Settling into the shadows
Sequels, the first step to reading another story. First of all, I'm warning you right now, there will be new characters and my last chapter will be explained. But, to all of my faithful readers, hello!
Tom Riddle had never been so angry. His assassin was one of the best in the world, murdering James and Lily Potter, who were famous actors and were in his way, Luc Fields, Bella Black, and others of the cult he had once had. But Aidan had messed it up this time, and he was going to pay the price. It was all over ET online, and and local TV stations. Even though no one besides his faithful servant, Peter, knew who was behind the killings. Tom picked up his cell phone and called Aidan's apartment, not doubting that he had returned. He picked up on the first ring, "Shhh, you don't need to say a word. It's Mick Happy, and you've done a sloppy job. You need to leave New York. Fake your death, take your apprentice, and flee to Canada. Go under an alias, Sikes. Call the number of your flat when you get there, and ask for the NYPD. They're already on your trail, and sooner or later they'll catch up to you unless you turn someone else, who's already dead to boot. Bye-bye now." And he hung up.
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Ron Weasley was ecstatic. He had just gotten engaged to his second love, but the real love of his life. She had told him everything, from when she had first liked him, to the mistakes she had made. Now, after they eloped, they'd disappear for a while and get fat and happy, she'd go to Stanford like she'd always planned, and they'd be happy. She'd take his last name, change her name even, and they would have ten children and keep them away from the paparazzi. He sighed with ecstasy, and rolled over to where she was peacefully sleeping, wrapping his arms around her small frame.
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Hermione was sitting in shock. Luckily for her, the ambulance had been no further then two minutes away, and had safely gotten Mark to a hospital. It turned out that Mark had been shot in the right portion of his head, and needed surgery immediately. They said that he might be in a coma when he came out, but he had an 85 survival rate. She needed someone to call, but her phone was going crazy with calls from reporters. She had taken one with Mary Hart from ET, but the press wouldn't stop calling her. Especially that bitch, Rita Skeeter, who had spread nasty rumors about her when she had hugged Harry on stage, saying how they were fuck buddies and shouldn't be allowed to be with each other, Harry having being the Acting World's Golden Boy, and Hermione just being a newcomer. But when Hermione had hooked up with Ron after Daniel Radcliffe, Rita still had it out for her. Suddenly, she realized whom she needed to call. She pressed speed dial one, and waited for her best friend to pick up.
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Pourple Zabini really wasn't someone to be trifled with. After having a three-year relationship with Mark Fields, he had broken it off so suddenly that she had stopped talking to anyone, reporters, her family, and friends, anyone that really liked Mark/Draco. Even her best friend since she could remember, Hermione Granger, who didn't know about the relationship, or the secret that had been inside of the nineteen year old. The only person she could turn to was Ron Weasley. When she had opened her eyes, she could feel his arm around her midriff, and felt quite sick. Not because of Ron, but because she was…
Mi-a-hii! Mi-A-ho! Mi-a-ha! Mi-a-hahahahaha! Her cell phone sang as it rang. She picked it up on the first ring, as always. "Hello?"
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"Hello?" The clarity of her voice almost moved her to tears. "Hello?"
A/N: I had no idea how to end this, so if I left it hanging, deal with it!
Love always,
Bnbr