I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter Forty Nine – The Road Not Taken

Dawn broke and found Cassiopeia alone in her room, next to the dying embers of her fire. The charred ashes glowed against the twisted, burnt wood.

She had not slept.

When she had returned, she had pulled out that old box of photographs. Now, on top of that old scattered pile, was that family photograph that had always haunted her.

The last family photograph with Marius.

Before the letter never came.

Before her darling little sister had suggested the owl was delayed...

The stupid little girl.

Cassiopeia shook her head, rubbing her temples. She was getting old, getting tired, and had long since resigned herself to being bitter and twisted.

Even after Marius had gone, those had still been beautiful, golden days. The parties they used the through, the balls they used to host... She used to glide through the halls of Hogwarts, the corridors of the Ministry of Magic, the mansions of her friends and relatives. She had been young and charming and beautiful, oh so very beautiful. She glanced down and the photograph and the lines of her mouth hardened. It had all been so easy and wonderful then, or so it had seemed.

There is no feeling better, no hope greater, no joy stronger, no bond tighter, than being in love and being young and knowing that your years stretched out ahead of you...

She remembered, once, looking down from a grand gallery, lined with crests of House after House, united and intertwined with hundreds of years of blood and marriage, and watching the dancers at the ball twist and glide and twirl and thinking – a phrase she had learnt and loved – and thinking that they could all go to hell in a tin boat for all she cared, because she was done with them.

But that had been many years ago.

And, it later transpired, that they were not done with her.

Cassiopeia reached over to pick out another buried photograph. She looked down at her wrinkled hand and shook her head. That was all a long time ago, and there are no fools greater than those who are young and in love. They think they are invincible, and they never know just how wrong they are.

...

The next morning, Sirius looked up at the portrait again, meeting Marius' steady gaze.

His dreams that past night had been stalked by Regulus and Maia.

"You have to finish what I started."

He only wished they could have done it together.

But now he knew he would not stop, would never stop, until he finished what Reg had started.

...

Winter had come all too soon to Hogwarts.

As winter often seems to do, it brought death in its wake. Maia could feel it in here bones.

Winter had come, and Death had come to.

It was coming ever closer. And it wouldn't leave until it had claimed its prize.

She shuddered.

Hermione looked across at here, "Are you alright?"

Maia nodded tersely, "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"You shuddered."

"It's cold."

Hermione laughed, "Well, at least you admitted you're cold and that you shuddered. I half-expected you to announce that Blacks don't succumb to these things as we mere mortals do."

Maia looked away. After a moment, she said, "We still have to take care of Cousin Harry."

Hermione squirmed inwardly, "Don't you think that's rather... intrusive?"

"No. Someone needs to sort out his life. He clearly can't arrange it for himself."

"That's a bit harsh, Maia."

"Does he have a partner for the Ball."

"Well... no."

"Then my point stands." They took the final turning into the open courtyard, and instinctively wrapped themselves tighter inside their cloaks.

As cold as ice... as cold as a corpse, thought Maia. She pushed it away. It wasn't helping.

"Oh look, there's Harry."

Maia turned in the direction of Hermione's nod, to see Harry sitting alone, perched in one of window archways. Pulling her wand from the holster, she pointed it at the snow and melted a path through the grass to her cousin.

"Good afternoon, Cousin Harry."

He looked up, shaking his head as he saw Hermione lagging behind Maia. She paused for breath when she caught up, "Harry, whatever Maia is about to do, I want you to know that I haven't got a hand in it."

Hermione pursed her lips, looking from Harry to Maia before swallowing deeply. "Because something is bothering you, and you're trying to pretend it's not. Harry is about to become a victim of your need to pretend you're untouchable."

Maia resisted the urge to flinch. "You are fanciful at times, Hermione."

Harry stood up, shaking out the snow from his robe and clock, not saying anything. His shoulder's sagged.

Maia hit him between the shoulder blades with her wand, sending a sharp jolt up his spine. "I'll curse a ramrod into your back if you keep doing that. I know the spell. I saw Aunt Cassiopeia do it to Cousin Ernst plenty of times." She snapped, before moving to stand in front of him. She grabbed strands of his hair and started tugging them about, "If we can't tidy this like a gentlemen, you should go for the tousled look, as if you just stepped off your broom. You're Hogwarts star Seeker, and Champion now. You should play it up."

Hermione shook her head, "Maia, I really think we should talk..."

Ignoring her, Maia stepped over the low wall and tugged at Harry to follow her. "You're coming to the Great Hall to ask out Cho Chang. Now."

Harry blinked, surprised. "What?"

"Don't say 'what' like a fool, say 'pardon me'. And you're going to walk up to her, smile and ask her out. It won't kill you."

Harry said nothing, rubbing his shoulder instead. Hermione tightened her lips further and she walked behind them, frowning. When they reached the Great Hall for dinner, Maia pushed Harry through first and watched him duly walk up to Cho Chang.

And further back, Hermione watched as well, still frowning.

...

Hermione turned away from the door and the Great Hall, and leant back against the cold, stone pillar.

It had been a display of gallantry – still, formal, emotionless gallantry.

It had not been Harry at all.

She jumped when she heard footsteps approaching, stepping forwards quickly. Harry was coming back.

"Aren't you going to have dinner?"

He shrugged, "I'll get something from the kitchen later. Aren't you even going in?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, "Are you alright?"

Again Harry shrugged, pausing on their walk to half-turn back towards the Hall, scuffing his shiny black dragonhide boot against the floor as he did so. He took a deep breath, "Of course I'm alright."

"You can't lie to me, Harry."

He grimaced, "I know. I just... I'm tired, and I've got things on my mind."

"You know you can always come to me, don't you."

Harry didn't say anything.

"Why didn't you challenge Maia?"

"Because she was right – I do need someone to take to the Ball."

"But you were so... so formal with Chang, I'm surprised... frankly, I'm surprised she said yes."

Harry paused, "Yeah... I suppose you and Chang are different like that."

Hermione sucked in her lips, "And what's that supposed to mean."

He grinned, "You have a moral compass so strong, it's like a rod of iron. Nothing would ever persuade you to bend."

Hermione looked away, not sure how to respond.

Harry took another deep breath, "Do you ever think life is unfair?"

"All the time." Answered Hermione promptly.

"Doesn't it ever get to you?"

"Of course." She swallowed for a moment, "But why do you think I work so hard to be the best all the time. Because as unfair as it is, I like to think that if I kick and fight hard enough, something will change, and the people who come after me, people like me, won't have to fight so hard."

Harry turned round, "What do you mean, people like you?"

Hermione smiled thinly, "The plain, the meek, the muggleborn..." Her voice trailed away, "Please tell me what's bothering you."

"Ron... Voldemort... the Tournament..."

Hermione stepped closer and linked her arm through his, gripping his hand as she did so, "One day, I promise you, you'll take your sun to Platform 9 ¾ and you'll know he's going to school without a care in the world, off to make mischief and pull pranks and play Quidditch and make Dumbledore yearn for the good old days when all he had to worry about was the unending struggle between good and evil." She squeezed his hand, "I promise."

Harry shook his head slowly, half turning to look back at the Great Hall, "Do you know what's bothering Maia?"

Hermione was silent.

...

Draco watched Maia leave the Great Hall.

She had barely touched her food, instead she had simply (and elegantly, of course) pushed it around her plate.

She looked pale, and had purple shadows under her eyes.

He clenched his jaw, something was not right. Something was not right at all.

Blaise followed his gaze and leant across the table, "Something isn't right with Maia."

Draco's jaw clenched tighter, "You know better than to start that again."

Blaise shook his head, "No you were right about that. But something isn't right about her. I shouldn't have doubted her – I know that know – but you have to be able to see for yourself that something isn't right with her. I'm worried about her. We've spoken about this before."

Draco turned back towards his friend, "I fear for her too... She's... she's changed too much."

"I blame Potter."

"We could blame Potter for everything. If Potter had never been born..." He let his voice trail away. That was a dangerous line of thought. It was even more dangerous to give it voice.

Blaise swallowed for a moment, "I really do blame Potter. I think he's holding something over her... he's got something on her, I know it. Why else... why else would she be promoting him like she does, arranging his Yule date – and we both know that has Maia written all over it – and following his line, his politics, his wishes. I swear, Draco, I'm worried about her."

Draco's cheeks flushed, "If he's..." His voice trailed away and he scowled in the direction of the Gryffindor table. "I'm not going to let him do this."

Blaise leant further across this table, his voice low, "You know we're all behind you. We've always stuck together, our lot. We won't be torn apart now. Not when things... Not when things are like this, especially."

Draco nodded slowly, "I thank you."

Blaise nodded as well and stood up to leave, swinging his satchel over his shoulder as he went.

As Draco continued to glare.

...

Blaise let out a heavy sigh, throwing himself to lean back against the dungeon wall. He massaged his jaw.

"You did good." Said Tracey, stepping out to meet him. "You did it perfectly."

Blaise shook his head, "I'm not sure about this."

"I am. I want us all back together. I want us all united."

"You want the Blacks and the Malfoys united, Tracey, and on the side you want them to be."

She paled, taking a step back."

"It's the truth, Tracey, admit it. Admit it to me, at least."

She half-looked away, nodding. "You don't... Blaise, you could never understand what it's like. You could never... you could never read the coverage of the World Cup like I did. I don't want that to be me. I want to be safe."

"I would never... None of us would never let anyone-"

"Don't be naive." She spat, "Don't make promises you can't – wouldn't – keep."

"I would. Don't you dare stand there and tell me I wouldn't."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"Well I hope it never comes to that." He snapped back, furiously.

Tracey hugged herself, "Thank you... anyway, for helping."

"We're all helping." He paused, "I think this is a terrible plan, Tracey. And we're manipulating the heir to one of the most powerful Houses in Britain, if this goes badly..."

"It won't."

"You must know, Tracey... You must know I'm only doing this because it's you who asked."

Tracey hugged herself tighter, before turning away and fleeing in the direction of the Common Room.

Blaise turned back towards the wall and cursed.

...