A/N: I would like to convey my sincerest apologies for the…er…delay. I had not, in all honesty, intended for this story to take many months to be updated. I've heard of this thing called a 'plot bunny'? Yes, well, mine fell into a coma. It was very tragic and sudden, and I thought about it everyday. I wasn't going to give up on it, despite the fact that not knowing what to do was literally driving me insane—you can ask my parents. Fortunately, the plot bunny has now recovered quite well, though the doctors warn us that there could be a relapse.

Anyway. I have changed quite a few things, and therefore I ask that if you are one of the lovely people who have already perused through my brainchild (I'm very protective of this story), I ask that you start from the beginning. I wanted to give Clara a bit more substance, because, in my mind, she has become a very real and complex person. She is more human in this revision, as was my goal. I have also decided—after much deliberation—that the best person to portray Clara Caine is the lovely Kaya Scodelario. There is a link at the bottom of the author's note if you happen to not be familiar with her.

Disclaimer: I am not Mrs. Jo Rowling, therefore, every recognisable person, place, and thing does not belong to me. The only thing I own is Clara Caine and her family.

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Prologue

You only live once, but if you

do it right, once is enough.

-Mae West

Death/deTH/Noun

-The action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism

Vam·pire/ˈvamˌpī(ə)r/Noun

-A corpse supposed, in European folklore, to leave its grave at night to drink the blood of the living by biting their necks with long pointed canine teeth.

In the Muggle world, vampires are creatures of legend and lore, similar to dragons and unicorns. The stories of these creatures, tales of their sharp fangs and glowing eyes, are often told by parents to their children, to make them behave; 'Don't go outside after dark, dear, or the vampires with get you!'. They are told on All Hallows Eve, by friends of all ages, trying to scare one another senseless before they dare one of the less fortunate to go beyond the ring of light created by the lantern they all sit around. There are dozens of movies and books and poems composed about vampires, all of which show false images and explain false facts.

The Wizarding World isn't much different. To the magical populace, vampires are a Class Five Dangerous Magical Creature. To the Ministry, we are half-breeds, animals, as low on the societal totem pole as werewolves. I suppose the animal part is well justified; most vampires, upon transformation, loose their humanity, becoming mere shells of their former selves, merely blood-lusting beings with a pack mentality and a human façade. Some of us do manage to retain our sanity, though sometimes this is the less-preferred path to follow. The instinctual need, the craving for blood cannot be overcome easily, and eventually, the act of killing becomes too much, and some just give in to the madness.

We are not all monsters. We do not deserve to be hunted. Do you think we wanted this life, if one could even call it that? We were once people. We were once one of you, once human, mortal. We had families; mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, and children. Do you think we chose to be subjected to this twisted sort of earthly purgatory? We cannot die! I would know, for I have tried countless times, as has undoubtedly the majority of us.

Garlic does not poison us, and crucifixes do not burn. Sunlight will not melt us, and wooden stakes are, in my experience, completely harmless, though they do leave a nasty scar.

Our skin is not diamond hard and impenetrable; we can be cut, and we can be hurt. Our eyes do not glow with the fire of Hell, and we have not been damned by God, or by Merlin, or by any other deity of whom has garnered your worship.

We are just like you, with the exception that we ourselves, our bodies, are frozen. Our hearts do not beat, and our blood is congealed—thick as syrup and dark as your best burgundy wine. For those of us who choose to keep our sanity, our morality, we are, on the inside, the same exact people that the world once knew.

I have survived, and I have kept my sanity. I am still the brilliant witch I once was, and my memories are still there.

And now I will spin you a tale. I will tell you how I got my life back, how I found love, and friendship, and joy, and blessed normalcy. I will tell you of the roads I had to travel, the secrets I had to reveal, the pain I had to endure, and the war I had to fight through.

My name is Clara Caine.

And this? This is my story.