A/N: Me again! Just thought that I'd go ahead and give a few notes on this rewrite: 1. I realized that I sort of neglected George in the original, wanting to make way for *ahem* other things that oldies will know what I'm talking about. So, their relationship is much more intense and first-love-in-the-middle-of-a-war-like. 2. I'm doing my best to develop Bailey's friends more. I had realized that I had done something that irritates me-made a story about a Slytherin spend more time with Gryffindors than with their own Housemates. And 3. I made the orginal sort of just glide over the major plot points rather than get down and dirty with them, as I had a lack of time. So now, I am trying to rectify that.

As proof, while the scene between Bailey and her mother is still in this chapter, there is roughly four or five more pages of material in this chapter. So enjoy!

Dear Bailey,

Mother and I are in Italy for the summer—spending some time in Florence with her family. Merlin, Nonna doesn't ever seem to stop cooking, no matter that she has a house-elf to do it all for her!

I know that we've agreed not to talk about the Gryffindors, but I have to ask—what is it like living with The-Boy-With-The-Big-Head? Your house hasn't been redecorated to red and gold yet, has it? Or—Merlin forbid—you haven't started singing the Lions' version of Weasley is Our King?

On a more serious heavier note, I hope you are doing alright…. With everything. My offer still stands—Mother could have you an international portkey in less than two days and you could spend the rest of summer here with me. I know you are dating Weasel Weasley, but really, everyone is safer outside of Britain now. And, even if all that wasn't going on, sometimes it's just good to get away.

So, yeah, if you need it, please let me know.

Always yours,

Blaise Zabini

Dear Blaise,

Believe it or not, some people actually enjoy to cook and do other such mundane things. Careful there, you're veering into Malfoy-esque territory.

Without Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum, Potter really isn't horrible. Strangely enough, he is one of those people who love to cook, which Mum doesn't seem to know how to deal with. It seems to go against her very nature to allow someone else to do all the cooking, yet she can't seem to find it in her to fight it after working all day. I've been kind of worried about her—she's much more tired lately than I've ever seen her before.

So, in answer to your question, no I won't join you in Italy. Don't worry too much about me—I've taken appropriate measures to keep us safe here. Though Italy sounds wonderful, I have to take care of Mum. It's what Dad would It's just what I have to do right now.

Write soon,

Bailey

P.S. We didn't agree not to talk about Gryffindors; I just threatened to curse you next time you insulted my boyfriend. You are doing much better—I commend you on it!

Toward the end of summer, Harry went to stay with the Weasleys for a week or two, leaving Bailey and her mother together alone, as they had been for fourteen years. Unlike those years, Bailey did everything she could to avoid her mother. She threw herself into both the assignments from Professor Snape and the jobs from the Dark Lord to avoid that reality. Of course, her mother would not just leave her be.

"Jeez, Bails, this stinks!" she said one day as she walked into Bailey's bedroom, where she had set up her lab. "Is tha' pickled bats?" she asked, sounding like she was going to throw up at the thought.

"Just the wings," Bailey replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from her work.

"Bailey, wha' are yeh doin'?"

"Research."

"Yeh've been doin' 'research' for five days straight," her mother replied sharply. "Yeh've barely even ate."

"Well, research takes time," Bailey replied.

"Never woulda guessed," her mother replied with an equal amount of sarcasm. "As I remember, research is notorious for being time and money consuming?"

Bailey grunted in reply.

"Last I knew, you 'ad no access to money, which I am fairly sure yeh need fer these—I don' even know wha' tha' is!" Tilly broke off, pointing at a jar of pickled bowtruckle intestines.

"Yeh prob'ly don't wanna know."

"If yer talkin' about the jar, then yeh're probably righ'. But the money I do wanna know abou'," her mother growled. Bailey continued ignoring her until suddenly there was a splash of water, a hiss and steam as the fire under her cauldron went out.

"Wha' the bleeding 'ell are yeh thinkin'? D'yeh know how much work I've put into tha'? Do yeh realize yeh coulda caused that to blow up the 'ouse?" Bailey shouted, standing up from her work table.

"Tha' would be why I aimed for the fire, not the pot," she said sarcastically. Bailey glared at her. "Now would yeh care to tell me 'ow—exactly—yeh 'ave the money fer this? An', fer tha' matter, why me collectors all o' sudden stopped callin'? I've been rather missin' their company."

"I just went to the bank, alright?" Bailey said, turning back around to try and salvage what she could of her potion. It was a mess; Professor Snape would be disgusted at the sticky goo in her cauldron. Her mother grabbed her and turned her around, holding her there by her shoulders.

"Minerva Bailey Ann, I know that's not the whole story," her mother said, searching her eyes. "I know Wizardin' inheritance like the back of me 'and—especially when it comes teh doddery ol' Pureblood families. And as long as Bella and Cissy are alive, yeh can't 'ave possibly been able teh access tha' bank until yeh turn seventeen."

"I just made a deal fer an allowance, alrigh'?" Bailey said, trying to squirm away. Her mother caught her arms by the wrists, glancing at them a lot less inconspicuously than she likely intended.

"Oh my God, Mum!" Bailey shouted, yanking away from her mother. She was shaking. "Merlin, I'm just still on good terms with Narcissa, and I knew you would never approve, alrigh'?"

Her mother gave her a long, searching look, before shaking her head sadly and leaving the room.

"I hope yeh know, yeh can always come talk teh me," her mother said quietly.

Bailey stood frozen, trying to take stock of her emotions before burying them deep, deep away and turning back to her work. She took one look as the sodden logs and the potion that was supposed to be thinner than water had turned into a nearly solid, gloopy mess, and evanescoed it away before starting again.

She ignored the niggling voice in the back of her head that told her she had gotten all-too-used to lying to her mum.

Dear Blaise,

You have got to stop offering for me to go to Italy—Mum makes it more tempting every day. I love her, and I want her to be protected, but Merlin she is nosy! Just the other day she doused my potion flames, demanding to know how I'd got the money for all the ingredients—

"Whatcha writing?"

Bailey jumped at the sudden intrusion of her personal space. She turned and smacked her forehead into her boyfriend's almost immediately.

"George!" she exclaimed, ignoring the stinging sensation in her forehead as she crumpled the letter she had started to Blaise. "When did you get here—I had no idea you were coming!"

"That was rather the idea," he said, rubbing his forehead with a grin.

She laughed, reaching over the back of her mother's couch to kiss him, when her mother happened to walk in herself.

"I said you could see her, not snog her!"

Bailey's ears went red and she glared at her mother. "Mum!"

Tilly laughed. "Oh, don' take yerself so seriously, Bailey—yeh need teh 'ave some more fun befer yeh head back teh school. Yer godbrother is."

"Yes, an' Harry is just who we should all aspire teh be," Bailey muttered, rolling her eyes.

Her mother fixed her with a look. Though inviting George over was clearly meant to be an olive branch for her earlier accusations, that did not mean that Tilly would be accepting any disrespect from her daughter.

"Sorry, Mum. Mind if I show George the sheep?"

"But I've see—"

Bailey elbowed him in the ribcage.

"Oh, oh yeah, I love sheep. Can't get enough of them, in fact," George said, sounding suspiciously too over-exuberant about farm animals. Tilly's eyes narrowed, but she waved them off.

"Fine, off with yeh," Tilly said sarcastically. "Guess I'm makin' dinner tonight—yer godbrother has got me spoiled already…"

"Again, with Harry," Bailey muttered as she flipped over the back of the couch and caught George's hand to lead him outside.

"Don't worry, my Mum's the same," he said conspiratorially as they made their way out of the house as quickly as possible. "I guess our boy Harry just has that effect on mothers."

"No kiddin'," Bailey replied laughing.

"Now, you know that I've already seen your beloved sheep," George said as they approached the barn door.

"Do not mock the sheep," Bailey warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he soothed, taking a step closer and backing her toward the door. "But given that I don't have the vested interest that you do in ovine creatures, what will we do out here."

Smirking, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Take a wild guess, Weasley."