Getting a Bite to Drink

((This thread is open, however everyone keep in mind that Marguerite is trying to be secretive, so if you burst in on the meeting, don't act like you instantly know what they are talking about unless you've been eavesdropping. K? ))

Marguerite sat primly in the cozy love-seat, her legs crossed and fingers interlaced over the prominent knee. She had actually taken some time tonight to fix her hair and apply a minimal amount of makeup....as well as a light perfume, though the perfume was more to cover the deadened scent which she often imagined wafting from her bodice. The dress was much shorter than she was used to, and she had never known a lady to wear a cloak with what she had deemed as a 'summer dress'; however, a fellow Slytherin girl had helped her choose the outfit, stating that the look was definitely very 'in'. Whatever that meant.

Marguerite had to confess to herself that she was slightly nervous. She wasn't completely sure where Hogwarts stood with the concept of 'Donors', or humans who voluntarily allowed vampires to feed from them, but she had a feeling that they would not look upon it with favor. The boy had smelled too good to resist during her Transfiguration class; however, and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to hold out on the warmed bags kept for her kind in the back recesses of the kitchens. The thirst was beginning to become a huge drain on Marguerite, and she knew that the castle would not sympathetic to her if she went on a human-hunting rampage.

The only path she saw before her now was one of patience as she awaited her invited guest, and a hope that the boy would be both agreeable and discreet.

Derry ran towards the Room of Requirement, because Derry never really did walk much. And anyway, he was terribly curious about the meeting he was going to have with the pretty, pale girl. He still didn't get why she was so pale: Derry wasn't one to jump to conclusions... In fact, he tended to wait longer than most before understanding the obvious.

He whistled happily as he made his way up to the seventh floor and once he entered the room, he smiled broadly to see the girl already there. "Hey! I'm here!' Derry said cheerfully. He looked at the girl in slight confusion, realizing she got herself all pretty for their little meet. He looked himself up and down, with his disgustingly wrinkled uniform, unpolished shoes, and stained shirt. Oh well, he thought, shrugging. "Sorry I'm not all dressed up like you," he said with a smile, walking over to her. "Anyway, what's your name again? I'm Derry! Can't remember if I told you," he said, continuing to blab away happily, just as was his habit.

"So, anyway, what's all this about?" He plopped down on the love-seat next to her, admiring her pretty long hair and long lashes. Funnily, despite her palor, he liked how she looked. Derry felt it suited her well.

That tantalizing scent Marguerite had come to associate with the Hufflepuff boy announced his presence before he even entered the room. Her stomach clenched from the power of the thirst that hit her. Marguerite breathed. She would need to maintain complete control over herself, especially since she did not expect to drink from the boy tonight. These coercions had been known to take weeks before she managed to convince a human to become a Donor. It was good that it was a male, though....they were often much easier to seduce than a female.

"I do not typically stand on occasion when meeting someone," she purred as she angled her body to face his, shifting slightly closer in the process, "but for you, I wanted to look my best."

Marguerite relaxed into the love seat, putting one elbow up on the back of it to play with her hair. She knew that within his carnal instincts, he would translate the action to mean that she was interested in him.

"My name is Marguerite de Lancret," Marguerite replied, introducing herself in the proper manner of Court, "de Lancret was the surname for a line of nobles descended from Italy. I was born into the line."

Marguerite decided to break him into the idea that she was a vampire gently. This usually started with tidbits of information, which would lead them down the path to how old she was. Many humans reacted poorly when first confronted with the information that their dining partner was really a vampire. Best to make them feel comfortable first.

Derry sniffed as discretely as possible, finding that the love-seat smelled a little strange; he decided to shrug it off without saying anything. He found Marguerite talked and acted differently from him - like some kind of rich girl. Derry thought that interesting, since he never had been friends with someone rich before.

"Oh, really?! Nah, you don't have to dress up for me. I don't care about stuff like that," he said, smiling at Marguerite. "You're already pretty, I think!" he said, hoping to make her feel comfortable. "I'm pretty much a slob meself, I'd bathe once a month if I could," he said, shrugging. "But don't worry - " he added hastily. "I showered this morning! It wasn't for you, but you know, people get upset if I don't wash," he said, shaking his head as though he thought people were weird.

"Your last name is kind of tricky for me, so I think I'll just stick with Marguerite if you don't mind. But so, basically you are rich, right? Are you like a princess? You act a little differently, in a good way though," he said. He noticed her looking at him funny and he figured that maybe she liked him. Derry wasn't sure yet how he felt about her, except that she was extremely friendly and nice. Basically, Derry was the kind of guy that was very friendly to anybody (and everybody) that was nice to him; he acted as such with Marguerite.

Watching her twirling her hair and staring at him, Derry started to feel slightly self-conscious. Suddenly realizing that he was alone in a room with a girl - especially a girl that got all dressed up for him - Derry's cheeks started to redden in his timidity. "Uh..I should probably tell you that I'm really shy around girls. I've never been around one in a..uh..romantic way," he said, stammering awkwardly as blood rushed to his face.

((If any speech is italicized, it means she is thinking it in her head. ))

Marguerite listened patiently as Derry talked, working to hide her mild disgust at the fact that he could go even a day without a shower. He seemed to be one who loved to talk, and had a short attention span. It was almost cute in a way when he rambled. It slightly worried her; however, as she was beginning to become unsure as whether he'd be able to keep a secret. His scent became nearly over-bearing as the blood rushed to his cheeks, so close to the surface of his skin. Marguerite's eyes fluttered shut and she nearly moaned from the longing she had for that luscious liquid only a bite away. She attempted a tinkling laughter at his timid words, but it came out a bit shaky as her breath had quickened.

"Oh, I apologize!" she replied in a high-pitched voice, turning her head away from him in mock embarrassment. Really, she used it as a chance to regain her composure after the thirst had risen so suddenly within her.

"It was not my intention to cause you unrest," she added in a calmer voice, turning her head back to regard Derry, "Rest assured in the fact that I will not make any attempts to...erm....Oh! How do the kids put it?!....get--it--on with you in any way. I was hoping merely to talk for tonight. We may perhaps explore other avenues at a later date."

Marguerite blinked, realizing that her speech was not sounding appropriate for the period, but she had been in a moment of panic; thinking that she would attack the boy. The moment was passed now; however, and she struggled to get back on track.

"You think I act like a princess?" Marguerite mentioned suddenly to change the subject, "Actually, you are very near to the truth. I am formerly Contessa of Gaeta, though I carry no title or riches in this day and age."

Okay! Just talking: Derry could handle that. He smiled in relief, laying back comfortably in the loveseat, spreading his arms across the top. "Nah, don't worry about it," Derry said. "You're a pretty friendly girl. A little strange, but I like that!" he added, smiling happily as he glanced at Marguerite.

"Con..te..ssa.. Huh. You learn a new word everyday," he said. "Wait. In this day in age!? Why, how old are you?" Derry asked, his eyes widening in curiosity. "Are you like some special new kind of witch that never grows old? I always wanted to be a wizard like that!" he exclaimed dreamily. "It's brilliant being young, I'd stay at Hogwarts forever if I could."

Derry saw Marguerite moan slightly and wondered what it meant. He figured maybe she was nervous; Derry guessed everyone expressed nervousness differently. Hopefully though, Marguerite would realize he was just as friendly and kind as she. "I'm pretty poor meself," he said, deciding to talk a bit about himself too. "My Ma abandoned me when I was eight and I never knew my Dad. I live with my aunt and uncle though and they are amazing parents to me," he said.

Then, suddenly facing Marguerite, looking rather excited, he added: "I feel like we got a good chemistry going on here, we should be friends. What do you think?" Derry didn't have many friends, but he loved people and he loved making new friends. He felt that Marguerite was the nicest girl he had met in a long time.

Marguerite felt a small pang of sympathy for the boy when he spoke of being abandoned by his mother. While her own father had been a pious man, she had seen many other territories with Lords who were sexually promiscuous, and the bastard children often had no place in life. While their royal blood made them of slight importance, they were not entitled to any sort of title unless adopted by their noble fathers. Even then, they had no chance of arising within the chaste unless their were no other 'pure' heirs in the line. Often times, these children, especially the boys, were abandoned by their mothers in hopes that they would be adopted by their noble father and live a better life. In most cases, the father felt obligated to adopt an abandoned child of his blood; however, she had also seen many cases where the child was sold into a life of servitude.

"It is good that you have blood-ties to a family who was more than happy to raise you as their own. When I was young, abandoned children were often reared in something like an orphanage. They were never really adopted; however, once they reached about the age of 8, they would be 'purchased' into a life of servitude. They would work as servants to a noble family until the day that they could pay off their debt, or until they died. More often than not, death came first...though I knew a few kind-hearted families who would release their charges. In those cases, the former servant would stay and continue to work for the family as hired help. Most definitely not the easiest life, so to lose one's parents then could spell a very hard life...."

Marguerite smiled when Derry declared their compatibility, and asked to be friends. This was going better than she had thought, but now came the real test.

"Well..." she replied softly, her eyes downcast, "If you don't mind being friends with a 540 year old vampire, then I guess we could be friends."

Derry struggled to listen to Marguerite's talk on abandoned children, but it was no easy feat. She seemed to utter at least one unfamiliar word per sentence. All the same, Derry figured he had understood the jist of it. He was no good with history - but Derry decided she was talking about a time period of a couple of hundred years old.

Then, Marguerite had revealed the truth: she was a vampire. "REALLY!?" Derry's face displayed his shock. But instead of showing fear, he looked as though he had just met his childhood idol. His eyes and mouth forming the letters "O", his eyes nearly watering in excitement, he yelled his surprise and delight. "That's brilliant!!"

Leaning in closer, he said: "So...is that why you look kind of sick? You're hungry? Or do you always look like that, since you're a vampire? And how did you become like that?" Derry proceeded to ask at least six different questions, rambling on in his elation. He seemed to bounce around in the love-seat, then stand up, then sit back down...unable to keep still. "540 years old! That's like...at least ten times my age!"

Marguerite's eyes widened in a pleasant surprise at Derry's reaction. Not only did he not have a problem with being utterly alone in the presence of a creature such as her...he seemed absolutely thrilled to be in the situation. She laughed in an honest manner as he began to rattle off questions one after the other.

"More like 33 and 3/4 time your age," Marguerite chuckled, a rare light dancing in her eyes, "I suppose I look sick because as far as modern medicine is concerned....I am technically dead. If I were to stop drinking blood, my body would begin to decay, though something within us preserves us in a mummified state, so that we still have a substantial enough body upon awakening from a long slumber to feed. I myself woke up after sleeping in the ground for over a century a mere three years ago.

As for your other questions: I do not feel hunger. I feel a deep and seeded thirst. We are always thirsty, and it is a thirst no water or wine can quench. Only blood can keep the thirst at a manageable level, and only fresh human blood can sooth the thirst for an extended period of time. This is why I look so pale. I have not had fresh human blood since I started here at the school. They keep packets of donated blood for us in a fridge in the kitchens; however, it is not fresh so it does not sustain us well. Were I feeding on fresh human blood every night, my skin would take on some color, and would even feel slightly warm to the touch."

Marguerite place her hand on top of Derry's and guided it to rest on her face. She looked into his eyes with a gentle smile as she did so.

"You see?" she continued, "My flesh is cool, as there is no blood running through my veins."

Marguerite rubbed her cheek softly against Derry's hand, turning her face towards his palm to take in the delightful scent. She sighed softly.

"Our senses are heightened, and we can detect people merely by the smell they emit. Different people give off a different scent, and certain people smell better to us than others. For example, your scent attracts me greatly. It tells me that you are young and healthy..."

Marguerite took his hand from her face and folded it within both her hands. She leaned in so that her cheek was touching his.

"and that you would be delicious..." she whispered in his ear.

When Marguerite began answering his questions, Derry sat still, absorbing her every word. Rare were the days when Derry had been so attentive and focused. Rarely had Derry been quiet for such a length of time, listening better than he had ever listened - even to his Quidditch captain and coach.

He was incredibly happy, excited - living this moment as if it was the most important in his entire life. He was in the presence of not Superman, Batman, or Spiderman but much, much better: a real, 'live', vampire! It was almost comical and rather child-like, the way he fixed her with his eyes, wishing, needing this moment to last as long as possible. Derry was as content as a muggle child in Disneyland; even more so.

When she placed his hand on her cheek, a fantastic smile full of wonder was plastered on his face. She was cold - ice cold! As she rubbed her cheek against his hand, other emotions began awakening in Derry. An unfamiliar tremble ran through his body, butterflies fluttered in his belly, and his cheeks reddened for a reason he didn't quite fathom. Even though it wasn't clear to him, Derry was beginning to fall for his undead friend.

The instant Marguerite placed her cheek on his, she had won him over for good. He was ready to do anything for her; more than ready to give his blood to this undead princess. She fascinated him, excited him, and now, she had seemingly seduced the redhead kid! "...Delicious? Me...?" Derry whispered, as if afraid to utter them too loudly. Before he could stop himself, the words stumbled out of him: "If you're thirsty, you can take my blood, Marguerite." Shyly, awkwardly, he placed his fingers on her icy lips, inviting her to bite.

"I guess I have enough blood to give and still be okay, right? How does it work? If you want to, you know, drink my blood?" He gulped, his body shaking slightly as both fear and excitement fought inside of him.