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 third chapter is on its way.

Chapter Two

"Julliana! I will not hear of it. I will not tolerate the behavior that you have put forth during these last few weeks." The words were whispered but in the chapel, with how still it was and how silent it was, the words could have been yelled for as much effect as they took upon the curly black haired Italian woman who knelt before the pedastal. Hardened ice blue eyes that at some points could have melted steel turned to face the hunched figure that sat shaking and it was tentatively that Julliana looked up to meet the angered gaze of her brother. The eyes narrowed as he regarded her and spinning about on his heel, he approached one of the many stain glass windows and stared through the image depicted in brilliant colors down upon the fields of grapes that had yet to be harvested. The fleeting thought, I must speak to the workers about finishing the fields by morrow evening, briefly flew through his mind but as quickly as it had come, the thought had vanished and he had torn his eyes from the sight and was staring at the back of the Ravenclaw's bowed head.

It was then that the thoughts began to come of how much she looked like his mother, kneeling as she was in prayer before the pedastal. Often their mother when they had been younger had come into the chapel to kneel in meditation before the ancestrial cross that had been passed down throughout the generations from the old medieval times. Blaise and Julliana would stand at the back of the chapel, watching her silently before finally one of them would giggle at a motion the other had done. She would turn and look at both of them before smiling and motioning for them to come forward and they would kneel and pray together and then afterward, she would bring them to the kitchens. From there they would move to the den and as the two children curled up their mother would read to them of stories long forgotten from the ancestral library. And the day after the next they would go to the garden and pretend that they lived in the olden days, making up small dramas and pretending to be in the midst of war. Even now Blaise could still hear the laughter of the three in his ears and it brought a tear to his eye as he blinked.

Once again the surroundings of the chapel appeared and Blaise blinked again as he saw Julliana give a sigh, her shoulders hunching as they slowly began to shake. That was when he became rooted to where he stood, unsure of what to do as he watched almost as if time were frozen, the girl rise and turn to him with tears in her eyes. The pain there was unmistakable as her eyes were devoid of all emotion except for it and slowly she gripped her elbow as she lowered her chin to her chest. Her hair fell in a curtain about her face, hiding it as if she were in mourning and at a funeral, shielding her from the prying eyes of the outside world. The sight of it made his knees quiver as he could clearly remember his mother's funeral and how his grandmother had appeared, dressed all in black with a wicker netted veil hanging from her vulturous hat. The tears that had been shed by the powerful lady had been cried silently while he had been pulled from the room as he let out high keening wails. Now as he thought back on it, he placed a hand gently to one side of his face as he winced, thinking of how weak he had once been.

"I miss her, Blaze...more then anything..."

Those words drew him from the trance that he had fallen into once again and the sounds of his wails echoing about the room as his grandmother cried while approaching the coffin faded as he found himself staring into his own eyes. If it had not been for the fact that Julliana was gripping his arms tightly and staring up at him with a desperate look to her eyes, an almost insane expression of desperation upon her face as she dug her nails into his skin. "Blaze..." And then the tears were falling, slowly one by one from her porcelain blue eyes as she flung herself into his arms, causing him to stumble back slightly as he weakly patted her back. The child was so distressed, so distraught over the loss of their mother, the loss that had happened more then six years before. A tear fell from his own eye and that was when he enveloped her back in the embrace.

His hand ran gently through her hair as she sobbed and he whispered to her, speaking of old memories and of how everything would be all right. With all he had he tried to calm her, seeking to soothe his own raging emotions as he closed his own eyes and allowed his body to tremble in sorrow. Tears that for so long had been unbidden to trespass from his eyes now fell as if in slow motion down his face. Anguish and pain that for so long had been barricaded within became known and swept over him in powerful waves, crashing against him in ways that he had never thought possible. How was it that after two years, everything that he had worked so hard to keep in came crashing down because his sister was weeping? The thoughts did not correspond with him and it was why with confusion muddling his mind he pulled his sister closer and pressed his face into her hair while allowing himself to cry with her. It was not until much later the two departed the chapel and when they did it was with red eyes and salty faces.

Dear Blaze,

I have received your letter and I must say that your owl...he's quite beautiful although my own owl did not seem to appreciate his company or the sharing of the food dish either. Hehe, she's such a stickler that one is but I love her to death for it. She's much like one of my friends who gave her to me as a birthday present after my cat passed away this last summer and although she was an early one it was much appreciated really. I love Gingersnaps, that's her name. But really, most impolite of me, I didn't inquire as to how you were. How are you doing? You did sound a mite bit depressed in your letter and I mostly wrote back as to see how you were holding up. I do hope that your harvest, of what it is I have no idea, went well and that you got all that you needed and more so from it. It would be good to know that at least one family prospers in these dark times, it would indeed be good to know that you prospered. You seem a nice fellow really...can't imagine how it was you were put into Slytherin. Ah but then again, you could have been different when you were younger before now.

From there the letter was ended, nothing more on the parchment at all and it was nerves obvious in her eyes that she looked down upon the letter. When she had begun it the night before a plan had been crystal clear in her mind, with everything she would write but now it seemed to have failed her. The young man that had written to her was a complete stranger and that now left her baffled at to what to write next. Was she to tell him of what all happened in her life? Was she to tell him of the worries that plagued her mind about her friends, about the boy who lived who he quite possibly despised? Or what of the letter that she had received not more then a week ago stating that she had been named the Head Girl? Was she to tell him of that? No she could not possibly as then he would know what her identity was unless by some chance she managed to convince him that she was some other sod who had been chosen for Head Girl. No, twas not possible. Although it was known that she might not be returning to the school as Harry and Ron were not. Oh how wonderful this was.

She gave a sigh as she leaned back in the wicker egg shaped chair and smiled softly at the way the pillow folded to fit her form and her eyes trailed upward to the ceiling at the rattling of the chains. The ghostly rattle of the chain that held the chair to the metal ceiling above her reminded her of that of the chains she had seen in the stale dungeons that had at one time housed prisoners beneath the medieval castles she had visited that summer. A soft smile played about her lips as she pulled a fold of parchment toward her and began to scrawl out a sentence that she knew later would lead to a romantic story of damsels in distress. Another idea flickered through her mind like a light blinking on and off and before it slid fully away to join other murky thoughts, she wrote it down on a used bit of parchment. No use in forgetting it as it might tie in later with her story. The smile grew to a soft sigh as she stared down at the sentence she had written.

Although the sentence would expand much further to a very charismatic story has all her others had turned out to be, she couldn't help but wonder at how she came about writing all of the stories she had. Many had to do with the school that she had attended for the last six years, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and others had to do with her world in general. Some were about various endings to the war and some were just tell tale romances that would never happen such as the one she had written about herself and...no. If she were to think his name the feelings would only be brought back up once more. But the tears that came with the thoughts had already gathered at the brink of her eyes and before she could let even one make a path down her snowy skin, she grabbed her shoes and slid them on. Not even as the laces were in place, she was running from her room and down through the hall toward the door and breathing hard she pushed through the front door, not even wincing or crying out at the sharp pain that resonated through her body as she slammed her arms against the door.

The light striking her eyes after having locked herself inside for so long that summer, blinded her briefly as her eyes had always been sensitive to it and with being nocturnal mostly now a days, her eyes were extra sensitive. She let out a small hiss as she blinked before her eyesight came completely back and as it did she let out a loud sigh as she gently tugged curly brown locks over her shoulders and back into a ponytail. Without even bothering to see if she had shut the door, knowing fully well that her more then moody parents of the moment would attend to it, she set off at a jog down the drive and toward the park. Her feet moved on auto pilot as her mind whirled elsewhere, mulling over the bits of gossip that she had happened upon over the weeks since the sixth year of her schooling had ended. The bits of gossip had been speculated about, given no more thought of truth besides that of the gossip that she fell upon about the school, but these, after closer research had proven to be true. And though some had passed them by, waved them off now that the word had come out, she still thought upon them, wondering as to the mystery behind their origination.

The footsteps that she had taken at a jogging pace had slackened, the loud slapping noises that they had made, falling to the normal soft almost silent noise that they normally made. Her face had fallen into an expression of deep thought and there was a silent desperation in her eyes as she shook her head in anguish. Exhaustion swept down and over her as she thought of Harry and Ron working dilligently at the mystery of the Horcruxes and she closed her eyes and sighed. How was it that she had allowed this to happen? To allow the mystery of the rumors to go unnoticed and unsolved? All of it could have been a clue pointing toward the location of the Horcruxes all this time and now...with the three at odds end, her not speaking with them even by written hand, it seemed impossible. How was it that she was supposed to let them know of the possible clue? Twas not like they would believe her. They would say, as they had for the last fortnight, that she was merely lying, trying in someway to help and failing at it. If only she had not turned her back upon Ron when he had asked her out.

Another sigh passed from her lips and she knew that the road her mind now traveled upon was not a safe route but the thoughts that poured from the spicket of it would not cease their flow. It was too late as more thoughts of how it was her fault flowed over her, sinking her mind further into the muddled water of depression. The tangy taste of blood filled her mouth, invading every crevice of the small cavern but right then, the Gryffindor girl did not notice as she ran a hand through curly brown locks. She had not even noticed that one arm was wrapped tightly about her abdomen while the other was raised, one hand stuck in her tangled locks. It was only when the pain shot through her did she notice and even then she did not cease to nibble upon her lip. The thoughts of the reasons that all pointed to her being at fault for this occuring still rained down upon her head and even as she turned into the park, taking care to pick her way toward her usual spot upon the swings, they did not halt.

She could have given him an affirmative instead of following after her mind and listened to her heart. And right then she would have been at the hideway with them, looking through old files, searching for some bits of clues, working to figure this out. By then they could have found the locket, maybe even more of the Horcruxes or at least been on the way to figuring out more then what they had. Her heart had spoken yes to him, crying out and screaming with joy but it had been with a deadly silence between the two that she had broken with the response that had shattered who he had once been. She had whispered no, saying that it wasn't right and he had turned in a huff and left. No word had come from him in the last fortnight due to it and it seemed as if Harry had agreed with whatever anger issue the red headed pureblood had and now neither wrote to her. Tears now coursed down her cheeks as she thought of the losses that she had suffered that summer, of all the reasons that what had happened were her fault.

In order to draw her mind away from the problems at hand, to escape the issues that always seemed to appear before her and stare her in the eyes, she had thrown herself into the studies applied to her for the summer course of the year. Although many of the others had slackened at the thought and had pushed it till the ends of the summer, she had went about doing nearly all of it at the beginning. Even though in the back of her mind, the voice that consoled her and comforted her with words of wisdom had snidely told her to stop rushing, that the work would be gone before summer ended, she had not listened. With the deaths that had begun to appear in her dreams and the constant rush of owls from the Order, she had been too stressed, overburdened, to think of anything else but forgetting it all through her studies. If only she had listened to the voice, she would have stopped, stalled on doing the work and maybe applied herself to her task for the Order. Another tear fell, falling onto the hands she held before her as if she were trying to find the answers to her thoughts within the lines etched upon them from birth.

But then she had also closed herself away, refusing to answer letters and refusing to speak with her loving parents about anything that had happened within the realm. Ever since Albus Dumbledore's death she had been that way, seeking to find some answer on her own and not through the help of others, preferring to keep to herself. Yes she still had the listening ear that she had held throughout the last three years of her schooling when it came to friends but no longer did she allow anyone to be the listening ear for her. She was the listening ear for herself and only herself as in her mind and eyes it was all right to burden herself with her troubles but to do so with any person other then her was almost as if she had violated them physically. But in doing so, in closing her mind off from anyone else, she had caused them to worry, to be concerned about her health and what it was that was happening in her life. That had caused her to become harsh upon herself and so afterward she had refused to answer letters, refusing to have any contact and preferring to stick to herself as she had tried to solve all that had fallen upon her shoulders. Her parents had become more worried over her when she had done that and that had resulted in therapy. Now the tears fell steadily and she brushed them away while whispering, "No," over and over again as she tried to stop them.

In her mind, all of it pointed to her, there was no denying that as she looked up and upon those that milled through the park, not even casting her a second glance as they went about their business. These people, although they held their children close and had wariness in the way they moved and in their gaze, they did not know the truth of what was really happening to their world. There was a war going on that no Muggles knew of and the select few were kept silent as they had to take the Oath of silence about the Wizarding world. All occurences that happened were explained away with some other excuse that all knew could not have caused it that knew but the humans, as intelligent as they seemed, did not take the time to observe it. They went about their business as usual, taking extra care though as to not allow any harm to befall their lives, any change, anything as they felt it would endanger them. Oh they had it so simple. The life of obliviousness, of the naive and innocent, of the easily beguiled. How she wished she were able to lead a life like that, like the life that she at one time had known before she had been turned to a witch, before the news had arrived.

The memory of that hopeful day, when she had been a wistful corrupt by daydreams eleven year old, was one that had already brought feelings of joy and peace at the thought of how lucky she was to be a witch, to have had that day come. It had always been something she could look upon when she was upset but now, that this summer had struck and the acrid smell of death and destruction lingered whever she went, she wished that the day had never come. If it had never come, she could have lived a life of ignorant bliss. She never would have met Ron and Harry and have been cursed with the bloody Malfoy. She never would have learned about all the mysteries in the world that were easily explained by magic and made sense with magic but made no sense with human things. She never would have had to deal with the pressure of the world upon her as a friend of Harry Potter, the boy who lived. All in all, her life would have been much better. At least that was what she thought then. But as she looked over it, she realized that life would have been different and nothing would have turned out the same. Harry might have already been dead and the Wizarding realm exposed.

The thought brought a sigh and caused the girl to dig nails into soft skin as she stared at the ground with a deep hatred and anger pulsing through her. The anger directed at everything about her, at the world and mainly at herself. The hatred pulsing through her for her having been born a witch and at the Dark Lord for causing such things to happen that had brought the world she called her own into distraught. Oh how she wished none of this had happened. How she wished that this man was nothing more then a regular human or had been killed as a babe by his father or mother. If only it had happened that way. But there was her wistful thinking again and as she finally gained control of her mind, she wrenched herself from the thoughts and glanced up at the sky. The evening hours were dawning, the once upon a time light blue sky turning to one dyed with the hues of rose pink and mango orange, blending together to form what would soon be to some a dying sunset that should be viewed and treasured by all. If only she were still able to think those thoughts...but the thought of it, the wish, the daydream of it was gone with a final shove as she set off back for her home.

As she ran, her legs stretching out almost languidly, she felt as if a heavy stone had been lifted from her chest and there was the tint of a smile upon her face. She felt as if her shoulders were somehow lighter now that she had cried the bitter tears that had been held since Sirius's death so long ago. Yes she had cried during the school year but those tears had been untrue ones, bitter ones that she could not cry for the death of the man that had been so close to a friend of hers. The tears that had been shed that night had been relieving ones, falling due to her sorrow and anguish and hatred of herself. The tears had been shed with the sorrow she felt over Sirius and Dumbledore's death. And that was when the smile blossomed, forming into one that seemed to transform her as the thoughts came to mind. The smile was still in place even as she jogged up the drive and through the front door, this time taking care to shut it behind her before she pounded up the stairs.

Upon entering her room, her eyes fell upon the letter and she halted in the doorway, her eyes lingering upon it as thoughts fell into her mind as if from the spicket of creativity that she seemed to hold with in her. For a brief moment she merely stood there, allowing the letter that had constructed itself within her mind to write itself out for a brief moment longer before she took a seat and stared down at it. Then it was once again with a confident hand she lifted the quill and dipped the tip into the ink before touching its mouth to the paper and beginning to slowly form her words.

But wait...didn't you mention something of supposed to be a Ravenclaw? I think you did...

Night had once again fallen over the Italian villa and although beneath in the kitchens below the main levels a celebration was being hoasted over the success in the grape fields, the main levels of the home were subdued. A silence had fallen over the main house and those servants that had chosen not to attend until later as to finish their chores, seemed to creep about almost as if it were Christmas Eve. No sounds were made and the chores were gone about being attending in the thick silence as the master and mistress of the home were locked in their chambers. No dinner had been laid out and no meeting had been held. No punishments had been handed out as well as no pay either suggesting that all usual events of the weekend night were to be held off till later. As to why this was being done, was only known by the two that had been involved with earlier events which were the two who had seemed to close themselves off from the world. Now as the twilight hours fell, the servants who had chosen to finish chores now crept back to the kitchens, not wishing to be part of the tense almost hostile household any longer and to lose themselves in the fantasy of alcohol. And as the twilight hours fell, the soft sounds of piano music began to fill the air.

The sounds came from that of a small room, only given way by the candle light that flickered through the crack of the door as it stood propped open slightly. And there sitting at the bench of a polished black grand piano was none other then master of the house, his head bent, sweat ridden raven curls falling about his face as his hands moved with a mind of their own across keys. No false notes were played and although the noise was sweet to hear, emotions that could be expressed not through that of words but through that of artistic ways, sang mournfully through the noise. From the expression of stoic stone upon his face, one would think he played it mechanically and by heart but it was the pain and the true emotions of the song he played that shone through his eyes. But soon they were hidden from view as he allowed them to shut, the song fading as his fingers ceased the eloquent dance that they had only moments before been performing. And once again silence fell upon the house but this time it was not one of hostility, it was one of tranquility. It was almost as if the music of sorrowful tones had chased away the hostility that had lingered upon the house like a cloud of darkness above a person's head.

The change in the air brought a smile to Blaise's face as he leaned back, folding his hands behind his head and entwining his fingers together as he blew out a puff of air. His eyes once again opened as he stared upon the white marbled ceiling, the black veins twisting throughout it brilliantly to form a mirage of different shapes and images. His imagination, the artist in him began to drift, his thoughts entwining about one another as he imagined the beautiful images that later he would draw. Such as the bleeding heart with two sword stabbed through it and ivy entwined bout both, one of silver, one of black. What they meant, symbolized, he did not know. He was not a reader of dreams but the images they created, the thoughts they brought to mind, calmed him, soothed him, and riled him in a way he had never thought possible. Oh how he loved the imaged that the black veins painted within him, how he loved this room...

The tranquility of it all though was shattered with the tapping of the owl upon the window and it was with a curse upon his lips that he spun to stare at it briefly. The owl that met his gaze, the golden eyes that dialated were those of his own owl and it was with the same ghost of a smile from two nights before that he stood and approached the window. Gently he opened it and the owl soared gracefully in, landing on the owl post sitting in the corner and waiting patiently the owl extended his leg. Quickly as to not agitate the gorgeous creature, Blaise untied the letter, his fingers trembling slightly as he imagined what it might hold within. Oh how it would be wondrous if it were a letter from that of the stranger. Twould be a marvelous thing indeed to know that they had responded. As he pried off the ribbon, he briefly, ever so briefly, felt the flicker of doubt that the person would write back and the enthusiasm he had felt caused the smile to flicker as he slowly undid the letter. But at seeing the header of it, his own nickname, the grin was back.

Dear Blaze,

Do you know how many pieces of parchment I have used in trying to write this letter to you? Hahaha, I don't think you do and I'm not sure you ever will. But trust me, dearie, my bin is full and I am so glad to have finally finished this one. Writing to someone you don't know is rather a bother but also rather intriguing as to see if they'll reply back. Maybe that's why I wrote this back in such a hurry and let it occupy my mind throughout the whole day. I had the letter picture perfect in my mind but whenever I sat down to write it was as if I had letter's block or something. I could still work on my stories and my novel and write poetry as eloquently as ever but it was as if I could not, no matter how hard I tried, write this god damned letter. But oh well! I accomplished the task and that is all that matters, now isn't it? Although I might right laugh myself insane if this one somehow ends up in the bin also as I seem to have finally found a way to write to you. Not telling though...might ruin my luck knowing my luck.

So anyways...how're you on this oh so fine evening? Well I guess night for you as that will be how long it takes. But anyways, how are you? I do hope that the harvest or whatever it is that you had to do went all right and that you had bountiful amounts of it. Really I do. It isn't often that you hear about someone prospering with this whole war thing going on and when you do, most people damn you for it because their lives suck monkey balls right then and there. It's good to hear though that you might be doing good and if you are then that's even better...just repeated myself, didn't I? I knew it! I just reread through the letter. I did repeat myself...just like I did once again. Really, this is not a good thing to be saying bout myself considering I'm one of the highest graded people in Hogwarts currently for my house. Lord knows what this year's going to be like without Potter and Weasley round though. Oh my...I just called two of my used to be friends by their last name...and oh my I'm talking to myself I swear. Really sorry if this confuses you. Bit of a blonde I am right now although my natural hair color is dark chocolate brown.

God...now I really don't know what to write. I guess maybe..I should just start writing and thinking about this in the way of a journal really. I just really viewed this as a way to vent I guess you would call it but now that I'm actually writing, I don't want to burden you with any thoughts of how whiny I am or snobbish...Oh bloody hell, I don't care anymore. I need to bitch and if you don't like it then...well...go do something. But just, Ron and Harry hate me now. And it's just because of the fact that I told Ron no when he asked me out. It's not like I don't like the boy it's just that...he's so bloody ignorant and stubborn as to everything that goes on around him. I need someone who can match me for my intellect and who's going to be there for me, not in the way of romance, but spiritually and who's going to support everything I do such as S.P.E.W. That was one thing that turned me away from him. He never did like the revolt and it angered me to no ends. If he can't support what I believe in then how can I be with him? I can't, that's what. I mean I support his bloody quidditch obsession and help him with his homework and all he does is bicker and whine at me and poke fun at the things that I do. I saw the way he was with Lavender and they moved so fast, much too fast for me. I need someone who's going to match me pace for pace and won't pressure me. Not to mention he's not going back to Hogwarts and I am.

But just...it's not the fact that he asked me out and I can't be with him because of those reasons, it's because of the fact that he hates me now because of it. I don't really understand why. I mean I know he might think that it's because of the fact that he's poor but really it isn't and he might have taken it as I don't really like him as anything and I'm just using him to get to Harry. He does do things like that and even though I think he's right insane for it I feel guilty as if maybe I did do something wrong. God, it just it hurts. Then with my father and mother...sending me to therapy and not getting any letters from Harry...it's hard you know? I just want to scream, or cry, or rant and rave but there's something holding me back from doing any of it. I think it might be the fact that I can't stand to tell other people about how I feel now a days. God...but it's driving me insane not telling anyone and listening to all these other sob stories. And then with the Order business that I have to do...

I bet you're sick of hearing about me aren't you? Well, about my problems at least, so I'll be quiet about those and just talk of other things...lately it seems that I've been thinking a lot about why it is that Slytherin isn't allowed back to Hogwarts. I know that Professor McGonagall isn't the Headmistress or else she would have allowed it. There must be someone new that we have who the Ministry felt was more experienced. Did you hear about how they're stepping in to take control of the school? Really, it's a bunch of poo in my opinion. They should just leave matters of the school to the school or shut it down entirely. They can't just ban on house from returning. But...rather...maybe it is a good idea. Although, that means you can't finish your schooling can you? If you were meant to be a Ravenclaw...you really should have been put there. The hat wanted to put Harry in Slytherin but he wouldn't let it just like you wouldn't let it put you in Ravenclaw...right confusing. Thanks, you just baffled me. Hahaha, just playing.

And your sister has a suitor? My my, that is very interesting. A secret one at that too. Reminds me of the secret admirer I had last year. Although I'm sure I know who it is, I'm not writing down any names. But really that is romantic. Would be right nice to have someone fancy you who you didn't know who it was. Maybe this year I'll actually have a smidgeon of romance in my life. But I doubt it. Being Head Girl...oh god, I swore to myself not to mention that. But I've written far too much to start over...oh well. You probably know who I am now. But just...being Head Girl I have duties and then with the studies being upon us and then with this being N.E.W.T. year, it would be so difficult to have even the slightest of a fling or a romantic interest. Not unless they were the Head Boy or something like that or another prefect because then you would see them and they would have to be as dedicated to their studies as I am to mine. My...I'm just depressing myself further by thinking of it. Knowing my luck I'll be forty and still a virgin. Hahaha...

Oh gods...dad's burned dinner again. Must go. Write back soon.

Always,

Hermione

Gryffindorchic - First reviewer and the longest reviewer and the most liked review. xD Feel special really. I don't often say that to many people. Also the personal problems in the profile, those have long since been over and they have inspired me to write now actually. One of them is what spawned this story. And thank you very much for your compliments. And I promise that this story shall be nothing like the others and if it is, then shoot me now as I've lost my creativity.

Jae - Oh my lovely Jae! I cannot believe you left a review! Thank you though, really. It's good to know that at least some of my friends like my writing. And if you write that story...gimma. I want to read that because our lovely plot is one of very devious thoughts and shall be grand.

vagrantben - Wow...I am so glad to hear that you liked the story and are enthralled with it. It isn't often like I said with Gryffindorchic that I get told that also. I do hope that you like this chapter and that you continue to be a fan of it.

A/N: Please note the review button at the bottom for all those who read this story but don't bother to review. I would really like comments back on it and to know what you think of it. It would help a lot and also the reviews make me grin and smile and prance like a chicken with a severed head. Just playing on that last comment...now I'm imagining that. I might just include something about chicken cutting in the next chapter. After all it is an Italian custom or English custom. xD Not really. But yeah...so third chapter is on its way. I want to know though if I get anymore reviews for this then I did for the first chapter. So keep a look out for it in the next three to five days. Later! And also if you have any suggestions, just let me know and I'll try and add them in if I think they fit.

Sneak Preview:

"Good sirs, I truly do not know where the girl is, we were..." The voice trailed off as William ran a thin hand through wiry hair, his eyes downcast and taking on a haunted appearance. His shoulders hunched as he glanced about nervously and licked dried lips before continuing to speak in his raspy tone. "We were ambushed...while taking the long route home from the cafe. She wished to see the sights and then...they came..." He motioned towards the wood in an attempt to explain what he said but he failed as he placed a hand upon a weathered cheek and whispered, "All I know is that the Lady Julliana Zabini is gone..."

"William...where is Julliana?" The voice was spoken at that of a deadly whisper, a mere hiss upon the morning air as a cloaked figure stepped from the shadows with blazing yet icy light blue eyes. The robes that clung to their figure billowed about them as ebony locks were lifted from their shoulders and shadowed their face. Lips set in a grim line and with furrowed brows and a tense stature, the air about them was one of anger. The butler paled, his skin growing ashy and papery it seemed as he lowered his eyes and bowed before the man that stood half shadowed.

The master had arrived.