AN: This story is inspired by the characters and world invented by JK Rowling. No penny is earned in the making of this story.


Shout out to Vino Amore - my support and guide to this and most of my other stories x Also to my Facebook friend Sona Pavlovna Uhlirova - for giving me some Russian pet names for Dolohov x


Chapter Triggers: Attempted suicide, dark sarcasm, angst, unrequited love.


Fancast:

Antonin Dolohov: Colin Farrell

Abraxas Malfoy: George Sanders

Narcissa Malfoy: Joely Richardson


Winter Frost

Deep dark is His Majesty's kingdom
A portent of tomorrow's world:

Devil and the Deep Dark Ocean

Nightwish; Oceanborn

The Knight in Distress

"There is more to tell but not yet – Lucius, Draco, follow me!"

The two blond men glanced awkwardly at the other – keeping silent as the Dark Lord turned on his heel – they followed at a cautious, wary, pace. Keeping their steps in time with the other, quietly making sure that if he turned around they would be within his sights. They were well aware that he disliked the Inner Circle to act like a pack of rampaging bulls, they also knew what it would cost either of them if they objected to what their Lord told them to do. Lucius offered his son a silent hand on the shoulder for solidarity.

The Dark Lord swept into the study where a big painting of Abraxas quickly pushed a painted Milkmaid from another portrait off his lap and she scurried off. Hurrying to regain his dignified stance in front of his descendants.

"My Lord," Abraxas knelt on the floor.

"Even in death you serve me faithfully," The Dark Lord purred as he lazily stroked along the big mahogany desk situated in the centre of the magnificent room. "Abraxas, my first. I truly am still sorry for your death."

"Lucius my son," Abraxas smiled at the blond man, "Draco," Abraxas sneered, "the disappointment. You let Narcissa spoil him too much: Spare the rod, spoil the child."

Wincing as he remembered all too well the feel of Abraxas belt buckle on his backside, Lucius squeezed his son's bicep, almost ready to defend his wife and son.

"Tut tut, Abraxas, he has chances yet to prove his worth," Lord Voldemort said. "Narcissa is a lovely and devout woman."

Abraxas nodded and glanced again at Draco: "I suppose so," he did not seem to be too convinced. "How are you, runt?"

Draco was about to make a reply but it was clear the Dark Lord wished to consult with, (probably), the only wizard he ever considered a friend. Lord Voldemort shook his head. Yes, Draco was a disappointment to him also, but the boy succeeded where others failed, for that he was not fully bought to task.

"Abraxas," Voldemort sighed. "You remember when we were young."

"All the young girls swarming. You stepped out with a few," Abraxas smirked, he loved remembering former lovers with his Master and friend. "What of it?" Abraxas caught the withering look on his Master's face and shifted awkwardly in his painting. "Wish to teach my grandson what a woman actually is?"

"I have to admit that I am sorry I never settled down with one of those girls," he sighed. "Some of them were rather intelligent."

Abraxas arched a well groomed brow as his lips settled in an 'O' of shock: "You yourself mentioned that you were destined for far greater things than being a domestic husband and father," Abraxas breathed out. "Why this sudden need to..."

"I overheard someone say something today," the Dark Lord sank down on the large throne like chair behind the desk. The whole room was built for intimidation. Precisely why Lucius never used it. He converted an old, unused parlour into a more comfortable study. Still somewhat austere, however, it was designed for the odd cosy family discussion. "She was in the woods. She is an enemy, yet," he looked at the men in the room with him. "She did say something wise."

"An enemy? A M..." Abraxas flinched in the portrait. "A Muggleborn? Tom, really? What did an uppity t... bint have to say?"

"She said that she feels Salazar Slytherin would have wanted me to achieve great things but she mentioned also his desire for me to bring back the noble house."

Lucius and Draco wondered why they were there if he just wished to seek advice from the Late Patriarch. Abraxas paced around the luxurious setting of his portrait.

"This Muggleborn, what is she like?" Abraxas smirked. "You would not be this anxious over someone that was little more than a clumsy little fairy."

"She is not that, grandfather," Draco spoke for the first time since this strange incident. "I am a peer of hers. She is loyal, intelligent, clever, headstrong, and emotional. There is also a darkness to her, she is not above exacting revenge – or as she terms it – justice!"

"With an application to logic and excellent at subjects that requires thought process," the Dark Lord finished for Draco.

He was not going to punish the boy for adding in a thoughtful comment or two. Especially for that last remark about her exacting her own brand of vengeance. He could sense the darkness within her when he touched her. Precisely the reason why she remained alive.

"What of her looks?" Abraxas asked.

Lucius arched an eyebrow and decided to be rather candid: "Rather like Andromeda Black when young," he sighed. "She may have even passed for a younger sister, if we did not know better."

Abraxas scratched under his chin: "Andromeda was a pretty little thing," he sighed. "Yes, I can understand why you may like her but what of the pure..."

"Abraxas you know full well that went down the drain with my squib mother and muggle father," The Dark Lord seemed tired all of a sudden. Swiftly, his thoughts changed: "I have felt her power though – she could be something under the right guidance," Abraxas smile was seemingly a mile wide: "I have entered into a Magical Contract that no scorn, or pain, shall fall upon her whilst under this hospitality."

"Was that wise, Tom," Abraxas said. "I know how wand happy you can get, and if she bad mouths you...?"

"She won't, she has reasons to keep decorum, besides," he looked up, "she has the propensity to want to please."

"How utterly delightful," Abraxas smirked again. "I wish I was more than a painting now. Maybe, if my son wills it, he can commission one of this girl to keep me company in my frame from time-to-time."

Lucius bowed to his father: "It shall be done," he said.

"I am guessing there is something else to this Magical Binding, Tom?" Abraxas asked.

The Dark Lord looked up smiling more as he gazed upon his old friend. "Yes, my old friend, but I wish to make the Announcement tonight – maybe you can pop in on your wife to oversee the proceedings – Lucius there is more to be said," he glanced at Draco, "Draco, leave us."

"Yes my Lord," Draco bowed low and walked out of his grandfather's study breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Mid-way from his grandfathers study and his own suite, he was stopped by Dolohov, the young man wrinkled his nose in disgust at the leer in the Russian's eyes and the smirk on his lips.

"I heard that the Dark Lord has a tasty treat for us all tonight, must be Christmas!"

"Not a tasty treat, an honoured guest in our home, just as you are, Dolohov," Draco said. "I would spread the word if I were you, that the guest is not to be insulted – on pain of death."

"You think you're so untouchable coz you're a Malfoy," he snarled.

Draco just shook his head and was about to side-step past the dangerous Russian. Dolohov would not let him and shoved his back into the wall disturbing an Edwardian group of ladies drinking tea. Huffs of 'Well really!' were barely heard by the living men by their side. The older Death Eater's hands fisted into Draco's robes and he lifted the now frightened young man off the floor.

"What? Is daddy having first dibs? Is she his Christmas present?"

"Look," Draco sighed rolling his eyes kicking his feet against the wall in the hope someone would hear it. "I do not know what part you do not understand: Our Lord has offered her his own protection. Not one of us is allowed to harm her, earlier he Crucio'd Aunt Bella for five minutes, because she dared scorn his choice in guest."

This changed things in Dolohov's view, gently he lowered Draco back on the floor and straightened his robes: "Well, we must be nice to the sweet Baryshnja, then."

With that Dolohov strode of whistling an air from his Mother country. A slight sneer crossed the young aristocrat's face as he watched the older Death Eater saunter away from his sight. Draco righted his robes around him sneering at the thought of the Russian being nice. He'd seen Dolohov's version of being nice, and it did not sit well within him that Antonin would be nice to Hermione. Well, he thought, I best work really hard to get Hermione out of here. She does not know what sort of danger she is in just by being here. There was something about that conversation in the study he did not like. It seems what the Dark Lord was not saying was more important than what he was.

Draco knew better than go to the rooms that she would be lying in. The Witch, to all intents and purposes, should be his. He had desired her even before the teeth were straightened properly. He'd never admit this on pain of death but he always found the chipmunk look kind of cute. Who would have thought that all it took was a bit of magic to sort out the angles of her face? The moment he saw her elegantly glide down the main staircase to the Great Hall and step up to Viktor Krum he had been jealous of the Bulgarian Seeker. That was why he was so mean to her afterwards. Normally he was used to the best, she was supposed to be his Head Girl, not Pansy bleeding Parkinson, she was supposed to be the one that he danced the final dance at the Final Ceremonials.

Now she was finally in this house, under the care of his mother, which he was thankful for, and his deranged Aunty. That did not sit well. If only he could find a way to get her out. He did not care if it meant death. What grace and prospects was there in being a Malfoy lately? Nothing to be proud of that was for sure. Something switched off inside his brain. There was no way out. The Dark Lord might win, what would happen to him then? With the right potions his parents could breed a better Malfoy. Mind made up he walked down another corridor and stopped at a seemingly blank wall.

Looking around to check he was alone, Draco then pressed a little bit of rock that jutted out of the brickwork, this opened a secret spiral staircase that lead to the roof. Designed as a great way to hide during the Witch Hunt trials, now used to hide from the Dark Lord, once utilised for enthusiastic games of hide and seek with Theo and Blaise when they were children. Tears sprang in his eyes as he thought of his happy childhood.

Now... things were different. There was nothing he wanted to live for. His parents were not on the pedestal they once were. Nothing was glorious, the Mark throbbed constantly, nagging him to be a good little Death Eater. To see sweet little Luna Lovegood in the cells and how she bore her darkened circumstances, tore at his heart. To see his once magical home turned into Death Eater HQ was the last thing he could swallow. He wanted to be back at school where he could hide in Snape's quarters. Draco was no longer blind, he was well-aware of where Severus loyalties lay. In Harry Potter...

He had to be scraped off the floor when he accidentally over heard that conversation between the now Headmaster and Portrait Dumbledore. He decided to do what little he could. Draco began to surreptitiously sneak sweets in and give them to torture victims. He was no longer surrounded by Crabbe and Goyle. Oh, he was still their friend, but they were far too violent. Too demeaning. Thoughts of school inevitably led to musings on Hermione. The witch should have been at school – to act as his beacon of light – if she was they'd have intelligent discussions. Ambling around the lake, perhaps he might have snaked an arm around her waist and using the excuse to share warmth. It was all fantasy. Deep down he knew Hermione would sooner kiss Hagrid than allow herself within ten feet of him, honestly, he sighed, who could blame her? He reached the top where a warded door sprang open. He rolled his eyes at the way it blew dramatically in the wind.

Unphased by the height, Draco walked to the edge of the roof, and stopped to lean against the wall that was all that stood between him and a drop about thirty feet down. He would probably die before he hit the ground.

"I'm sorry mum," he said. "I can't... not any longer... it was better before..." he was about to hop up when he heard a voice curse.

Moments before he had reached the top of his vast estate, Hermione had stumbled out of a door, confused. Why had the house made her come here? It was as if the building itself were taunting her for her fear of heights. She tried to go through the door but it seemed Malfoy Manor decided she should be here for whatever reason so she hid behind a chimney stack.

She was about to head back to find her way to where she was supposed to be when she saw Draco enter out the door the other side. In the distance he stood. Pensively staring out at the scenery, not caring for the cold. Hermione understood how a good view could cleanse someone's soul, so she was about to head back down. The door stubbornly refused to open, maybe the house was trying to tell her something. Hermione took in the situation, Draco's mien, his unconcern about being so close to the edge, to a height that could... Blood drained from her face the moment the situation forced upon her a dreadful realisation. The wards then coursed through to her core and were telling her this was unusual behaviour for this particular Malfoy. So, again, she crouched down behind a chimney stack and crawled on the supporting plinth. It seemed as if he'd been mulling something over in his mind and heart.

She saw his lips move but could not make out what he was saying. One of her previous friends was deaf and taught her how to lip read – a good art Hermione thought – for a spy. Shame I forgot some it. She made out the odd word though: 'Mum,' 'can't,' and 'before;' then she numbly observed Draco hoisting himself up on the guard wall. Feet standing hip width apart as he closed his eyes almost ready for the jump.

"Here goes!" he bent his knees to make the leap of death.

Heart thudding in her chest Hermione delicately, cat-like, and quietly as she could, landed the other side of the chimney stack and walked lightly up to Draco. Clearing her throat to speak so softly he did not hear her.

"Draco," she said gently.

Draco suddenly turned around and saw her standing there.

"How did you escape my aunt and mother?"

Hermione blinked: "I did not exactly. I was edging closer to the bathroom to hear what they were saying and hit something, landed on a set of steps – the sconces immediately lit up so I followed... I think the house was trying to tell me something."

"Yeah, we have a roof," Draco snapped.

"Gallows humour, I like that," she crossed one leg over another and folded her arms beneath her chest and casually leaned against a chimney, tilting her head just on the right side of arrogance. "Draco, I know we have barely spoken more than a few words together but I am sort of listening to my intuition here," she looked again out of the view, "it is lovely but there are safer ways to enjoying the view."

"I am not enjoying the view I am about to end my life!"

"Really?" Hermione sounded bored. "Get on with it then, I want to enjoy the view and you are blocking it."

"I did not ask for an audience," he snapped.

The girl was unbelievable. Draco looked at her – she seemed unaffected by what he said – he realised that she was showing she cared but trying not to be fluffy about it. Hermione scratched an imaginary spot on her hand and flicked it.

"Come on then, I have not got all day – we got less than an hour before nightfall."

Draco threw back his head and laughed. For that essence of Slytherin alone, he would do what she wanted him to do. So he carefully turned on the wall preparing to jump back down on the roof to join Hermione. Instead the heel caught and he slipped, landing with a thud on his stomach. Panicking, he began slipping down, trying to scrabble up but he only ended up dangling dangerously close to the precipice of death. Jumping into action Hermione grabbed hold of his wrists as hard as she could.

"HOLD ON!" she yelled. Hermione's blood rushed to her ears as she tried not to retch at looking down at such a height. "Come on Draco, hand on my wrist, I need to step back a bit but I can't if you're dragging me down."

Draco began flailing the way he did before in Dolohov's grip. The girl was holding onto him for all her might.

"Granger, wand!"

"I don't have one," she said. "It's too dangerous for you to give me yours. You just have to dig your nails into me."

Wincing, Draco tried to hold onto Hermione's slim wrist as tightly as possible. Clutching onto the sleeve with his other hand.

"Call one of the Elves."

Before Hermione could ask another door opened. Hermione threw her head around to see who had come and breathed a huge sigh of relief as she saw Lucius rush upon the scene. This gave her a renewed hope and she turned her attention back to her peer.

"Come on Draco, put your feet on the wall. Hold on, climb!"

All reports of her being insufferable were greatly exaggerated, Lucius discovered, she really did know some good facts. Again Lucius cursed the fact that he had been magically disabled by the destruction of his wand. Miss Granger was gurning with the effort to keep his son safe. Using all sources of strength within her so his son could remain alive. That had to stop soon, or they'd both be dead.

He rushed over to the pair, leaping over the pointed part of the roof, his cloak flapped behind him as his long hair flared out in flight. Hermione was suddenly struck by how Thor like he looked in that moment. All he needed was a powerful hammer and a full blond beard! Soon, he was by Hermione's side, without a thought for his own safety, Lucius bent over the battlements and gripped Draco's cloak by the back and began dragging his son over the wall. All three were grunting and sweating with the effort. Hermione began to cramp with a stitch but she fought through the pain as she and Lucius finally pulled his son over the other side to safety.

Draco landed on a heap on top of his haggard father: "What were you doing?" Lucius asked through his heavy pants. Hermione was about to crawl away but Lucius caught her wrist. Forcing her to lay there in a moment she did not feel she belonged in. "For Salazar's Sake What Were You Doing Draco?"

Draco turned his head down and tears stood in his eyes but they were not going to fall, he was too proud for that: "I am sorry," he whispered, "I wanted to end my life. You and mother can have another and..." suddenly Lucius hugged Draco tightly to him sobbing over his son's shoulder.

"Do not think for one moment you can be replaced, Draco," Lucius hushed as he kissed his son's cheek. "Do not even consider that. You are my treasure, my gold!"

"I'm useless, father, I..."

Lucius dug his hands deep into Draco's hair as he held his son even closer to his body – to prove to himself – that his son was still there. His beautiful, handsome, intelligent son. Never had she seen Lucius Malfoy appear so sexy as he did in that moment. Hermione jerked on Lucius hand in an effort for him to let her go, this only served to remind Lucius he was not alone.

"What were you doing here.. not here to..." he asked her, a hint of concern in his tone, showing through his silver eyes.

"No," she replied in a small voice. "I was not even curious, for once the house seemed to sense something was wrong. Unfortunately, it thought I was the only person who could do something about it. I came up here and saw Draco," she was whispering. "I had stopped him, he wasn't going to do it, he slipped as he was about to come back over."

"If you had not have been here..." Lucius sighed.

When his father had let him go, Draco rolled off Lucius chest, onto his side. Using the side of a chimney to help him shakily back on his feet. Wincing as he clutched onto his throbbing solar plexus, nothing he had not felt before with Quidditch injuries. He watched as Lucius looked at Hermione. Draco's adrenaline had not zeroed down yet. Neither had Lucius, he had to do something with it. The way his father glanced at Hermione unsettled Draco so he turned his head away only hearing the scuffles of bodies moving.

Remembering what their Lord said Lucius pulled Hermione over to his side, fisted her hair in his hand and pulled her up. Once their mouths were level, Lucius attacked her lips with his. It did not last long – being more a lip kiss than anything – and was out of gratitude than out of passion, but Hermione found she was rather disappointed it did not become more. Once he had stopped she felt the tingle for hours after. This moment he was more a man than she had ever witnessed him be. His love for his son caused a warmth to spread through her body and down to her groin. At once she blamed it on adrenaline.

"Please, do not tell Narcissa," he gasped. Spearmint, she revelled in the scent of spearmint.

"It was a thank you kiss," Hermione said confused.

"Not that," he sighed. "Under my Lord's orders you can..." he decided to stop there. Lucius was not sure if that would be the right thing to say to this obviously morally upright young woman. She would not like to be considered a gift. "Narcissa must never know about Draco and his..." Hermione understood, the Mother Bear was to be protected by the fact her cub had almost... "As for the kiss," he smirked. "Is there a chance of exploring that, perhaps, a little later?"

What was happening, she was getting the come-on from Lucius Malfoy at the same time she seemed to be giving him signals of a come-on from her? Yes, she wanted to explore where this sudden chemistry could lead... if the Dark Lord would permit it of course... and where did that thought come from?

"I do not know, it depends what your Lord has to say."

Hermione blushed, their eyes met and suddenly she wondered how she had not noticed how handsome he was before. His concern over his son changed her perspective of him immediately.

"If you had run the bath you would have run it too hot for her, Bella, I told you..."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at Lucius, "I cannot keep this a secret – Narcissa is the mother and she has a right to know what is going on inside her son's head – it is hard to sweep attempted suicide under the rug."

Lucius sighed and glanced up at his son who was ignoring them the best he could. Leaning over he pecked her cheek and stood up, helping Hermione up fluidly at the same time. Narcissa saw how close to the edge Hermione was and rushed up to her.

"Miss Granger, please, whatever you are thinking – please step away from the parapet..."

Bellatrix had a gleam in her eyes communicating quite loudly for a silent wish: Hermione edged closer towards Narcissa. Instinctively Hermione knew Bella would rather push her over the wall with a smirk and a childlike: Oopsie, then go her merry way to torture someone else.

"It was not Hermione, mother," Draco sighed. "It was me. The wards told Hermione something was wrong. If the house had not warned her... well..."

Immediately Narcissa drew her son into a fierce hug sobbing over his chest, Draco hugged her back, his gaze landed on Hermione's cinnamon eyes. Again she tried to creep away from the situation but Narcissa held her hand and drew her into the family hug.

"You saved my son?" Narcissa's voice wobbled. "You really saved..."

"Your husband deserves the reward not me," Hermione said bashfully, "he sensed through the wards that something was wrong too, without his strength I would have been useless."

Narcissa still rubbed Hermione's face and nodded: "You are right, our Lord permitting, my husband is yours tonight if you wish it so."

"No, that's not what I..."

"I do not wish it so," the high voice had returned. "Miss Granger please follow Mrs Malfoy to your rooms – Bellatrix, it seems I need to keep disciplining you – Abraxas study – now!"

The Dark Lord had heard everything and gleaned what was not said. No, Lucius had to prove himself before he partook of the carnal delights of Miss Granger.

"My Lord," Narcissa bowed as she reached him. Hermione made to do the same but he stopped her.

"No, you are to be seen as my Equal tonight, the only exception is that you not sit higher than I."

Hermione smiled sardonically: "Forgive me for my impudence, but for me, that would have to be a high chair. You have observed how short I am?"

The Dark Lord caressed her face, tracing a fingertip along her jawline before ending at the base of her skull. Hermione was shocked to find herself being pulled close to him and lips crashed down on hers. For some reason, Hermione found it rather pleasant, the dark magic aside, she knew what he really looked like. Once the kiss broke, he again had a dark brown gaze and less blue/white skin speckled with a pink flush to his cheeks.

"It is always the littlest packages that greatness can be found in, Miss Granger, remember that," he said as he bumped against her forehead. Hermione gulped and nodded. "Go, before I am tempted further."

Narcissa tugged Hermione back down the stairs she came. Now they were on their own the blonde would have to give Hermione a few tips on how to appreciate the Lord's attentions. A horrid lesson to learn, but all female followers had slept with the Dark Lord. Well, most – Alecto Carrow did not for her obvious proclivities, and was severely tortured for not accepting her Lord's bed. As for Umbridge – how that human toad made Mrs Malfoy shudder with disgust – how could anyone want to be with that? It transpired that even her Lord had his limitations, for he was the one that refused her advances. Maybe the pink plaid was a huge turn off. Or maybe the toad would have hatched a Basilisk that was too monstrous even for their Lord to contemplate.

"May I ask a question, Mrs Malfoy?" Hermione asked as she watched the woman peruse the cupboards and draws.

"Please do," she sighed. Here it comes. "I have been told it is somewhat impossible to stop you from asking questions."

Blushing at Narcissa's statement, Hermione chuckled: "Yes, I am of a rather inquiring mind," she decided to be rather candid with the Witch who was expending extra effort in being hospitable to someone she deemed less than worthy, "when I was a child my gran knitted me a jumper, decorated with a red question mark on a black background. I was told to wear it with the firm instruction that I point to the garment if I had a query."

To her surprise Narcissa laughed warmly: "Curiosity and the cat, you know, Hermione."

"Oh I know, believe me, hanging around with Harry Potter, one cannot help but know," Hermione tilted her head. "What does he want with me?"

Narcissa stopped in her tracks: "What do you mean?"

"Your Lord, what does he want with me?"

"One guesses he would like you to be near him," Narcissa said. "Anything that intrigues him," she shook her head, "anyone really, he likes to get to the bottom of. You have been a matter of interest in this household since the moment Draco came home for the Christmas holidays in his first year."

"Yes but..." Hermione was frustrated. Scared and frustrated, "I am not a Death Eater, I do not fit the criteria for a start," here Narcissa smiled as she found the robes that would be perfect for her. Good thing she knew a few charms to resize the robes to Miss Granger's emaciated frame. The silence was unbearable: "Do I?"

"That is for my Lord to decide," Narcissa answered calmly. "Now, come on, in the bath – I have a lot to oversee so..."

"Of course," Hermione followed Narcissa into the opulent bathroom.

She was not shy of being naked in front of a strange woman. Muggle swimming pool changing rooms beat that out of her. So she comfortably stripped in front of Narcissa. The older woman gave nothing away over her guest's withered frame – the Lord was right – she needed somewhere to stay for a while to gather her strength.

"Now, I have to oversee the seating arrangements, you are to be seated on our Lord's Left side. Later I shall instruct you on Etiquette and Conversation technique."

"Who will be sitting on his right?"

Narcissa seemed to falter, quickly she recovered herself and shortly after smiled: "The Headmaster of course," she said breezily.

Great, Hermione muttered, just wonderful. Spiffing, one might say.

Sitting next to the Dark Lord, and opposite Headmaster Snape... "The other side of me?" she asked nervously.

When Narcissa told her she paled – considerably – Narcissa did not see the frightened look on her guests face.

Stuck between The Darkest Lord of all, the snarkiest of them all, and now – she gulped – the fiercest of them all...

Happy Bloody Christmas to me; Hermione groaned.


AN: So, just who is the fiercest of them all? Dolohov? Greyback? Rowle? Readers decide... If people were hoping for Draco to be part of the Multi - I am really sorry but I cannot write Dramione, I love reading them but I cannot bring myself to do so - do not feel sorry for him though - he will find love, I do like the blond ferret but he is not meant to be with my dear little otter...

Reminder that I do have a facebook page: Silver Lioness, and I am on Live Journal as: SilverLioness80.

Also, I am going on Holiday from 17th of June to the 24th of June, I may write whilst there, but I am not so sure about updating. Exploring Whitby and parts of Yorkshire... I love Yorkshire, and should provide me with more inspiration.