I couldn't not write Ingrid as her usual goth self, but I thought this AU would be fun!

(Also, my 150th publish here on FF!)

Dimidius!Ingrid and fullvampire!Vlad. Shifted their ages to a year apart.

-YD-

Vlad watched her. He couldn't help it. She intrigued him. Smelled different to the other breathers, beneath that perfume that almost completely masked her natural, unusual scent. One year above him, with a little brother George who was the absolute opposite of her - quiet, bookish, obsessed with Latin. Ingrid was uncommonly good at pretty much everything, even while appearing to make no effort whatsoever in her work.

He wasn't the only one who looked at Ingrid. With those high cheekbones and the contrast of dark brown hair against her pale skin, those big bright eyes... she certainly had the eye of many a boy at Stokely Grammar. Not even the garlic-awful uniform could detract from her allure.

And that was why he watched her. Vampires drew in humans, with their hypnosis if they had to, but largely with pheremones that subtly beckoned a breather closer. So how did this Ingrid girl have that sort of effect on him? It wasn't because Vlad had a thing for goths, that much was obvious. Even as an actual vampire, bonafide member of the living dead club, Vlad wasn't thrilled about it and most things that reminded him of vampirism, or vampires in general, was not an appealing prospect.

And yet...

There Ingrid was, in all her gothic glory, fascinating him entirely. What was that all about?

"Move it Count, you got no chance."

"And you think you do Wilson?"

Running a hand through his excessively gelled hair, Wilson sneered with his visibly chipped tooth from rugby, the yellow staining of a high sugar diet (Vlad could smell it pumping through his blood) combined with the poor oral hygiene that meant Vlad could smell his breath from over a foot away quite clearly - and unpleasantly.

"Damn right I do."

"By all means. I can't wait to see you shot down."

Torn down was probably a more apt description for the ruthless way Ingrid destroyed the hopeful teenager, then sent him away like a frightened puppy. Actually, Vlad would have more sympathy for a frightened puppy. Ingrid huffed, resumed touching up her makeup in her compact mirror. Everyone else was too busy laughing at Wilson to see it, but Vlad's curiousity was piqued by the way Ingrid stared at her reflection. That action alone wasn't unusual, but the way she blinked, squinted at it like it had done something unusual was very familiar and distinct to him.

He wondered...

Reaching for some paper from a notebook, Vlad scribbled out a few words, scrunched up the paper, then tossed it at Ingrid. She glared at him like she hoped he'd spontaneously explode into dust there and then, but she picked up the paper and unfurled it. Vlad saw her frown deepen, but Ingrid didn't respond to the note. Wondering if perhaps he'd imagined it, he got on with his day, opting to go and sit outside in the stands by the sports pitch for some sunlight basking while he still could; the mix of impending vampirism and living in Wales now meant very limited amounts of UV were in his future.

Almost at the end of his free period and mostly through his English homework, Vlad looked up as a shadow fell across his work. Ingrid dropped his crumpled note on top of his work, looking at him expectantly.

"Yes?"

"What did you mean by this?"

Vlad's blase attitude hid a confusion; yes, Ingrid was graceful, far more so than her peers, but his developing senses ought to have picked up her approach. He looked down at the paper, with just the words 'did it move' scrawled across it messily.

"Nothing. Why? What did you think it meant?"

He was wary of just admitting his reflection moved sometimes, that Vlad remembered that first occurrence when his own face winked back at him. Besides which, Ingrid didn't smell like a vampire. She didn't smell like the average human either, but she certainly didn't smell like one who was soon-to-be-dead. It was why he'd been watching her, why he had even noticed her confusion at her reflection to begin with. Ingrid would have to give him something before he returned the favour here. In terms of information, anyway.

"Nothing."

She turned on her heel, preparing to stalk away. Vlad shoved the note in his pocket, picked up his pen again. Ingrid turned back, frowning.

"Does it happen to you?"

"Sometimes."

After that, Ingrid left. Vlad was perplexed by her sudden departure, but what was he going to do? Chase after her and ask why she had a symptom of pubescent vampires? She'd just cut his heart out and stare at it like it was mildly interesting. Then throw it on a fire. Ingrid had no patience for any other human, sans perhaps her little brother. Vlad suspected Ingrid was nicer to George at home, not wanting he and his 'geek' friends hanging around her at school.

Vlad left rugby practice that afternoon - mostly a rebellion to annoy his father, Count Dracula - and found Ingrid still there, leant against the wall of the front gate, eyeing him oddly.

"Can I help you? I should warn you, another dozen rugby players will be along any minute."

"Walk with me."

Curious, Vlad obeyed. Stokely Castle loomed over them from the top of the hill, a fair walk away on tired legs but he was confused by Ingrid's silent presence. She wasn't looking at him, but he felt undoubtedly watched.

"Why did you ask if it moved? What does it mean?"

"Any number of things. Hallucinations. Sleep deprivation. Trick of the light. Mental breakdown."

"Don't be an idiot. Difficult, I assume, since you're a teenage boy."

Vlad bit back a retort about how she had approached him about this, rolled his eyes while she wasn't looking and yet felt very much like she knew he'd done it regardless.

"You know something."

"I know many things. Most of which you would think impossible."

For the first time in all the months he'd attended Stokely Grammar, Vlad felt like he was the source of interest for Ingrid rather than the other way around.

"Try me."

Vlad looked around, saw they were past the majority of population density, lessening the chance of being overheard talking what most would consider complete and utter nonsense.

"I come from Transylvania. I live in a spooky old castle. My dad wears a cape."

"So your family is weird, what does that have to do with me?"

This girl was in to goth culture, so Vlad was completely certain she was being deliberately obtuse rather than she had no idea about vampires.

"Well, I think you might be weird too. Half weird, anyway."

"Excuse me?"

They were at the bottom of the hill now - there was nothing but grass and a steep climb for several metres in every direction now.

"Let me ask you something. You're what, fifteen now? A few months off of sixteen?"

"So what if I am?"

Vlad took that as a yes.

"Sometimes weird stuff happens to you. Sometimes a hunk of uncooked meat looks delicious. You can see someones pulse beat against their neck. Certain people smell amazing while others are disgusting. Now and then, you're suddenly much stronger than usual. When you get angry, something rattles. Your teeth hurt. The sun seems a little brighter than it used to."

Every single thing hit its mark - Ingrid's silver-blue eyes grew wider and wider. Vlad was surprised, to be honest. Ingrid clearly wasn't a vampire; he'd be able to smell it on her. But then, she'd never smelled like breather either.

He'd thought them a myth. A horror story to warn him from trying to mingle with humans rather than see them as food. No way were they possible.

Dimidius.

A half-human, half-vampire hybrid.

"You're insane."

Ingrid turned, stalked off. Vlad called after her.

"Once you turn sixteen, you won't be able to ignore it!"

She halted for half a heart-beat, but continued on. Vlad shrugged to himself, then headed up to the castle to change and study for his Blood Tests. Actually... that was a curious thought. Did Blood Test limitations apply to a dimidius? How would Ingrid transform? Clearly, she didn't know who sired the vampire in her genes, and to Vlad's knowledge a transformation needed a Blood Mirror.

Under guise of actually studying - much to the delight of his father, Count Dracula - Vlad scoured the textbooks for any information on Dimidius. There was precious little, probably intentional so vampires didn't get any ideas about what was quite the heinous crime. 'Mating with your dinner' was a rather crude way that one textbook described it.

"What in the name of all that is evil are you reading that drivel for?"

"Curiosity. Thought it might explain why I'm not really that hot on turning into a biter."

Vlad winced as the predictable explosion of indignation and anger swept through the castle, but the diversion had worked as his father stormed off, thunder crackling outside.

Ingrid was sixteen in a few months. Whatever happened, he'd find out soon enough.

-YD-

Yes, they are still half-siblings, and yes, there will be smut!