o.o.O.o.o

Corban stood on the platform of 9 ¾ waiting for the Hogwart's Express to pull in. There was tension in the air, and he knew that the death of the Diggory boy was just the beginning. Not for the first time, he was grateful his son was in Belgium and working for the Ministry there. There was no reason to recall him to Britain and at least that would spare his heir from the Dark Lord's attentions. His daughter, however, was not going to be so fortunate. He didn't know who had told him about Tracey, but somehow the Dark Lord knew. He'd pointedly asked if Corban had at least taken care of the muggle bitch he'd fathered a bastard on. He scrubbed a hand over his face. It meant it would be impossible to keep Tracey from the Dark Lord's eye.

The train pulled into the station smoothly and he waited as the children streamed off in search of their parents. He spotted her, exiting a car near the rear of the train. Nott's boy was being a gentleman, helping the girls step down with their trunks. It was refreshing to see that at least some young men had manners. He walked down to where she was disembarking and felt a curl over his lips. She looked more and more like her mother every year. Sometimes it hurt to look at her.

"Do you have all your things?" he asked as she spotted him.

"Yes, sir," she said, tone always so formal. Sometimes he was grateful for it, and other days…it broke his heart that she was so afraid of him.

"Come along then, Vixs will have dinner waiting for us. You can catch up with your friends later." He picked up her trunk and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before disapparating. They landed in the front hall, and he removed his arm to let her move away. "Get yourself cleaned up for dinner, and you can tell me all about your second term."

"Of course." She smiled and headed for the stairs, as Vixs popped her trunk out of the hall and up to her room.

Corban headed to his study and poured himself a drink. It would have been easier if his daughter wasn't quite so beautiful, but she was coming to an age where he'd need to start thinking about provisions for her future and possibly arranging her marriage to the right kind of wizard. The Dark Lord's return complicated even that simple duty. Families that might have overlooked her questionable breeding before, would shun her now, and men that he'd never have considered would have to be given at least the appearance of a fair chance. No matter what he chose for her, there would be resentment over it. The only positive point was that he at least had a few years before most would start looking at her seriously. If he could find something unobjectionable this summer, it could possibly fly under the radar.

He headed to the dining room, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and yanked the cravat loose. The pain from his private punishment at the Dark Lord's hands still radiated through his body. One thing was certain, he wasn't eager for a repeat of that night. The Dark Lord had put them all on notice that any future mistakes would be taken out of their hides, and possibly their children's. That was enough to put true fear into all of them, even the most arrogant of their number. He would do whatever it took to protect his daughter, and he knew all of his fellows would do the same.

His daughter came in and took her seat, placing her napkin across her lap as the meal appeared. She'd changed out of her uniform, into a simple pale green dress.

"How did you do with you with your examinations?" He started with a neutral topic.

"Fairly well. I had a little trouble with Defence, but I think I managed to get a good grade," she said.

"We'll see about arranging some tutoring this summer for that then. Your instruction in that subject has been abysmal, and with OWLs next year I don't want you unprepared," he said. The current climate also meant that she'd need a strong practical background in offensive and defensive magic, and it was unlikely that she'd get that education at school. He'd need to find her an appropriate tutor, and make certain she applied herself.

"Thank you, father," she said.

"Were things much unsettled after the Third Task?" Corban asked.

"Of course they were." Tracey's eyes were focused on the table. "A boy was dead. The Headmaster and Potter told us that the Dark Lord was to blame. Everyone's scared." She snuck a small look at him.

"The Dark Lord did kill that boy," he confirmed for her. He could also tell that she was scared, and as much as he wanted to tell her there was nothing for her to worry about, he couldn't. "I won't lie to you, Tracey. Things are going to be difficult for a while and possibly dangerous. I will do what I can to protect you, but there may come a time when I can't." He hated that most of all. "But I need you to understand that I wish I could shield you from all of it."

"What's going to happen?" she asked.

"Nothing that you need to worry about right now. Let me worry about the Dark Lord, and keeping us in his good graces." Corban hated the distrust in her eyes. "I will have times when I may ask things of you, and I need you to do what I say without question. Is that clear?"

"Very clear," she said and turned her eyes back to the table.

The silence was…uncomfortable tonight and he didn't like the tension he was seeing in her shoulders. Merlin, what must she be thinking? Was he really such a monster that his daughter was too afraid to look at him unless he was talking to her? That needed to end and quickly. He couldn't keep her safe if she didn't trust him. There was this gulf between them, filled with all the things they didn't say, and it got wider every year. He wasn't sure how to bridge that gap, but he had to try.

"Don't bother unpacking your things, tomorrow you'll be moving out of the Rose Suite," he said as they finished up with dessert.

"What?" She looked stunned and instantly worried.

"You'll be moving into the family wing. I've had Vixs air out a set of rooms near mine. It's long past time," he said and stood. "You are part of this family Tracey, and if I'm to expect you to uphold its traditions…you should be treated as more than an unwelcome guest. You'll have a budget to redecorate the rooms to your liking, and you're free to invite your friends over as long as you let me know ahead of time." It was an olive branch, and he hoped she would accept it.

"I…thank you, father," Tracey said after a moment of stunned silence.

"It's good to have you home. If you need me, I'll be in my study. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she replied.

Corban let out a breath he'd been holding, as he left the dining room. He should have moved her into the family wing when he'd first brought her home. Shame had made him place her in the guest wing of the house, with just an elf to mind her while he was busy at the Ministry. The simple truth was he'd never intended to take her with him that night. He'd gone to see for himself if the entry in the family grimoire was accurate.

His short dalliance with Addison Davis had been a salve for his wounded heart after the death of his wife, and a much needed escape from his duties to the Dark Lord. A child had never been part of the plan. He'd never even known the woman was pregnant when he stopped engaging her services after a few months. The little entry in the family tree had sent him searching for her. His intention had been to offer Addison money and a home in the country where she could raise their daughter in comfort. His money would have supported Tracey at school, without the stigma of a Death Eater father. He would have happily remained anonymous to the girl, but what he'd found there that night had made that plan impossible.

In the five years since he'd last seen her, Addison had changed. And not for the better. Her flat had been covered in half-empty liquor bottles and other assorted things that he might not have understood the use of, but he was certain that they were not good for a child. They'd argued and somehow she'd fallen backwards, striking her head on the edge of the coffee table. He'd never meant to hurt her. Tracey had been hiding under the bed upstairs, rail thin and dirty, but those impossibly blue eyes had stared up at him and he'd known he couldn't leave her there. So he'd taken her and never looked back. Addison had been alive when he left, but when he returned the next night…she and most of her belongings were gone. He'd never gone looking for her. Tracey believed she was dead, and it was better that way.

While he might be a bastard and guilty of more crimes than any man should ever have gotten away with, he wasn't capable of abandoning his child. Better his general indifference than what he'd found her living in. He sighed and poured himself another drink, going over to look at the picture of his daughter from the Yule Ball. She looked so lovely in the silver and pink gown he'd bought for her. Her blonde hair was braided into a crown, with delicate tendrils escaping to fame her face. She smiled shyly at the camera, on the arm of her escort from Durmstrang. The older boy smiled charmingly down at her, oblivious to anything but his date. The pair were surrounded by a fall of enchanted snow, and it looked simply perfect. She looked happy, and it was a painful reminder that he so rarely saw her smile. More than anything, he wanted her to be happy and Corban was determined to try and make her smile more often.

o.o.O.o.o

"Did he say why?" Daphne asked as she sat down with Tracey on the comfortable window seat in her new rooms.

"No, just that it was long past time," Tracey said and shook her head. It was a sudden change, and she didn't like those.

"Well, it kind of is," Daphne said gently. "This a good thing, Trace. Maybe he'll finally start treating you like he should." She reached over and took her friend's hand.

"I just don't trust it. I mean the Dark Lord returns and suddenly he's being all attentive and kind?" She shook her head.

"Maybe it's the wake-up call he needed. Maybe you should give him the chance to try and make things up to you," she said. "It would make things easier for you."

"I'll try." She sighed and leaned back against the soft cushions. These rooms were massive, easily twice the size of the guest room she'd lived in since coming here. Daphne had come over to help her make some simple changes to the décor, the two girls pretty good at transfigurations. She was also the only one of Tracey's friends that would understand why she was so freaked out by this. In her earliest memories, her father had made it clear that she was NOT a Yaxley, and only an obligation. It felt unfair that suddenly the rules had changed.

"Having him recognize you properly would mean that you could end up marrying well too. It's not like there have been any other Yaxley women for a few generations. It gives you something to leverage." Daphne winked at her. "Not to mention you're easily the prettiest girl in our year."

"Hardly." Tracey rolled her eyes a little. She knew that she was pretty enough, but there were other witches just as pretty, with better backgrounds to help them along. It was the reason she worked so hard to get the best grades she could manage, and tried to perfect her manners. She needed to be perfect, just to keep on an even footing with the other Slytherin girls. It would be so easy to slip.

"Have you gotten any letters from Hedrick?" Daphne asked.

"Yes, he asked permission to write to me before they left. I got a letter with the morning post today." She smiled. "He's….really sweet."

"I think you and Granger snagged the two best wizards from Durmstrang," she said.

"It probably won't end up being anything, but it was nice." She felt her cheeks heat up a little. Hedrick Tolftson was from Norway, and it was nice to just get to know someone that didn't look at her like she was less of a witch because her mother was a muggle, or because she was in Slytherin. He was finished school now, and was going to be heading off to start a potion's apprenticeship at the end of the summer. It was unlikely he'd have a lot of time to write once that happened, but she'd enjoy the time they did have.

"Since I'm here, my great-aunt sent your invitation to the summer brunch with me." Daphne remembered and pulled a letter out of her pocket. "She said that I was old enough to be allowed to choose my own guests, so I picked you. Pansy is going to be so jealous." She smirked.

"She didn't mind you picking me?" Tracey accepted it with a smile.

"She just smiled and added your name to the list," Daphne said. "I think you worry too much about what other people think. Anyone who cares who your mother is, isn't worth your time."

"That's literally a good ninety percent of our House." Tracey gave her a look.

"That leaves ten percent that are not complete idiots." Daphne laughed. "Do you think your father would let you spend the day in Diagon Alley tomorrow? We need to get our dresses for the Malfoy Summer ball."

"I haven't got an invitation for that yet," Tracey said.

"They don't go out until next week, I'm sure you'll get one," Daphne said. "Draco's mother will want to see all the witches in his circle, even the ones she won't approve of. It only makes sense. We're all getting to that age. My mother said that we should be careful about our associations, more than usual."

"Especially now." Tracey's mind wandered back to Cedric Diggory's body lying there on the grass. She couldn't get it out of her head, and a dark whisper in her mind said that it was only the first body she was going to see. Unlike Daphne, she didn't have the ability to just stay out of it. Her father was a Death Eater, and he was all she had. He'd warned her that things could get bad, and he'd looked really worried. That scared her more than anything else. She'd never seen her father look afraid of anything.

"We'll be ok." Daphne reached over and took her hand. "Let's just try and enjoy the summer, ok?"

"You're right." Tracey nodded and tried to shake the sense of dread sitting on her chest. Worrying wouldn't change anything. It never did.