Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the world he lives in. I do, however, own the plot and all the people you do not know. Thank you, and have a nice day!

Plot: It has been eight years since Mia Granger and Blaise Zabini discovered their heritage and lost someone close. Mia and Blaise set out looking for him after graduating from Hogwarts. Their quest takes them through the world before ending up in America as they track all documented werewolf attacks in the wizarding world and unsolved animal attacks in the Muggle world. When they learn someone or something is killing the pureblood werewolves they had met, Mia and Blaise come to the frightening conclusion that they might be next.

Author's Notes: I'm BAAAAAACK! Here's the sequel to The Moon's Call as I promised. I hope it all lives up to your expectations.

The Moon's Blood

Chapter One

December 25 – And It Begins

The moon was young, not yet at its full power. It would be a few days—six or seven—until the full moon. He could feel the pull deep in his chest as he crept silently through the woods.

It was winter. Snow touched everything, leaving nothing to forage on. Most of the game either hid or slept in their dens. His breath crystallized in the freezing air.

The young wolf beside him was just as silent. His coat blended in with the shadows seamlessly. Cold golden eyes scanned the underbrush and his ears were alert for any noise.

He was strong and cold. There were no emotions in him to distract him. There was only the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure in the kill. Two fine traits his young apprentice possessed, he thought.

They approached the large mansion from the back gardens. He knew their prey would be there. She was a habitual creature, just like humans were.

Their paws were silent on the earth and their pants were slight as they slid in and out of hedges.

Their prey did not keep animals and there were no heavy wards on the grounds. She lived alone since she lost her husband and son in the war against Voldemort years ago. The way was free for the wolves.

She was wandering the maze, perhaps wishing to lose herself in the many twists and turns. She was singing softly to herself as she walked the snowy paths. Her light perfume of roses and sunshine reached their noses in the crisp air.

The maze's hedges were not that tall and she could see over the top if she stretched up. She would hear them if she tried. She would scent them on the wind if she tried.

Stupid, foolish woman, he thought harshly. She deserves her death.

He allowed his young apprentice to surge pass him on the path. The young wolf was better suited to the shadows than he was as his coat was pure white, which allowed him to trot freely in the open. It would shine brightly in the moonlight, but would not alert their prey to their presence.

He followed the young black wolf as they rounded a turn and then another. The black wolf had his nose to the ground and padded away quickly.

They had her scent in their noses. She would not escape.

They came into a long straight path and there she was at the other end. She disappeared around a corner. They trotted quickly in the shadows after her. A sudden burst of excitement went through him as the hunt began in earnest.

Her soft voice floated on the air, giving everything a surreal quality. Magic shimmered in the night, danced on silver moonbeams. The snow on the grass and hedges shone like liquid silver, moving in time with the earth's heartbeat. Even a slight veil of mist billowed in from the north. Hushed fey voices sang on the wind's back. The night itself seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

The path twisted again and again until they turned onto another straight path. They both stopped as they stared.

Wearing only a thin dressing gown, she was standing in the middle of the path. The far end disappeared in shadows. Her pale blond hair turned silvery white in the waning moon's light. Her face was very pale and her lips were rose red. She was looking back on them with mysterious eyes. There were secrets in those eyes.

She would not live to pass them on.

With a glorious smile, she turned away and walked away slowly into the shadows. Her entire stance was beguiling, luring them closer.

The element of surprise was gone. It didn't matter, however. She did not scream at the sight of them. If anything, she seemed to know what they were there for.

The black wolf started after her first at a cautious pace, slinking in and out of the shadows.

He followed more slowly, allowing a certain amount of distance to grow between them. He would not be a part of this tonight. It was his young apprentice's night to shine, to initiate, to finish.

He kept them in sight.

She turned to face the black wolf. She smiled gently at him. She said softly, "You look like my son."

His apprentice stalked closer, watching his prey intensely. He never moved his eyes away from her.

"Come to me, my son." She held her arms open to him. Smiling still, she said, "Come to me."

Pausing at this, the black wolf cocked his head to the side before growling low. With no warning, he leapt at her throat, fangs flashing.

With a soft broken gasp, she embraced him as his jaws locked onto her delicate white throat. She made no sound. Her dark mysterious eyes gazed up at the stars as her life's blood drained out of her. Red speckled the white snow-packed path around her.

He held on, snarling as he tightened his hold on her. Her blonde hair, luminous in this fey light, fell out of its loose bun and tumbled down her shoulders. The strands seemed to take on life of its own as it swayed from side to side, dancing in the air like silver flames.

It began to snow. Large, soft fluffs of white benediction fell from the heavens to a sinning earth. In poetry, winter and snow always signified death.

Her eyes lost their mysterious spark. Her arms fell away from him and her body relaxed visibly. The white dressing gown she wore was splashed with red. The sight and smell of it incited the blood lust within him. Before his wolfish instincts could take over him completely, he rigidly regained control of himself. It was his young one's night to shine, to blossom.

All these long years, his nephew was finally ready.

Lucien growled softly at the black wolf.

Lowering her to the ground, Draco let go gently. If not for the blood soaking her body and the gaping wound in her throat, it would have seemed a tender moment. Flecks of snow landed gently on her deathly pale body. Gazing upon her, it seemed she had been laid there on purpose. Her limbs were neither awkward nor posed.

Narcissa Malfoy just seemed to float there on the snow.

Without a backward glance, he led the way out of the maze and into the storm.

Lucien Malfoy swiftly Changed back to human form when they reached the small house they had made use of in the last week as they watched and studied the Malfoy mansion. It was really quite comfortable and warm. It was situated five miles away from the mansion and even more from the nearest roads. It was perfect for their needs.

The muggles who had lived here just disappeared one night. It was too bad really, but then again, they were muggles. They did not matter either way.

Stepping through the doorway, he was followed by a younger man. If people saw them, they would say they looked father and son, but that wasn't true. Lucien was older, yes, but Draco Malfoy was his nephew.

They had the same white-blond hair, but Lucien's hair grew out to the middle of his back. Draco's was an inch or two shy of reaching his neck. The shape of their faces is the same as well as the color of their eyes—pale gray. That is where the similarity ends, however, as Lucien is more heavily muscled than Draco, his body covered in scars accumulated over his long years of life. Draco had the broad shoulders and lean hips with strong muscled legs, but he was of a slender breed, athletic. The only scars he had were the scar he received from a knife on his lower abdomen and a thin scar that came down the left side of his forehead, bisecting his left brow.

"Dress, Draco," Lucien said gruffly. His satisfaction with Draco tonight had passed. There was much to be done now. "You'll need to take your medicine. You know you have to take it immediately after every time you Change."

"Yes, Lucien," Draco replied grimly.

"Wouldn't want you to become sick."

"Of course."

Lucien pulled his clothes on while Draco did the same. Once he was dressed, Lucien pulled from his robes a vial of clear liquid. He handed it to Draco, who uncorked it and tipped it into his mouth.

It tasted bad, Lucien knew. The books said it did, but Draco showed no revulsion or disgust on his face. It could have been water for all the reaction he got.

Settling in an armchair before the fireplace, Lucien motioned Draco to the other chair opposite him. Draco held himself alert after he sat down. Lucien liked that he never relaxed his guard. Even in sleep, Draco slept light.

"You have been initiated, Draco," Lucien began. "The coming year is yours for the taking. The prophecy has made it so."

"Yes."

"I have taught you all I know," Lucien said. "You are ready to Hunt. You will taste the blood of our great and powerful family. They shall give a terrible howl of the likes the world has never before heard."

Draco inclined his head. "They will never know what hit them." Clenching his hands into fists, an angry glint appeared in his eyes. "They will all pay for what they did to my mother and father."

"Patience, Draco," Lucien cautioned. "Very soon, you will get our revenge. The Packs that played a part in your parents' death will be destroyed. With their blood on your fangs, you will become as powerful as Hati himself."

"The prophecy," Draco growled.

"Yes, the prophecy will come to pass," Lucien said. "The prophecy shall save us both, my son. It shall be our redemption."

In a low voice, Lucien began recite the prophecy:

"Forever chasing the silvery moon,
Hati shall catch it when all wolves are strewn.
From Hati's fang, the moon shall bleed thrice.
The wolf's pure blood shall be the price.
Out of the Wolf Moon's shadow, the One is revealed.
To his fangs, all will yield.
Harvest the blood; he will spare none.
The cry of wolves will pierce the night after he's done.
Under Thunder's First Moon, he will make a promise.
The way to glory will lie in darkness.
A pledge stemming from hate,
It will strengthen, changing to fate.
He is the Vessel, gathering power.
On the Long Night's Moon, he will devour.
The One shall consume all things mortal,
Just before moonset, he will open the portal.
None can stop him from becoming invincible.
To receive Hati's Blessing, he shall forfeit his soul."

Draco had a content look in his eyes as he mouthed the words along with Lucien.

A log popped in the fireplace, breaking the lengthening silence. Lucien shifted in the chair, feeling very proud of Draco and the kill.

Everything is falling into place, Lucien thought. There will be no stopping us.

How do you like them apples, huh? Whoo! I'm finished with the FIRST CHAPTER! I feel like dancing in the street. Okay, calm down now. Take a deep breath…Ahem, here is the first chapter to The Moon's Blood. It is a sequel to The Moon's Call. You will see from the Author's Notes (if you read it, heh heh) that this takes place eight years since Hogwarts.

So tell me, did I do a good job, you loyal reviewers? Or did you see something a bit off in my writing? You know what to do! Review it. Until later!

- TG

[1/5/12] Author's Notes: A few minor changes in two or three sentences in the whole chapter. The major change is in the prophecy. The ninth line originally read "During the Rose Moon, he will make a promise."