A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! It seems as though this story is going to be longer than I had first planned. I guess I've just fallen in love with it. Anyways, this chapter is a bit longer (mostly due to the fact that I'm really upset right now and need to write and/or draw before I go mad). So anyways, most of this writing came from either my feelings or the song that I've been listening to. Witness by Sarah McLachlan, if you were wondering. Oh yes and my birthday was just a couple of days ago (May 15th) just incase you wanted some stupid facts about me.

Is misery made beautiful, right before our eyes? Mercy be revealed or blind us where we stand. Will we burn in Heaven? Like we do down here? Will the change come while we're waiting? Everyone is waiting... Witness, Sarah McLachlan

Blaise had not spoken a word to anyone about his plan. Mostly because it was dangerous, and probably against every law that was put in place by the Ministry of Magic but also because he barely knew how he was going to do it himself. He only realized that when he was off the Hogwarts grounds.

Clouds wisped past him, their moisture stinging his eyes and, as far as he knew, the Thestral's eyes as well. He had been able to see them since his second year, right after-No! Thinking about it diverted him from his cause; his whole purpose. Blaise had taken the Thestral that he was riding only an hour before and yet he had already made his way to London (he knew it was London because of the King's Cross station).

The whole time, his mind raced, telling him to go back, telling him to just land and admit that his cause was useless. His heart had over come his brain. It cheered him on, each and every mile passing without regret.

You love this girl! Go get her! Do whatever it takes, Blaise. Even if you die yourself! She's worth it!

Though his mind told him to turn back, the thought that she had deserved her punishment had never touched his mind, or rather he just never surrendered to it and denied the fact that maybe Samantha wasn't an angel. No doubt spoiled his joy for living; not even the fact that he didn't know where he was going exactly.

Of course, the love was completely returned back. But Samantha had completely rethought her last letter. She had admitted to the fact that she had put her one and only love in complete danger. So she wrote him again; this time, with a different feel to the letter.

Dear Blaise,
It's funny how foolish you have been, but it's time for me to confess. It was all a joke. I figured that I might as well have some fun while I was still in hiding. Your pitiful falling for me is downright hilarious! As I was sitting here the other, I was telling some of the others here how you acted (well, I told the ones that were still sane). Their reaction was most similar to mine. You are a pathetic waste of life and are not good enough for someone like me! Don't try and get me. I figured that taking the joke that far was cruel. Even a loser like you doesn't deserve to stay in a place like this.
Signed, Sam.

P.S. DO NOT WRITE BACK! Further letters from you will just make me irritated.

She put her worn quill down on the stone floor that was infested with all different types of organisms. She took in a deep breath, taking in all the dank rotten stink and humid and frozen air. She exhaled sharply and bit her lip. Her eyes started to sting so she rubbed her grimy hands against them.

"AHHH!" Samantha screamed, standing up and letting her tears flow, though they stung her face fiercely. "FUCK!" She kicked the stone wall and banged her head against it; tears mixing with her blood.

"NO!" Samantha screeched and pounded her fist on the wall. She leaned all her weight against the wall and put her head on her folded arm that rested on the stone bricks. "No," she whimpered helplessly, water gushing from her eyes, blood gushing from his head and emotion gushing from inside her.

Later that day, she handed her letter to the postmaster at the prison who gave her a stern look of disapproval.

"It'll be the last one," Samantha whispered, looking down at her feet. "I promise."

"Ha! That's what you've said every time!" The postmaster spat, sending bits of yellow plaque from his unclean mouth.

"No," Samantha protested. "This time for real. I'm being-" she gulped, "executed on Friday and I'm not going to be talking to this person anymore. I've ended it."

The postmaster snorted. "Better for him, I reckon! Don't want to be hanging around scum of your likes!"

"No... I guess not."

Blaise was used to having mail arrive with the other student's mail, in the Great Hall at breakfast time. Coming from a wizarding family (So much for a family, with only one person, he though bitterly) he knew that the owls could find him while he was resting or, if they were incredibly talented owls, when he was still flying. He never did expect to get on though.

But then, as he and Henry (that's what he had named the Thestral) were sitting atop a high cliff somewhere in Greenland, a shoddy looking owl crash-landed close by. He chuckled to himself before heading over, thinking about when Ron had gotten the howler from his mum and his family owl had flown it in. Stupid git, Blaise thought, not really knowing if he was talking about the owl or Ron.

Blaise hopped over to the owl that had just finished untangling itself from a shrub. He snatched the letter from its talons and shooed it away.

"Come on, you little bugger!" he scolded when the pathetic little thing wouldn't leave. "You want me to feed you now? I've barely got enough food for the both of us!" He motioned to Henry and the owl cocked its head to the side. "You can't see him can you? Lucky little bitch... Well, you might as well come and take some of our food."

The owl hobbled just behind him as they made their way back to the very top of the hill. He grabbed from his bag a piece of raw meat (kept with a cooling charm of course) and a biscuit. He handed the biscuit to the owl, completely forgetting about his own stomach, which was begging for a decent meal. Instead, Blaise remember the letter and opened it up.

Over and over again he read it, trying to decide if it was real or a cruel joke put in place by Pansy Parkinson. But it was her handwriting. Her style of writing. It was definitely from Samantha. Emotions boiled up deep inside of him, making his stomach lurch with disgust. Disgust in himself, disgust in the world. Anger, sadness, hurt, everything imaginable except for joyful and happy emotions exploded within him. He became nauseous from the tears he swallowed and his head started to throb with an uncontrollable painful sledgehammering.

"She didn't mean it," he concluded, denying all evidence. "Christ! Who am I kidding?! She's just some skanky tease! Little bitch deserves her sentence." And with that last insult, he decided to write her back, completely ignoring her postscript.

Samantha,
You loathsome little whore. Your kind would make me sick if it weren't for the fact that I was also playing a little joke. You see, the thing with Draco was just part of my master plan to get you in bed. It worked quite well didn't it? Well, Pansy and I should be going off now. There's a casual ball tonight just for fun. We're going together of course.
Love ya, (not) Blaise.

She clutched the letter in her bony fingertips. Samantha bit her lip, realizing that it would soon be bleeding from all the times she had done that in the past couple of days to keep from crying. Not that it stopped it, though. Every night she had cried, thinking about Blaise. She had missed him terribly, and now, after reading his letter, the crying still proceeded. This time it was driven by a different emotion. She had had her heart ripped out before, but never as terrible as this.

Her stomach muscles clenched together, making her want to throw up what little contents were currently residing in her stomach. She had stopped eating altogether, figuring she didn't need too anyways. What was the point? She would be practically dead tomorrow anyways. For it was now Thursday that week and Samantha would get the kiss the next day. But that last string of hope lingered in her mind. And if she could write to him, she had thought of what she would say.

Come save me Blaise! I love you so much, it hurts being away from you! Every moment is agony and every hour feels like eternity. I'm drowning in my own thoughts here. I think I'm going insane, which, now that I think about it, isn't entirely unbelievable! Without love, people waste away. I fear that only hoping for you will make me go mad. Save me, Blaise! Save me!

Love, love, love, love (oh how great it is to say that once more) Samantha

She thought about writing it every minute to the final seconds before the kiss. They dragged her down the damp corridor past grasping hands of other prisoners. She didn't resist, yet she didn't get up to walk with the evil creatures that were itching to devour her soul. They resisted, for punishments for crimes like hers were to be witnessed.

Making a show out of it, she thought, disgusted by the government. Watch me be sucked out of... well, me.

They had entered a room that was just a little more lit than the corridor and the cell that she had stayed in. Behind a glass barrier, sat a crowd of curious wizards. Some had to be there, others, much to Samantha's disgust, wanted to be there. She felt their eyes judge her.

"Samantha Riddle and/or Zinok, Starchild, Kilorp," the speaker above her head spoke in a monotone voice as she cringed at mention of past names she had taken up, "you have been charged with the mass murder of 132 muggles, 5 wizards and/or witches and 1 animal of unspecified species. Your punishment is the kiss of death from the dementors. Do you have any last words?"

Samantha nodded and stared back at the group of people that only seemed to be many pairs of eyes. "I did a really screwed up thing and I'm sorry. However, I do not deny that I deserve this. I have had so much time to go over my own thoughts. Hell, sometimes I questioned my own sanity. But one thing had kept me thinking that I shouldn't worry and that everything would be all right. That thing was letters. I had been corresponding with the one person that I ever loved. I realized I had to end it. He was going to come and get me, and never in my life would I endanger him. I faked a letter to him telling him that everything had been a cruel prank." Samantha swallowed hard and her tears came back again. She continued, choking as she spoke, "He told me that he was joking as well. He would never lie to me, so I knew that I had been living for nothing. I can't describe how I felt at that time. No one could ever in their whole life could describe it. But why would you want to? It's about the worst feeling in the world. And you know what? I deserved it. And if I could see him now I would say-"

She was interrupted by a crash to her right, the side where the door was.

"What the fuck? BLAISE?!" She whipped her head to the side. And sure enough, there was Blaise, panting and sweating and looking like he hadn't eaten for days.

"How could you do this to me Sam?" he yelled and was pulled back by a pair of dementors. "How could you break my heart?"

"Blaise, I didn't want you to come! You would have been killed!"

"A broken heart is a fate worse than death!"

Samantha shook he head violently, her tear spraying all over the cloaks of the guards. "Then why did you lie to me Blaise!? Why did you insult me and- and... Oh God, I'm so screwed up right now!"

"No kidding! Hey!" He shoved back the dementors who had clenched his arm too tightly. Being light as the dead, the dementors were thrown against the stonewalls.

"Blaise, NO!"

It was too late. Three dementors had surrounded the young man. Two held him back by his sweater and arms while the other leaned down. It's breath made him want to puke, shirvel up and made him feel like he was drowning. He tried to turn to the side to resist but the dementor held his face with its skeleton hand and breathed heavier on him as it came closer and closer and closer...