I wake up in the morning and smile to myself. I can hear the other girls stirring and push the curtains back. I stand up and stretch. I kicked George's pants off in the night, but I'm still wearing his jumper. It's all warm and cuddly. I wish I could stay in it.
I fish around for my school clothes, but I can't find any of my skirts or pants. I straighten up, thinking. I wouldn't have sent them off to be washed all at once and I'm sure I put my skirt in my cupboard last night.
“Lost something?” Chrissie asks, flouncing past. She glances at my jumper and her eyes widen, then she smirks.
“Maybe you can borrow a skirt off George,” she says.
“What've you done with them?” I ask. She rolls her eyes.
“Like I'd tell you, freak,” she says nastily, “why don't you figure it out?”
She walks out with Jessica, leaving me alone. I sit down on my bed. I can't go to classes without my uniform on. I open my cupboard and for once I'm grateful that my parents make me wear only black. I pull on a pair of jeans. They're skinny jeans, but they'll have to do. I put on my shirt, robes and shoes and look in the mirror. It doesn't look too bad. Probably no one will notice.
I grab my bag and hurry out. I look at my watch. I won't make breakfast on time, I might as well just go to Defence.
“You're early,” Lupin says as I walk in and take my seat.
“Had a wardrobe malfunction,” I say, “didn't have time to go all the way to breakfast.”
Lupin frowns at me.
“You shouldn't skip meals,” he says. I shrug.
“My body's still acting like I'm asleep,” I say, “it doesn't matter.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but the bell rings and the rest of the class starts filing in. George comes straight over and sits next to me.
“You weren't at breakfast,” he says, “what ha-”
“George, move over here,” Lupin calls.
“Sir, you hadn't started yet!” George protests.
“Now.”
George sighs and moves across the classroom. I lean my hand on my cheek. Today has not had a good start.
“Aurelia, stay behind for a moment, please,” Lupin calls as the bell rings. I groan.
“Move along, Mr Weasley,” Lupin calls out the door. He walks over and stands by my desk.
“When you skip meals you put everyone at risk,” he says, “I know you have remarkable self-control, but you're going through changes right now, and that can make your 'appetite' unpredictable. Especially when you throw teenage hormones into the mix.”
I look up at him, startled. He looks serious.
“I spoke with your parents before they spoke with you,” he says, “you need to be careful around George, for his sake and yours. You're dangerous to him right now. Skipping meals and then sitting next to a perfectly good meal is not a wise move. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I nod.
“Good,” he says, “what've you got now? I'd better write you a note.”
“Transfiguration,” I say. He scribbles a quick note and hands it to me.
“Better hurry,” he says.
I hurry up the stairs and slip into the classroom. McGonagall looks at me over her glasses. I hand her the note and go over to sit beside George.
“Miss Dunmore, sit here,” McGonagall says, motioning to the seat in front of her desk where she usually puts trouble makers, i.e. Fred and George. I stare at her, shocked. I was only a couple of minutes late!
“Now,” she says firmly. I move across, feeling everyone's eyes on me. I duck my head, feeling my cheeks burning.
“Freak,” Chrissie mutters from behind me. My vision turns red and I get up and walk out before I rip her head off. I walk down to the courtyard and lean against the wall, squeezing the stone with my hands. I feel so angry I could bite someone. Or rip their throat out with my nails.
I dig my nails into the stone, imagining tearing Chrissie's throat open and pealing her skin off her bones.
What is wrong with me? I shake my head. I need to get something to eat. I walk down to the kitchens and eat. It's nearly lunch time, but I don't care. I eat and then check the time. Class is nearly over and all of my stuff is still in the class room. I'll go back during lunchtime, while McGonagall isn't there.
I wander back out into the courtyard. The sun is warm, but the air holds a chill. Winter is definitely on its way. I sit down on one of the stone benches, thinking about what Lupin said. It feels like everyone's telling me how dangerous it is to be with George, but lots of vampires have relationships with humans. True, most of them don't stay human... But I always assumed that was by choice. I mean, who wants to grow old and die while the one they love lives forever, barely aging? Who wants to watch the one they love grow old and die?
I shake my head. George is just a high school boy friend. Who knows if this will even last until Christmas?
The bell rings and I make my way down to the Entrance Hall. As I step back inside George steps off the marble staircase. Our eyes meet and George smiles.
Bite him.
Something in me stirs, raising its snarling head. I feel pressure in my gums as my fangs try to slip out.
“No,” I hiss, ducking back outside, “no, no, no!”
I try to fight, but my fangs lengthen, sharp and lethal.
“Aurie?”
I cover my mouth and turn to face George.
“I brought your bag down,” he says, “uh, are you okay?”
“I, um, just bit my tongue,” I lie, “thanks.”
I take my bag, trying desperately to retract my fangs.
“Do you want me to see if it's bleeding?” George offers, looking concerned. I shake my head.
“It's fine.”
Come on! Retract, dammit!
George is giving me a funny look. My fangs slide back in, slowly and painfully. I poke my tongue out at George.
“See? It's fine,” I smile, “was McGonagall mad?”
“At Chrissie,” George says as we walk inside, “she got detention.”
“Good,” I say happily. George raises his eyebrows at me. I blush.
“Do you have Quidditch practice tonight?” I ask quickly. He groans.
“Yeah, straight after dinner,” he says, “Oliver doesn't care that it's nearly too dark for us to see, as long as we're out there suffering.”
I give his hand a squeeze.
“At least you'll be able to beat Slytherin,” I say. He laughs and squeezes my hand back.
I jerk awake, my heart pounding. The remainders of my dream fade, except for the taste of blood. It's still thick in my mouth. I touch my tongue and feel something warm and sticky on my fingers. It's too dark to see what it is, so I creep into the bathroom and switch on the lights. My fingers are red with blood. I look in the mirror. There are two punctures in my bottom lips from my fangs. Ouch.
I run my tongue over them, watching them heal, then splash my face with water, watching it run red down the drain. My heart beat has slowed down, but I still look pale and scared. I wish I could remember the dream, but it's gone. I sigh heavily and slip back into the dormitory. The sun is only just peaking over the horizon and it's a Saturday. No one is going to be awake for hours. What to do? I lean on the windowsill and look out again. The sun is just creeping over the black lake.
The black lake.
Maybe today I could find out how long I can stay under water for.
I go to my wardrobe and find my bikini. I go into the bathroom and change into it. It's black and has a cute pair of shorts that goes with it. It makes my skin look even paler. I pull George's jumper and a pair of jeans over the top and pick up a towel. I don't bother with shoes, it'll be quieter without them.
I sneak out and downstairs. Stepping out of the common room, the stone chills my toes. I hurry down stairs, wishing I knew some short cuts. I push the heavy oak doors in the Entrance Hall open and step out into the early light. It's brighter than I thought it would be. I step onto the grass, feeling the not-yet-melted frost crunch beneath my feet. I walk down to the lake. It's perfectly still. I put my towel down on the ground and wiggle out of my jeans. I pull George's jumper off and carefully fold it, placing it on top of my towel. I pick up my wand and tuck it into my shorts. I walk into the lake, feeling the icy water rising around me. I take a deep breath and dive under the water.
The water is perfectly clear. I'm not quite sure how this whole not-breathing thing works. I remember Mum explaining it, but not exactly what she said. She said something about our bodies using the oxygen in the blood we drank as back up supplies. Sort of like storing fat.
I let out my breath, expecting to need to breathe again, but I don't. I dive deeper, my hair trailing behind me. I swim further out into the lake, watching the bottom drop away from me. I don't want to stray too far from the surface, but it's too tempting. I kick down, staying a few metres above the weeds at the bottom, knowing that grindylows probably lurk there.
I see something shining on the other side of the lake and swim towards it, curious. It looks like there are windows in the lake, but that can't be possible. I swim right up to one and peer in. A boy walks past in nothing but a towel. I move away from the window quickly, realising that this must be the Slytherin dormitories. I giggle. I'm glad he was wearing a towel.
Half way to the other side of the lake my arms and legs start to feel tired. I lie back in the water, letting myself float, staring up at the surface. The sun is gleaming off water, creating patterns.
Once I've rested for a bit I flip over backwards and dive lower, continue my journey over the other side of the lake. I heard something, like music and follow the sound. I duck through some weeds and see a whole city with mer folk. I hover at the edge of the weed, watching them swoop through the water. We haven't covered mer folk in Defence yet, so I don't know much about them. For safety's sake I decide to avoid them.
I can feel a tightness beginning in my chest and decide it's probably time to return to the surface.
Now, which way to go?
I look at the sun rays on the surface. They're pointing more to my left. I'll go that way.
As I swim the tightness increases, slowly, but surely. But I can feel the water getting warmer, and I know that means it's getting shallower, and soon enough I can reach the bottom with my feet. I break the surface and gulp air into my lungs. I start wading out, pushing my hair out of my eyes, then freeze.
George is sitting on the bank, next to my towel, reading a book. He doesn't look up. I glance at my towel. If I can get to it without him noticing, then I can cover my top. I take a step out of the water and he wordlessly holds my towel out. I dash over and take it, wrapping it around my top.
“Hi,” I say, drying myself off.
“Hello,” he says, still reading. I pull his jumper on and dry my legs, pulling my jeans on. Once I'm dressed he marks his page and looks up at me, smiling. I sit down beside him and start drying my hair.
“You were under for ages,” George says.
“Oh, what's the time?” I ask casually.
“Nearly lunchtime,” he says, “we finished Quidditch practice at nine. You were under before and after. How do you do that?”
“Bubble head charm,” I lie, “I didn't realise it was so long.”
“I was beginning to think you'd drowned,” he says. I laugh.
“I'm not easy to kill,” I say. George grins.
“I figured,” he says.
My stomach growls and I blush. George chuckles at me.
“Lunch time,” he says, standing up and offering me his hand. I take it and let him pull me to my feet.
“That jumper looks good on you,” he says, tucking his book under one arm.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling secretly delighted. George takes my hand.
“Your fingers are all wrinkled,” he says. I look down at my free hand.
“They look like prunes,” I note. My stomach grumbles again and George laughs.
“Don't eat them,” he jokes.
We walk into the hall and sit down with the Gryffindors.
“I'm so glad Roger has the pitch booked most of this week,” Angelina sighs, “Oliver can't force us to practice every waking minute.”
“Sort of makes you wonder why the Ravenclaw team needs to practice so much,” Fred comments slyly, glancing at me, “maybe they're really, really bad...”
“This coming from the team who lost to Hufflepuff,” I say. Fred smirks at me.
“Well, we'll see how you do this weekend,” he says, “I look forward to it.”
“Brave talk,” I say with a smile, “care to make a bet?”
Fred's smirk widens.
“Alright, how about five sickles on a Hufflepuff win?” he asks.
“I bet you a galleon Ravenclaw win,” I say, “by more than a hundred points.”
Fred laughs outright. Even Angelina and Alicia are shaking their heads.
“Deal,” Fred says, leaning over the table. I shake his hand, crossing my fingers that Roger has whipped the team into shape.
“Psst!”
It's Wednesday morning and I have Transfiguration with the Gryffindors first. I'm sitting with George in his usual seat, between Fred and Lee and Alicia and Angelina. We're supposed to be transfiguring mushrooms, but George somehow managed to set his on fire. Again.
“Psst!”
I look over at Fred and he tosses me a note.
Only two more days until the match. What will I do with a spare galleon?
I roll my eyes and glance at McGonagall. She's trying desperately to ignore the smell of burnt mushroom and help Lola.
Where're you getting a spare galleon from? I hope you get it before Saturday, since you'll owe me one.
Fred smirks at the note and scribbles underneath it. George manages to put his mushroom out.
“Well, that didn't go well,” he says, “you have a go.”
I glance past him at Fred who seems to have forgotten the note.
“Well, Miss Dunmore, I certainly hope you can do better,” McGongall says, appearing beside me. I jump and raise my wand.
“Inflicas!”
The mushroom morphs to resemble a dinner plate sized mushroom. At least there're no flames.
“Good,” McGonagall says, “try not to flick your wand up at the end, just hold it still.”
“Yes professor,” I say, “inflicas.”
“Much better,” she says, picking up the dinner plate and inspecting it, “the texture is still a little soft, but good for a second try. Well done.”
“Thank you,” I smile. She nods and walks away. Fred flicks the note onto my desk.
Can you turn mushrooms into galleons? I can turn Quidditch matches into galleons.
George makes an small noise of irritation, but I ignore him.
Wow, so can I! I'll show you on Saturday.
I throw it back to him and he laughs.
“Good one,” he says. I grin at him.
“Should we switch places?” George asks snappily, “then you can just talk to him.”
The bell rings before I can reply and George stalks out ahead of me.
“What's eating him?” I ask Fred. He shrugs.
“No idea, see you later,” he says, heading downstairs. I walk upstairs to Muggle Studies, thinking about George. Was he upset because I was talking with Fred? No, he's never minded before. I shake my head. I don't understand boys at all. We have break next, I'll talk to him then.
The bell for break rings and I hand back the telephone we'd been looking at in the lesson and hurry downstairs. Fred and George just had Care of Magical Creatures, so they'll be coming up from the grounds. If I hurry, I might be able to catch them before class.
The hallways are blocked with students moving around. I can't get through the wave. I can either take the east wing corridor, which is much longer, but less crowded or continue trying to battle my way through this lot.
I decide to take the east wing corridor. There's nobody there, so I can run the whole way. Even then, when I reach the Entrance Hall and dash outside I can't see the Care of Magical Creatures class coming up the grounds. I huff in irritation as the end of break bell rings. I'll just have to talk with him after Defence.
“Hey,” George grabs my arm as I'm walking into the Defence classroom and pulls me to the side, “I went to your classroom, I couldn't find you.”
“I went downstairs to catch you as you were coming up from Care of Magical Creatures,” I tell him.
“We would've passed each other.”
“I took the east wing corridor,” I say.
“Oh... Well, look, I wanted to apologise for snapping at you,” he says, “I was just frustrated, that's all.”
“It's fine,” I lean up to kiss him.
“Whenever you're ready.”
I look around and see Lupin waiting in the doorway.
“I wouldn't mind starting the class,” he says. I blush and duck into the classroom.
George sits beside me as we take out our note books.
“We're starting our studies of under water creatures,” Lupin says, “we've already looked at grindylows briefly, but we'll be studying them more closely as well as a range of other creatures. Copy these notes down.”
I duck under the desk to find a spare quill and when I sit up I see George's drawn a big smiley face on the cover of my book. He's scribbling his notes down, looking completely innocent. I smile and open my note book to copy down the notes.
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