oh-kay then. You guys' sense of humor must have stayed down in the grave!" he burst into laughter again, completely oblivious to the fact that no one else seemed to find him funny. He was in on his eighth vampire joke when Voldemort finally stepped in.

"Ye Gods!" he thundered, his hood falling back to reveal his ugly, misshapen face. "If it's one thing I hate worse than American muggles it's American vampires! Someone SHUT HIM UP!" (AN: No offense to my peeps here in the States! I love ya!) Several of the other vampires hurried to do so, pleasure glinting in their pale eyes. "For the love of God! At last…there is silence!" Voldemort rubbed his temples, then impatiently snapped towards the two Death Eaters he had brought. They both stepped forward.

"Yes Master?" Lucius Malfoy asked

"See to the fire." The Master's voice was harsh and brutal. Moments later there was a great, green bonfire burning in the center of the clearing. "Good." Voldemort stepped carefully around the edges, making a complete circle. "Wormtail…the powder." The shorter man nervously tossed in packet of powder, shrieking as the fire consumed it and exploded the paper remnants.

For several long moments there was silence as the fire grew. At last, after a time, there came to be images in the flames…images of one thing in particular: a large castle with thousands of shining lights glowing brightly set next to a forest and behind a lake. The vampires drew one collective breath and stepped forth to behold the picture.

Voldemort smiled, his plan working perfectly. "Recongnize this place? It belonged to your kind once…many, many, many years ago…Soon it will be yours once again. This is what you must do…" All eyes were upon this terrible figure as at last his scheme unfolded. "…Now fly back to your homes…In two days we will begin!"

The image of Hogwarts flickered slightly as these last words were said, and in the flames a pale face appeared- unnoticed by everyone except for one.

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Ginny sat, lonely and small in the farthest corner of the common room. She felt miserable, and probably looked the same way; her already shabby robes disheveled and her hair askew- her face pale and her freckles standing out even more than usual. It was, all in all, an image Ginny had wished her brother's best friend never to be presented with…Yet there he was, stepping through the portrait hole and making a beeline for her.

Hastily Ginny smoothed her hair (although it helped little) and uncurled herself from the ball she had forced herself into earlier that evening after dinner. She straightened her robes as best she could and bounced slightly in her seat, hoping to bring color to her cheeks.

It obviously didn't work, as the first comment Harry made was on the color of her complexion.

"Feeling sick, Gin?" Harry asked, concern evident in his voice. "Better take you down to the Hospital Wing for some Pepperup potion….I was just down there, Madam Pomfrey's made a brand-new cauldron-full," he said, sinking down in the armchair across from her and heaving his bookbag into his lap.

"Visiting Ron again?" Ginny asked, leaning forward.

Harry looked up, surprised. "Um…No, though I did see him while I was there…. He was asleep. I actually went down there to visit Hermione…didn't you hear?"

"Not the whole story- just the fact that she was in the Hospital Wing. I tried to go over there but I was so distracted today…what happened?"

Harry stopped flipping through his Divination text to push up his glasses, and in doing so, he got a closer glimpse of Ginny. What he saw there surprised him. She was pale and sickly-looking, her eyes looking big for her thin face. Her robes were twisted about her frail body. Her hair, that usually she fought so hard to keep manageable was frizzy and twisted.

" Forget what happened to Hermione…for the moment at least. What the heck is the matter with you?" worry evident in Harry's voice. Ginny felt a quick thrill go through her body as she realized that worry was related to caring, and since Harry was so concerned, it had to mean something. But that was simply a flash and she was grounded in reality as Harry finished his sentence. "-Usually take such care to make sure you're all primped up…I'm taking you to Madam Pomfrey right now!" and with an air of finality, Harry stood and took hold of Ginny's arm. Ginny, however, had other ideas.

"Thanks Harry," she replied. "But I really am fine…It's nothing- I mean- Well- I'm sure whatever it is will pass in a few days." Ginny said, more confidence in her voice than what she really felt.

Harry frowned at her, uneasy still by her appearance. He hesitated for a moment, and then relented "All right, Gin…but I it doesn't I'm taking it as my responsibility to get you to the Hospital Wing…understand?" Ginny nodded meekly. A moment or two passed.

"So…about Hermione?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"Oh…yes. About Hermione," Harry shook his head for a second, feeling a little overwhelmed. Well who wouldn’t be? he thought to himself. Their two best friends both in the hospital at the same time with no one to talk to…Well, I suppose that's where you're wrong Harry…Ginny's here. "Madam Pomfrey wouldn't tell me all of the details, but I gathered there was a bit more than the fact that Hermione fell and hit her head. She said that Draco had brought Hermione in…kind of suspicious if you ask me…but then, you didn't," he flashed Ginny a quick smile. She grinned back, feeling a bit more relaxed now. "Hermione will probably be out for another week or so, and then she'll have to stay in the Hospital Wing for a little while longer…but that reason wasn't divulged to me…Madam Pomfrey said something about spell? I don't know. You'll have to pump her for more information," Harry shrugged apologetically.

"Okay then." Ginny rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I'll visit her tomorrow…I should have gone today but-"

"No, no…" Harry interrupted. "It really wouldn't have one you much good. Both Ron and Hermione may as well be stone for all of the reaction they provide to you… It seems to me that Madam Pomfrey said that Ron would be up and about as soon as she could finish brewing her concussion potion…and she was almost done the other day. Stop worrying Gin…everything will turn out fine. Just go on upstairs and get some rest." He smiled reassuringly at her, and despite herself, Ginny was convinced.

"All right, all right," she gathered her bag. "Are you going up yet?"

"No…I have a few things left to do homework-wise…I'll go up in a little while. Good-night Ginny!" Harry called after her. She waved back to him and disappeared up the spiral staircase.

Harry sat in that chair for almost another hour- finishing up his homework, reading up on some new Quidditch material and writing a letter to Sirius. At the end of his "work period", he stood, stretched, yawned and gathered up his things, preparing to go back up to the dorms. As he did so something in the far window caught his eye. Perplexed, he headed over there and peered out. The darkness out there astounded him, which was odd, as Harry knew it to be a full moon. Shrugging it off as tiredness, he continued on his way upstairs, not looking back.

Had he done so he would have noted that a pale face appeared in the window, silvery eyes shining, pointed teeth gleaming in a predator's smile.