Heyloo! 
For those few who don't know, my name is Grace, more commonly called Gracie amongst far too many nicknames to keep track of. This is my second fanfiction on SS right now that I write alone, while I've also written a one-shot and write 'Ficlets' with my fellow Quads. 
I can't really give a summary, because I feel anything I could say would give the whole point away. I will warn whoever decides to read this now, I know I'm not the best at writing and This can get pretty emotional and sad. I've been told before I'm good at writing things that could make someone cry 
oddly enough I take pride in that..
Anyways, all the characters used are made up by myself or a friend (
) and the timeline.. we'll see, it should come up somewere. Enjoy!
Credit for the incredible banner goes to Oya! <3
Post 2
Post 3
Without hope..
That's what my mother had always told me and had always stopped short before finishing the sentence. Smiling and saying she would explain when I was alittle bit older, that she couldn't help from forget how old I really was. Mother and Father would always tell me I was far more mature than anyone else my age, but it wasn't a bad thing. They still wanted me to go at the same pace as everyone else and enjoy the time I had as a child.
My name is Isadora Bass, and I am a Witch.
My father died when I was seven. He was a half-blooded Wizard, with dark hair and dark eyes. He and my mother had gone to school together. They had attended Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry as very proud Ravenclaws, and both went on to be a Hit-Witch (in my mother's case) and Hit-Wizard (in my father's case) after graduating.
Mother use to tell me it felt like just yesterday she was a small first year, watching a handsome young boy (My father) run past and fall right over her best friend's trunk while everyone went to board the train.
Apparently some people of whom aren't too knowledgeable with Ministry related things don't realize a Hit-Witch or Wizard is not an Auror; They do work under the same department for magical law enforcement but it's different. They're trained for two different jobs. Hit-Witches and Hit-Wizards capture dangerous wizarding criminals. To be frank I can't say I see too much of a difference in that and being an auror, but I have no place to speak. I have never personally seen either jobs in action, that's strictly not allowed. It's not safe for little kids to be around, obviously.
That's how my father, Andrew Bass, died. Working to help better the Wizarding world. No one had seen it coming, it was simply what one would call a mission gone wrong. Terribly wrong indeed.
It was a hard time, I won't lie. It hurt like nothing else, knowing I would never be tucked into bed by both Mother and Father; to be read a story to fall asleep to, to take family walks with, and to be there to drop me on Platform 9/3 on my first day of school like I had dreamed so many times before.
But I wouldn't cry after a few weeks. I had Mother, and I needed to put on that brave face of mine. It was just Mother and I, and we would be okay. One day things would even feel normal again, with time.
Time to adjust.
I wouldn't admit it. I was afraid though, Mother seemed different for awhile after. It wasn't like her, she was... broken. That's all I could think of, and how could I fix her? I was only a little girl. What could I possibly do?
Mother was okay though. In the next few days, she started acting more to her usual-self; she apologized countless times, and I dismissed it every time. She was my Mother, she didn't need to apologize. I had lost my Father, and she had lost her Husband. Somehow I think it was a worse deal for her, please don't get me wrong! I love my Father with all my heart, and I always will. Mother had known him longer though, she had fallen in love with him many years ago and even though they both knew the dangers of their career's it was unexpected. Both Mother and Father were powerful beyond my knowledge. They were at the head of the team, or squad is what they call it I think.
My mother didn't return to that job. We ended up moving, which was no big deal because we didn't have relatives to keep in contact with. We were eachothers family. Mother got a new job, one where we were surrounded by muggles. She worked in a very pretty restaurant as a waitress. Sometimes I would get to come in, and watch her work. I would normally color in my coloring books, or on paper.
I preferred that, I could draw things that got out the emotions I was feeling.
My mother's name was Sienna Hale-Bass. Hale was her maiden name, the last name she had before marriage. Before marrying my Father. I had always admired Mother's looks so. Her shoulder-length light brown hair always perfectly curled at the ends; green orbs as bright as the healthy grass on a well-watered lawn during the summer time. Her complexion never failed to be evenly tanned all year round. I used to sit in the backroom on the closed toilet seat with legs bent under me, and watch her put her make-up on. It was silly, I guess. But I idolized my Mother in everything she did. She was more graceful than anyone I had ever observed before. More graceful than I could ever dream to be.
When I was nine, Mother had become awfully sick.
She was a muggleborn Witch, which is why I didn't argue with her going to the non-magical people first. I knew nothing about them, it would be wrong to doubt their abilities without truly knowing anything to give me that right, but if they couldn't fix it Healer's surely could, right? They just had to. When Mother came home the next morning after going to the doctors, I begged and pleaded with her to go to a magical hospital. But she refused, day after day. I wouldn't let her sit me down and explain it for almost a week, when guilt hit my little body like a ton of bricks. Mother was sick, and I was being a total brat. She didn't deserve my attitude.
Realizing how badly I had acted, I waited on the couch till she was off the phone and apologized. I wasn't nosy enough to ask who she was talking to once she was done. She explained her illness; A muggle disease, the kind she had particularly was called 'Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia', shortened in medical speak to 'ALL'. It's a form of Leukemia or Cancer of the white blood cells. They say if left untreated it can become fatal. Which is doctor language for 'It needs to be treated as soon as possible or start saying your goodbyes'.
The signs were all there. How Mother and I hadn't realized sooner, I will never know.
Four months before my tenth birthday, Mother couldn't fight anymore, and I couldn't ask her to. She lost her battle against cancer.