Missing, Presumed Undead

The Queen’s Chambers





Hermione, flanked by the twins walked through the city, nodding politely at subjects that bowed; speaking with those who spoke to her; advising those who asked. She genuinely cared about her people; and if she couldn’t personally offer advice or help, she’d point them in the direction of someone who could.



Hermione had single-handedly brought down the previous tyrant King (a vampire who made Voldemort look as dangerous as a glass of luke-warm water) and had created a democracy where each adult vampire had the right to their opinion and the ability to vote. She had brought them into the modern wizarding world and helped them learn of the currency of Knuts, Sickles and Galleons – the castle city even had its own branch of Gringotts; once the twelve vaults of precious metals, jewels and antiques had been converted into capital.



She had worked hard to bring the vampires from the dark ages they had been kept in by previous rulers; she had not been opposed as such, but the people had been terrified of the woman who had brought down the previous King. She’d had to coax and soothe the population into helping her, like a Mother would do with a young child; after three years of work she’d created what was seen today – that was seven years ago.



Hermione’s greatest achievement was the production of a synthetic blood that gave the vampires their freedom – freedom from hunting wizards, witches, squibs and muggles; freedom from feeding from throats. This also had an unexpected and miraculous side effect, it brought back the magic they had as witches and wizards – even previous squibs gained some magical ability… and their magic was completely wandless.



She was considered as so much more than their Queen: she was their saviour, their protector, their teacher, their provider, their hope.



Their living goddess.



Hermione’s Chambers were built deep into the city, protected and hidden. The people didn’t want her being harmed in any way. her personal guards, Dimitri and Matúš never left her side – on the orders of her people. It was debatable whom ruled over whom when it came to her living conditions and safety.



In her seven years of rule she had reluctantly given in to the papering her citizens insisted on showering her with; she still didn’t like the decadence they overwhelmed her with – but she would smile and accept it all, her political mind overriding her personal preference for the ‘simple life’



But when ruling over vampires, who had lived with millennia of tyrants, who saw her as their miracle; the ‘simple life’ had become an impossibility.



“Milady, the bath has been run for you, do you wish for Kveta to help disrobe you?” Dimitri asked, not using her name until her chamber door was firmly closed. Hermione truly disliked that only a select few could use her name, and that her Royal robes meant she was unable to dress herself, even her underwear required someone else to get her into and out of it. But once again, her political mind overruled her personal preference for independence – a vampire ruler was papered, end of story.



“No, she has done enough for me this past week, let her relax.” Hermione said, moving into her lavish suite of rooms, followed by the two warriors.



“I doubt she is relaxing – she spoke of interest in the prisoners – especially when you gave them the choice of slavery or death.” Said Dimitri.



“I think our cousin wishes to initiate them into their bonds.” Matúš chuckled.



“She’ll break them! They’re so small!” Dimitri replied, moving to untie Hermione’s corset laces without being asked. His brother knelt down to remove her shoes and stockings automatically.



“They are tall for wizards, Lucius and Draco – the blondes – are six-foot-four, Severus is average at six feet.” She said, taking a deep breath as the leather corset came away in Dimitri’s clawed hands, revealing the ebony silk chemise beneath it.



“The soldiers said they weren’t heavy when they carried them from the barracks to the dungeons, one vampire carried each one with no trouble – and it’s a mile walk!” said Matúš, completing her legs and moving to unbutton the leather skirt as his brother untied the top portion of the thirty-eight bows on the ankle-length silk chemise.



“Compared to trained soldiers and warriors, I guess they are tiny.” Hermione said, glad to let her skin breathe after spending nine hours in the leather dress. She had spent the week negotiating the tax the city were paying to the Transylvanian Ministry; the dresses she had worn had all been leather, the three inch stilettos clicking dangerously on their floors, her ruby eyes accented with subtle makeup. She wanted to remind the Ministry that they were incredibly powerful, and that trying to over-tax them was not a good plan; they were actually owed a three-thousand galleon rebate.



Finally down to her black lace knickers, Hermione sighed, allowing the brothers to finish her disrobement of her as they both knelt and eased the scrap of fabric over her hips and down her long legs. The pair took their role as personal guards incredibly seriously, and denying their duties them set them into huge sulks. They had been soldiers for three decades and warriors for seventy-three years – but they could sulk like the average five-year-old denied sweets! And what was worse was that they could get away with murder when it came to their Queen.



Walking naked to the bathing room, Hermione inhaled the fragrant steam before slipping slowly into the hot water, groaning as it soothed her aching muscles. Dimitri handed her a lead crystal champagne flute containing the 37°C synthetic blood, she sipped slowly, eyeing the twins.



“What are you waiting for?” she laughed, watching as weapons were removed and placed within easy reach of the huge black marble tub; armour was taken off, and put aside for polishing; and every stitch of their clothing fell to the floor.



Hermione continued to sip from the glass, admiring their immaculate bodies; hard muscles; dark body hair; long, long, long legs… not to mention their obvious appreciation for their Queen.