Carbon

Tom had to admit, it was going well, but he was growing tired of these games. He was filled with a burning hunger for success and freedom, but he didn't yet have enough of a grip on his prey to close in for the kill. He tugged impatiently at the energy he could feel radiating from her, and to his surprise, felt some of it flood into him. She definitely hadn't changed much then. . . . If he had a face, he would have smirked. He wouldn't be in here much longer. He'd be out of here by morning.

* * *

Virginia was amused. So he had finally figured out he could drain energy from her, had he. How pathetically slow. If he had just tried that instead of trying to contact her for all these years, he wouldn't be trapped in the back of her mind. Of course, it was partly because he really was quite unprepared. The current situation was a long way off of what he thought to be reality. That was one of the set backs of actually reading up about various situations. If you were used to knowing what you're doing, you forget that there are exceptions to every rule. And when you're a young dark-lord-wanna-be, dealing with the dark and dastardly things in life, not knowing ways rules can be bent or broken is deadly.

Despite all his studying and knowledge, he didn't have a chance. Because sometimes you have to just follow your instincts, and trust yourself. Books were written by others after all. No one has experienced everything. Ruling out possibilities and sitting around doing practically nothing for six years because of what a book says is impossible is just down right sad. She strode quickly up the stairs, and out the door. The sky was starry and cloudless, and the air of early autumn crisp and cool, with a slight breeze, ruffling the leaves, the sound of their gentle sighs permeating throughout the air. She hurried out into the night. She wanted food, NOW.

* * *

In a small muggle city near Hogsmeade, all was calm and quiet. . . . . .or not. As if cities are ever quiet. Horns blared and engines moaned, several street lights shone above, polluting the darkness. A few still walked the streets. At the edge of the city, however, it was fairly dark, and the only man-made sounds were distant. A muggle man was walking down a dusty road. Hearing a slight rustling seeming to come from the vegetation behind him at the side of the road, he glanced back over his shoulder. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he continued walking, slightly faster then before, as he tried to reassure himself that all was well. He heard another rustle, more distinct this time, and spun around just in time to see a dark figure spring towards him. He tried to turn and run, but it was far too late. He would never see the dawn.

* * *

Virginia waited in the foliage at the side of the road that ran past the edge of the city. Finally she saw her chance. A muggle man was walking by. She glanced around to make sure that there was no one else around to make trouble, then pounced. She dragged her struggling prey back. Once in the safety of the trees, she pressed her lips to the tender flesh of his throat, and, parting them slightly, dug in her fangs. He screamed aloud, a sound fill of fear and suffering, but no one came. She drank greedily, sucking out the life-blood which sustained her, as the flesh of his throat grew bruised and bloody, then pale, and finally he went limp her arms. She released him at last, letting his limp, lifeless body fall the ground. Then she left his carcass there to grow cold, savoring the taste of his blood on her lips as she walked away.

* * *

Virginia Weasley was a rather unusual person. Of course that's a bit obvious; she was, after all, the vampire of Hogwarts. Many words could be used to describe her, deadly, valiant, brave, beautiful, cruel, strong(in both body and soul), artistic, creative, playful, thoughtful, little sister, friend, daughter. But above anything else one might say, she was wild, as a mountain, forest, or river. Timeless, beautiful, soulful, strong, wild, free. She killed what she needed to survive, no more, no less, and enjoyed it, as any wild creature does, while at the same time spared and protected those close to her. Her position in this world was a strange one.

No one at Hogwarts knew she was a vampire. She didn't join the dark, or even stay neutral. She fought with the light, though by no means would she bend her own vampiric habits for the sake of sparing human lives. She fought because she was strong, and would not be bribed with promises of power, glory, or victims. She fought because there was no bloody way she would kneel before some upstart ruler-of-the-world-wanna-be. She fought for the freedom of her self, and the world, and the wild that she cherished, though by no means would she bend her own vampiric habits for the sake of sparing human lives.

She stood, bare feet pressed to the cold dungeon floor, waiting. She knew it would be tonight. It was a good thing she had been able to sneak out to feed; his demands on her blood-derived energy were overwhelming, and he would take most of her new energy before the night was over. She looked forward to his return. It would provide her with some entertainment. They had some unfinished business to settle. She steps into the shadows to wait. For though he didn't know it, the game had just begun.

* * *

The world around him shifted, and suddenly he could feel the chill of the air, the breath of his lungs, and the blood pulsing within his veins. He could see the shadows, and the stone floor on which he stood. One of the Hogwarts dungeons apparently. He glanced around, expecting to see her lying limply upon the cold floor. But she was nowhere in sight.

"Ginny?" he whispers nervously. A slim figure steps nimbly from the shadows. Crimson hair cascades down over her shoulders. But pretty certainly isn't the first word that comes to mind. For her dark red locks reminds one of the flow of fresh blood, and from the dangerous glint in her eye, and the smirk on her lips, she isn't one to mess with. 'Pretty' isn't the first to mind, because deadly comes first. "Ginny?" he echoes. She smiles darkly.

"Of course, Tom dear," she answers, the words sliding with casual sarcasm from her blood stained lips. "you shouldn't be surprised. People change with time. Deception is a game two can play." she smiles, flashing a pair of sharp fangs, then walks over to him, and brings her lips to his, her tongue penetrating his mouth. And then he feels the fangs upon his lips, the subtle weapons he hadn't noticed until then. She sips his blood, savoring the taste, then releases him. He falls weakly to his knees.

"Until next time, dearest." she whispers, smirking, and then walks away, her feet padding across the cold stone floor, leaving echoes in the air and in his mind. He watches her helplessly. How could he have been fooled so easily? She obviously doesn't follow any book's rules, or any rules at all. And he admires that about her. Admires her subtlety and grace, and wonders what tomorrow will bring, and if he'll live to see it. . . . The world is blurring before his eyes, then fading to black.