Born on the third of June, 1842, Kerensa Emblyn Trenwith was destined to be the pride and joy of her parents and (they thought) the whole of Cornwall. Born with beautiful red curly hair, pale milky skin and a smile that made her father's breath catch in his throat, all her parents wanted for her was a good marriage. They planned for their eldest daughter to grab a ticket out of their sleepy small town by way of a handsome and rich gentleman, perhaps a middle or youngest son from a local wealthy family. Kerensa, however, soon had other ideas.
Her father was a teacher and perhaps that is why Kerensa grew up with a vociferous appetite for learning, a curiosity for all things new and intriguing. Her father encouraged it when she was younger. She was allowed to attend the classes he taught in the school until she was eleven. Had it not been for Hogwarts, she would have been made to stay at home and 'learn' from her mother - learn embroidery, etiquette, letter-writing. None of those things interested her half as much as potions and charms and transfiguration. Her muggle parents were shocked at the idea of their darling daughter being transported to Scotland for an education in magic, but they accepted it rather easily when all was explained. After all, there always had been something different about their Kensa. She had broken pots and suddenly they were back together on shelves. She had jumped a high fence when the neighbour's bull was chasing her without any apparent effort. All those little signs of magic were recognised for what they were. So off she went to Hogwarts. She loved Hogwarts. A natural Ravenclaw, she tried to learn as much as she could. Her muggle contemporaries did not get half as good an education as she received there and during her holidays she was able to learn more and more from her father, too, provided she demonstrated all that she had learnt during term time.
Eighteen years old and finished her studies, her parents breathed a sigh of relief. Surely now she would fulfill their plans and go off to find that nice rich husband? Kerensa had other ideas. A wizarding family advertised for a governess to help with their brood of pre-school age children and it was perfect. She built up a reputation as an excellent primary educator of young magical children, moving to a new family each time all of her charges managed to make it to Hogwarts. Any suspicion of a muggleborn teaching wizarding children with 'purer' blood was smiled away by Kerensa and they soon realised she knew what she was talking about. The etiquette and social niceties her parents had pressed into her did have some effect, after all. Although she had always had the typical redhead temper, Kerensa had learned to control it from an early age, as it had made her magic flare up in rather scary ways. Teaching small children made it even more important to keep her cool. She smiled and smiled and smiled, repressing anything negative until it just didn't matter anymore.
She met him in the summer of 1867, when she was in Bath working for a rich pureblood family. First at a party, then he started to send her notes, to show up at the kitchen door of the big house. He made her blush in front of the children when they were out walking. She kept as careful control of herself as she could, but she couldn't control the speed of her heart beat or the flushing of her face. She met him at an inn one evening where they shared a meal. When he asked her to join him in his room, she knew she couldn't accept, but she allowed him to walk her home. On the walk they stopped in a secluded alley. Kissing leads to hands going in places that she knew they shouldn't. When Kerensa pulled away, she saw the red flash in his eyes all too late. She was left slumped in the alley, almost drained of her life force. He ran.
She woke up. Against all the odds, she woke up. There was a new thirst in her, something dark and strange that she didn't recognise. She learnt quickly to avoid the sun. The first life lost to her blood lust was a young baker's boy, a muggle from the town she had been living in. When she realised what she had done, she fled. Ashamed of herself, disgusted with what she had to do to gain strength and nourish her changed body, Kerensa flitted around the country, trying to seek wisdom from her own kind. A quarter of a century after being turned she heard of Andorra, where magical creatures were accepted more than they were condemned. She lived there for over one hundred years, living in almost-harmony with wizard folk, sometimes able to teach, still her passion. Falling in with a coven of 'vegetarians' while there, she learnt that animal blood would do, for a time. Her strength still fails her if she goes for six months without a 'proper' feed, so she has coined the term of 'blood cycling' - six months 'vegetarian' and then one month of feeding. Muggle hospitals can be a good target, although the sickness in people's blood tastes sour and stagnant. Occasionally one can come across enthusiasts who trust vampire friends enough to be fed upon. Luckily for Kerensa, she has made enough money over the years by teaching and selling potions that she can afford the odd blood bag, when required.
With the stirrings of the first wizarding war in the United Kingdom, Kerensa felt concern for her home country pulling her back. Dark forces were rising up. She wanted to see if she could help. She could hear more than many, she could make herself inconspicuous and she wasn't scared of hiding out in dark and dingy places. An unlikely spy, perhaps, but she managed to feed some information to the ministry. Her long years had given her plenty of time to learn a few languages and so she travelled some more, working, she hoped, for the good of the wizarding world. Then there was peace, for a while. Those seventeen years seemed like a blink of an eye to a vampire and with the second war, Kerensa tried her best to help again.
The wizarding world still feels like home to her, even though she has been almost rejected by it in this day and age. When the new creature-control laws came through, Kerensa insisted on doing the 'right thing' and registering. Suddenly, her odd jobs tutoring for prestigious wizarding families dried up. People didn't mind being associated with someone they suspected was a vampire, but when your name is published in a list it seems to make all the difference. Selling the odd potion here and there helped her get by, but she missed teaching too much. Having to declare how many blood bags she gets through and which animals she feeds on every month is a drag, but necessary to keep her out of Purgatory.
Now working as a teacher for people in Purgatory and Tearmann (for very little pay, but it's okay, she has a century's worth of savings), she feels deeply for her fellow creatures who are almost locked away, excluded even more than she. She controls her urge to campaign for her and her fellow creature's rights. Peaceful means are the wiser way to get towards true equality. Still every night she yearns for the life she had almost two hundred years ago, when her heart still beat in her chest and the sun simply flushed her skin, rather than burnt it.