I do not own Harry Potter

Chapter Fifty One – Not Even Then

By the time term broke up for the Yule holidays, Maia was no longer sure if attending her first public ball contained the same promise of excitement as when she had purchased her dress robes and gone through the family jewels. Since her conversation with Draco, things had become easier between them. It was like when they were sitting the in Minister's box at the World Cup. He had agreed to support her, regardless. Regardless of what, she wasn't sure, because she was no longer sure what Draco believed in, or if he believed in anything at all. But there was a peace between them, she no longer felt as though he was watching her with tension or suspicion or worry. Rather, as he had done before, with some sort of regret or resignation.

She wished she could say the same about him, because she worried about Draco.

Maia was sitting in the Owlry. It was Yule Eve. The first Yule Eve she had not gone hunting for a Yule Log. Instead, she had just posted another letter to Aunt Narcissa, about whom she also worried. And now she was sitting on the cold stone steps, alone, looking out across the white snow which had buried the Hogwarts, except the pathway she had made for herself up to the tower.

She had always walked with the self-confidence that her presence was wanted, that her person and her thoughts and her words were wanted, were important, were made to be listened to and respected. She was a Black. She was the Heir to the House of Black.

Ever since the night of the World Cup, the night of the attack, the night that had changed everything, this certainty about herself and her life and been ripped away.

And then Moody had marked her as an outcast.

The Werewolf Society had marked her as a rebel.

Tracey and Daphne and Blaise had left her.

Her family and her House were no longer united, whatever Uncle Lucius had said.

And she was sat her, beneath the Owlry, brooding. And she detested herself for it.

Maia stood up and started to walk back towards the castle. She wanted to go to the library and get more work done. She had finished her homework, but she still had her extra studies to work on. And at least then she could be alone productively. Aunt Cassiopeia would not stand for sulking.

When Maia got to the library, she saw that it was empty, save for a few lone Ravenclaw seventh years anxiously studying for the NEWTs. She sat down and pulled out her Gaelic grammar book and began to work through the next series of exercises. She was not at all surprised when, an hour later, Hermione came into join her. What did surprise Maia was the flush to Hermione's cheeks flushed from being out in the cold and her eyes bright. She looked happy in a way that was almost suspicious.

Hermione knelt down next to Maia, glancing around furtively before whispering, "Come on, Maia. It's Christmas Eve. Come outside. Harry's waiting too. We're going to make a snowman or something."

Maia raised an eyebrow, "Hermione Granger, are you talking in the library?"

Hermione blushed, "Don't make me say it again, then. Come on. You're brooding and worrying and you'll have frown lines at the Ball tomorrow. Come outside and enjoy yourself rather then-" Hermione cut herself off when she saw the book Maia was reading, looking back up at her more sympathetically. "You've had too much to worry about for far too long. We all have. Just come and relax. I can't take all the worrying anymore."

Reluctantly, Maia stood up and pulled her thick winter cloak, and matching hat and gloves, back on, before throwing her satchel over her shoulder and following Hermione out of the library. "Are you at least going to tell me what's made you come over so full of the joys of Yule?"

Hermione huffed, "You're so difficult sometimes Maia."

"Does it have anything to do with your date for tomorrow?"

"Maybe."

"Are you going to tell me who he is?"

"No." Said Hermione, opening the door. Harry stood up from where he had been leaning against the wall, wrapped up warmly in his own winter cloak and gloves. Caroline had sent them as soon as the weather started to turn a few months ago.

"Hi, Maia." He said, "I see Hermione's making you come and 'have fun' too."

Hermione linked her arms through both of theirs, setting herself in the middle, and started to pull them towards the exit of the castle.

...

Tonks came through the fireplace, dusting off the soot, to find Remus with his nose buried in a cookery book. He was using an up-turned wooden spoon – the round end still covered in some sort of mixture – as a marker to follow the words.

She thought she smelt something odd, and took a deep breath. The smell of charcoal filled the air. Instinctively, she went to grab her wand.

Without looking up Remus said, "Don't worry, I've already put it out."

Tonks let out a bark-like laugh.

"How were your parents?"

Tonks shrugged, moving over to stand behind him. She bent over to place a light kiss on the top of her head.

"Fine, disappointed I'm not spending Yule with them, but... Well, they understand that duty calls."

Remus pursed his lips for a moment, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That you have to lie to them, because of me."

Tonks slipped down to sit on the armrest next to him, "It's not your fault and it won't be forever."

"But it might be for a very long time."

Tonks smiled to herself and shook her head, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to make mince pies and Yule dinner for you."

"How is it going?"

Remus put the book and wooden spoon to one side, "Rather badly, I'm afraid. When I said I put the fire out, I meant I had to put out two fires."

Tonk's smile became a little wider, "Well, we've got a lifetime to perfect it, but I think you're going to have to be more careful in the future, and I don't think we're going to be lying to my parents for much longer."

"Why?"

"Because, Remus, I'm pregnant."

Remus looked up at her, his eyes wide. He was silent, staring up at her smiling face. He let out a half-choke of a laugh, then another, before jumping up with a wide grin, picked Tonks up and swung her around the room, before suddenly putting her down in horror, "Oh Godric, are you alright?"

Tonks burst out laughing and buried her head into his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her.

...

Narcissa Malfoy looked up from her seat by the fireplace, her embroidery resting almost untouched in her hands. At her feet, Dobby was wrapping the last of the presents in an elegant and elaborate fashion. His small hands were making light work of it, adjusting the bows and the folds of the paper to the perfect finish.

It felt as though Yule was happening around her this year. There were no children to send off into the grounds to fetch the Yule Log, she had hoped that she and Lucius... But that had not happened. And really, she was not sure if that was what she hoped for or if that was what she wanted... Anyway, Dobby had fetched the Yule Log, which now crackled in the grate beside her.

Just across the room, all those years ago, they had given Maia and Draco their Heir rings.

Everything had been perfect.

She could not have loved Lucius more, could not have trusted him more...

That was a long time ago. Or so it felt now.

It wasn't just Yule that was happening around her, it felt as though life was as well. She felt as though she was drifting away from it all, helplessly, floating away into the distance and could only watch as the madness broke out beneath her.

She wondered how long this feeling would last for.

If this was merely just her calm before the storm.

...

From his office, high up in the spiralling towers of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore looked down on the three fourth years kicking a path through the snow and laughing together. The lighter haired girl, whose bushy mane stuck out from under the pink hat which matched her pink, puffy muggle coat, slipped and fell into the ground. As the boy – who had recently taken to wearing wizarding clothes – held out a hand to help her up, she instead pulled him down next to her so they were both lying the in snow. A little further back another girl stood, shaking her head. He imagined she was laughing as well though.

Dumbledore stepped back and moved away from the window. In its case, the stone pensive and its swirling silver contents seemed to be haunting and taunting him.

But he could not dwell on that now.

"A knut for your thoughts, Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore looked up at Cygnus, "I thought you were not communicating anymore?"

"What is the point of immortality if one doesn't use it to torments one's earthly enemies?"

"Are we enemies, then?"

"If the things I have heard said in this office are true, then yes, the Dark is rising, the lines are drawn, and we are enemies once more."

"And you have no desire to help us? No desire to save your daughter? Your grandson?"

"Not if they follow the blood traitor, Cassiopeia."

Dumbledore sat at his desk, pressing his long, thin hands together before resting them against the edge. "I think you simplify the issue."

Cygnus laughed, "No Dumbledore, that's you. That's always been you."

And with that, the mirror turned black once more.

...

Maia shook her head at Hermione and Harry, lying and laughing in the snow. "There is no hope for either of you."

Hermione sat up, laughing harder now, as she scrambled to get back onto her feet. "You must have played in the snow at some point, Maia. Don't pretend otherwise."

"I think the point is that I don't anymore."

"Why not?"

"The Second Rule."

"The Second what?"

Maia glanced towards Harry, who was now the one shaking his head. He didn't know what the rules were – he wasn't a Black – but Maia giving him a number as a justification for an opinion or an action was something he had become oddly used to over the summer. It was another thing that fell into his 'ok but weird' box when it came to living and dealing with the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

"The Second Rule of the House of Black."

Hermione pulled herself back up, "I don't want to know. Don't even elaborate."

Maia smirked, "I wasn't going to." Maia would never admit it, but Hermione had been right. It had been good to come out here, to fresh air and friends.

The three fourth years continued their struggle onwards towards the lake – they had decided to walk around it before dinner – when Harry seemed distracted by something in the distance. Maia and Hermione both followed his gaze, and saw that all the flame-haired Weasley's were having a snowball fight. Any other year, and Harry would have been with them. Hermione reached out and placed her hand on Harry's elbow, "It will all be ok in the end."

Harry took a deep breath, before placing his hand on top of Hermione's and squeezed it. He didn't say anything.

Maia looked on, watching them, her hands pressed against her stomach. They were to each other what she and Draco were to each other in turn. Whatever happened, they would always be standing together, next to each other.

In a way, they were more than she and Draco, because of that.

She and Draco belonged together, and to each other.

But she could no longer say that they would always be together.

Harry and Hermione would never leave each other.

Not in a million years.

Not until the sky fell in.

And maybe not even then.

...