Okay, all credits to J.K. Nothing belongs to me! Except the main lady, she is aaaall mine.
Okay, new story and everything. Gave up the others… kinda. We'll see. But hey, I hope you will like this, it is something I write between my classes. Enjoy and please review!

It had been cold for days, maybe even weeks by now. A certain fair-haired shadow had haunted the back of her mind for months. It was just now lately that the cold had hit the scattered area. Frost covered hillsides, trees, and creeks that had lost their life so long ago.
The once so vivacious and serene landscape seemed so different by now. October, and autumn had lost all its right to live. How long had it been? Barely two months, perhaps.

A dark September evening. Masks. A sprained ankle. A fair-haired man.

It had been a ministry ball, a rather posh event; the invitation had draped it as a masquerade. Of course she had gone; it was her duty as an employee of the department of International Magical Cooperation.
Her crimson red hair, curly in a soft way, as always, had given her identity away in a heartbeat. A green mask and a green dress. Fitted silk in the bodice, silk flaring out in the skirt. She wasn't usually clumsy, not even in heels, but somehow she had fallen on her way out of the ladies room. Her ankle had been throbbing so badly, an odd sensation of dull, but still sharp pain. A shadow had approached her, dark and light in one form. A creature so serene in its cold shape. He had offered her an arm as support, but the ankle had been too sore to stand on. He had chuckled softly by her frustrated moan. A black mask on his face, but still she recognized him in a heartbeat. He had actually lifted her up and asked if he should take her home. As if it was truly a question. Shyly she had agreed and let him carry her to the nearest floo.

"Zaria Romanov's Mansion." Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, but he just smiled and stepped into the green flames.

He had smelled even better up close than at distance. He had a distinct smell, musky, but still sophisticated and proper for whom he was. Even thinking about how he had smelled and when he had carried her into her living room and laid her on her sofa wanted to make her sigh. Such a beautiful man, a proper gentleman. She had never spoken to him before; he had just appeared that night and saved her for limping over alone to the floo. That would've been a total embarrassment in the eyes of the public. He had looked at her ankle and proclaimed it as sprained. With a witty smile she had said that she already had realized that fact.

"I had a feeling that the crimson hair of yours couldn't belong to anyone else than a Romanov." The corner of his mouth was lifted as he looked at her, the mask still on. They knew each other's identity, but they wouldn't reveal anything just yet.

"Your hair is quite recognizable as well." She smiled slightly as she started to push her black heels of the sore foot. The dark living room that surrounded them made their voices echo slightly.

He had left shortly after, just smirked at her with his characteristic smile and a glint in his eyes. He beat her age with almost twenty years, but she couldn't help but shake slightly in the knees she didn't even put any weight on.

Ohmy, she shook her head. Here she was standing, staring out of her bedroom window and reliving that evening. Why had his presence made such an impression on her? Other than the fact of who he was. She had seen this mister so many times at the ministry, this fair-haired, tall, authority figure. A man with beauty beyond anything you could expect from the male specie. She shook her head again and turned away from the window. She wore black robes, proper for a day at work. Her hair hung loosely, curling itself in big, soft curls down to cover her chest. She pushed it to cover her back instead. With swift movements she crossed the room and got over to the mirror. She looked at her reflection, watched the 25 year-old woman with rich green eyes, crimson hair and porcelain skin. No freckles, nothing of that. Her features resembled her Russian heritage, high cheekbones, a little, soft nose, and something that shone through as "arrogant". Okay, the last one was just something that came with being a Romanov. Her last name was one of the things that had given her the job she had, but also her sharp mind and ability to speak more languages that she could count on two hands. Her grades had been outstanding and charm was nothing she lacked. A smart child, pushed beyond her limits, by her parents of course.
She sighed, looking once again at young Zaria in the mirror. Red roses suddenly appeared at her cheeks and she quickly raised a hand to cover one of them.

"Stop blushing, you fool." She hissed at herself and turned at her heel, heading out her bedroom door and down the stairs to the living room where her floo was. The dark living room was closing in on her, it always was. Especially when she didn't bother letting any daylight in. With an abrupt movement she took some of the green powder and threw it into the waiting fireplace. Green flames emerged like craving demons, but still she stepped into it, letting it devour her and take her to the ministry.

It had been a while since last time she had put her feet on the stone floor of the ministry, but the great hall engulfed her with all its greatness in stone and tiles. It all seemed so cold, even though the light was flooding in through bewitched windows, high up there, by the roof. The whole great area was flooded with robes moving around, dark shadows with bright colors spattered here and there. It had been a very good reason for her absence in this great area, a trip to Russia. It was pure business, a mission she had with cooperation between the Russian Ministry and the English one. The Russian missions were always hers, purely because of her heritage and status in the magical society. She was the perfect fit for the job, something that rather bothered her.
Stupidlastname. It didn't make her the perfect one to run over to those posh and almighty Russian men who sat there, on their leather chairs, padded with swan feathers and what else they stuffed in their chairs to make their butt more comfortable.
Her moderate long heels made clicking noises on the stone floor as she made her way to the elevators, ready for that highly uncomfortable journey to her floor.

Her closet-like office, stuffed with papers that surrounded her like pyramids, and her desk that took up half the room. The scrolls on her desk were covered in her own handwriting, ink stains here and there. Her hair was currently pulled back in a messy knot at the back of her head. She turned around in her moveable chair and looked out her enchanted window. She had chosen to see the world for "what it was" through this window, not just seeing a big sunny area, what was the point in seeing that, she would rather see the London for what is was, gray and rainy. A loud knocking noise came from her door as she turned around again, she held the quill in her right hand, tapping it on the edge of her desk.

"Come in." She sounded slightly sterner than she was supposed to and when the door opened and revealed a short man that made her smile immediately. His hair was raven black, eyes grey and he seemed slightly more awkward than usual.

"Robby, come in. Don't be a stranger." Her friendlier tone seemed to ease him as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Sorry for barging in at you at this ungodly hour of the morning-"he took a dramatically pause as he dragged a chair out of nowhere and sat down on it. "But I had to come and see for myself that the Russian mafias had let go of my pretty little redhead." She raised her eyebrow as he spoke and let out a carefree laugh.

"They basically threw me out when I started to talk, Robby! You should've seen the mess I made just by arriving. Would've thought that none had hoped to see me again." Her smile was slightly evil. It was no secret that she wasn't too keen on the tops in the Russian Ministry. Call it a misconception, it is what it is.

"No wonder, you've brought them a lot of inconvenience, Zar." He threw his legs up at her desk, ignoring the annoyed frown at her forehead as she studied his tailor made boots.

"I will kill you if those are dirtier than they look." She bended forward slightly and poked underneath his boots, examining them.

"Of course they're not dirty, you silly minx." The last word made her neck twitch as she looked up at him with a more annoyed expression.

"Didn't we have a conversation about this, Robert?" She used his name properly just to annoy him, something she made great success in.

"Oh, shut it. You are a minx! You just won't admit it, just like you won't admit that you took the Russian mission just to avoid seeing a certain mister MALFOY!" She wanted to grab him by the throat, and he saw that quickly in her eyes and rose up from the chair, holding his arms up, but now grinning like some evil overlord. "Touchy subject that is, isn't it?"

"I will… I will… Gah, ROBERT! Is it humanly possible to be so… incompetent?" She almost slammed her head down into the desk at her last word, so embarrassed that words wasn't enough.

"Chill, minx. I won't spill the goods to anyone, just stating the obvious. You're drooling at the gorgeous man, aren't you?" His tainting voice suddenly grew more anxious at his last word, not for her expression, but for something the both of them knew all too well.

"He is no good, doll. Please, realize that." Something unsaid laid between them, the both knew exactly what. "Shady man." His last words as he took one step closer to her again, he sat down, looking intensely at her.

"Don't you think I know, Robby?" Something heavy grew in her throat and stomach, causing her to look down into the desk. Of course she knew, she knew all those things that were said about Lucius Malfoy. The obvious things, like the fact that he was married to Narcissa, and the shady things that everybody thought about, but nobody said a word of.

"Please, Zaria. Don't do anything stupid; don't do anything you will regret." A prayer laid in his words and she looked up at him again. A small smile formed at the corner of her mouth.

"As if the man would throw another glance at me, Robby."

"He's been asking for you, didn't you know that?" Her eyes widened suddenly as she felt her heart drop seven inches.

Emotions rushing through her, one after the other, as if she was a black hole. Sucking the area dry. Confusion replaced by fluttering butterflies, butterflies replaced by guilt and something that stung deeper, fear. One thing was that this gorgeous meat of a man was asking for her, but the guilt came when she came to realize, for the 80th time this week, he was married. And had a son. Bloodyhell.She shouldn't be drooling at a married man. And the fear… Fear for who he might be, the cruel man people thought him to be.
Was it bad of her to almost jump to a conclusion of him so fast? She didn't know. They didn't know. But where did the fear come from? She was a pureblood, an upper-class lady. It wasn't the fear of dying, merely the fear of seeing the evil for what it was. Evil shouldn't be here, she fled from evil. Maybe her beloved England held evil, evil in the form of a snake-like man and his cloaked "friends". She couldn't judge Lucius, not without knowing for certain.

"Then why don't you turn around and spread the word that Zaria is back?" She tilted her head to the side, smiling barely noticeable. Robby got this weird expression in his face before he answered.

"Everybody knows, they see your curls at a long distance."