Ahranne Icarii

"I’m not a writer, but for some reason I feel compelled tonight, of all nights, to put my thoughts to paper. When the last of us are gone, when the witnesses have faded into history, those who fought must be remembered. "

“Can’t keep your eyes off me, Weasley? I know I’m devilishly handsome, but you’re becoming quite creepy.” Draco Malfoy is a prat, and Ginny Weasley well knows it. But on a moonlit night deep in a snowy wonderland, fate decides to take matters into its own hands. It seems, however, that not even fate is strong enough to bring together such an unlikely pair. On a similar night, Ginny sits alone, pondering the power of the darkness, the mystery of the moon, and the strength of miracles, and wonders if perhaps, maybe, fate was right.

“How badly do you want him?” Gabriella asked, something perverse glinting in her depthless iris’. ``“W-what?” Hermione stammered, eyes wide. ``Gabriella leaned in close. ``“The key to a Zabini is through the music,” she said. “It’s our weakness.”``Hermione has always had a 'slight weakness' as she calls it, for a certain dark haired Slytherin. But what happens when she accepts the unmistakable challenge thrown at her by Blaise’s own sister? Does the Zabini witch mean well, or is she simply trying to punish Hermione for her obvious obsession? Dark melodies and black magic weave a tangled web of lies and half-truths around our heroine as she struggles to hold onto reality while forging ever deeper into the mysterious Zabini past.

As each of us die, we leave behind glimpses of our lives that linger in places we have been. Those memories, those pieces of our lives, are the most powerful form of magic there is. We ourselves are not important. It’s what’s inside of us. What lives on when we are gone.