Chapter Text
Mina Elizabeth Potter was dreaming.
She knew she was dreaming because she was in a room she'd never seen before, wearing incredibly uncomfortable clothes from centuries past. A long necklace of beads like pearls hung down to her hips, and she was gazing absently at some grapes.
She popped one into her mouth when masculine arms encircled her, and she couldn't help but smile. The man smelled of leather, blood, and metal, but not in an unpleasant way, rather attractively. As if that were his natural scent.
The man's hands roamed her torso in an exploratory and appreciative way. A way that had made her break Seamus Finnegan's nose at the Yule Ball for being less invasive. But with this man, it felt good, it felt right. This man's hands had their place on Mina's body.
The man's lips began to trace a path of fire from Mina's neck to her jaw, from her jaw to her lips, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. The grape was taken from between Mina's lips, her eyes closed, as she felt the man's teeth gently cut it open. Without hurting her.
Mina smiled as she felt the juice slide down her lips and the man turned her around. She felt him cleanse the trail of juice with kisses as his lips left her face, moving down to her breasts.
< My love, my Prince…> Mina heard herself moan as she looked down where a dark head was kissing her cleavage. She clutched his long hair, moaning with pleasure.
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The alarm clock in Ginny's room pulled her from her dream. She had been so, so close to orgasm within a dream. Mina turned over in bed and screamed into her pillow. She'd had these dreams since she was very young, and they were worse than the nightmares Voldemort had been sending her since his rebirth.
They were worse because they left her with a feeling of utter despair, as if she had lost something precious and couldn't even remember it. A sense of emptiness, abandonment, and loneliness filled her.
The dreams had started when she was very young and would leave her crying in the closet under the stairs for hours.
Crying for someone who only belonged to the world of dreams.
She had never seen his face. The few times she had seen him face-to-face, he wore a dragon-shaped helmet or his hair covered his face. The dreams began innocently, seeing him as a child, offering her a flower while she was too shy to look him in the eye.
But since she turned fourteen, the dreams had become more sexual and left her filled with a longing she couldn't understand.
She had gone to church after telling Aunt Petunia about her dreams when she asked why she sometimes cried upon waking and Aunt Petunia took her to the small Catholic church near Privet Drive. There, Mina had found a peace she had never known before. The priest had even spoken with Aunt Petunia about sending her to a religious school before Mina received her Hogwarts letter.
In the dream, she also went to Mass frequently.
At Hogwarts, it had been worse. Many boys had tried to court her. But she always refused, remembering the young man from her dreams. She always compared them to him, and even when she forced herself to be with one of them… she felt awful.
She had to admit one day, after breaking Seamus's nose, that she was in love. In love with a man who only existed in her dreams. Her Prince, whose face she didn't know and whom she only saw at night.
Since Sirius's death, the dreams had occurred every night, which was a relief compared to the dreams about Voldemort. Tomorrow she would leave for Hogwarts for another year, and she only hoped that Lavender and the others wouldn't worry when they heard her crying in the mornings.
The ancient castle had always reminded Mina of the setting of her dreams. But the disappointments were great because she longed to see him in every hall and corner. Sometimes she thought she saw a fleeting glimpse of him, and that brought a certain peace to her daily life. But she longed to see his face, feel his hands, the passion that always enveloped them in every dream. She wanted her beloved by her side.
<My Prince… How can I feel the absence of your presence like a tear in my heart when I know full well that you are not real?>
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The Death Eater looked at the vampire before him. His Master had sent him to find more allies while Dumbledore was busy with the school year. And the vampire court, with its Prince, was a powerful ally. However, the exact location of the Prince who led the vampires was such a well-kept secret that it had taken him six months to reach this woman.
She was a vampire over five hundred years old, turned by the Prince himself. A first-generation vampire.
< Alfred told me I might be interested enough in your proposal to take it to the Prince. What is it you propose, human?> She wasn't bothered; she must have seen him as inferior. The Death Eater wanted to shout that he was a Pureblood, proven by twenty generations, but that wouldn't do with these people.
<My Lord wishes to ask for Prince Dracul's help in the war that will unfold in magical England.>
<Weren't you at war recently?> The woman was toying with her rings, clearly uninterested in his proposal.
<The war ended fifteen years ago, but it's about to start again…>
<As I said, just a few years ago, almost a few months.> The vampire waved her hand. <You mortals have so many conflicts… It's hard to keep track of you. >
<If my Lord wins the war, the restrictions against your people in our country will be lifted. You will be able to feed freely…>
<We can already feed freely; the amount of blood we need is minimal. And those who live in your country are the dregs of our court, not that we care much for them.> The woman ran her fingers through her smooth brown hair.<My Prince will not be interested in interfering in the conflicts of your people. We rarely involve ourselves in the conflicts of mortals. Frankly, Alfred is a sixth-generation vampire; I only granted his request because I was bored. But this is just more of the same bullshit mortals always spout.>
The Death Eater stood up abruptly, now enraged. He drew his wand and pointed it at the woman without noticing that he had dropped his newspaper. The vampire had stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet.
<Who is she?>
<You're going to die, you whore…> The Death Eater found himself on the table in seconds, his own wand piercing his hands. The vampire was above him, holding the newspaper. The woman turned the old edition of the Daily Prophet toward him and pointed with her fingernail at the teenager in the photograph.
< Who is she? It's been a long time since I killed a human, my dear. But I assure you, I haven't lost my touch.>
<She? It's Mina Potter.>
<The Girl Who Lived? I'd heard several rumors… But to see her in a photograph…> The vampire gazed at the photo, mesmerized.
<If we win the war, we'll give her to you as a gift for your support.> The woman slapped him so hard across the face that he lost consciousness.
The vampire slowly caressed the photograph, looking at the young woman who seemed lost and frightened between two older, more confident men.
< My Prince, your servant Adelaide has found our Princess. I will kill this human and come to you, My Prince. I will call the others and we will gather blood for her return to the mortal world.> The brown-haired woman couldn't have been more excited. She looked at the Death Eater with disgust.
Those inbred idiots always smelled bad and their blood tasted like ass. But it was a shame to kill him without drinking his blood, a waste.
In the end, Adelaide snapped his neck and arranged everything to make it look like an accident before leaving for the Prince's castle with the newspaper carefully hidden in a safe place. She didn't want to ruin the Princess's picture.
Alfred was waiting for her outside the place where she had met with the human. He was a sixth-generation vampire, descended directly from Adelaide's fangs. His blond hair had always looked dirty because of its color, even though Adelaide knew it was clean.
<Was the human at least able to entertain you, my lady Adelaide?>
<He gave me something better. You will be rewarded for this, Alfred. The Prince will give you a gift.>
Alfred was obviously thrilled by the comment, but he didn't quite understand why he had been rewarded. Adelaide sent a message on her phone to call and arrange his transport to the ancient lands where the Vampire Court resided.
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Mina was dreaming again.
She was in the most comfortable bed she had ever slept in, lying on the chest of a naked man. She was also naked and lazily stroked the hair on his chest while he played with her braids. The candlelight was dim, but she could see that the night was dark and moonless.
<I would love to see you with your hair down.>
<It's winter, my love, my hair is dirty, and to show it to you I would have to wash it. My hair would take so long to dry that I would get sick and die. > Mina didn't raise her head in the dream, behaving like a lazy kitten and ignoring the orders of the daytime Mina who wanted her to raise her head to look at the man. Although with so little light, she might not even have been able to see him.
<We would stay near the fire while it dried. It might make being near the fire for so long worthwhile.>
<My lustful Prince. Let's sleep now. Soon you will plant your seed in my womb again so that I may give you an heir. A little Prince for my Prince.>
The man lifted her and kissed her passionately. Mina saw the face hidden by the large shadows in the room and wanted to growl with rage and frustration. She could feel her Prince's virility rising, and she mounted him with an experience the real Mina lacked.
<You will give me a son.> The man growled, gripping Mina's hips as they both began to move.
Mina was pulled from sleep by Hermione's hands shaking her shoulders.
<Were you having a nightmare? You were moaning a lot in your sleep.>
<Yes, it was a nightmare.> Mina felt her eyes begin to water and swore to herself that she'd rather die than admit what was happening in her dream. Even Snape didn't know, despite all his arrests and Occlumency lessons; this was the only thing he had successfully concealed.
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The Vampire Court was located in the Prince's ancient castle in a secluded area of present-day Romania, and no one would suspect that its inhabitants were vampires for a very simple reason: they all looked old.
Most people didn't realize that vampires could control their age based on the blood they drank. Three drops a day—that was all they needed to live, but with that amount, they aged at a human rate until they became elderly. Although not helpless, they would always be much stronger and more powerful than normal humans. Furthermore, in that state, they best tolerated sunlight and traveling on waterways like rivers and seas. It greatly facilitated air travel.
Ten drops a day and they stayed young. The strongest, fastest, and most powerful state for a vampire. However, the Court only housed the strongest first-generation vampires and the Prince. It wasn't a weak place at all; it was the strongest place of all, even if it didn't seem that way.
And they could rejuvenate if they wanted. They just needed to drink a lot of blood. One liter was equivalent to a decade of rejuvenation.
<Lady Adelaide.> One of the human caretakers greeted her. She was one of those who knew their nature and gave her blood to feed them. All first-generation vampires were treated like nobles. <We weren't expecting her; she didn't call to announce her arrival.>
<This is important. Where is the Prince?>
<He's in a bad mood today, Lady Adelaide. He's in the room with the Princess's portrait and has ordered that no one… > The woman paled as she watched Adelaide walk down the corridor toward the keep where the Prince lived. < Lady Adelaide, I strongly advise against disturbing the Prince today! He might kill you! >
< He won't kill me. I think I'll change his mood. >
The human nurse had attracted a small crowd with her shouts, but they all stopped at a certain point, not daring to go any further. Adelaide understood; her Prince was truly in a bad mood, and she could feel it through her powers. Damn, the air felt different and heavy.
As a precaution, Adelaide took out the Princess's photograph and held it to her chest as she reached the great gates.
< My Prince, Adelaide has come to see you with great news.>
< Go away. > The voice was otherworldly and would normally leave Adelaide lying on the floor, weeping with fear. But Adelaide held the cure for the affliction that plagued her prince. Without hesitation, she opened the door.
The room was dark except for the candles. On an altar stood the portrait of Princess Elisabeta, surrounded by fresh flowers that Adelaide knew the Prince arranged himself. In front of the portrait, seated on an antique wooden chair resembling a throne, was an old man with his hair styled in a voluminous style, then gathered into a braid. He wore a blood-red robe and was squeezing a mouse over a cup before throwing it into the fire.
< I told you to leave. I see you want to die. > The Prince's gaze was furious.
<I have found her, my Prince, I have found the Princess. > Adelaida couldn't take another step for fear and held out the newspaper only to have it snatched from her hands. Soon the fortress was filled with the sound of a rusty laugh that hadn't been heard in decades, a laugh brimming with pure joy.