I stare up at our house. Well, I use the term 'house' loosely. It's actually a castle. Exactly the kind of castle you would expect vampires to live in. High turrets, creepy looking gargoyles, bats fluttering around, the whole kit and kaboodal. Mum and Dad walk into the castle, their cloaks swirling behind them. I sigh and follow them. They snap their fingers and one of our house elves appears and takes my bag up stairs.
“Aurelia, go and get changed into something more acceptable, then we'll have refreshments,” Mum says. I trail up stairs to my room and step inside. The walls are dark grey with black carpet and drapes and a white ceiling. My windows look out over the valley. It's white and grey right now. Just like everything here – black, white and gray.
I walk over to my wardrobe and open it. It's full of long cloaks and other vampirey stuff. Most of it isn't too bad, just a little extravagant. I change into some tights, a black dress and a cloak. Surprisingly, the castle is never cold or draughty, like so many of these creepy castles are. There are lots of big fire places and the air is always warm. I walk downstairs into the sitting room. One wall is made of glass and it looks out over the mountains. Mum and Dad are sitting in big chairs, looking out at the view. I join them and a house elf appears with a tray of glasses, full of blood.
That's one of the things about being home – we only drink blood. No human food. I take a glass of blood and take a big sip.
“Now, about this boy,” Dad says, “I don't like the look of him.”
“You were fine with it before!” I exclaim. Dad opens his mouth to retort, but Mum holds her hand up.
“When you first told us you were dating a Weasley, we thought you meant the one in seventh year,” Mum explains.
“So?” I say, “what does it matter?”
“Well, that one isn't exactly attractive,” Mum says, “while the one you're dating-”
“George,” I interject.
“George,” Mum echoes, “is very attractive.”
“So, you don't want me dating someone who I might be attracted to?” I say, “really? That's weird.”
“It's dangerous!” Dad explodes, “you're putting yourself and him at risk!”
“I know!” I snap, “I know! Can we not talk about this right now? We have all the holidays for you to ruin my life, let's leave that until tomorrow.”
Mum and Dad exchange a look.
“Well, what do you want to talk about?” Dad asks peevishly. I shake my head, then stop.
“I want to get my ears pierced,” I tell them. Mum looks at me, surprised.
“Why?” she asks, “you've never wanted them done before.”
“I just do,” I tell her, “maybe for my birthday or something.”
“Well, I suppose, if you want them done,” Mum says, “we'll arrange it. Now, we also have to talk about your work experience. Are you sure you want to do it with Mr Weasley? It's not too late to change your mind.”
I bite my lip. Will it be weird? Awkward? Will he know I'm dating George?
“No, I want to do it there,” I answer. Dad rolls his eyes. Mum flaps a hand at him.
“The whole point of this work experience is to put her ahead!” Dad says, “if she does it in Arthur's department-”
“We agreed she would choose, Stephan,” Mum snaps, “she's made her choice. Now, you start first thing on Monday morning. Dad will take you in and pick you up in the evenings, okay?”
“Yep.”
“Good.”
I stare at the mirror. My hair is brushed neatly into a ponytail and I'm wearing what my Mum calls “business robes”. I look older. I sigh and turn away, walking across the bathroom and out into my bedroom. I walk downstairs to the dining room where Mum and Dad are finishing big glasses of blood.
“Morning,” I greet them.
“Good morning,” Mum says, “your breakfast is getting cold.”
I look at the glass of blood and wrinkle my nose.
“I'm good,” I tell her, “I'll eat something at the office.”
Dad scowls. He doesn't like that I eat human food.
“Well, you'd better go,” Mum says, looking at her watch, “don't want to be late for your first day.”
“Have you brushed your fangs?” Dad demands, climbing to his feet. I roll my eyes.
“Yes,” I drone.
“Show me. Show me.”
Grumbling, I push my fangs out. Dad grabs my chin and inspects them.
“Fine,” he mutters, “let's go.”
“Have a good day,” Mum says, kissing me on the cheek, “have you got everything?”
“In my bag,” I say, shouldering the new satchel they gave me, “bye.”
Dad takes my arm and disapparates. We appear in the lobby of the Ministry.
“You have to sign in,” Dad says, “this way.”
I follow him across the lobby. There are wizards and witches rushing around. I feel very small.
Dad leads me up to an administration desk.
“I can do it,” I say as he steps forward, “I'll see you this afternoon.”
He nods and walks away. I take a deep breath and walk up to the wizard behind the desk.
“My name is Aurelia Dunmore, I'm doing work experience with Arthur Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office,” I say. He ferrets through a stack of papers.
“Ah, yes, Miss Dunmore,” he says, reading over the top of his glasses, “do you have your paperwork?”
I hand him a stack of paper and watch as he goes through it, stamping and dating each page.
“May I see your wand?” he asks. I hand it over and he weighs it.
“The make?” he demands.
“Rosewood with kneazle whisker core, eleven and a half inches, springy,” I recite. He prints a ticket and sticks it on a pile, then picks up a blank badge and jabs it with his wand and hands that and my wand over to me. The badge has “Aurelia Dunmore, Office of The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts” printed on it.
“Wear that at all times,” the wizard says, “next please!”
I move out of the way of a tall witch and pin the badge onto my chest. I have no idea where to go.
“Hey!”
I turn back to the receptionist.
“Second floor, at the back,” he says.
“Thanks,” I call. I walk over to the elevators and get into line. A few minutes later I'm shunted into the elevator, right to the back. We go up one floor and two witches get out.
“Second floor, Magical Law Inforcement.”
“Excuse me,” I try to get through to the front, “this is my floor! Excuse me!”
I manage to squeeze through and stumble out of the lift. The doors snap closed behind me and I turn to face the maze of desks in front of me. There's a narrow corridor that leads along the floor. Witches and wizards are dashing to and fro, calling out to each other. I adjust my satchel and walk into the office. I half expected to see some signs, pointing me in the right direction, but there's nothing.
“'Scuse meh,” a man pushes past me and disappears into the maze of cubicles. I look around, trying to find someone who doesn't look drastically busy. A wizard is sitting, folding paper aeroplanes. I walk over to him.
“Excuse me?”
“Not now, I'm busy,” he snaps.
Oh-kay...
I look around again and see a tall wizard with dark skin and a gold earring watching me.
“Lost?” he asks with a smile. I smile back and walk over to him.
“I'm looking for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office,” I tell him.
“Follow the row to the end,” he says, “it's on the left.”
“Thanks,” I say, relieved. He nods and turns back to his work. I walk down the end of the row and turn to the left. There's a tiny cubicle with two desks squeezed into it with a hand written sign:
Misuse of Muggle Artefacts
The cubicle is empty. I glance around, unsure what to do. After a few minutes I step into the cubicle. On one desk is a large picture frame. I pick it up and a small smile creeps across my face as I recognise Fred and George right in the middle. There are nine people in the frame. I know Percy, Fred and George. I recognise their little brother and sister. The man and woman at the front must be Mr and Mrs Weasley and the other two must be Bill and Charlie. My eyes drift back to George. He and Fred are jostling each other, laughing.
“It's a big family, eh?”
I jump and look around to see Mr Weasley standing there.
“Sorry,” I say, placing it carefully back on the desk. He shakes his head, smiling.
“I don't mind,” he says, “a lot of people don't believe they're all mine.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he says, “now, how can I help you?”
“I'm Aurelia Dunmore,” I say, “I'm-”
“Work experience!” he exclaims, “of course, I hadn't forgotten! Did you get the paper work and information I sent you?”
“I did, I've read it all,” I tell him. He smiles.
“Good, good,” he nods, “let's get to work, then. It's usually pretty slow around here, but occasionally we'll get something interesting.”
He picks up a stack of parchment.
“And then there's the paper work,” he sighs, “every time there's an incident we have to write up a report. But you'd already know that, if you've read the information.”
He smiles at me and I smile back. He searches through the stack and hands me three pages of notes.
“You can start with writing this up,” he says, “hopefully we'll get something more interesting for you to do.”
By Thursday nothing interesting has happened. There was a biting bread knife and a broken, self-boiling kettle, but they were about as interesting as writing up a report. We spend most days playing muggle board games. Mr Weasley calls this 'research'. Perkins calls it 'muggling off'. I call it playing muggle board games.
It's Thursday lunch time. Christmas Eve. Everyone is walking around with Santa hats and snow is falling from the ceiling. I'm returning from my lunch break, squished into the elevator.
“Floor tw-”
I squeeze out and walk towards the office. There are piles of snow everywhere and some cubicles have umbrellas above them. I brush some snow off my shoulders. Mr Weasley and Perkins are sitting in there, dusting snow off the desks.
“Isn't there a spell to stop this?” I ask, squeezing into my chair.
“I want to know what genius thought this would be a good idea in the first place,” Perkins mutters.
“It's festive,” Mr Weasley says cheerfully, “if a little inconvenient.”
“So, has anything come up?” I ask. Mr Weasley shakes his head and checks his watch.
“We're going to go home early,” he says, “if anything comes up, we'll notify you, okay? Merry Christmas!”
“You too,” I smile, picking my bag up, “see you on Monday!”
It's not until I'm in the lobby that I realise two things. Firstly, I don't know how to get out of here, since Dad always apparates directly in and out. Secondly, even if I figure out how to get out of here, I don't have any way to get home.
I look around the lobby. There must be some way of getting out of here without magic. Although, why would there be?
“Need a lift somewhere?” Mr Weasley asks, appearing behind me.
“Uh... How do I get out of here?” I ask, “I usually disapparate with my Dad.”
“You can take the visitor's exit,” he says, pointing to a muggle phone booth in the far corner of the room, “dial 24426. If you need a ride home, stick out your wand arm, it'll flag the wizard bus.”
“Okay, thanks,” I smile at him. He nods and disappears into one of the fireplaces. I walk over to the phone booth and step inside. I take the phone off the hook and dial the number, then hold the receiver to my ear. There's a jolt and the phone booth slides upwards. I hang up and step out into the street. It's practically deserted. Snow is thick on the ground and still falling. I stick my right arm out and there's a bang. I jump as a huge purple bus appears out of thin air. It pulls up in front of me and a young guy with bad skin pulls the door open.
“Good afternoon, I am Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor today,” he looks at me and raises his eyebrows.
“Well, hi,” he says. I make a face.
“How far does this bus go?” I ask.
“Anywhere you want it to,” he says, “so long as it's in Britain. Doesn't cross the sea, see?”
“Great, can you take me to Milne-Coi?” I ask. He frowns.
“Never heard of it,” he says, “where is it?”
“In the mountains,” I say, “small town, superstitious people.”
“Oi, Ern!” he calls back into the bus, “know where Milne-Coi is?”
I roll my eyes and shake snow out of my hair. Stan turns back to me.
“Yeah, we can take you there,” he says, “tickets are eleven sickles.”
I hand him a galleon and he gives me a ticket and my change. I hop from foot to foot, waiting for him to move.
“Uh, can I get on now?” I ask. He jumps slightly and moves out of the way. I climb on and find an assortment of chairs, some occupied, looking like they've been sliding randomly around the bus. A few of them have even tipped over. Stan is still looking at me, so I hurry up the stairs. There're a few people up here, keeping to themselves. I'm nearly thrown down the stairs as the bus lurches forward. I stumble over into chair and sink into it. It slides over and crashes into the wall. I try looking out the window, but it makes me feel nauseous, so I stair at my knees. We stop a few times in different places. Once by the ocean. Finally Stan comes upstairs.
“Next stop Milne-Coi,” he says, smiling at me. The bus lurches and my chair slide over to the other side. I climb out of it and stumble over to the stairs.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, pushing past Stan. I step off the bus straight into a gust of wind and snow. The village is covered in a thick layer of white. In the back ground the castle looms, dark and foreboding. The bus drives off and disappears with a bang. I start trudging up towards the castle. As I move through the village, the villagers disappear indoors, drawing the blinds and turning the lights out. Like I said, superstitious. It just so happens that their superstitions are spot on, but still... They're not the most friendly bunch. I actually wonder why none of them have moved away. Probably because we're smart enough to know that if we feed from them then they'll be after our heads.
I thank my lucky stars that I'm resilient to the cold as I struggle through the knee-deep snow, still, I'm not loving the damp clothes.
By the time I reach the castle I'm out of breath, damp and actually shivering. All I want is a nice, hot cup of tea. I push the front door open and stumble in.
“I'm home!” I call, peeling my dripping coat off. Mum floats in from the living room.
“Darling, you're drenched,” she says, picking up a lock of my hair, “go upstairs and have a hot shower and get into something dry. I'll get you a nice, warm drink.”
I run up to my room, my shoes squelching. I pull my shoes off and peel off my socks, discarding them in a corner of the room. I wriggle out of my jeans and jumper and pull my bathrobe around my shoulders. I walk into my bathroom and start running a bath. I put a dollop of jasmine scented bubble bath into the water and watch as it foams up. I walk into my room and get a clean pair of jeans, a jumper and a new set of underwear from the closet. I walk back into the bathroom and test the water temperature. It's just right. I turn the water off and strip off, then climb into the bath. I sigh deeply and relax into the water.
“Aurelia, darling!”
Mum's voice is muffled, nearly unintelligible. I open my eyes and see the underside of the bubbles. I sit up and gasp air into my lungs.
“Are you alright?” Mum calls through the door.
“Fine!” I yell back, wiping bubbles out of my eyes.
“Your drink is ready,” Mum calls.
“Coming!”
I rinse the bubbles out of my hair and climb out of the bath. I dry myself and get dressed. I pull my bathrobe on over my clothes and walk out into the bedroom. Mum is looking at the pictures on my mantle piece, a mug in her hands. She looks over at me and smiles.
“Your hair is wet,” she says, “come and sit.”
She sits down on my bed and I sit in front of her. She hands me the mug and starts to brush out and dry my hair. I take a sip of my drink, expecting tea. Warm blood fills my mouth and I choke for a moment and cough until my eyes water. Mum pats me on the back, then returns to drying my hair. I lean back against her legs and sip my blood.
“Are you going to try for a baby again?” I ask quietly. Mum sighs softly.
“We're going to try,” she says, “but I'm getting old.”
“Ah, come on, you're only, what? Nine hundred years old?”
Mum laughs.
“Eight hundred and twelve, I'll have you know,” she says.
“Which makes you, what, fifty biologically?” I ask, “doesn't that mean you're in menopause?”
“Darling, we don't work the same as humans,” Mum says, running her fingers through my hair. I close my eyes and lean my head back.
“What do you mean?”
“We can, theoretically, have children until the day we die,” she tells me, “we can also choose to switch it all off, but once it's off, it's off for good.”
I look up at her.
“There's so much to learn about being a vampire,” I say, “how don't I know it all?”
“You'll learn,” she tells me, “now, this Weasley boy...”
“George,” I say, “what about him?”
“Your father and I-”
“Were perfectly fine with him before.”
Mum sighs.
“Darling, we want you to be happy,” she says, “but you're putting him at risk and he doesn't even know it. I wish I could say that I know you'll behave yourselves, but if I'm honest, you're at a boarding school, the teachers can't watch you all the time and...” she chuckles, “well, I can't pretend I always followed the rules.”
She brushes my hair off my forehead.
“Being a vampire, you need to be a lot more mature than other girls your age,” she continues, “if you really care about this boy, you need to tell him the risk.”
“And what if he freaks out?” I ask, “what if he tells everyone? What if he doesn't want to be with me?”
Mum leans down and kisses me on the forehead.
“My love, if he can't see past that to how beautiful and wonderful you are, he's not worth it.”
____________________________________________________________
Oh, Aurelia. He cares about you! But will he when he knows you've lied to him all this time? What do you guys think?