Missing, Presumed Undead

Five: Naming.



“Where are we?” Lucius asked, coming around slowly.



“Transylvania, in a castle, chained to the wall.” Severus said dryly, moving as best he could to see the older blonde.



“What?” Lucius said, his memory of the scuffle with… with whatever they were coming back.



“I don’t think the vampires went extinct.” Draco said, “And I’m chained to the floor – not the wall.”



“So much for no blood, no vampires.” Lucius growled, trying to look at Severus.



“I may have been wrong about that.” Snape admitted reluctantly.



“May have?” Draco hissed.



“I was right about them not feeding on humans, though!” Severus maintained.



“SILENCE!” yelled one of the vampires – flexing his claws at the three men from his point guarding the door. The broken pieces of their wands lay at his feet, their magical cores torn and exposed.



“Drahoslav, what is this?” asked a beautiful woman; like the men she was seven feet tall, but her curves and figure were completely in proportion with her height. Raven black hair fell to her waist and she wore a beautiful formal gown, scarlet and corseted with a full skirt.



“Kveta! What are you doing here?” the male asked, ignoring his prisoners.



“Inspecting the captives, brother, there is much gossip about them around the city.” She said with a beaming, fanged smile.



“No! What are you doing in the castle? Why are you not with our Queen meeting with the Magic minister?” he said.



“The negotiations went well, the Queen returns early, I came ahead to prepare for her return; I heard of the prisoners and came to see them – I will have to tell our Queen.” She said.



“They call themselves Severus, Lucius and Draco. They are wizards. They are foreign. I have learnt nothing more from their conversations, other than they underestimated us and considered us extinct.” Said the guard.



“I shall inform the Queen on her arrival… extinct! Indeed!” she laughed, sweeping from the room in a swish of red silk.



***



Some time later, two heavily armed and highly muscled vampires marched into the dungeons; they were completely identical in every way. They were dressed differently to the other soldiers, dark blue leggings and tunic covered with knee-high patent black leather boots and a gleaming plate of armour over their chests. They had incredibly short black-coffee-coloured hair, gleaming amber eyes; and they were armed to the teeth with various sized blades.



“Dimitri, Matúš! Welcome to the dungeons!” smiled the slender guard in comparison.



“The Queen approaches.” They said, clicking their heels together, standing tall with their backs straight and chests out.



“Your Majesty.” Drahoslav bowed low, only rising when the woman told him to do so. Once again she was tall, perfectly symmetrical and stunningly beautiful. Her skin was deathly white, little blue veins in stark contrast. She had nails that extended to two-inch talons, painted with what appeared to be a French manicure; a huge star-cut ruby surrounded with diamonds on the middle finger of each long-fingered hand. Her silken hair fell in a wave of russet curls to her waist, topped with a small, gleaming gold Medieval crown. Impossibly large eyes glimmered in a poor imitation of the rubies on her fingers, her lips the same colour without lipstick.



The Black leather formal dress she wore looked imposing, the corseted top cinching her waist and pushing her breasts up like an offering; the skirt clinging to her hips before falling to the floor. The leather made no sound as she moved, there was no creaking like with the guard; just butter-soft, quality hide. Embroidered into the leather were endless scarlet Celtic knots. A gold and ruby-encrusted red Celtic cross hung from her throat, the pendent resting just above the swell of her breasts. Two impressive dark bruises marred both sides of her throat – bite marks.



“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” She said, her voice melodic and harmonising with itself, echoing around the cell. “Kveta mentioned their names and I could hardly believe her – but it is true: Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape.”



“Who are you?!” Lucius hissed.



“Do not address our Queen with such rudeness and bad manners!” Yelled the guard, instant, excruciating pain flooding Lucius for a fraction of a second before it ended.



“I have better things to do than deal with trespassers into our city.” She said, her resonating voice giving a hint of her mirth at their situation; “You have three options, choose wisely. One, you can die; two, you can be tortured and then die; Three, you can become slaves. You cannot leave, for you would bring vampire hunters to us – be that on purpose or accidentally. Give them a taste of slavery, Drahoslav – it would be a shame to kill or torture them; such pretty specimens.”



She smiled at the guard as he bowed, before turning and strolling away, flanked on either side by the two silent guards; the train of her gown trailing behind her; hips swaying provocatively as she walked.



“Gentlemen, I think we may have located Hermione Granger.” Severus said, only to be met with a full minute of intense pain a heartbeat later.



“NEVER speak of our Queen with her given name! It is not our way! It is an honour to call her by her name! You have entered our city without permission, you could have killed our people, you are criminals! You have not earned the right to name her!” the guard yelled, inflicting pain on the blondes as they grinned at finding their quarry; mistaking their joy as making fun of an ancient vampire law; to name the monarch was a privilege given to few.



And only three had the privilege of naming her: her personal guards Dimitri and Matúš; and her lady\'s maid, Kveta.