A/N: Hello Everyone!

I'd like to first apologize for the long wait. My computer's functionality had decided to run off with my muses, leaving me not only uninspired but also unable to update. After much poking and proding, I have managed to induce it's cooperation long enough so I can post this chapter.

Now on to the thank you's:

WotcherTonks: Thank you so much for reviewing chapter 19. It is true that Severus has feelings for Kaida-for reasons I cannot divulge at this time. But rest assured that you will know soon enough, as the to cause of Severus' infatuation.

EyesofEmerald: Thank you for continuing to review! I'm glad to hear that my story still has the ability to capture your attention; I hope that this chapter will not disappoint you.

Riaelfgirl: Thank you very much! As always, you flatter me with your kind words (words I don't think I really deserve, but nonetheless, thankful to recieve). I hope you find this chapter to be as engaging as the previous one.

Dark Vampiresss: Thank you so much for continuing to read and review. And as always, you are too kind.

Aerlalaith: I'm glad you enjoyed chapter 19, I do apologize for its length, and I hope that this chapter will make up for it. Thank you for continuing to read and review.

Chantal J: Thank you. I hope you enjoy chapter 20!

The Parrot has ceased to be: I'm sorry about the length of chapter 19. It was rather short, I suppose I am reverting to my original style of short chapters. Not to worry though, chapter 20 is a tad longer, which I hope you will find to be satisfactory. Thank you for reviewing!

Titou Moony :-P: Thank you and Welcome back! I'm elated that you are enjoying the story! I hope you continue to read and review my little story!

lilyfan: Thank you for reviewing. I believe this chapter will answer your question regarding Kaida's vampiric state! I hope you enjoy it and that you will continue your patronage of my story.

The Grim: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed that little splash of "semi-fluff". You are always so generous with your compliments and kind words that it was the least I could do to add that little dream. Thank you again! And I hope you will continue to read and review.

Yavannie: As usual, you have submitted to me a most eloquent and beautifully written review. You have a wonderful way with words, an inspired play with prose; perhaps someday (soon?) you will grace us all with a story. Thank you for continuing to read and review my meager story.

Neoma: Welcome back! And there is really no need to apologize. Terribly sorry that I could not answer your questions-know that the answer is coming up (not in this chapter persay...but very soon). I hope you enjoy this chapter and that you will continue to read and review.

esta-gr: Thank you for reviewing and welcome back!

Now a quick note before we get on with the story, as you know I have broken up Allhallow's Eve into several pieces. This is just one piece of the of the evening. I had wanted to post it all at once but that would have kept you all waiting a ridiculously long period of time. The chapter as of this very moment, is far from complete, so please understand that it will take me some time to finish it off (especially with such a temperamental computer at my disposal). Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

Ninde Annare

Chapter 20:

I make my way to the door of my chambers, listening attentively for the sound of feet. Satisfied that the hall was devoid of witnesses, I slip out silently. I move swiftly through the halls with a speed unknown to mortals. Within moments I find myself at the base of the dungeon stairs. Dressed in black satin, I melt into the shadows, where I wait quietly for my prey. A young girl approaches; she looks up and down the dungeon corridor before whispering the password to the dead ears of the wall.

Silly child! You fear that your password will fall into the wrong hands, when really you should fear falling into mine!

How fortunate for you that I have not marked you as my prey…

I watch as the damp stonewall that once stood so blankly before me, slide open, revealing its emerald-colored depths. I follow her into the secret abode. A familiarity washes over me-for seven years this was my home. I watch as the girl makes her way to the dormitories-she appears to be the only one here. I follow her, careful to remain within the safety of the umbrage of the darkened walls. She appears to be trying to hide something. The small vial of Bulbotuber pus in her hands does not escape my eyes. I watch as it disappears into the folds of her black school robes-she laughs maliciously, whispering to herself, "This'll teach that filthy mudblood!" She rushes past me, a look of impishness upon her face. I see that after all these years; things have not changed in the slightest. But I am not here to hand out judgments; there is something I require.

At the foot of a nearby bed lies a battered trunk-my quarry. I run my hand along it's worn edges, tracing the intricate metalwork with my fingers-this is no ordinary trunk. Dark green dragon's hide has been stretched across its wooden body; the corners cradle nests of pewter snakes…a status symbol in the guise of a trunk. This overly ornate trunk only serves to further prove that in this house power, prestige and lineage are everything.

I lift its densely ornate lid to find echelons of finery; lined neatly, ready to defend the social standing of their mistress. The trunk is filled to the brim with row upon row of heavy satin robes that eclipse all others, silk ties of silver and emerald as smooth and sleek as any serpent, cashmere sweaters so soft that they shame clouds…such fineries for a child! There are quite easily enough sets of clothes so that the fortunate owner need not don the same set more then once. I gently lift a set of clothes out of its luxurious cradle to reveal a cache of literature. Beneath this menagerie of elegance is a foundation of books-though the owner of this chest of treasures may be dressed well it appears that their mind may be lacking, as these books are brand new, their spines still stiff from lack of use.

The trunk shudders violently. I seem to have disturbed something. A handsome beryl book bound by, what appears to be, a belt convulses angrily against its bonds. With a firm grasp, I take hold of the book-my fingers running gingerly down its spine. It quivers briefly and then ceases to move. I remove its leather manacle; it falls open obediently. It lies dead in my hands; its pages have fallen open to a chapter discussing Vampires. I read the first line and find myself stifling a mirthless laugh.

Vampires, also known as Vampyre, are beastly creatures that only mildly resemble humans. They are hideous creatures that feed on the blood of humans. They only hunt during the night, as sunlight will destroy them (vampires can also be vanquished by driving a wooden stake through their hearts). Garlic has been known to repel them, as will religious symbols…

(It continues for several more pages).

Adelais was by no means mistaken; the Magical world, after all this time, still know nothing about my kind. Mildly amused by the book's content I turn to the cover. The title reads: The Monster Book of Monsters. A monster, am I? How droll. I set aside the little book, making a mental note to read it once I have accomplished my goal.

I remove my habitual attire of ebony, as I don the cloth treasures I have unearthed. The fabric caresses my curves, flattering them with their beautifully cut forms. Looking at the silver serpent that graces my left breast, I am filled with euphoria. The clothes fit wonderfully, despite the shortness of the skirt. I turn to face a standing mirror, frowning at the length of the skirt, I pull irritably at its hem-willing it to lengthen. My scrutinizing eyes are drawn away from the length of my skirt to my face.

Contrary to the common creed of superstition dictated by most wizard literature (The Monster Book of Monsters being no exception) we vampires do have reflections. It was once thought that mirrors reflected the image of those that bore souls. And according to popular belief, vampires are devoid of such things and would thus, also be devoid of a reflection. Preposterous, really, for even inanimate objects have reflections-and I for one, refuse to believe that a bureau has more of a soul then I do!

I study my reflection; finding its enigmatic appearance to be rather unnerving. Staring back from the silvery abyss of the mirror is a raven-haired seductress, whose eyes burn with a lust I have never known. I cannot deny that it casts a bewitching luster upon my eyes-giving them a power that innocence could not…a villainous charisma.

Scanning my reflection, I search for some part of my appearance that maintains the innocence it once knew…an innocence that has evanesced from my eyes. My body is pale and slender…as it has always been…nothing seems to be amiss…and yet…there is an air that surrounds my body…an alluring shroud…one that has the potential to ensnare the senses and fog the mind. I am in awe as to what the Dark Gift has bestowed upon my body, gifts given so gradually and in such small portions, that I had not noticed the transformation at all.

Had my hair always shone with such a radiant blue light?

Had my skin always glowed with such a pallid luminosity?

Had my eyes always sparkled with so much passion?

Instinctively, I touch my face as though to make certain that it is not an extension of my reveries. I am shocked to find that it is velvety smooth, completely devoid of all blemishes. I search my reflection for a sign of imperfection. The years have smoothed over my mortal flaws to produce something so beautiful that it is horrid to look upon. I have begun to lose my mortal luster-the radiance that comes with imperfection.

The last remnants of my mortality are slipping away…the calluses that once marred my hands have disappeared…what few wrinkles that gathered around my mouth and eyes have vanished…the memories of my mortal life rapidly evaporating. It was these physical flaws that kept my mortal song alive.

Each callus upon my hand was an epitaph of the trials and tribulations I had to endure as a mortal, each wrinkle around my mouth and eyes, ghosts of smiles and laughter that have long been lost. These mortal souvenirs have started to fade from me, in its place stand tokens of the Dark Gift. I've started to look more and more like an animated statue-cold, lifeless and grotesque. Malevolence has started to settle into the curves of my face-covering me like a dark mist would cover a vampiric Venus.

What had I hoped to accomplish by donning this disguise? Had I truly wanted to attend to the Halloween Feast incognito or had I hoped to induce the return of my lost innocence?

Looking at my reflection I am disgusted by my appearance-a vampiress in the guise of a Lolita. But before I can remove my borrowed skin of youth, I hear the familiar scrapping of stone upon stone. I grab the monstrous book that lay at my feet before rushing out of the dormitory-my satin robe tucked under my adopted veil. I settle myself onto a couch in the common room, desperately trying to look nonchalant. A group of girls enter, their giggles loud and boisterous.

"Oh Pansy! Draco will love those!"

"I just had to get these for him…the poor thing. His arm still hurts! I really hope that oaf, Hagrid, gets sacked for what he did to Draco!" A sinister smile flickered across her face at the very mention of Hagrid's possible removal.

Realizing that my rigid posture looked rather staged, I stretch out on the sofa, casually flipping through the pages, trying to create a look of relaxed boredom. The girls have obviously noticed me, as their conversation has suddenly come to a halt. A girl (I believe they called her Pansy) approaches, eyeing me suspiciously.

"And who are you?!" I am taken aback by the rudeness and defiance of her tone and quickly remember that manners are few and rare in the house of Slytherin. After a few moments of quiet shock, I find myself equalizing to the boorish atmosphere. She grows impatient with my slow response, and with one fluid motion she snatches the book from my grasp, tossing it across the room. The green lexicon hits the cold stone with a loud thud before scuttling off into the shadows. Rising to her animosity, as well as my full height, I stare challengingly into her eyes.

"Obviously, someone who doesn't like your tone." I hiss dangerously. Pansy's head barely grazes the bottom of my chin; I watch as she begins to shrink back, realizing the mistake she has just made. Typical Slytherin: all talk and no action.

She looks up at me and begins to tremble ever so slightly. I continue to hold my gaze, making certain that she understands her place. With quivering steps, she backs away as she signals for her bulky attaché to step forth…to defend her. The large girl does not move. Through gritted teeth she hisses, "Millicent get over here!" Another typical Slytherin tactic: why do the dirty work yourself when you can get someone else to do it for you?

A wickedness takes hold of me; leaning over the girl's trembling form I whisper to her, "I don't think Millicent will be able to help you this time…" A cruel curl forms upon my lips, as my cool breath brushes her tentative ear-her body goes rigid in response. The fire in her eyes that only moments ago, burned with a born supremacy now flickers in the wake of foreboding winds. She is frightened of me…and so she should be….

Her earlier display of malice has revived my Sixth Slytherin Sense. This sixth sense is one that all Slytherins will acquire before leaving Hogwarts. It is this sense that maintains order in this collection of the powerfully privileged; once again asserting that dominance means everything to a Slytherin. What exactly is this Sixth Slytherin Sense? It is the awareness of weakness. You must learn to find the frailties in others and to use it to your advantage.

At first glance, one often finds this hierarchy to be rather-for a lack of better words-primal and cruel, but in actuality it is the great equalizer amongst us. With this sixth sense those who enter this pit of treacherous snakes lacking the benefits of opulence can still survive by gaining respect through their sheer ballsiness. In the house of Slytherin, respect and fear are synonymous. Strike fear in your rivals and they will have no choice but to respect you-this girl will be no different.

Perhaps that is why she trembles…she knows what is to come if she refuses to bow down to my will…what her stubbornness will cost her…

She stares back at me with a look of would-be belligerence-a desperate attempt to save face. "If you think that you can scare me…" Her voice fails her as I move in, slicing the space between us from feet into mere inches.

"Oh, I don't think I can scare you…I know I can…" To prove my point I slowly wrap my hand around her throat-my frozen fingertips brushing lightly along her skin. My hold is gentle like an icy caress. I feel her swallow hard, as tears of fear begin to gather in her eyes. She breaks her stare briefly to cast her eyes upon her comrades-begging them for assistance. They look on with disinterest. Her friends have abandoned her, leaving her to her fate.

Waves of guilt and pity wash over me as one of her fear-filled tears roll down her hardened face-humiliation settling around her at her friends' betrayal. I release my grasp, but not before I can whisper to her a warning, "Listen well. I am feeling unusually forgiving tonight-which is very lucky for you…I don't think I need to tell you why… But for future reference, you would do well to keep a civil tongue in that head of yours when addressing me." I pull back from her ear, letting my words resound for a moment, before telling her in a hushed voice, "You should also consider acquiring a new entourage before you cross me again-maybe one that's a bit more willing to put up a fight. I like the challenge." With that said, I push past her, easily breaking through the wall of girls as I make my exit.

I hear their whispers as the stonewall folds back to its original position. "Who was that? Did you see what she was wearing? She must be from a really good family…Parkinson just had to blow everything…" They're far more concerned with my appearance and lineage then they are about their supposed friend's welfare. Mentally shaking my head in disgust I make my way out of the dungeons.

I addle through the well-lit corridors, my eyes stinging from the brightness of the lights- a pain I am willing to endure in exchange for this wave of euphoria. The halls are crowded with students bustling to and fro. I bask in the glow of their vivacity…their lively warmth, as I watch them with fascination. Many of them have just returned from Hogsmeade; they carry with them the scent of autumn, their cheeks are rosy from the biting fall breeze.

I feel my head swoon from the number of sights and sounds; I am surrounded by a bazaar of sensations. They are so happy…their conversations so joyous… I indulge in their blissfully carefree parleys-devouring what little fragments of them I manage to catch.

"Did you know that Alicia's got a new boyfriend? I saw them together at Hogsmeade!"

"I hope I got enough of these Ice Mice to last me until the next Hogsmeade weekend…"

"Did you see the Shrieking Shack? I'd hate to be there tonight!"

"I can't wait for the feast to start. I'm starving!"

Everything around me seems to pulsate with warmth and beauty-there is a splendor in the ordinary, a loveliness in the common. I stand in the center of this inferno of humanity, my senses drinking in the liveliness of the flames. These mortals dance around me with such vehemence that I cannot tear my gaze from them. They radiate with life, filling this often dead and lonely corridor with a brilliance that has melted my icy shell of immortality.

As I walk down the crowded corridor-gently brushing against the warm bodies I pass-I savor the sensation of anonymousness. Amongst this sea of students, I am no more then another black wave of cloth-a wraith amongst the shadows. The bodies that surround me are oblivious to my presence-too engrossed in their own worlds to even look upon me. I am free to silently observe them.

My eyes flutter felicitously around me, as I desperately try to absorb the wonderments that surround me. It is odd…I have been down this corridor countless times, and yet…now that is has been filled with life it appears alien to me; as though I am seeing it all for the first time. My gaze is suddenly drawn to one body, to one face-their piercing gray eyes drawing me in.

He stands betwixt two others-his lean frame belittled by the sheer bulk of his companions. Had I not known better, I would have sworn that he too cared the Dark Gift. He is pale, very pale not unlike myself but his skin does not glow with the immortal light like mine, it glows with the dulled embers of mortality. He has a rather attractive face, one that has been marred by life. Unlike his peers, he has already lost his innocent sheen-stolen from him before his time. As I survey him, I notice that he does not turn his eyes from me when I return his gaze; he merely looks upon me with greater interest.

A most interesting morsel.

I study him from afar, taking in his features one by one. There is something to this boy…something unsettling.

No longer satisfied by an exchange of glances from afar, he begins to break through the sea of bodies; making his way towards me. He flashes me a rather mischievous smile, I am intrigued by his audacity, and return the gesture. But before we can exchange words a body intercepts him.

Pansy Parkinson, so we meet again.

"Draco! We have to talk…" She grabs hold of his pale hands and proceeds to drag the young man away-his boulder-like attendants following sooth. I watch as he struggles against her grasp, as he tries to pull himself from the whirlpool that is Pansy Parkinson. No longer amused by the tussling pair, I turn my attention to my surroundings.

I had become so beguiled by the mysterious boy that I had not noticed that the corridor was rapidly emptying. I soon find myself being pulled into the direction of the Great Hall by a current of students.

As we approach the Great Hall, we are met by another stream of students. This narrow corridor seems to have shrunk by tenfold as the other body of scholars try to push themselves into the fray. House Prefects dodge in and out of the mass of bodies trying desperately to enforce order.

The close proximity of the rivaling houses mixed with the excitement of Allhallows Eve seem to have thrown the students into fits of daring, as a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff break into a scuffle.

"Not so pretty now are you, Mudblood? Maybe that'll teach you not to mess with Slytherin!" The sound of glass shattering against the marble floors echo through the halls, as silence falls over the masses-a muffled sob fills the void.

The House Prefects manage to push through the crowd. One of them gasps in horror before calling out to a house member, "Robertson! Call Madame Pomfrey! Quickly!" With that said she turns her attention to the Hufflepuff girl, who is in hysterics. Despite her loud moans and sobbing, I manage to make out the Prefect's whispered words, "Don't worry, I'm sure Madame Pomfrey will be able to reverse the effects of the Bulbotuber Pus…No, don't touch your face, the boils will burst…" The sound of feet pounding onto the stone floors echoes through the silence as Madame Pomfrey finds her way through the crowd.

The students around me rush to see the poor girl's disfigured face as she and Madame Pomfrey make their way out of the corridor. The atmosphere takes a definite turn for the worse as the students revert back to their boisterous selves- pushing their way through the dense crowd trying to find their respective cliques. Breaking free from the flow of activity, I push through the crowd towards the safety of the walls.

As I wade through the tide of student bodies, I see-through the corner of my eye- the young man that had caught my attention earlier. He weaves in and out through the mass of people, his bandaged arm pressed tightly to his chest. I try to push on, but find myself boxed between two monstrous young men, their arms barring me from changing directions. The corridor continues to empty around me until, only five people remain: Pansy Parkinson, the mysterious blond boy, his two attachés and myself. Sinister smiles play upon their lips as they corner me.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. It is a bit of a cliffhanger isn't it? I hope you will all take a brief moment to review, as I am in desperate need to encouragement and inspiration. I will do my very best to add new chapter as soon as possible. Please be patient; I hope to have another chapter posted within roughly a week's time. Thank you for reading!

Ninde Annare

P.S. If you have any questions, comments/suggestions or if you just want to talk, feel free to email me.