Azkaban

Dove

"A Christmas toast, to Mr. Hary Potter! Without whom, I would not be here." Amarea watches Arthur Weasley hold up his glass, fingers bandaged, and bruises on his face. "Harry," he says. The rest of the Weasley family, including Hermione, hold up their glasses, toasting to the boy. 

"Harry," Sirius repeats a second after, raising his own glass. 

"Oh, Amarea, dear," Molly starts, turning to see the girl in the doorway. "I didn't hear you come in."

She smiles slightly at the younger woman, "I wouldn't have expected you to; Floo network, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh," Molly smiles brightly, gently placing a hand on Amarea's shoulder, "It's Molly, dear. I know we've had our differences, but, you're family now. Here, this is for you."

Amarea gratefully accepts the purple-wrapped gift, a green 'A' in the top-right corner. "Thank you," she responds, carefully tearing back the wrapping paper and opening the box to find a green hand-knitted sweater. "This is the first gift I've gotten in...a while. I appreciate it much more than I could say."

Taking off her cloak, she sets the black fabric on the back of a chair, carefully putting on the new clothing. "Here," George says, coming up behind her. He slowly grasps her hair, pulling it out of the turtleneck and lying it flat on her back. Amarea smiles at the boy, nodding at him in thanks. 

"So, Amarea, where's my present," Fred chimes. 

She looks over at the mischievous boy, a playful fire glinting in his eyes. Waving her wand, she summons a small black bag and sets it on the table, "Right here." Opening the leather bag, Amarea reaches inside, pulling out nine boxes varying in size. Handing them off to their rightful owners, she's met with an assortment of grateful responses. 

They go around the table opening them: a couple of old magick books she had scrounged up from her mother's old library for Hermione along with a magical journal and quill that never ran out of pages or ink, new knitting and cooking supplies for Molly, muggle-items and trinkets for Arthur, a stack of Chocolate Frog cards that Ron didn't have coupled with a card for a free new wand at Ollivander's, books on more advanced magic for Ginny (Amarea didn't dare give her the Dark Arts books she had gotten for her in front of Molly), recipes for prank-candy that Amarea had gathered over the years for the twins, a Sony Walkman with cassettes for Harry, and a dog-collar for her and Sirius' ongoing joke about his Animagus form. 

"Sit down, please, you must be tired always going off to who knows where," Molly says warmly, starting to pull out a chair for her. 

"I would love to, but..." Amarea trails off, looking over to Sirius, avoiding Harry's confused stare. "Unfortunately, I have a business to attend to...elsewhere."

"Does Dumbledore ever stop giving you things to do," Fred jokingly asks? 

Amarea chuckles, "No, but this is more...personal business."

"Will you be back tonight," George asks. The boy watches her with furrowed eyebrows, only earning a sad smile in return as she puts her cloak back on. He glances at her retreating form for a moment before slumping back against the table.

---

Readjusting her shoulders, Amarea opens the door to a guest room of Malfoy Manor, eyes meeting cold and dark ones. "Tom," she acknowledges. 

The black-haired man bows at the waist, looking her over before offering his arm. A black dress fell to the floor, covering her entire body up to the highest point of her neck. Gold detailing adorned the fabric, trailing onto the black cape that was secured on her collarbone. A white Deatheater mask with silver lining the grooves and carvings sat on her face, shielded by a black veil that came to her mid-thigh, the back end continuing to the floor. 

Reaching a gloved hand up, she holds onto his arm, letting Tom guide them to the stairs of the manor. At the bottom, guests with champagne-filled glasses quieted their voices until only the sound of the two's footsteps rang through the vast room. The crowd parts, letting the pair in front and following them into the ballroom, where a band was playing soft classical music. 

Simple silver holiday decorations were strewn around, giving color to the tri-colored room, which was normally a blank black, white, and green. Finally reaching their destination, Tom watches Amarea sit in the golden chair, which was much like a throne, at the far side of the room. 

"Comfortable," he asks, messing with his black suit slightly. Amarea nods, and he finally sits down beside her, a hand on top of hers.

Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, Amarea watches his cold expression for a minute, before turning to the rapidly filling dance floor. Deatheaters, royals, politicians, and trusted friends and family of the Malfoy family sported gowns and suits of almost every color. Pureblood families mingled together as they switched dance partners, some spread across the edges of the room, next to tables, and in darker corners.

The pair sit in silence for many minutes before the band starts playing a particularly slow waltz and Tom stands, offering his hand to Amarea. "Dance with me, dove."

"Only if you stop calling me that," she thinks, projecting her voice to him. 

The side of his lip quirks into a devilish smirk and she narrows her eyes before taking his hand. Tom pulls her up and close to his body, before placing a hand in the small of her back, leading her to the middle of the dance floor. The crowd parts again, giving them their space as they stop and turn to each other. 

Lacing his left hand with her right, Tom presses her closer to him, starting to sway back and forth. The close proximity makes Amarea turn her head, resting slightly on his chest. She follows his lead, looking up at him slightly. "This isn't exactly a waltz."

The tall man tilts his head down to look at her, "It's whatever I decide it is, Dove." She exhales sharply and a low chuckle escapes him. "Relax," he purrs, moving his thumb up and down her back. 

"Tom, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Why not? Am I not allowed to want to show off what's mine?"

Amarea shakes her head lightly, "You know that's not what I meant. I just don't know if you wanted...everyone to know. 'Great Dragon knows I already have targets on my back." She moved her gaze back down, looking at the crowd of people on the floor around them. Her stomach rumbled slightly at the scent in the air, no doubt coming from the vast array of items that littered the tables on the other side of the ballroom. 

Tom's chest rumbled slightly, as he spoke, "Look at me." She complies, tilting her eyes up again, his dark tone sending a chill down her spine. "Has someone said something?" The grip on her hand tightens, "Dove..."

"No," she cuts him off. "No one has said a word yet, Tom. I promise. It's just that nobody here knows me. I don't blame them for being cautious." 

He relaxes slightly, leaning down to rest his head near her ear as best he could. His gravelly voice makes her shiver, and she can feel his smile on her ear as he gathers her reaction, "They will know you. Everyone will know you soon enough. The Dark Lord's wife has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Amarea lets out a breathy laugh, "I don't get my own name? And I'm not exactly you're wife."

"Yet. Not yet. And, I'm sure you'll make a name for yourself soon, darling," he replies. "Even better than last time."