Forgive me dear readers! Midterms and work leading up to them has driven me up the wall!!!! Combined with an insanely crippling writers block I haven't updated in forever. This (I strongly hope) will never happen again. Anyways, I hope you're all still here and I promise to update quickly.

Thy needething to update more rapidly author,

~Case Haley

"Miss Fredrichs?"

I felt a small hand tug gently at the hem of my sweater dress. I had spent the last hour in my room, watching the snowfall over the grounds. Since I had arrived home, this was perhaps all I had done—besides avoiding my mother. My father wouldn't arrive home until tonight, at the Christmas Ball, and I missed him terribly. At least I would see him. Even during the holidays, it was rare to see him home. I turned around slowly to look down at Farley. Farley was one the hundred or so house elves running about the manor. She was an old female, perhaps the oldest of the lot, with bright tufts of gray hair. She was quiet and domicile, though she was the only house elf that seemed capable of addressing me face to face. Her long brown ears reclined as her eyes met mine and she dipped into a low bow. The tip of her pointed nose brushed the ground as she stood up.

"Yes Farley?" I asked, sliding reluctantly off the window seat.

"Mistress wants you," she said in a timid voice, gesturing towards the stone hallway outside my door.

I exhaled loudly, closing my eyes.

"What could mother dearest want now?" I huffed.

As Farley opened her mouth, a loud voice cut her off.

"Elizabeth!"

I frowned.

"Damned woman, what do you want now?" I hissed to myself, tiptoeing across the cold stone floor of my room.

I watched Farley wince at the comment, before padding nervously after me. I entered the hall, passing by the torch lit portraits of my grandparents to arrive in the main hall. The house elves of the manor had spent the last week slaving over preparations for the ball. Food was prepared and decorations were conjured without end. The main hall, however, was perhaps the remarkable visible result of their labor. Navy and silver banners, bearing the family crest, adorned the walls—in addition to ever present shield bearing the crest on the wall behind me. House elves were rushing to and fro, bewitching the entrance hall to look like it had been subject winter dusting. Pretty, perhaps, but nauseatingly overwhelming. In the center of it all, amidst the banners, the servants, and the unfolding winter wonderland, stood my mother. Her black hair was swept up into a high bun, held in place by diamond tiara that matched the overwhelming theme of the hall. She wore a navy blue dress, complete with the white gloves that made her looks every bit like a duchess. She turned slowly at my entrance. Her face fell and her eyebrows twisted in an unattractive glare.

"Why aren't you dressed?" She hissed, rushing towards me. Her hands clapped onto my shoulders as her dark eyes gave me a once-over.

I cocked my head innocently.

"Was I supposed to be?" I asked calmly.

Her eyes narrowed and for the slightest moment I believe she planned to hit me. I smirked. Pathetic woman. Her black her wandered past me towards Farley.

"Aren't you in charge of preparing her for this evening?" She released me, gliding towards her.

"Mistress, I…"

Before she could say a word, my mother had kicked her sharply, sending the creature spiraling across the room. I looked down as I heard the tiny body collide with the marble floor.

"You dare talk back to me!" My mother hissed, storming towards her.

Farley squeaked as heard my mother strike her again.

"I swear if you don't have her dressed and prepared before the first guest arrive, you may spend the evening broiling away in the oven."

With the sharp click of heels on the marble floor, my mother was standing in front of me.

"As for you, dress yourself before you further embarrass this family."

I stared back at her, my jaw clenched tightly. One day… I turned on my heel, storming up the grand staircase towards my room. Roetin, perhaps my mother's most faithful house elf, was polishing away at the shield in the hallway of my room.

"Ungrateful girl," he muttered as I walked past.

I paused turning back to him. Without thinking, I pulled out my wand. The next thing I knew, he was lying across the hall, clutching his head as he groaned. How I hated the creature…I pushed open the door to my room, striding inside. There was a pattering on the stone floor. Farley entered, carrying a large box that seemed unimaginably large for her frail body to carry. She sat in on my bed, working expertly with her thin fingers to undo the ribbons that sealed the box.

"Master had this sent for you to wear this evening," she said, carrying the open box towards me.

I reached inside the box, moving aside the gold tissue paper to discover the dress inside. I lifted it slowly, gasping: it was incredible. The black silken bodice of the dress was embroidered with a fine silver thread that was woven into an intricate swirling pattern. Beyond the waist, the dress continued without pattern to the floor. I sat the dress on my bed and returned to the box. The second item was a black fur bolero—to wear across my shoulders. A loud ringing took my attention away from the dress. I glanced at the gold clock mounted above my fireplace. 7:00. Damn. I had thirty minutes until the guest began to arrive. With Farley's aid, I began preparing myself for the ball.

"No, Jamie dear, don't eat that."

I pulled the paste out of his sticky hands placing it on the top of the cupboard. He looked up at me with his wide eyes, glue smeared across his face.

"Martha!" I shouted loudly.

There was a pattering of hurried heels on the floor. The red-haired girl appeared in the doorway; she was a slight, stick of a woman, but help nonetheless.

"Take Jamie and get him cleaned off," I said, leaving the room.

I hurried down the hallway, picking up the piles of dirty linen stacked outside each doorway. I carried the heavy load to the laundry room, dumping the heap onto the floor.

"Mrs. Cole! Jamie's sick!" Came a shout from the hall.

I exhaled loudly, bending over to pick up the heap and toss it into the soapy bin of water. I hurried back into the hall. Sure enough, there he was, puking away in Martha's arm and ruining the floors I spent the morning scrubbing.

"Martha dear, take him to the wash room," I sighed, continuing through the building.

"The wash room?" She asked slowly, holding up the sickly boy.

"Yes, dip him in the bin with the towels," I said, waving her off, "I don't really care what you do as long as he's clean by the time I'm done gathering the rest of the linen."

As I began mounting the stairs, I felt a hand tug at my dress.

"Mrs. Cole! Maggie hit me!"

The little girl Sarah stood on the stairs behind, wide-eyed and teary. She wiped her dripping nose on the hem of her dress. As if I needed more linen to clean.

"Tell her she'll not be getting any supper if she keeps it up," I huffed, leaving her sniffling form as I mounted the stairs.

Goodness. Instead of the neat piles I required, the sheets were spread back and forth across about the place.

"Martha!" I called, picking up the sheets in a vane attempt to organize the mess.

I heard her faint response from the floor below.

"Boys!"

Several tousled heads came into few. From the rooms, I heard several snickers.

"I swear if this is not clean…" I started.

"Mrs. COLE!"

I exhaled loudly, pacing towards the top of the staircase.

"What is it Martha?"

She appeared at the stairs, covered in soap.

"Jaimy's knocked the bucket over," she said slowly.

Can the girl do anything without help?

"Then put him back in and hold him still," I barked, returning to the hallway.

Chaos had erupted. Instead of doing as they were told, the boys had taken to tossing the sheets about.

"STOP! Stop now!" I cried, rushing into the hallway.

A ball of sheets collided with my face, knocking myself to my feet. I rolled over onto my knees, clutching my head. The snickering increased as I tottled slowly to my feet. If only one got more limber with age.

"Mrs. Cole!"

I turned my head towards the direction of staircase.

"What is it now Martha?" I huffed loudly.

I was surprised to see her standing at the top landing, pale faced and out of breath.

"What Martha?" I asked, turning back to the messy piles of sheets.

"He's back."

I froze. The hallway of boys fell silent. With a final glance towards Martha, I raced down the stairs as quickly as my old age would carry me. As I reached the landing, I managed to calm myself, adjusting my graying hair into a neat orderly bun. With Martha standing behind me at the stairwell, I opened the door.

Marcus Boswick

My word. I knew the Fredrichs were some of the most prominent wizards alive, but I had never expected such a ball. The manor—a large white castle of a home—was decorated with all the finery one could have expected. The entrance was exquisite—a warmer and perhaps more breathtaking version of the winter storm outside. Even the ceiling had been bewitched to appear as if it were snowing lightly, though the snow never seemed to land on anyone or anything inside. Well-dressed wizards and witches stood by to take our cloaks and furs as we entered. Being the well-mannered gentleman that I am, my first response, once inside the manor, was to greet my host and hostess.

Christoff Fredrichs stood at the end of entrance hall, dressed in a splendid black suit that bore two large blue diamonds at the cuffs. He dark hair was combed back neatly, and with the prestige he exuded, he might as well been the Minister himself. Beside him was his lovely wife Clarissa. She too was absolutely stunning in her blue dress—the same blue as the banners barring the family crest just above my head. She smiled brightly, thanking me kindly for attending the ball. After a brief conversation with the two, I paced towards the door to await the arrival of my friend Alfred. As I did so, I couldn't help but look towards the balcony. There, her arms resting on the marble railing, was Elizabeth Fredrichs—the pair's only child. She was dressed as brilliantly as her parents, though she did not share their same excitement. In fact, she appeared downright annoyed. Probably the result of a childhood alone—those children always tended to be somewhat selfish—put-off when they didn't get their way. I couldn't help but wonder what on Earth could put-off a child this privileged. I made a note to myself to speak with her this evening—What an entrance I would make to return to work with a first hand account of the Grindelwald attack! Nearly everyone had heard about the attack by now, whether in the Daily Prophet or by word—but a first hand account from the victim herself! Well it wasn't long before Alfred arrived and into the ball we proceeded.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I swear if another guest asked me to recount my heroic escape from Grindelwald's heir, I was going to die. The last thing I needed was images of Anthony Calanthe floating around my head. I huffed, edging through the crowd to avoid the ever-annoying Marcus Boswick, a ministry employee who worked in the department of Curious Incidents.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

I turned to see my father smiling at me. I smiled back, walking towards his outstretched arm. Beside him, my mother's smile faded ever so slightly. He placed his arm over my shoulders, turning towards his guest.

"Elizabeth dear this is Count Crossby of Yettleby," he said, gesturing towards the tall man across from him. The red medal on his chest glinted broadly in the lights of the ballroom. I nodded courteously, taking his large hand.

"A pleasure to meet you Miss Fredrichs," he said, bowing slightly, "You must feel quite comfortable to be home after your ordeal."

He clapped me on the shoulder. It took everything I had to return his bright smile.

"Of course," I replied kindly.

"Who knows what we would have done without her," my mother replied. While my father and the count failed to notice her sarcasm, I stared back at her, my eyes hard.

"She's lucky to have gotten away so easily," the Count continued, "Won't be long before you two are too old to chase after her eh? Keep her in line?"

My mother's face fell. She had an addictive obsession with her own beauty. I glanced towards her smiling.

"I shan't keep you all any longer," I said, turning back to the Count, "A pleasure to meet you sir."

He nodded in response. I turned, leaving the three as I traveled through the ballroom. I recognized several students, nearly all Slytherins. I edged past Roldophus Lestrange, ignoring his dark glare as I headed for the parlor, hoping to find at least one of my friends. I slowed as a loud laugh echoed from the room. I stopped beside the door peeking inside. Brutus Malfoy stood at the center of the room, conversing loudly with Arcturus Black. Abraxas Malfoy stood beside him, staring hard at his feet and appearing, if possible, paler than usual. Arius, Arcturus' son stood against the far wall, looking as bored and uninterested as he often did.

"Has Abraxas received his O.W. L. scores yet?" Arcturus continued, "Arius received high honors on his last spring."

High honors? I glanced towards Arius' dull expression. How'd that happen?

"No," Brutus replied, his cold eyes falling on Abraxas, "But let us hope he too receives high honors."

He paused and I could have sworn Abraxas flinched. Arius smirked behind him.

"Isn't that right boy?" Brutus continued, his hand tightening on his son's shoulder.

Abraxas muttered something in a low voice, his eyes still watching his feet. What would his friends think of the great Abraxas Malfoy if they could see this? Any other moment I would have loved to see him as humiliated and timid as he was now, but at the moment, I couldn't mask the uneasy feeling in my stomach as I watched.

"I swear this boy is good for nothing," his father continued, shoving him forward. Arius laughed, standing up from the wall to stand in front of the fireplace. "I'm surprised the Fredrichs let such an unworthy being into their home."

I thought of my mother in the room behind me, laughing away in front of her guests without a care in the world whether or not I existed. Without thinking, I stepped in front of the doorway, revealing my presence. Brutus and Arcturus glanced towards me in surprise. Malfoy's blue eyes widened fearfully as he faded even paler. I walked towards him, watching his eyes harden in a vain attempt to mask his humiliation.

"You're here," I said, trying my best to sound excited.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. I disregarded his expression, wrapping my arms around his neck as I hugged him tightly.

"You know him?" His father asked slowly.

"Of course I know him—he's my partner in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I swear I'd be lost in the class without him."

Beside me, Abraxas forced an awkward nod. Brutus stared back at me, his pale eyes surprised.

"May I borrow Abraxas?" I asked. "I've been dying to introduce him to my father."

Brutus nodded, blinking slowly while Arius stared back at me with his pale eyes. I wrapped my arm around Abraxas', leading him from the room. He followed me into the crowd until we were out of the earshot of his father.

"What the hell are you doing, Fredrichs?" He asked, pulling me back to face him.

"Do you need to ask Malfoy?" I asked, raising my eyesbrows.

He exhaled sharply.

"I was perfectly fine without you Fredrichs," he hissed, tightening his grip on my arm.

"Yes, I could see how well you were handling the situation Malfoy. Another few minutes or so, he may have slapped you right across your pretty face," I retorted, yanking my arm out of his grasp. I started through the crowd before turning back to him.

"You know, Abraxas, some people could have just said thank you," I said. I paused as he stared back at me with his cold blue eyes. "Why the hell I even bothered is besides me."

I turned quickly, passing through the crowd towards the stairs. Proud son of a bitch…I stormed through the house before arriving at last, in the dark quiet space of my room. I shut the heavy door behind me, not bothering to mutter the incantation to lock it. I sat down slowly on the small bench at my window. There were a million places in this world that I could be, yet I would remained here, a stranger in my own house.

I stepped back into a side hall as Mrs. Cole opened the door. She swallowed quietly, pretending to adjust her tight blonde bun as the boy entered the orphanage. He looked the same as always: his black hair combed neatly, his pale hands clasped behind his back as if he were always pacing. His dark green eyes took in the hall around him as he took another step forward, leaving Mrs. Cole to shut the door behind. To any man or woman strolling the streets of London, he appeared a promising young man; the consummate figure they all hoped to see their sons become. We knew differently. They hadn't felt that impending sense of fear that seem to invade every room he entered. They hadn't sought to understand that unnatural phenomena that occurred when Tom returned to the orphanage every summer. How would they act if they had witnessed one of the horrific incidences that had occurred, like the hanging of Billy Stubb's rabbit, after Tom and Billy had a disagreement, or the night Mrs. Cole was almost killed by little Eric Whaley, when he wandered through the hall entranced, holding a kitchen knife. The latter had occurred after a heated argument in which Mrs. Cole had strongly urged Tom leave his boarding school for a local school that had offered to take him. While Tom could never be proved in any of these events, deep down, we had no doubt it was him; the look in his eyes gave it away every time. It was almost as if he were laughing at us, as if to say: I dare you to prove it, Martha.

What had we ever done to receive such a boy? Who knew sixteen years ago, that the poor woman, stumbling lifelessly up to our doorsteps would give birth to such a monster? If I had had the slightest bit of warning, I swear I would have turned that woman back out onto the streets to die with the monster.

A sudden piercing pain down the center of back caused me to step sharply into the hallway from my place behind the wall. As I stood up straight, the pain receding slowly, I found myself staring into Tom's eyes. He smiled at me calmly, cocking his head.

"Are you alright Martha?" He asked.

I shook my head quickly. Mrs. Cole's eyes widened but she said nothing.

"I assume my room hasn't been given away?" He asked, turning his dark gaze from myself to Mrs. Cole.

She shook her head quickly.

"No, no Tom. No one's touched it since you were last here," she sputtered quickly.

Tom turned smoothly towards the stairs.

"I shan't be long," he replied, ascending the stairs.

We said not a word until we heard his door close on the floor above.

"Gods knows what's brought him back," she said, her eyes watching the ceiling.

I could hear his slow footsteps pacing through the room. Mrs. Cole exhaled shakily as she locked the door.

"But God save what ever has brought him back."

I heard a snicker as someone entered the room behind me. I stood up, turning sharply to find myself facing Arius Black.

"Well look what we have here. If it isn't the princess of the ball herself," drawled Arius Black, stepping towards the center of my room. He smirked, laughing to himself as his pale eyes glided over me. His cousin Roldolphus Lestrange stood beside him, grinning through the dark hair that fell across his eyes. As the two stepped forward, I spied Arin Black, Arius' brother behind them. Only a fifth year, he was physically and nearly psychologically identical to his seventh year brother.

"Get out, Arius," I hissed, striding towards him.

"That's not a way to greet a guest," he laughed, catching my arm and pulling me towards him.

"I swear if you don't let me go and leave my room, Arius…"

He laughed, leaning towards me.

"You'll what sweetheart?" He drawled, "There are three of us and one of you."

Arin and Lestrange snickered behind him. How the hell did I always wind up in these situations? I glanced towards my room door just beyond them. If I could get past them, I could return to the ballroom. Neither one would dare bother me then. Arius smirked, tightening his grip on my arm.

"What's wrong, Lizzie?" He cooed, "You didn't seem to have a problem with Abraxas this evening."

I groaned, attempting to snatch my arm away from his. Why didn't I grab my wand?

"Damn it, Black, let me go!" I hissed.

He laughed again, lowering his face to mine.

"Come now Fredrichs, let's play nicely," he said slowly. His pale eyes stared into mine smirking, and I felt the slightest pang of fear. Suddenly, he stood up, his eyes growing blank.

"Let's go," he said, abruptly releasing my arm. Arin and Rodolphus gaped at him. He turned awkwardly and beckoning the two to follow as he left the room. With a final glance towards me, the two followed their leader.

I stood in the center of the room, staring out the door through which the three had just departed. What on Earth had happened to him? I turned back to my bench slowly, glancing over my shoulder at the empty doorway. As I sat down, the sound of footsteps in the hallway caught my attention. I turned sharply to see a figure in my doorway.

"He won't bother you anymore," Abraxas said slowly.

I laughed sharply.

"What do you care Malfoy?"

He shrugged, taking a step into my room.

"When you have been forced to look up at him all your life, its not hard to find yourself hating him," he replied.

He paused before continuing slowly.

"Besides, I owe you an apology."

I look up at him surprised. Was Abraxas Malfoy apologizing to me? I stood up slowly, turning to face him.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," he said, looking up at me, "And thank you."

He gave me a small smile before walking past me towards the window.

"You know Lizzie Fredrichs, we're more alike than either one of us would care to admit," he said, still facing the window.

Deep down, I knew he was right. While I chose to ignore my family, he chose to disguise his disregard for them with pride. We both knew and shared the same loathing of a parent, too proud to love their child. We both understood this life; even the inexorable truth that there was nothing either one of us could do to escape. After a long silence between, Abraxas turned back from the window.

"I should go," he replied, "Before my father begins to wonder where I've gone."

He strode towards the door, leaving me standing at the center of my room. He paused in the doorway, turning back to me.

"You know he'll be staying with us at the time of the New Year's Ball," he said softly.

I looked back at him silently as he gave me a small smirk.

"Good Evening to you Lizzie," he said finally, disappearing from sight.

Hey whatcha thinking? I know what I'm thinking, READ AND REVIEW! Leading studies have proven its a top cure for writers block--or so I hear. Well anyhoosits, I guess I owe you all something for reviewing, even with my unnecessarily long period since my last update. How about some sneak previews, eh?

Let's see:

-winter break shouldn't last more than two or so more chapters. Trust me though it won't be boring...

which brings me to my next preview

When the serpent sets its sights

Three will meet their final nights

One revenge, one less alive,

Another death will soon arrive,

Four in all, perhaps one more,

You'll have to see what's in store

mwahahahahahahaha

~Case Haley

and now some subliminal messaging:

REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....REVIEW....

-I don't know about you, but I'd do what it says.