A/N: Love to reviewers and to Countess Black.

'Cyprian' is an archaic word for a woman of loose virtue. The term comes from the story of Venus, goddess of love, who first came ashore on Cyprus. Hetty insists I use the word 'whore', so, in deference to that-and because I love plainspeaking-I have done.

PSA from Madea: Rodolphus didn't have any slivov because he'd had pain potion. It's not a good idea to drink after taking pain meds. Just sayin'.

Christmas Eve was a good day to be Salazar. Standing orders as regarded the dogs left them all well fed, and so he was stuffed with rich offal and the marrows of long bones, which he'd cracked and shared with Bess and two of her siblings.

The Krum dogs were friendly, and as dogs no more have national boundaries than cats do, they often laid in a pile and communicated in that silent way dogs have. Bess was most curious about the strange trick she'd once seen Salazar do; would she, when she was as old as he, have a Man form, as he had?

Salazar rumbled with amusement and explained that no, she was a dog through and through. She accepted this cheerfully, as it seemed to Bess that a dog was a fine thing to be, and then, when the elf came for her, leapt up and invited him along with a yark that was growing in depth and richness every day.

The two dogs followed the elf to the moon viewing room. The children were there, and the cat, and the dogs spread out between them, to protect this small pack and because Sirius wanted to hear what was being said.

The girl closed her eyes and rested against the boy's chest, and the blond one (Narcissa's son, he sometimes remembered, thinking how bizarre that was) made a pointed noise that the other two pretended not to hear.

'Aunt Eugenia seems nice.'

'Very nice. Maybe now Yana stop asking us to have baby.'

Draco snorted. 'Fat chance. She's absolutely Slytherin when she wants something.'

'A good match, then.' Hermione grinned and Viktor nodded sagely. 'And both light haired. Good strong Bulgarian vife vould give Drago many blonde children.'

'Daughters. Loads of daughters.'

'And son, just like him.'

'You're both terrible, and I've decided to learn Trollish so I can recite the Fall of EgkyJSyeD at your wedding.'

They all laughed, and but Viktor noticed that Hermione seemed slightly subdued. His hand crept into hers and squeezed. 'Something the matter?'

She shook her head no. 'I am tired, is all.'

'And?'

She blushed lightly and looked away. 'Another time? It's Christmas eve.'

'What other time?'

Hermione shook her head. 'After everyone's here, and we have party.'

Viktor knew he was being got round, but he also didn't want her upset on Christmas eve. He turned to Draco. 'Drago, I make private spell for a few minutes. I vant give Herm-on-nee-knee gift.'

Draco nodded and called the dogs, and for his book. He settled down and opened to the page he'd marked, Salazar's head on his knee, deciding it was a good half-way between watching them and leaving them alone.

Hermione raised a brow as Viktor reached into his tunic and pulled out a box. He held it in his hand and pretended not to notice how curious she was. He grinned and handed it to her.

'Open it?'

She did, and couldn't believe what she was seeing. 'Oh, my.' It was a pendant on a fine chain, and what a pendant it was. Scrolled elaborately with swirls and stylised flowers, the pendant was a marvel of detailed metalwork, all done in yellow gold as fine as light as a spiderweb.

As she looked closer, her wonder only grew. At the centre of the scrolls, the little flowers bloomed and then turned back to buds. In a small, curved tree, two birds perched together. One of them flew a little ways and then returned to the other, beaks touching. Hermione adored it at once. She turned so Viktor could put it on her, and he did, letting his fingers graze the nape of her neck.

Hermione turned back and nestled against him. 'It's incredible. How did you...'

He raised a brow. 'I have vays. Drago's father came up vith idea for Portkey.'

'Portkey?'

Viktor nodded. 'Is Portkey. Ve have someone help us set, and then you choose vord. If ve are attacked, you tap with vand, say vord, and it Portkey you. If in England, it bring you here. If here, back to England. Ve make...' he checked the paper he'd been sent which explained what the charm makers had devised 'master point, one here, one there. It bring you to master point, yes?'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'That's brilliant.'

'Drago's father makes idea. He get one for all of us. Is good.'

'It is. And it's beautiful. Thank you.' It was beautiful, the most beautiful thing she'd ever owned, because it reminded her of the person who gave it, and how much they cared about one another.

She sent Rinky for Viktor's gift, and the elf returned holding it like it was gold. She felt deeply bad that it wasn't as special as what he'd given her, but she hoped he'd like it.

It was actually two gifts. The first one was the outside, which was a cover. She'd embroidered it with the family crest, and it had taken over a month of hard work. Viktor stroked it and then reverently opened the pages. The parchment felt creamy and expensive under his fingers, but it was what was written that mattered most. His eyes filled and he closed it and held her against him, saying nothing.

'You make stories?'

She shook her head. 'They're English fairy stories. If you notice, half of the pages are blank. I translated them into Bulgarian-Alise helped-and you can translate them into English.'

Viktor hugged her again and said nothing. Like the lovebirds, it showed how their families had become one, a group in and of itself, and how both existed together now, like a tree which needs both roots and leaves to survive.

Draco huffed, obliged to register that this was not, strictly, right, however much Draco thought it was fine. Bess leapt up and seized the sleeve of his tunic, tugging gently to suggest he should lie down so they could nap a bit. On his other side, Salazar seemed to grin, and Draco cocked his head at the dog and said 'You're a smart one, aren't you?'

The dog chuffed agreement. Draco scratched his ears and, gently shooing Bess away from his sleeve again, started to read.

An elf popped in and bowed. 'Master Martin Krum, Master and Madam Lestrange and Master Lucius Malfoy is being here.' They two leapt up, and ended the privacy spell.

'Drago, Uncle is here.'

'Is he?' Draco leapt up and handed his book back to the elf. The dogs rose too, and all of them took off for the door, and then down to the hall.

Lucius Malfoy wasn't sure what expected, but it wasn't the small group that came into the room. His niece and nephew in law swept in, pink cheeked, followed by Draco, who was at least two inches taller, dressed in a woollen tunic and high boots.

Lucius gave his son a wink and waited whilst his brother and sister in law unmasked and stepped forward. 'My lord and lady, thank you for receiving us in your home.'

'Be velcome, Father. Mother, you look vell.' The children's mask of solemnity dropped and they stepped forward to embrace Hermione's parents. Bellatrix almost couldn't believe how tall her daughter looked, and how grown up, even with her hair in braids.

Lucius, likewise, stepped forward and was duly greeted. He could finally see to his wife and child, and the three Malfoys were soon ensconced in a corner as they soaked up one another's presence.

Martin waited until last. He watched his son accept the courtesy of the other men and realised, with a pang, that his son's total naturalness at it was part of him now, like his bones.

'Father!' Viktor's face split into a grin and he said something to the girl, who patted her mother's arm and then walked with his son to greet him. They moved naturally together, sharing little jokes, faces turned to each other's like sunflowers.

Martin bowed. 'My lord...my son...I am so very, very proud of you both.' Viktor looked away, blushing, and then went to hug his father. Martin felt thinner to his son, less present. His hair was more silver than black now, or even salt and pepper, now, and his side-whiskers were pure white.

It had been a hard few months for Martin. He had never been a warrior, and he had seen-and done-things now that made him shudder when he thought too hard about them.

Worse, he knew that Zhivka would not have approved. She'd always been the rock, and he'd had the luxury of being the dreamer, the one who could let his mind explore, knowing she would ground him.

Even so, she'd been a kind woman, and he sometimes, deep in his heart, feared she would never forgive some of what he'd been party to. It wouldn't bring her back, but he had waded through so much mud-red with blood, reeking of vomit, or thick with an unmentionable slurry of organic matter, bones and burnt flesh and sharp pieces which might have been teeth or fingernails or who knew what else-to be able to stop now.

And his arms were about his son now, his brave strong son he loved more than anyone on earth. The boy was taller than he now, he noticed, and where was the little boy who'd ridden Martin's shoulders? Was he with Zhivka too, replaced by this young lord with his lady beside him?

Martin stepped back and the girl traded places with Viktor. He embraced her as well, feeling how small she was, how delicate compared to his son. He stepped back and the girl looked up gravely at him. 'Father, you would like to have a bath?'

Martin reached up and touched her cheek. 'That would be wonderful.'

'And then we eat?'

'Please.' It was strange to have these things again, he thought, and was reminded again of his wife. She would have done just the same things, left her own parents and seen to her guests and thought of these small, homely things to make their lives better.

Hermione turned to the elf and started to order things for people, clean clothes, baths and pain potion for her father, who'd broken his ankle three days previous and still hurt, despite being healed.

Viktor said nothing, just listening, and Martin noticed that his son's eyes stayed on the girl, and that his hand rested on her arm openly, a declaration as strong as a vow in a society where a bare female knee was a proposition. The girl's hand kept straying to the chain at her throat, and she sometimes gently tugged at it, taking comfort. Her eyes seemed troubled, though, and he wondered whether his son noticed.

The elves announced that the baths were ready, and the four exhausted warriors headed upstairs to freshen up before the family meal. It was Christmas eve, and they would celebrate it by pretending, for a few hours, that everything was normal.

The elves had outdone themselves. All twelve dishes were consumed with zeal by the family, and Ivan found the coin baked into the bread, which guaranteed him wealth for the year to come. Being seven, he decided that meant lots of sweets, and no one corrected him.

After the meal, it was time for another tradition. The children sat wiggling in their seats until Viktor winked at Rumen and rose. 'Well, I suppose we should all retire now. Is that right?'

'No! We haven't done the tree yet!'

'And then go to bed after?'

'No! Then we have a snowball fight!'

'Then bed?'

'Presents!'

'And then bed?'

'Do we have to?' Everyone laughed and the elves, leaving the table uncleared so there would be food for the whole year, opened the door where the huge pine had been set. The adults went to work making fake snow and spraying it carefully on the tree, and Viktor and Draco lifted the children to hang gilded nuts and sweetmeats on the branches.

Hermione circulated, chatting with her guests, hoping Cunegarde and Barty would behave themselves, secretly a little glad that Eugenia was there to take up much of the energy of both.

The Death Eaters relaxed together, Rodolphus slightly logy from the pain relief. Hermione called for hot punch to be brought, and they sipped it quietly. Finally Lucius rose to spell his son, and take Ivan on his shoulders to put decorations on the highest branches.

Draco sat down, legs stiff from swimming so much the day previously, and Hermione joined him a moment. 'Do you want something for that?'

He shook his head. 'I'm all right, Hermione. They'll loosen.'

'If they still hurt in an hour, Draco, promise you'll take something?'

'If.' She grinned at him and then stood up again to speak to Eugenia about what time she wanted her bath in the morning. The Floo flared and everyone with a wand drew it, tensing, until Desmond Feathering's handsome, roguish face came through, followed by the rest of him, and then by Hetty.

'*Evening, all. I regret we were detained.*' He bowed and immediately made his manners to Viktor and Hermione, who accepted them and called for food for the headmaster.

Eugenia came and greeted her brother, offering a powdered cheek for kisses, and Hetty as well. Snape had briefed Hetty well, and she gave no sign that she knew Eugenia, though she was pleased to have a new sister, and said as much, dimpling.

Desmond, too, embraced her, and thought how strange it was that they were here, with Snape to blame, or thank, for it. His former protégé, now his sister, stepped back, and the watchers were struck by alike they looked, and how handsome they both were. Fine additions to the family, the lot.

'*Eugenia, darling, you look well.*'

'*And yourself, brother. Have you met my husband?*'

'*Honoured, sir'.* said Rabastan, how bowed and then hugged his new brother. Inside Feathering, Moody was cynically amused and more than a little horrified; he was hugging a man who'd helped to torture the Longbottoms, and the others were two metres away, watching.

'*And yourself. I have heard much of your prowess in battle.*'

Rabastan shrugged modestly. '*Exaggerated, no doubt. May I introduce my sister in law and brother?*'

Introductions were made, and Moody-Feathering soon found himself sitting with a cup of hot milk punch, a child perched on his lap, and the most dangerous people in Europe celebrating all round him.

The tree was finally finished, and the children, with enormous seriousness, brought down their gifts for everyone and set them under the tree. Then the elves brought cloaks and hats and coats and gloves, and everyone dressed for the freezing, starlit cold of the courtyard.

Even Cunegarde was not exempt, and, well rugged in her selkie furs and promised that no one would throw snow at her, was sat on a cushioned, heat charmed bench and then warded carefully so nothing untoward would happen.

The dogs had been invited too, and even Bear gambolled slowly in the white drifts, enjoying the atmosphere and having the whole human pack home. He finally made his way to Cunegarde and sat next to her, tail wagging, tongue lolling from his toothless mouth.

The cat, too, had settled near the old woman, and when Hermione turned, she saw something that she remembered with diamond clarity for the rest of her life; the old woman, geriatric dog resting a huge head on her tiny leg, and the cat at her elbow, all of them soaking the heat into their bones, watching the young people play with looks of inscrutable contentment.

Then a snow ball hit the side of her head, and she retaliated in kind. Even the adults were participating, and by the time they were done, everyone, even Mother, was mussed and laughing. Lucius, his usually flawless hair soaked with snow and flying every which-way, ended the fight by cleverly forging an alliance with Rodolphus and Penko that ended with the others being doused in a thick cloud of soft powder.

After it settled, and the dogs were still attempting to catch mouthfuls, everyone agreed it had been very clever, and that cocoa was needed before anything else. The group tramped back inside, leaving the dogs to play until they wore themselves out, and then got ready for presents.

The Portkeys, noticed Lucius, went over wonderfully. He'd chosen simple necklaces for his wife and sister in law, and he thought he'd done just the right thing. For Narcissa, he'd chosen a miniature of Draco as a toddler, set with tiny diamonds. For his sister in law, he'd had one done of Hermione as she had been the night of the party at the Bulgarian Embassy, all white velvet and smiles.

Both women had been delighted. Narcissa, like normal people, expressed it with thanks and eyes which promised him something better as soon as they were in private. Bellatrix said nothing; she just cradled it, looking at it silently, and then slipped it on without another word.

He opened to mouth to prompt her to say something but the look in her eyes stopped him. They were damp, and that was enough for him. They were even now, so far as he was concerned.

The other gifts went over quite as well. Barty had written Snape with his Gringott's account number and a list of presents he wished to buy for his friends and family,(and the sweets for Rab and his wife) and Snape had obligingly sent the elf for everything, telling himself it was because he didn't want the fuss of not doing it and not because he felt bound to help his one time good friend.

Everyone was delighted by his gifts, horn combs and matching mirrors (designed to be worn at the waist in a small pouch) for the ladies and little leather bound notebooks for the gentlemen. He'd even got one for Snape, much to the man's surprise.

Snape also received a fine woollen cloak with a wolf's fur collar from the children. He'd given them all boring books of moralising sermons that, if a person knew how to do it, could turn into useful advice about how to make a number of potions to make the lives of those who'd oppose one more interesting.

Lucius had got Viktor the house elf he'd promised, and, in the interests of fairness, one for Draco as well. '*You're young men now, you need valets to help you.*' He still very much meant to get Hermione a proper maid, but that was for her birthday.

Instead, he gave her a small box. 'What is it, Uncle?'

'Open it, darling.'

'A collar for Crookshanks.' She beamed and the manky old elf brought her the cat, who snorted his displeasure but permitted the collar to be attached. 'It's lovely, Uncle, thank you.'

Lucius showed her the silver plate on the back of the collar. 'Tap it three times with your wand and say his name, and it will engrave it.' She did, and the letters carved themselves into the plate as he'd promised.

He'd not told her it was also Portkeyed. No one, not even Draco, knew that. The only one who knew that was the elves, and the elves would never say anything, not until they used to evacuate Castle Krum by force.

After gifts, the younger children were sent to bed, and the older people (the older children occupied an uncomfortable niche between the two groups) drank more hot punch. Hermione gave orders that slivov be added to the goblets of those who'd have it, and many of the gentlemen accepted eagerly.

By the time group was ready to start heading upstairs, Snape was anticipating a good chat with his spies. The first to go was Martin, who indicated he'd a headache, followed closely by Penko and Barty. Rabastan went next, and gave his wife his blessing for her to sit with her brother and sister in law as long as she liked; Snape suspected Rabastan was planning to meet Penko.

The dog came in and laid down at Hetty's feet, charming her with his tricks. She cooed, and the dog lifted his chin for scratches, smirking at Snape in the single most swot-like manner possible, until Moody-Feathering silently put her to sleep with a spell. She slumped against him and he arranged her so she'd be comfortable.

Snape warded and silenced the room and then heard status reports. 'And it's working out, at Durmstrang?'

'It is.'

'Miss G-Madam Feathering?'

'She's working out, too. Perfectly nice girl.' He gave her an absent pat and Snape mentally swore at his luck; of all the men in the world, he'd found the one who was unmoved by having a pretty, willing and professionally entertaining woman in his bed.

Still, it was obvious she was being well treated, and that, at least, was a plus. Eugenia had nothing of any note for him, either: she rarely saw her husband and spent most of her time with Barty and Cunegarde.

Snape sat back and sipped his punch, which had no brandy in it. 'I'd like you to talk to Rabastan, Feathering. Or Rodolphus, whichever. The girl needs to be taught what you've been teaching the boys.'

'Defence, you mean?'

'No, cake baking. Yes, defence. Beauxbatons is a good school, but they can't prepare her like you can. And Madam Lestrange, for that.'

Eugenia would never be used to being called that. 'Why don't we ask Bellatrix? She'd probably want to help.'

'Perhaps she would. Some sort of female bonding thing.' Snape gestured to indicate he knew nothing of that, but assumed it would be pink and fluffy in nature. Eugenia skewered him with a look; perhaps he shouldn't encourage her to spend time with dear Trixie. Otherwise there would be two of them.

'I'll get on that. Em, you up for a bit of a fight?' Moody-Feathering's eyes were gleaming, and Eugenia's face split in a winsome smile. 'I'd like that, Des. It'll be like the old days.'

The dog looked round and transformed. 'Ask the boy first.'

'Krum, you mean?'

'Yes. Ask him and he'll move heaven and earth to see that this happens.'

'And if we don't?'

'He'll go along, but I doubt he'd like it much. He's probably not keen on the idea like it is.'

'How do you figure, Black?'

Black rose from the floor and stretched. He liked being Salazar, but it did cramp his legs something awful these days. Surely Sirius Black couldn't be getting older, could he?

'From what I've observed, he's very into protecting her and making sure she feels safe. He's fifteen. Don't make think you doubt he can do it.'

That was actually sort of astute, from the dog. The others were nodding. Snape turned to Moody-Feathering. 'Feathering?'

'Might be a good idea. If nothing else, it'll make him feel like he's part of the process.'

'Can the boys be relied on to help her? Are they good enough?'

The new face Snape had selected for Alastor Moody was the antithesis of his old one. Handsome, narrow, boyish, a bit piratical, the sort of face that makes women's heart beat faster and their pulses flutter a little.

It looked strange, yanked into the hard lines of Moody's old face, but there it was. For a moment, none of them could see Feathering at all; he was Moody, and said 'Yes. Yes, they're very good. In time, I think they could rival Bellatrix in skill.'

'You hardly seem very happy, Feathering.'

'I've trained two more Death Eaters, how would you be?'

Snape raised a brow. 'Is that what you think?'

'Should I think different?'

'Yes' said Snape, and would elaborate no more.

Eugenia followed Salazar into the cold courtyard, and from there to a disused room that had been for falcons but now sat empty. She laid down on the floor, cushioning it first, and heat charming it, and Sirius transformed and silently laid down beside her.

'Is it very bad, Em?'

'No. He's...you're right. He seems so very normal.'

'Are you and he...?'

'Once or twice a week. He apologises after and asks me if there's something he can do to help me feel better.'

'It hurts you?'

'No, but he thinks it does for some reason.' She rolled and rested her head on his chest. 'You?'

'Not doing that, to be sure.'

'That's soothing.'

'No, it isn't. I've nearly sprained my wrist.' He held up a hand and groaned theatrically to demonstrate, and Eugenia smiled. 'Shall I fix it?'

'Would you?'

Rabastan returned just before dawn to find his wife awake, thoughtfully studying the canopy of the bed, where some Krum woman had woven a scene that would have made a Cyprian (Hetty, say) blush.

'Sweetheart? Are you all right?' He slid under in his nightshirt, feeling a tinge of guilt. She knew about his tastes, but he felt she deserved better than to smell Penko's cologne on him.

'Fine, Rab. You?'

He shrugged. 'More or less. Not as young as I used to be.'

'Who is?'

He nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head. 'Something wrong?'

'Just thinking. My parents loved Christmas.'

He nodded, not wanting to press on the scab of her grief for them. 'It must have surprised you, your first white Christmas.'

'It did. I thought tonight was nice.'

'It was.'

She sat up. 'We do need to watch the children, though. Hermione and Viktor.'

Rabastan nodded. 'They're half married already.'

'We just want to be sure they aren't all married.'

'I think she knows better. Narcissa would skin her alive, for one.'

'I know. If you wouldn't mind...since the Krums have hosted Barty and Cunegarde, why don't we offer to take the children sometime?'

'I'd not mind a bit. Is there something you want to tell me?' He raised an eyebrow coyly and Eugenia went white and shook her head. She hoped not, she hoped not, she prayed every night that she wasn't.

'It'll happen, love. Don't feel bad, all right?' He put an arm about her and she forced herself to relax.

'I know.'

'And I'll make extra offerings. Perhaps with the children there. The ancestors just want to give us a really strong son.'

Eugenia nodded. 'I think so, too. It'll all work out.'

'Yes, of course.' He snuffed the single candle, and feeling like he'd actually done the right thing by his wife, went to sleep.