Title: Darkness Falls

Author: Tawnie Denelza

Rating: M

Summary: The seventh year of that of the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors is upon Hogwarts but no Slytherins return besides one. Blaise Zabini, resorted into Ravenclaw, returns along with Hermione Granger minus her two best friends. Assigned as head boy and head girl, both are assigned by the Order to watch one the other. What happens though when one catches the other's eye? BZHG.

Author's Note:

This story was just made spontaneously. So I would dreadfully like it if you would review. It would really be wonderful to know that some people liked this story. Do hope you like. The second chapter is on its way.

Chapter One

Dear Mother,

It seems that Hogwarts has met its end once and for all. No longer do its doors open to just anyone. Only those who can be trusted are allowed back into the halls of it and it seems that none of those from the royal house of silver, black. and green and who wore the eblem of the snake are among those returning. Without those though, the school will family as anger and aggravation shall become daily emotions as none of those attending shall know what the former students are up to. Wariness they shall wear as if it were a second skin and with it they shall skirt about walls and avoid brash conversation, searching for hints within the confines of the newspaper. A new dawn is approaching, mother, and it is one that I know you would not be proud of.

As the words were scribed onto weathered parchment folded neatly between the folds of a leather bound book, the rain that poured from the heavens above with angry strife in its force seemed to increase in power as the words were etched. Thunder and lightning rumbled through the sky, their mighty flashes heralding from beautiful artistic fingers that for a brief moment lay splayed across the sky. With the flashes and the noise came that of the wind and as it blew harshly against the Italian styled manor, the shutters crashed and candelight flickered as somewhere in the levels of the house windows were tossed open and the wind howled through the rooms. But the figure who sat hunched, their shadow cast largely against the wall adjoined nearest them, did not make any motion to move, their hand merely pausing for the briefest of moments before dipping the eagle owl feathered quill back to drink of the ink bottle that sat near them on the edge of the desk.

Mist rolls off the grounds in the morning hours from the death and decay that seems to stain the air now and sometimes, the acidic smell is so powerful, the mists last until the late evening hours. Children and teenagers alike are no longer to venture the streets of Muggle towns and cities and the wizarding towns and alleys without their parents close at hand. Many do not dare to venture out from their homes, preferring to send their owls with lists and then have a package sent to them through that of the Floo system. Very strange it is to know that our world has fallen victim to the horrendous hands of the Dark Lord to play with as he sees fit. The thought of what is to come does not bring a smile to my lips as it does the others, though that knowledge is beyond their knowledge. Demented in my eyes is what it is and what is to be done now that the great Dumbledore is gone fails to process in my thoughts. If only you were here...

Again thunder crashed outside, the sound reverberating through the night as once courageous owls now took shelter from its deadly strike and flash. Only the sound of the quill scratching across the lines of the parchment were heard and the cracking of trees falling to their doom. The night was once again one of solitude, much like every night that was to follow would be and every night before had been. But the fact that the world within the confines of the wall had fallen still and silent did not seem to affect or even cause the young man sitting at the desk to flinch. The only motion that gave way that the sublest of reactions had occured was the slight turning of a dark head toward the rain muddled window. For a long while his eyes stared out into the darkness that swallowed all and then as if he had never bent his head toward it, he returned to the journal and once again sculptured letters of a long practiced penmanship began to appear.

My, my, mother, it seems that a dear thunderstorm has decided to bless our midnight skies on this night and I must say, that it is well received by all on our lands. Although the vineyard still thrives, the drought that has graced our presence is one that was not welcome and has caused various problems to arise. Now though it has been demolished by the onslaught of rain that now lashes at my very window. The hands shall be very exuberant in their work in the morning hours and tomorrow shall be one of great remembrance as our crop of wine is to come early. At least, that is what has been read from the reports during the meetings and if they hold true, then our caskets shall be full and then the merchants shall come bustling to the Sunday market to partake in their share of it. But do not worry, mother, the tradition of withholding a portion for the stores is still practiced well. Ever since father's death and before even when all seemed to be falling into discord and ruins, I ensured that we did so in memory of you. A fortnight from this night the wine shall be used though in honor of Julliana's sixteenth birthday.

Here the hand faltered, the smudgeons of ink falling on the paper and the brief flutter of its pages was seen as the man sighed. The shoulders that once were hunched seemed to sag beneath the weight of an invisible burden and it was then the wind slackened. All became still as the now distant rumbles of thunder were swallowed whole by the heaviness of the airy night. The trees that stood arrogantly in the distance no longer leant to the wind and once again straightened themselves, displaying their large lovely branches in an almost haughty way it seemed. And as a young lady stepped into the room, her eyes flickering about and only briefly resting upon the male who looked so much like her, the shoulders of the man at the desk began to shake. Just barely did they quiver, as the leaves of a maple tree might at the slightest of wind, but it was enough to draw notice from the black haired beauty as she crossed the room and gently drew the blinds and curtains that had been opened only earlie to allow the sunlight in. It was then that both became still except for the quiver of shoulders from the man.

Moments stretched between the two in which no move or sound was made. The presence of the two together did not cause tension to flow in currents through the air or cause unwanted emotions to stain the confines of the room. No feelings of strife and discord caused nerves to be stretched as if they were silk pulled tense to run between them. It seemed almost as if neither were aware of the other even though the peircing eyes of the woman watched the man in what seemed to be anticipation. Anticipation of what though was beyond either as finally the man gave yet another release of air before setting the quill down and running well structured hands through locks of ebony. It was then the turn of head was made and the eyes of the woman were met by those that resembled hers in every way. No emotion was displayed in either as they held a stare in which no words were spoken but through a silent communication of wills that all siblings who were close seemed to share. What transpired between them during those short moments was more then what could have possibly been shared with words and from the way the young lady nodded her head before leaving, what had been said was agreed upon. At her leave, the man turned back to the desk and once more quill was in hand and the parchment tasted the ink of it as more words were etched.

Which reminds me. It seems that during the time that I have written this letter I have forgotten to speak of Julliana. She is well, mother, indeed she is. Over the years, she has bloomed from being a scabby kneed girl who believed herself to be boyish to one of delicately carved features and a smile that could warm the world if possible. It seems now that many suitors approach her in hopes of either winning her to their heart or winning her to their chambers. None of them though seem to be what she wishes although many are approved of by the hands and myself. She searches for something else entirely and I am glad that she waits. While you and father both wished her to be that of the green, black, and silver house, I am glad that she does not carry the emblem of the snake upon her right breast as I did. I am glad though that she carries the emblem of the raven well though. She has made her path through the Ravenclaw house one of dignity and distinguished heritage. Our once disorganized, rebellious girl has flowered into what will be one of Society's most accomplished ladies. This is one thing I am sure of.

But now, mother, the hour grows later and the house has grown quiet. I do believe that it is time that I ended our brief sharing of news and that I retired to my own chambers as I have a long trip to make to the town tomorrow. I bid you well and I do hope that you are doing well in this day of ruins. I love you with all of my being, mother, and miss you with it all also.

Your Humblest Son,

Blaze

Movement could be heard as the quill was laid aside gently, its tip clanking briefly against the wood as the rustle of breath was heard. Ever so gently the young man puckered his lips and blew over the words, the gleam they once held vanishing beneath the airy minstrations until all were rich in color but dull in shine. It was with a wariness to his fingertips that he ran them briefly along the sentences, taking care to ensure that all was dry and no smudges would be made to backs of other documents. As he came to the end, there was the touch of a smile to his lips but as quick as the ghost had come, the ghost was gone. Then the cover of the journal was seen over the faded parchment and gentle fingers floated over the dragon hide that adorned it before it was strapped shut and locked. As if it were something to be cherished forever, his fingers wrapped bout the edges and with one hand held it loosely while with the other he pulled open a drawer and then the beautiful journal of letters slid within.

The click of the lock of the drawer shutting rang through the air and as the sigh of air escaping from the leather chair echoed through the room, the man, the light blue eyed ebony haired Italian Slytherin of Hogarts, leaned his head back and shut his eyes. For a long moment the young man merely sat there. With his lips pursed and his eyes shut he almost seemed to be sleeping or in a a trance. But it was the fact that there was a frown in the center of his eyebrows and his fingers gripped the arms of the chair that gave way the fact that he was more then aware of his surroundings. But it was when he stood and walked from the room, leaving the candle to be put out by the maid, that it became obvious that the world was not the same.

No light flickered in the hallway, only shadows that played tag from corner to corner, casting various shades of darkness in the ethereal looking hallway. Feet that had traipsed these halls for eighteen years carried him down the hall toward his destination and it was when he pushed through the door of the cathedral attached to the side of the manor did it become apparent what it was he was about to do. With sure footsteps he approached the pedastal standing at the head of the room before a cross. He stopped ten feet away from the raised platform in which both were held and he stared up at the face of the Muggle son of God, Jesus, who hung from the cross, head drooped. Chains hung from either arm and a mere linen cloth was what hid him from the world. Long moments passed in which no movement was made and in which the young man merely stared up at the religious figure in so many Muggle religions. Then the young man did the most unexpectant thing that anyone could have seen him do.

He knelt before the cross, his knees seeming to slowly fall beneath him as he spread his arms and through half lidded eyes stared up at the figure. A lock of ebony hair fell between his eyes, obscuring his vision. But the man made no move as to brush it aside and he merely allowed it to lay there till he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Then it fell away and that was when his lips began to move, silently speaking.

That was when Blaise Zabini began to pray.

"Prepare the carriage, William." The voice was soft spoken, one that spoke of a refined heritage from the way it was spoken so clearly and naturally, almost as if the command were given everyday. The voice came from none other then Julliana Zabini who stood tall against the railing of the second story, her dainty hands lightly gripping the railing as she looked down upon the butler. Not once did she falter as she watched the snowy haired man bow with a yes madam before vanishing out to the stables to direct the stable hands and neither did she flinch when a familiar figure came to stand beside her. The only movement she made was to look at her brother, her eyes locking with his. The two sets showed no emotion once more as they communicated silently and neither spoke as the girl once more turned and began to descend the stairs. Blaise made to follow her but halted at the top step and merely watched her as she turned to regard him with a small smile. "I'll be going to town today for lunch with Lisette Parkinson and Tracey Chang." When silence was all that met her statement she bowed her head and whispered, "I do hope you don't mind."

The same sigh that seemed to often fall from his lips was heard again as the older boy began to descend the steps slowly. He took his time and with each foot, more thoughts ran through his mind and each one brought with it another reason why he should with hold his sister from going. He knew that if he did so, it would become too late for her to meet the two girls who were her best friends but he also knew that she would grow angry with him. Bad blood in the family had been common lately and it was best for them not to have it if they were to survive and help the business to continue to thrive as it did. That was why when he came to a halt beside her, he turned his gaze to hers and placed a hand along her cheek before letting it drop as he said, "I don't mind. But I do hope you remember what I warned you of." His eyes were wary as he watched her give a nod and blush as she looked up. "Town is no longer safe, Julie. Be careful. If any approach you that you recognize, beg pardon and get Billis to take you home straightaway." Another nod from the girl and then he was grinning at her fondly while caressing her cheek. "We'll be here all day. And Rinnea has promised to save the bad grapes so that we may squish them later on as we did when we were childs and make grape juice."

The mention of the childhood pasttime they once had brought a grin and a laugh from the usually serious girl before him and they shared a grin as the memory came to mind for both. That had been when their mother and father were still there and it had been a family thing but when their mother had left, it had become nothing more then of the past. Their father had become strict with them and schooling had become top priority for Blaise and social outtings had become important for Julliana. The grape squishing had been a game they had been barred from playing and as the memory led to the time in which Blaise had been whipped for squishing grapes both winced. The feel of the whip upon his back was still clear to the ex student of Hogwarts and at times when he saw the whip they had kept in the study, he could still feel the sting of it upon his back. But then both were smiling again as Blaise hugged her and then the shared embrace was parted and Julliana disappeared into the sunlight outside toward the front of the house where the carriage awaited.

Truly Blaise was happy for the girl or at least that was what he thought as he stood at the threshold of the stairs, his eyes lingering on the spot that she had been only a moment before. He was joyous at the fact that she still had a social life in these dark days, in the dark hours where anything could happen. But he did not wish to risk her. He did not wish to risk the one bright jewel left of his family before he himself. The thought that he risked her just so she could have a gallop about the town in the carriage and then attend the small cafe for a luncheon caused a flinch to pass across his face and he turned about, his footsteps hurried as he ascended the stairs. Too many thoughts of losing Julliana had passed through his mind that week as she had been more then willing to attend small gatherings and had gone to all of them even when he had strictly forbidden her from doing so. It was almost as if she were trying to test his patience, his will, his limits before he would break. The thought that she was doing so though was not one that was welcomed and quickly he brushed it out of his mind after entering into the study.

As the study had not been entered into since the late night hours of the night before, the blinds and curtains were still drawn casting highlighted shadows about the normally cozy appearing room. Blaise did not mind this though as he took a seat at the desk and drew a piece of parchment from a drawer before gripping his eagle owl feathered quill in long elegant fingers. Gently he dipped the tip in the ink that gleamed brightly in the light that fell upon it while tickling his chin in though of what to write. A small smile graced full lips and his eyes glowed as he turned tip to parchment and fed the ink to the dry lines of the paper.

Dear...somebody,

To who this shall reach is beyond my knowledge but it is from you that I seek some sense of solace from this life that our world has been tossed into these dark days. It seems that not a moment can pass by without some word of gossip or news from the watches here that someone has been taken, gone missing, or has been found dead. And it seems to me that this only proves what our world has come to is beyond repair, beyond anyone in hopes of resecuring what we once had. But goals that were thought to have been impossible were achieved though... Maybe it is merely me who sees this war as the destruction of our world. Even if the Order were to win or the Dark Lord were to win, the road to recovery, to advancement in our daily lives would be a hard one to travel and many might not be willing to travel that road. But that is my view on it. I doubt that many others would agree with me on that view but the world is rather surprising now a days. Maybe you happen to agree.

But it seems that with the battles waging and the constant deaths, happiness and love can still be found. Such as with my sister. She seems to have found a secret suitor. As to who this man might be, is beyond me. No other wizard lives in the area so something tells me that this is someone that she has met at school but as to who it might be is beyond me. Tis a shame really as I would like to meet him and approve since our mother and father are no longer here. But she refuses to show him...almost as if she is ashamed as to who it might be. Poor child. Although she has reached the age at which most witches and wizards make their own decisions and are more open about their lives, she still acts as she did two years ago. Rebellious but well spoken and refined in her childish ways she is. A true teenager if I ever saw one. While some become easily aggitated with the young lady, most are impressed by her as she is true to herself. I love her more then ever for that...

Tell me though, as I do hope you write back, why is it that most feel that those of the Slytherin house cannot be trusted? I cannot return to school after all because my father had me switched to Slytherin from the house that I was meant to be in originally. I was supposed to be a Ravenclaw as my sister is but because my father rebelled against the hat's choice and my mother was already gone, I had no choice but to be put in Slytherin. Twas a sad thing but no one took notice of me anyways and I was left to myself. None really noticed me besides that of Draco Malfoy and only after fifth year was I welcomed into that group. By gods, I so despise them. But only recently was I able to tell them that I hated them and wished not to speak to them as just recently my father passed away, leaving me to my own freedom, to do what I wish with my life. At hearing from me that I wished not to be a death eater, the Malfoy family cut ties with me while the Parkinson family invited me into their ranks. Although Pansy is not all that fond of me, the younger one is best friends with my younger sister...

My...the harvest is ready though. I must go. Write back as I am at a loss of friends and to know that there is someone out there who might in some way care brings the slightest hope that I shall have a friend somewhere in the world. When you receive this letter from my owl, his name is Nicaraugu. Keep him with you till you have time to write unless you do not wish to. But if you give him the letter then he shall fly back to me and then we will have some connection as he shall know where you reside at. But until later.

Blaze

Midnight had long since passed and it was as the sun was just touching the horizon that a girl of no older then eighteen years peered out her second story window and saw that of a black dot approaching her home. She recognized it as that of an owl and from the way it bobbed up and down and a small roll of parchment fluttered from its foot, it was from that of a wizard. The creeking of the window slowly being opened rang through the still morning and just barely had the girl moved aside did the owl swoop in and land upon a feathered perch. A cream colored orange spotted owl hooted from its post in the corner and the black eagle owl, of great size it was too, held out its leg to the female. It gave a hoot as it watched her with golden eyes, snapping its beak as if pleased with itself for succeeding and doing its duty. When the owl made no move to exit, the girl shut the window slowly, looking back inquisitively at the owl.

Taking a seat at the desk across the room she stared down at the elegantly tied letter that lay there. The owl that had delivered it to her was one that she had never before laid eyes upon and the fact that it watched her so sharply as if waiting for her to move, unnerved her to the ends of the world. That was why it was with shaky hands she slowly unraveled the ribbon and laid it aside and then opened the letter. The words seemed to pop off the page at her in the way they were written so delicately and in such a curvy hand. As she read, she felt herself fall at ease as she realized that she might have found somene to confide in, someone who did not know her. It was really the same that this boy sought to find in someone else. It was perfect. That was why it was with a confident hand she picked up a bit of parchment and a quill. Slowly she began to write back.

Dear Blaze...