Sparks Fly || A George Weasley Story

Year 4: A Room With Three Owls In It

Once we'd met all of the mother vampires, we were lead into a large room that Drusilla called the smoking room. She specified that none of them smoked, but the room was traditionally used for men to slip off and have a drink or a smoke while they hung out. For now, there were about ten vampires staring at my family as we stepped through the doors and again, I panicked. There was just something about this that didn't feel right, but I knew I had to be overreacting.

Sorrel had spent four years of his life here and he'd come out unscathed, so why was I on edge?

None of them were particularly intimidating besides Louise, and she hadn't tried to kill us yet. Maybe I just needed to take a deep breath and just pretend that they were normal. Yeah, that's is, just pretend that they aren't vampires and I'll be fine. I tried my best to put on a warm smile as Amaryllis rested a hand on my shoulder, and Gardenia began to squeeze my hand slightly. They too were starting to get a little nervous. 
However, I did my best to focus on Crina who had slipped into the room after us and took a seat on the couch beside the man I assumed to be her husband. She was nice enough; I doubt that she'd let anything happen to us. 

"Okay, this is my husband Aurelian, and my three children Achilles, Barnabus, and Morgana," Drusilla smiled, tapping each of her kids on their heads as she named them. They all offered kind smiles and nods but didn't say anything. 

Aurelian was tall and built from the same strong angles as all of those muggle marble statues. His brows were low over his eyes, but he wasn't as intimidating as he may sound. His eyes were almost the same yellow brown as Oleander's, and I was almost sure that had something to do with his name. If I remembered correctly, aurum was Latin for gold or golden and it had to have something to do with a name like his. 

Achilles was the oldest, or at least the tallest of the three (probably even being taller than the twins), with the same gray toned dark skin as his mother, but somehow with more life behind his dark eyes. They were the sort of brown that could almost be called black, not the soft golden shade of Oleander's eyes or the warm brass of George's eyes. His face was carved in sharp angles yet held the slightest softness around his wide set nose and full lips that his fangs pressed against when he smiled. 

Barnabus was clearly younger, his face just beginning to take on the definition that most teenage boys have. He also didn't look to be nearly as tall, and I thought that I might be older than he was.. physically anyways. I had no idea how old any of these people were and I knew that it was rude to ask. His age aside, he seemed friendly enough. 

Morgana had slightly lighter skin than her brothers, more resembling that of her father's, although it of course held that death-like pallor. Her eyes were bright, but not necessarily with kindness. They held the same glow that Leilani's did when she thought of something particularly nasty to pull or say. Perhaps, they would get along with one another and not ruin this holiday.

"This is my husband, Charles, and my three girls Frances, Shirley, and Virginia," Louise said, making a sweeping motion with her hand as she went to stand behind the couch. 

Charles was almost as intimidating as his wife, his sharp, brooding features made me want to shrink away from him. He reminded me too much of Lucius Malfoy despite his dark hair that was cut short and slicked back away from his face. Through one of his shining yellowish green eyes was a scar that ran from his hairline down to just below his cheekbone. His smile was pointed, and it wasn't just his fangs that looked like they would cut you as he grinned over at us. 
Their daughters weren't much more comforting. 

Frances had jet black hair with deep glistening waves and scarily black eyes. Her irises blended in with her pupils and it was just unnerving to look at as she stared over at us, no expression on her pale face which only made the whole thing worse. She looked like at any given moment, she would jump up from her seat and bury her fangs into the first person she came across. There was a red rose in her hair, but it only reminded me of those fish that have the bright lights dangling from their heads to lure in prey. Nothing about her sat right with me. She looked like she could have been the oldest, but there was no way for me to be sure.