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His White Queen: A Prequel	By : jsu1660n Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 18950 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter, neither the characters from the books or movies. I receive no profit from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
A/N: FEM SLASH & Language up ahead

Chapter Two

It was times like this when Hermione seriously thought of calling up a shrink and having her “other half” integrated so that she would not have to listen to her say ridiculous things like,

That Ginerva Weasley sure is coming along. Nice long legs, curves in all of the right places, sure the freckles are abhorrent, but overall, a rather nice package you should unwrap, ‘Mi.

As if to further illustrate her point, Meira sent Hermione a very vivid dream about a girl named Orphelia Goldstein. Meira and Orphelia were best friends and shared a dorm in Ravenclaw Tower. Orphelia, or Ory as Meira called her, was a redhead. Her hair was not a reddish-orange like the Weasley’s, but a deep red, like a bottle of Bordeaux Wine. She had incredibly bright green eyes, brighter than Harry’s even. Her face was oval shaped. Her lips were small and her skin was a milky white. She had a gorgeous body that Meira didn’t mind showing Hermione.

At first, Hermione expected to see a very graphic and nasty account, like the porno’s she watched with her muggle friends the summer before last. But what she saw was the most sensual thing she had ever experienced. The girl’s skin felt soft like velvet against hers. Her scent was musky and feminine. Her cries and moans were like notes to the sweetest melody.

Even as Hermione idly brushed her hair for bed, she thought of how Meira brought Orphelia to orgasm again and again—

“Hermione, are you alright?” Ginny came into the room wearing her bathrobe as she towel dried her hair.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“You looked a bit flushed. Are you sure everything is all right?” she asked, sitting on the bed across from Hermione’s.

“Yes, so are you excited about tomorrow?” Tomorrow was the Quidditch World Cup.

“Of course! I kind of wish we were going to see the Holyhead Harpies instead though.” Of course she did. Ginny’s bedroom was like an homage to the all girls team. “But Ron’s crush Viktor Krum is playing so…”

“Viktor Krum. Who is he again?”

“He’s the Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team. Gosh, Hermione, do you know anything about Quidditch?”

“Just what I’ve seen Harry do these last three years.”

Ginny shook her head. A pretty smile on her lips. She removed her robe and underneath she wore purple pajama pants and a tank top. She had freckles on the tops of her shoulders, and for a moment, Hermione wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

Ask her, Meira encouraged. You know you want to.

“Ginny?” she called, deciding it was now or never. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Hermione.”

Hermione forced herself to stare into Ginny’s sparkling blue eyes. Her eyes were the same color as Ron’s and that was about where the similarities ended. Ginny’s eyes held an unmistakable warmth and vulnerability about them, most likely stemming from her experiences in her first year.

“Have you ever…that is to say, have you ever thought about what it would be like to…kiss another girl?” there! She said it. Ginny’s eyes were as wide as a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. “Gin, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Just forget it.”

Hermione turned away from the still staring girl, thoroughly embarrassed. She went down the stairs, Baltazar trailing behind her. She picked up the snake and let him wind around her arm.

She found Harry sitting at the kitchen table eating a ham sandwich. He smiled when he saw her, but unlike Ron, he had enough restraint to swallow his food before talking to her.

“Hey, Hermione.”

“Hi, Harry.” She poured a glass of milk and sat at the table with him. “Where’s Ron?”

“Asleep.”

“And why aren’t you?” she asked, her voice tinged with the slightest amount of reprove.

“I’m too wired.” Hermione could tell. His eyes were wide and bright.

“I should have guessed. For a moment, I actually thought that you were having nightmares or something like that.” The sudden silence between them was heavy and thick with implications. “Harry?”

Harry flicked his wand and muttered the Muffliato spell he learned from the Weasley’s the day before so no one would overhear.

“I actually did have a dream a little while ago.”

She placed her hand atop his. “What was it about?”

“Voldemort.”

Hermione’s eyes closed momentarily. Something strange happened. A sudden tingle swept through her body at the mention of the darkest wizard to enter the wizarding world’s name.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t like it when I say his name,” he quickly apologized.

“No, no, it’s fine. What happened in the dream?”

“Well, there is this old house. It should be abandoned, but there are lights on inside. This old man who lives across from it goes over to see what’s going on. When he gets up the stairs, he hears voices.” Harry swallowed painfully. “There are two men in the room with him. They are planning something. The man with the dark hair says calls him master and says that he’s too weak. The other man is Peter Pettigrew,” Harry snarled.

He paused and Hermione took a moment to digest what he had told her so far. Peter Pettigrew and his master were reunited. And from what Harry has said, they had help.

“And then,” he continued, a haunted look in his eyes. “While the old man is standing outside of the door listening, a large, dirty snake slithers past him. He calls it Nagini. She curled around his chair and tells him that the caretaker is at the door. He tells Wormtail to open the door so that he can greet their guest. And then…”

Hermione’s squeezed her friends hand urging him to continue. “Then what?”

“He used the Killing Curse. Even after I opened my eyes all I could see was that bloody green light!” Harry yelled, slamming his fists on top of the table. “It was horrible, Hermione, and my scar wouldn’t stop hurting.”

“Harry, did you actually see the Dark Lord?” she asked, feeling a bit more than morbid curiosity.

“No, and the really strange part, from what everyone told me and from my earliest memories of him, he was tall. Really tall. But in the chair, I couldn’t see any part of him.”

“Do you believe he’s corporeal now?”

“Yeah, but obviously not strong enough to make it on his own. The other guy, the younger one, he seemed really worried about Voldemort doing anything.” Hermione could feel Harry’s gaze on her as she struggled to work through what he had told her. “We really messed things up last year, didn’t we?”

“What do you mean?” she asked surprised.

“Wormtail escaped. Sirius is a fugitive because of it and now Voldemort has another ally. I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

The malice in Harry’s voice both frightened and fascinated her. Any other time, she would be reprimanding her best friend about morals, and souls, and laws, and such, but this time she actually agreed.

“Had he died like Sirius wanted, it would have been easier on him. But there is no use dwelling on that now. Tell me more about this second man. I’m sure he is probably a Death Eater, but—.”

“Wait a second. You actually believe me.” He sounded both touched and amused.

“Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

“I fondly recall a certain wild haired Gryffindor witch knocking a crystal ball to the floor and storming out of a classroom not too long ago,” he teased, pretending to remember.

“Harry!” she laughed. “Okay, yes, I admit Divination is rubbish—when Sybill Trelawney teaches it. I have sort of, grown to appreciate the value of dreams and nightmares. Yours especially. Now, what can you remember about the younger man? Did the Dark Lord or Pettigrew say his name?”

“No,” he said slowly. “No, they didn’t. He was about a half a foot taller than Fred and George. He was kind of dirty. His clothes were simple, black pants and a black shirt. He wore a long black leather coat. He had wild dark brown hair—darker than yours. He was thin, really thin, like starved or something. Um, his face was pale and gaunt. His eyes were an average brown, but they were haunted. Like Sirius’s when he came from—.”

“Azkaban.”

Harry did a face palm and groaned. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that earlier. That explained the man’s appearance and his devotion to Voldemort. He must have been one of the Death Eaters that was convicted when Voldemort fell the first time around.”

“But no one has said anything about any Death Eater breakouts, have they?”

“No, but maybe he’s an Animagus like Sirius.”

“I suppose that’s something to look into. Being an Animagus would be a handy ability for a Death Eater to have. Even so, a missing prisoner would have been all over the front page of the Daily Prophet.”

“You’re right,” he said, taking his glasses off to clean them.

She could tell Harry was beginning to get frustrated. “You realize what this means, don’t you?”

“What?” his beautiful emerald eyes met hers.

“Another year battling your dark nemesis. And here I thought the biggest challenge would be beating the Slytherins with their horribly biased head of house for the cup this year.”

Harry snorted and put his glasses on. “I wish. First a possessed teacher, then a diary, when is it going to end, Hermione?”

“I don’t know, Harry, but I will be there with you until the bitter end,” she promised.

“I know you will. I can always count on you. Listen, until we figure out what’s really going on with Voldemort and his two minions, I want to keep this just between the two of us.”

“What about Ron? You know he would want to know. And Sirius. He’s your family Harry and he would want to know these things.”

“I will write to Sirius when we get back to Hogwarts. That way I can tell him about the game tomorrow. It shouldn’t all be doom and gloom,” he joked.

“And Ron?” she pressed.

“Ron is my best mate, Hermione, but…there really is nothing to say that these dreams are anything but. And Ron might want me to tell Dumbledore, and I just don’t want to be under a microscope again this year. I just want one bloody year without everyone looking at me like I’m either the savior of the world or Voldemort’s evil twin.”

“Okay, sshh, don’t get upset. All right, we can keep this between us. For now.”

“Good.”

“I mean it, Harry. If this gets too big for us, we have to tell someone, Professor Lupin at the very least.”

Harry smiled wickedly at her and she had the urge to kick herself for bringing him up. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you want me to contact Remus?” he fluttered his eyelashes as she blushed.

“I do not do that, Harry! And the man was our teacher and a best friend to your parents.”

“That still didn’t stop you from crushing on him,” he snickered.

“Ugh, that is the last time I tell you anything, Harry Potter.”

They sat quietly, each enjoying the peacefulness of the other’s company. Hermione noticed Harry suddenly looking at her arm.

“Hermione, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what’s with the snake?”

Baltazar flicked his tongue lazily at Harry before nestling closer to Hermione. “I actually found him the morning you sent the letter. He was by the lake where I was jogging and I almost stepped on him. I thought he was an adder when I first saw him.”

“No,” he said, looking closer. “Most adder’s tend to have more colors and besides, had he actually been one, he would have bit you as soon as you got close. You know, given what happened to you in second year, I would have thought you would have been terrified of snakes.”

Hermione didn’t really like the way Harry was looking at her. It was as if he was trying to figure something out.

“I know, but Baltazar won’t hurt me.” She noticed the snake watching them curiously. “I was petrified by a basilisk,” she said to him.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “You talk to him?”

“I talk to Crookshanks all the time and I know you talk to Hedwig. Besides, it’s not as if I can actually speak Parseltongue.” She bit her lip and looked at him imploringly. “Do you think you can tell him what I said? Sometimes I think he may understand me, but…”

“Hermione, you know how I feel about that.”

Everyone knows that Harry hated speaking Parseltongue. It was just another way that reminded people and himself that he was much more connected to the Dark Lord than he was willing to admit.

“Oh, Harry, please? I know that I just got him, but I love him already.” Her eyes stretched open widely and her bottom lip quivered slightly.

“Not that face,” Harry groaned, raking his hand through his unruly hair. “Alright, fine! I will talk to him for you. Just don’t make this a habit.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she exclaimed, kissing his cheek as he rolled his eyes.

Harry looked at the snake and frowned in deep concentration.

Hello, Baltazar. My name is Harry Potter.

Hello, Harry Potter.

Hermione froze in her seat. Harry and Baltazar were speaking Parseltongue to one another. How could she understand them?

That, dear ‘Mi, is a conversation best saved for another time.

But—.

Sshh! I want to hear this, Meira shushed her.

Hermione was petrified by a basilisk two years ago. She wanted you to know that she is not afraid of you.

I know thissss, Harry Potter. I undersssstood her when ssshe told me. What happened to the creature who harmed my misssstresss?

I destroyed it.

Good. It would ssseem that I am indebted to you for avenging my missstresss, Harry Potter.

No, I love Hermione. I would never let anyone harm her.

Nor would I.

Hermione’s heart swelled at the declarations from her best friend and new pet.

Hang on. How can you understand Hermione? She does not speak Parsel like we do.

No, but I underssstand my missstresss above the other humansss. Sshe apologized for nearly ssstepping on me.

But how? Harry pressed. Hermione was anxious to hear this as well.

That, Harry Potter isss my misssstresssesss sssecret to tell. Good day.

Baltazar re-curled around Hermione’s arm and slipped his head underneath the sleeve of her robe as if to make a point that the conversation had ended. Hermione sipped her milk inconspicuously as Harry began to grill her.

“Hermione, Baltazar said that he can understand you. How is that possible without you speaking Parseltongue to him?”

A very good question, Harry. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I have never heard about anything like this happening to a witch or wizard before.”

Harry looked in her eyes and whipped out his wand. “Put him down, Hermione.”

“Harry, what do you think you are doing?” she said, holding her arm behind her back so that Harry couldn’t hurt him.

“How do you know that Baltazar is not a wizard in an Animagus disguise?”

“Oh, honestly, Harry, Baltazar is not another Peter Pettigrew.”

“Then prove it.”

“No.”

“Either put him down and let me check him or I will tell Mr. Weasley.”

And this is why the Slytherins find your precious Harry Potter so damn annoying.

Hermione sighed her agreement with Meira and carefully rolled up her sleeve. Baltazar’s eyes met hers questioningly. “Baltazar, I need you to uncurl from my arm and sit on the table for a moment. Harry wants to perform a spell to check to make sure that you aren’t a danger to me, okay? I promise I won’t let him hurt you.”

The snake held her eyes for a moment and then uncurled itself onto the table. At that moment, Hermione cursed the fact that she was in a magical household where Harry could just perform the spell without the slightest amount of trouble.

“Finite Incantatem.”

Nothing happened.

Hermione and Baltazar both stared at Harry as if to say, satisfied now?

“Okay, I was wrong. I’m sorry, but I had to be sure,” he said, pocketing his wand.

Hermione let Baltazar slither back up her arm. “It’s fine. I know you were just looking out for me. And don’t worry. As soon as we get back to Hogwarts, I’m going to look into this. Just, don’t mention this to Ron. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw Baltazar. The last thing I need is him knowing that he can understand me.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” she said as they hugged.

“Goodnight, ‘Mione.”

Hermione went back upstairs, hoping that Ginny had already fallen asleep. The room was near dark except for a candle sitting in the windowsill. She heard no sounds from Ginny’s bed and immediately assumed the girl was asleep.

I wouldn’t count on it, Meira said in a I-know-something-you-don’t type of voice.

“Hermione?” she called.

She turned around and found Ginny sitting up in her bed. “Hi. I thought you might have been asleep by now.”

“No,” the girl looked down at her hands. “I—I waited up for you.”

Hermione turned her back and let Baltazar uncoil from her arm and settle on the pillow in her bed to keep warm. She slipped her robe off her shoulders. She was dressed modestly in her black fitted Damon Salvatore Death Becomes Him t-shirt and black boyshorts.

“Ginny, what I said earlier, I…” she sighed, wishing she could strangle Meira.

“Please don’t apologize.”

“What?” Hermione said, positive she heard her wrong.

“I said,” Ginny climbed out of her bed and crossed over to Hermione’s side of the room. She stood directly in front of her. “Don’t apologize.” Ginny’s soft hand wrapped around Hermione’s. “Truth is, I have thought of what it would be like to kiss a girl…to kiss you.”

Stop gaping like a cute goldfish and say something!

“You want to kiss…me?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Her warm breath fanned against Hermione’s lips as she leaned closer almost against her will. Ginny’s small hands held her hips. Slowly, hesitantly sliding up underneath the bottom of her shirt. Shaking from both fear and excitement, Hermione held her arms up so that Ginny could remove her shirt.

“God, Hermione.”

The shirt fell to the floor discarded and Hermione’s dusky nipples stiffened and her skin broke out in goose pimples from the rush of air. She pinched her nipples, and the small pain shot straight down to her throbbing clit.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, entwining her hands in the younger girls’ hair. Ginny’s lips were warm and soft against her own. She slipped her tongue between her lips, tasting her. Their kisses started slow and hesitant then grew desperate and feverish.

“You taste like vanilla,” Ginny said, letting Hermione push her back into her bed. Hermione had never kissed anyone before and Ginny’s kisses were addictive. Their tongues tangled and caressed, battling for dominance.

“Her—Hermione,” she moaned as she sucked the sensitive part of her neck. “We should silence the room.”

“Why? Afraid that I’m going to make you scream, Gin?” she whispered. Ginny whimpered softly as Hermione trailed the tip of her tongue from her neck down to her chest. Hermione sat up, straddling her waist. “I wonder what you have underneath here…” she slid the thin tank off Ginny’s body watching her flop back onto the bed, an almost dazed look in her eyes.

Ginny’s breasts were slightly larger and would grow to a pleasant C, maybe even a D. Her skin was pale and had an adorable patch of red freckles between her breasts. Her nipples were a rosy pink that made Hermione’s mouth water.

She writhed and panted when Hermione latched onto her nipples and rolled the other between her fingers. Her skin was so soft and warm.

“Please, Hermione. I need…I need...”

“What?” she whispered, taking her earlobe in her mouth. “What do you need Ginny?”

“Touch me. Touch me, please.”

“Where, Ginny? Where do you want me to touch you?”

Ginny’s face flushed as sweat beaded her forehead. “Inside.”

Hermione suckled Ginny’s nipples again and let her hand drift down her quivering stomach. She quickly untied the string on her pajamas and slipped inside. Her fingers slowly slipped underneath her knickers, lightly tracing the neatly trimmed hairs resting on the girl’s searing hot pussy. Hermione loved the feel of her soft hair against her fingertips. She traced every inch of her, carefully avoiding her clitoris. She caressed her swollen lips as the girl shuddered beneath her.

“You’re so wet, Ginny.”

“Hermione, fuck,” she whined, thrusting her hips upwards to force her to touch her where she needed her most. “Please, don’t tease.”

She parted the girl’s lips and carefully thrust her finger inside of her tight, wet hole. Ginny whimpered needfully when Hermione added another finger. Her fingers were soaked as she pushed in and out. When Ginny tried to grind against her hand, Hermione stopped moving and pulled her hair.

“Don’t move, Ginerva.”

Fear and desire welled in the girl’s eyes. She obeyed, quivering as she struggled to lie still.

“Good girl.” Hermione pressed her thumb against her swollen clit and kissed her, swallowing her orgasmic screams.

Hermione felt her own need swell between her thighs. She wanted nothing more than to see Ginny’s pretty, red hair shimmer in the candlelight as she buried her face between her thighs. But Hermione didn’t push her. After all, they were only supposed to kiss.

When Ginny came down from her high, she sidled closer to Hermione wanting to cuddle. She mirrored Meira’s irritation at the girl’s sudden clinginess.

“Gin, maybe you should get some sleep. We have to rise early in the morning.”

“Oh,” she said, her face falling slightly. “Yeah, you’re right. Um, g—goodnight,” she stuttered.

“Goodnight,” she said, feeling a little guilty when Ginny crawled into her bed without looking back at her.

What had she done? Ginny was the only female friend she had. She should Obliviate her. What if her stupid irrational need to know everything drove her away? Oh, god, what if she told Harry and Ron? What if she told her family? They would hate her! They would call her a pervert. They would—.

For the love of Rowena, will you calm down and breathe, girl! Ginerva may be confused and a little unsettled over what you did together, but she will not turn on you.

But what if she did?

She won’t. Trust me.

“Yeah,” she muttered dryly. “I trust you. I trust about as much as we trusted Gilderoy Lockhart to save Hogwarts from the Heir of Slytherin.”

Well, you don’t have to be cruel.

It was the day before Christmas Eve and five-year-old Meira Belikov was spending the holidays with her mother Feodora, her grandmother Natasia, and her grandmother’s boyfriend Ian. Her father was spending the holidays in France with Mother Linnet. Meira didn’t like Linnet. She always smoked those disgusting cigarettes a lot of the adults seemed to like. She was sure Linnet didn’t like her either. She never said anything specifically mean to Meira, but she always looked at her with hard eyes and a plastic smile on her face. Anytime Meira spent away from Mother Linnet was a holiday.

The snow fell in the night and the morning was cold and crisp. Meira and her mother stood on the balcony of her bedroom, watching the wild foxes creep out onto the edge of the forest searching for food. Her mother never liked her to be around the foxes without either her or Natasia present, but the foxes never hurt Meira. They even knelt down to let the little girl pet their fur.

“Mummy?” she asked, speaking in their native tongue.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Feodora Cyzarine Belikov was a beautiful woman. She was tall and had long legs. She had dark hair that was cut in a French-style bob with bangs falling slightly above her eyes. She bore a small beauty mark above the left side of her mouth. Her eyes were as bright and as clear as crystals. Before she had Meira, she was a fulltime Russian model. Feodora was a squib, but her contributions to the wizarding world stemmed from her uncanny potions abilities.

“Why does father live with Linnet if he loves you?” the little girl asked, looking up into her mother’s eyes that were a mirroring gray of her own.

“Well, do you remember when I told you that Mother Linnet cannot have babies?”

“Yes.”

“Linnet did have a baby a few years before you were born.”

“I have a brother or sister?”

“No, honey. The baby did not live when it came out of her tummy.”

“But why?” she asked, trying to understand.

Feodora bit her lip as she thought of a way to explain. “Linnet had an accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“Do you remember when I told you that Uncle Conrad and Uncle Guthrie are around to protect us from the men that don’t like your father?”

Meira knew these men were not really her uncles, but close friends who helped her father with his work.

“Yes. You said that there are bad men around who would hurt us to hurt father because he loves us.”

“Yes, and that’s what happened to Linnet. Your uncles were not around and some bad men tried to take her away. When your uncles got there, they began to duel. Linnet was hit by a stray spell. The spell damaged Linnet and they had to take the baby from her.”

“And when they took the baby, it died?”

“Exactly. Well, your father and I met when Linnet went away.”

“Where did she go?”

“When she lost her baby, Linnet blamed your father. She became violent. She started hurting herself and anyone who would come near her. Your father moved her somewhere where Healers could help heal her mind.”

“How did you meet?” Meira knew this story, but she loved the little glimmer her mother had in her eyes whenever she retold it.

“I was in Germany. I was assisting my friend, who was a potions master. He worked for your father as well as a lot of other witches and wizards. However, at the time, your father was his most important client. He was working on a particularly important potion that your father desperately needed. It was late and he thought your father would be less severe in his ramifications if he sent me instead.” Her mother’s eyes sparkled lovingly as she recalled their meeting. “He planned on reminding Dietrich about the consequences of being a neglectful Potions Master. When I arrived instead, he was more than surprised. And there was a moment when he looked at me and I just knew that I would never see any other man ever again.”

“But if he loves us, why is he staying with Linnet?” she asked her again.

Feodora hesitated just as Natasia walked in. “Well, go on, my dear. Explain to my granddaughter why if Grindelwald loves you, he is still with that miserable cow.”

Natasia Belikov was a timeless beauty. It was only her barely visible laugh lines and completely white hair that she wore in a bun, you would never guess that she was in her late 60s. Most people thought she was the Goddess Amorsa reincarnated or even the legendary White Lady. Her eyes were such a pale gray and curved so that they resembled a feline’s eyes. She still had a perfect hourglass figure that made the younger girls eyes burn with envy whenever she entered a room. The only thing about Natasia Belikov that rivaled her beauty was her fierce hatred for Meira’s father.

“Mother!”

“Feodora!” she exclaimed, mirroring her daughter’s tone.

“I have told you repeatedly not to insult neither Gellert nor his wife in front of Meira,” the young woman exclaimed, hands on her hips.

“Yes, yes, because Gellert Grindelwald is the greatest wizard who ever lived,” she mocked.

Feodora sighed, knowing she would never win any argument against her mother, especially with her child present. “Was there something you needed, mother?”

“Always the warm reception, dear. Actually, I just came up to tell you that your little sleep sustaining potion is ready.”

Feodora’s annoyance quickly shifted to excited anticipation. “Oh, good. I have to put it through trials next. Meira, I will be back in a few minutes.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and fixed her mother with a weary glance. “I assume you shall be able to watch her for a spell.”

“Oh, no, dear. By the time you return, I shall have fed her to the foxes,” she winked at her granddaughter who giggled.

Feodora rolled her eyes and sighed. “Behave you two.”

When she was gone, Natasia dressed her granddaughter in her winter coat, mittens, scarf and earmuffs and led her outside.

“Grammy?”

“Yes, Little Nikita?” she said fondly.

“Can Ian help me fly today?”

“I will if you don’t tell your mother,” he warned, appearing almost out of thin air. Ian had been Natasia’s lover for many years. He had dark, shoulder length hair that he kept in a ponytail. His eyes were as dark as midnight and his skin was nearly as pale as the snow. But whenever Meira saw him, his cheeks and lips both had a candy apple rouge to them, a definite sign that he was fed.

Ian was over three hundred years old and Meira loved him like he was a big brother rather than a grandfather. Grindelwald despised Ian and all vampires because the younger ones, or Fledglings as Ian called them, liked to drink from witches and wizards. They tasted better than squibs, and even better than Muggles because of the magic in their blood. The only thing better than tasting a witch or wizard was tasting a virgin witch or wizard. The fledglings had less control than a vampire with less than a century under their belt. Most of the time a vampire drank from a witch or wizard, they would lose control and drain them.

Despite Ian’s impeccable control and his standing relationship with Natasia, Grindelwald fought with Feodora constantly about having his only child around “a magic sucking parasite.”

Meira, holding the hands of both her grandmother and Ian walked to the end of the cliff overlooking the Black Sea behind their manor. When the weather warmed, they could stand on the cliffs and see the dolphins playing. The air was still, but cold and she could feel ice sticking to her cheeks. She watched her grandmother cast a warming spell on her body wandlessly. She loved watching her grandmother perform magic.

“All right, princess, we only have a few minutes before your mother comes out here and screams at us. So we’re only going to hover a few feet away from the cliff.”

“Okay,” she said, nearly vibrating for all her excitement.

Her mother was never afraid to leave her alone with Ian. She only worried that when he flew with her, she might get too excited and use her magic and accidentally fall to her death or drown.

Ian kneeled in front of her so that she could climb onto his back. She held on to his neck tightly, letting her grandmother adjust her legs so that she would not fall.

“Are you ready, princess?”

“Ready!”

“Okay, here we go!”

Ian ran towards the edge of the cliff and did a jump-dive while Meira laughed happily on his back knowing he would never let them fall. After they dropped about a foot and half towards the crashing icy waves, Ian floated up higher and higher until they were floating five feet away from the cliff.

“Higher, Ian, higher!” she urged, laughing happily.

He laughed and flew so high, Meira thought she could touch the clouds. He spun them slowly so that she could see everything around her.

“Do you want to see something, princess?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, hold on.”

They flew towards the forest, over the trees. Meira looked over his shoulder as they passed over the trees and saw a mother fox and her three Kits eating what looked to be a dead caribou.

“They are so cute!” she whispered afraid to disturb them, even though they were up so high. “Do you think grammy will let me keep one as a pet?” she asked hopefully.

“I doubt it, young one. Kits belong in the wild with their mothers. Then they will grow big and strong and have Kits of their own.”

“Okay,” she said a little morosely. “Can I have a wolf instead?”

He laughed and shook his head. “We shall see, princess.”

They flew back over towards the manor to see Feodora standing beside Natasia with her arms folded and her boot tapping against the snow irritably.

“Ian…” she began.

~~*~~

Once Feodora finished her responsibility lecture to Ian, the family returned to the manor where Natasia instructed the elves to make hot chocolate for them and heat a cup of O for Ian. While Ian and Feodora discussed the different uses for vampire’s blood, Natasia tucked Meira in to her bed for her afternoon nap and told her the story of the Four Animals.

“They were the best of friends and all intelligent in their own way. They each had the ability to manipulate a special element to their working. There was the Lion, fierce and strong. He was the bravest of the four. His element was Fire. Then there was the Badger, warm and kind. She was the most loyal and her element was Earth. There was the Eagle, a strong, beautiful creature who stood out amongst the four as the most intelligent. Her element was Air. And lastly, there was the Snake. He was a sly and cunning serpent that you would be ill advised to ever turn your back on. Most would say that the Snake was the most deceitful. I say he was the most astute. His element was Water. The Animals worked well together and decided to educate youngsters who were most like them.

“Do you remember when I explained to you how everyone who is born into the world has their one perfect match? No matter how different they may seem from one another, they help complete each other? Well, the Eagle was born to be the perfect mate to the Snake.”

“But grammy, don’t eagles eat snakes?” Meira asked her brows knitting together as she tried to understand what she read in books and what her grandmother was telling her.

The older woman chuckled heartily. “Indeed they do, my dear. Although they were made for one another, they often butted heads. The Snake felt that being the most cunning, he knew things that others didn’t. He was willing to do things that others wouldn’t.”

“Bad things?” Meira whispered.

“Yes. Now the Eagle was not an angel herself, by any means. She could be just as sly and ruthless, but she hid hers a little better. The Snake had a certain belief. He believed that there are some animals that are better than others.”

“Like how father says the Muggles and Mudbloods are beneath us and should be controlled?” she asked as her five-year-old mind readily recalled one of the arguments Grindelwald and Feodora had.

Natasia’s smile tightened and her eye twitched slight. She nodded curtly. “Just like that, yes. The Eagle did not care either way what type of birth the creature came from, so long as he or she was magically capable. The Lion and the Badger both felt the same way. But the Snake would not budge even an inch in his beliefs.

“As time went by, the Eagle grew to notice the Lion questioning her more and more for her choice of being a mate to the Snake."

“But she didn’t have a choice. It was who she was born to be, right, grammy?”

“Exactly, little Nikita,” she beamed tapping her nose. “But the Lion didn’t understand this. He had not yet found his mate and felt himself enamored by the Eagle. Of course, this led to more tension and open hostility between the Snake and the Lion. And no other animals knew of the mating between the Snake and the Eagle. They kept it a well-hidden secret. Even the Lion and the Badger did not find out until much later.”

“Why did they keep a secret?”

“Because the Snake was very outspoken in his belief of these so-called inferior animals. He managed to accumulate many dangerous enemies. These other animals would feel no hesitation in harming the Eagle to hurt the Snake. Although the Snake and the Eagle both were more than capable of defending themselves in hostile situations, the Snake feared for his mate’s safety.

“Soon enough, the Lion allowed his obsession and stubbornness to cause a permanent rift between himself and the Snake. He provoked a physical confrontation with the Snake and pretended that it was because of the Snake’s beliefs rather than the Lion’s own unrequited feelings for the Eagle. The Badger who was usually the objective peacekeeper, decided that in the best interest of the Four, attempted to sway the Eagle that she should end her relationship with the Snake and be with the Lion.

“The Snake, fed up with the fighting and constant interference with his mate, decided to break from the Four.”

“Did the Eagle go with him?” the girl asked fighting against her drooping eyelids to hear the rest of the story.

“Not at first. She tried to remain with the Lion and the Badger to finish what they set out to do. But soon after separating from the Snake, she realized the pull of their mating was too strong. She needed him as strongly as she needed the Air she commanded. He consumed her thoughts, her dreams, her fantasies. She left the Lion and the Badger one night and only returned many years later.”

“Was the Snake with her?” she whispered, no longer able to keep her eyes open.

“No, and I will tell you why another time. Sweet dreams, love,” she whispered, leaving the girl with the impression of soft lips against her forehead before she drifted away.
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His White Queen: A Prequel