Warning: The Following Stories Contain Spoilers For the Stories Mentioned in the Title of Each One-Shot.

Soon It Will Be Christmas Day

-Written by NovaArbella using the character of Cassiopeia Malfoy from the Lord of Shadows Series by NightmarePrince-

"Albus, no!" Cassiopeia Malfoy cried as Albus Potter came out of nowhere and grabbed her hands. He began to twirl her around and around, leaning back and pulling on her arms so that she had to do the same in order to keep up or else be thrown down onto the grass.

It was an early spring day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Cass had been walking back up to the castle after a Herbology lesson. Albus had been walking down to the greenhouses for his own Herbology lesson.

They spun and spun, Cassie laughing breathlessly, until, suddenly, Albus let go and Cass found herself thrown backward, tripping over her own feet, pulled off balance by her heavy bag. She took a few stumbling steps and found herself chest high in the cold waters of the Black Lake.

"Cass!" Albus cried, horrified. "I didn't mean it, Cassie! I didn't know we'd gotten so close to the water!"

He splashed into the lake and pushed his way through the water to her, sweeping her up and carrying her onto the bank, despite her protests that she knew how to walk. Sputtering apologies the whole way, he deposited her on the ground and immediately pulled out his wand to cast a Hot Air Charm so he could dry her off.

She'd meant to be mad at him for ruining her expensive new school shoes, but found that any complaints or anger she'd had were no match for the please-don't-hate-me look on Albus' face. "You are a buffoon," she replied, knowing right then and there that she would most likely spend the rest of her life with this man. She just had to figure out a way to get him to see it too.

Cassiopeia Astoria Potter jerked herself awake. She was sitting in the chilly alcove window seat of her room in Malfoy Manor, just as she had been when she'd nodded off a few minutes ago. Now, she hugged her knees to her chest and absently ran her chin over the soft flannel pants she wore. If she stood up, the pants were very likely to simply slide off her thin frame to puddle on the floor around her feet, but she couldn't bear the thought of wearing anything else to sleep in, so she just cinched them as tight as she could and would occasionally cast a temporary sticking charm to keep them on her narrow hips.

She thought back to her dream, remembering that day as clearly as if it had just happened. Albus had seen her walking up the path to the castle, trying to find something inside her backpack. He could tell that she didn't notice him coming and, in a fit of giddy early spring antics, had swooped up to her, grabbed her hands, and started spinning. It was entirely uncharacteristic of him, but it had been how he'd felt on the inside when he'd seen her, so he'd gone with the impulse.

She knew this because it was something he'd confessed to her, years after the event. He'd said that he'd known right then that someday, he'd have the courage to tell her how he felt about her. While they were spinning, he had thought that it might even be that day, but then he'd accidentally gone and flung her in the lake and all the right words had fled in his horror.

A few small stirring sounds broke the silence in the dark room and Cass held her breath, willing her baby daughter to stay asleep in the beautiful crib that had cradled every new Malfoy baby for as long as anyone in the family could remember. There was an etching in the enchanted wood of the foot of the crib which would change with each new owner. For Cass it had depicted a beautiful maiden, for her unborn son, Leo, a lion, and now, for Aurora, it was a bright, many beamed ray of light which would periodically change colors, depending on the mood of the infant within.

For now, luck was on Cass' side. Aurora didn't wake and the beams of the light stayed the soft muted green color that indicated the baby was asleep and dreaming sweet dreams. Cass sighed in relief and, trying to forget her dream, turned to the window. Resting her forehead against the cool glass with another, more wistful sigh, her breath fogged the pane and obscured the view of her grandmother's rose garden, just barely visible out on the Manor grounds. Balling up the extra material of the baggy sweatshirt she was wearing, she wiped away a little circle of the fog so that her view was no longer obscured. The fabric made a small squeaking sound against the glass.

Traditionally, there should be small glowing fairies dancing amongst the pale blooms of the rose garden, it was Christmas Eve after all. But this year Cass hadn't been able to bear the thought of celebrating, so she'd requested that anything that she could see from her window remain undecorated. Her family had acquiesced to her request and had gone even further to show their support for her and their love for Albus and grief over his death. For the first time since anyone could remember, much of the Manor was devoid of the lush trappings that were usual around the holidays.

There were no ropes of holly and berries climbing the stairway banisters, no enchanted mistletoe hung in the doorways, and gone were the never melting icicles that usually hung from each piece of crown molding that ran around the lofty vaulted ceilings. Only the family stockings hung on the bare mantelpiece that usually displayed a tiny working winter village scene, complete with miniature shoppers and gently falling magical snow.

They had forgone the usual beautiful instrumental Christmas music that would play softly in the background of each room and even the normally towering silver and green, ornament laden Christmas tree was a stunted and muted affair this year. It was barely taller than her father and held only the most precious of family ornaments. Cass had been surprised when the spells had gone uncast and the trappings remained packed in the attic, and though she appreciated her family's silent support, she had been too forlorn to say much about it.

Cass caught herself before she could re-fog the window pane with another sigh. Though she was unsure of how much time she'd spent lately, watching the stars shine down on the spectral blooms that her grandmother had cultivated and cared for for so long, she knew she felt most connected to Albus when she could see them there, pale petals, and dark, all bathed with silvery moonlight.

Albus had been gone for nearly ten months now. Their world had beaten him down so often and so hard that he'd finally lost all control. There had been such great, raw, untapped, unrefined power inside him, he'd been unable to control it and it had destroyed him. Incapable of dealing with the unfairness and unjustness around him any longer, the darkness had finally burst forth, horrible and uncontrollable.

It had shaken the very core of the earth and had come close to ending everything. Albus had almost annihilated the entire world. Even now wizards and Muggles alike were still recovering from the devastating destruction.

Cass closed her eyes and forced her thoughts away from what had happened, gazing again at the roses in the distance, magically kept alive year round, even through the chill of winter.

She had loved the garden best of any place when she'd been young. Albus had known that and had proposed to her there. Their son had been conceived there. They'd been married there. Cass had lost track of all the other happy times she'd known there between childhood and now. Playing amongst the bushes with her brother and father, walking through the rows with Albus, simply sitting alone and admiring the beautiful blooms as she contemplated the story of her grandmother that lay behind them. The spot held some of the happiest memories of her life.

She knew for sure that her happy times were over now. She'd been certain of that ten months ago when Albus had been killed by his brother James. Of course, Albus had begged James to do it. He had struggled through the darkness and the anger and the hate and had begged his older brother to save everyone by ending his life. It had been a noble sacrifice, but that didn't change the fact that now it was Christmas and he wasn't here with his wife and baby daughter.

In a way, Cass blamed the world for Albus' death. She blamed every single person who'd ever assumed themselves superior to someone else simply because of blind, stupid prejudices. She blamed everyone who'd ever hurt anyone else over those same assumptions.

She, Albus, her siblings and her friends had all suffered in Hogwarts under the stigma of belonging to Slytherin house. Green and silver had been shunned during their time there. They had been treated as somehow less that other witches and wizards and the Outcasts had been born. The world outside of the school hadn't been very much better and eventually a new order had bloomed within the Wizarding world.

The Outcasts had shared the common goal of making their world a more equitable place, but the old hate and prejudice still ran deep in the hearts of some. Albus' own father had pushed his son over the edge. He'd pushed him so far into the darkness that Cass had been unable to reach him, she'd been unable to save him from himself and she'd lost him. She'd lost a piece of herself as well and knew in her heart, which Albus would hold forever, that nothing would ever be the same and she'd never be truly happy again.

Even the birth of her daughter had been a bittersweet, double edged sword, for though the baby had been perfectly healthy, she had Albus' eyes. It had been a stab to Cassie's poor shredded heart. She'd lost her first child and her husband before she'd been twenty five and now her only reason in the world to go on living could break her heart by simply looking up at her.

A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye and she let it make it's way down her porcelain cheek, unhindered. It dripped from her chin onto her knee and Cass watched it sit there, catching the moonlight before it was absorbed into the fabric of Albus' favorite pajama pants. For the last ten months she'd practically lived in these pants and the over sized hooded sweatshirt that bore the emblem of Slytherin house on the front, which had been another favorite of her late husband. These were some of the few things that could truly comfort her these days.

Her step mother, Hermione, had offered to shrink them down to fit Cass' slim frame, but Cass had refused as politely as she possibly could. For some reason she'd wanted to rage at the older witch's proposal, but knew that she wasn't thinking straight. Hermione had made the suggestion with nothing but kindness and concern in her heart, Cass knew that she didn't deserve the anger that had built up inside of her.

She'd barely left the manor since the Cataclysm and knew that soon she would have to buoy herself and return to her position as head of the potions department at Malfoy Holdings, but she just didn't feel ready yet. She doubted that she ever would. She knew that eventually she'd be able to fake it, though she'd hate every second of it. But right now, she wasn't ready to try.

Although she no longer spent her days quietly weeping into her pillows, so that her family wouldn't hear her grief, she was still disarmed by the oddest of things. Last week it had been the sound of her brother, Scorpius, opening a bottle of butterbeer.

Albus had loved butterbeer and would drink at least three bottles a day. She'd grown used to the quiet little pop sound that accompanied a bottle being uncorked, and she had turned quickly, her already pale skin going just a bit paler, her silken hair fanning out across her face as she'd fixed Scorpius with a strange gaze.

"What?" he'd questioned, a confused look on his face.

"Nothing," she'd replied with a twitch of her head, tossing her pale, silver blond hair off of her face. She'd retreated back to her room and hadn't come back out again for three days, relying on the house elves to bring her what she needed, taking comfort in caring for her daughter during that time.

If little things like that could still throw her so easily, she had no business being in the potions lab where one wrong move could have dire results.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden drop in temperature in the room. Cass closed her eyes briefly as a fist squeezed at her heart. She could feel Albus' Shadow before she saw him and her breath began to come out in small white puffs of vapor. Grabbing her wand, she cast a Warming Charm on the baby's crib before Albus coalesced before her eyes.

He was nothing but dark and shadow and cold, but for his eyes. His eyes were still the same ones she'd fallen in love with when she'd been just a young girl, with no idea of the hardships that lay ahead of her. They were the same color as the emerald that adorned the wedding band that she'd vowed never to remove after Albus had died and she'd bound his Shadow to her heart.

He joined her in the window seat, just as he used to when he'd really been here, settling his back against the opposite wall and tangling his feet with hers, turning them into blocks of ice when his darkness touched her.

"Happy Christmas," he whispered, his voice somehow... less than it had been when he'd been alive. It was thinner now, more of an echo than a true voice.

"It's only Christmas Eve," she whispered back, trying to fight the urge to pull her feet away and tuck them underneath her to warm up again.

Albus shook his shadowy head. "It's midnight."

Cass checked the clock on the wall and shrugged. "So it is. Happy Christmas, Albus," her voice broke and she held back a sob, knowing that it distressed him to see her cry when he could do nothing to comfort her. "I miss you so much."

"Please don't cry," he implored.

"Not crying," she lied, swiping at her eyes and turning her face to the windows again. It was amazing how alone she could feel in a house inhabited by her family, while her husband and her child shared the room with her.

Albus tried to cup her cheek and turn her to face him, but he couldn't touch her. All he could really do was let his hand hover near her, and hope she'd turn like he wanted her to.

Cass felt the coldness radiating off of what should have been his hand and turned, knowing it was what he wanted. Another fist squeezed her heart as she tried to study his face. She wasn't sure if it was real or not, but sometimes she thought she could see Albus' expression in the shadows. Sometimes there were darker bits and lighter bits that seemed to make up his nose, mouth, cheeks, and brow and she imagined that she could see what he was thinking by reading his expression, just as she had been able to when he'd been a mortal man. Or maybe she just knew him so well that she was imagining all of it. She just didn't know.

"Cass..." he began, but she cut him off. She knew what he was going to say.

"No, Albus," she said firmly. "I can't let you go. I'll die if I let you go."

"Aurora," he ventured.

"Will grow up with Hermione, and my father, and my siblings, and her cousins, wanting for nothing and hearing stories of how her mother died of a broken heart, because she loved her father so much."

"Cass," he sighed and gave up.

"The only way I can stay here for her, is if you stay here with me. You took my heart with you when you left, Albus. I can't live without my heart."

"I know," he sighed again. "I had to go."

"I know," Cass sighed as well and leaned her head back against the wall. After a few minutes silence she added, "Aurora rolled over today," hoping to smooth things over.

"Already?" His misty voice held a recognizable note of surprise and pride.

A small smile cracked Cassie's lips. "She's gifted, like her daddy," she answered with satisfaction.

They sat and talked about Aurora until the sun started to peek over the horizon, turning the sky innumerable shades of pink and orange and sending golden shafts of light through the room. Cass knew that, before long, relatives and friends would start dropping in at the Manor, bringing Christmas cheer for the family and more than a few sympathetic looks for her.

Soon she would have to sit and talk and laugh and watch people hold her daughter and hear them comment on how she had exactly Albus' eyes. She would ignore the stabs to the heart and force herself to chat and smile and would allow Aurora to be away from her for much longer than she wanted.

She'd make herself do all those things while all she would really want to do all day would be to return to her room so that she could call Albus to her again and feel, if only just slightly, that her life hadn't been ripped apart by this whole horrible world that they lived in.