"Maia, I'm scared."

Maia looked at her brother, who was staring at her almost pleadingly.

This is how things had always been. Outside the house, Draco was the strong one, the hard nut to crack, the one who always wore a sly smile on his face and a mocking glint in his eyes; and Maia had the secondary role, she barely spoke, she only nodded most of the times and was the polite girl. However, within those four walls, things changed. The boy was scared, obedient and complacent, and it was Maia who carried the strong and mature role.

Maia stopped looking at Draco. He released a breath he had been holding, resigned. He knew that even though Maia had been his protector all his life, there was nothing she could do for him this time.

"There is nothing to fear, Draco. Thanks to you, we will be safe. Mother, father, you and me," the blonde muttered. With a wrist movement she fixed her brother's tie. "You are very brave. There's nothing to worry about, Draco. I promise we'll be fine."

Draco didn't feel brave. In fact, he felt anything but that: what was the point of being brave this time, if he really had no other choice? He was being a coward for not being against it. For not having repudiated all those thoughts when he could still do it. He closed his eyes and let that situation sink in: it was too late. He was sixteen, but didn't have the power to make the decisions in his hand.

His sister swallowed without him noticing. The boy didn't understand why Maia was so composed and he was so stunned. Since they were children he had admired that aspect of his sister, always so calm, with cold blood. He hadn't been able to comply with the decisions his father made for him, and now he faced the consequences. He let himself be carried away by his feelings, not like Maia, and those feelings were what made him shudder at that moment.

None of them said anything else. Both one and the other knew that there were no words to fix that situation, so they remained silent for what seemed like hours. Draco looked at Maia while she was just knitting a piece of cloth. It was a task that, from the beginning, had belonged to the elves of her manor, but Narcissa had considered it something that every young woman should learn. Maia finished her work and handed that embroidery to her brother.

It was a small piece of green cloth. In the center, silver-colored, a capital D. Draco looked at her briefly, and then placed the embroidery in his jacket pocket. Maia took her brother's hand in hers and caressed it. Draco's hand was cold, and she could feel it trembling slightly. She interlaced her fingers with his, and felt the hardness of his skin against her own, thin and smooth.

"I love you, Draco. Whatever happens, I'll be with you. I will fight by your side. You're my brother, and I'm proud of you, " Maia muttered. Her brother looked at her fondly; they never said those things, so when it happened, they both knew it was real. "Nothing is your fault. It is not your fault that we were born into a family of cowards."

The blond shuddered at the words of his sister. His 11-year-old self would have reproached her that this was a lie, he would have asked her why she talked about their parents like that. But the sixteen-year-old Draco was no longer blinded by the lies. He had learned a long time ago to distinguish reality from reality. Draco only nodded at the words of Maia, who was still caressing his hand.

A noise at the door made them both turn around. Narcissa Malfoy let herself glimpse and watched the scene with the sadness that no mother should ever suffer.

"It's time, Draco. He's here." The younger Malfoy shuddered again, this time more noticeably. However, something in his head made him stop. He couldn't show all the fear he had, or everything could go wrong. He put his grey eyes on his sister, and then on his mother. They both knew about Draco's concern, however, Lucius had completely disregarded his son's fear. He just wanted the Malfoy name to be as important as it had been some time ago, and he would risk everything for it, even his son.

All the love and admiration that Draco Malfoy had felt towards his father had vanished by the time he understood that he was just another piece in his game, as important as a mere pawn could be. If Draco continued with that farce it was to protect his sister and his mother, the people who really loved him and would protect him with his life. And he was willing to do the same for them.

So he got up from the chair, took his hands from his sister's and nodded. Ironically, it was the perfect occasion to show who his loyalty really belonged to.

Narcissa kissed her son's temple and whispered "everything will be fine". The boy gave one last glance to his sister, who nodded. She got up, ready to follow her brother. Narcissa closed the door of the room behind them, and they found all the house elves of the mansion gathered there with their heads down, as if ready to venerate. Maia understood that Voldemort was waiting for them downstairs.

It was like that. Maia clenched her jaw when she saw that being in the living room of her house. He carried the wand in his hands and a broad but disturbing smile. By his side, all his henchmen also bowed their heads, and Maia didn't understand that this was a tradition when someone was going to join their ranks, to become a Death Eater.

Bellatrix Lestrange smiled when she saw her nephew approaching the Dark Lord.

"He's my nephew Draco, my Lord. I'm sure you'll remember him."

"Oh, yes, dear Bellatrix. Of course I remember Draco. You are welcome among mine. I appreciate your thoughts and your desire to become one of us."

From a distance, Narcissa and Maia watched the scene. Narcissa just wanted her son to be safe, and Maia was horrified by that scene. The two women watched as their brother and son lifted the sleeve of his jacket. The tip of Lord Voldemort's wand hit pale, veiny skin. "Please, no," both of them thought.

They let out an imperceptible moan when the wand penetrated the boy's skin and he tried to stifle a scream. The Death Eaters around them had already raised their heads, and remained impassive. Bellatrix was right next to the Dark Lord, who concentrated his efforts on marking Draco. She smiled broadly and looked at her nephew with joy. What for her was an honor, for him was the worst experience of his life.

"He's hurting him," Maia whispered. Her face showed indifference, but her heart exploded at the image.

"It's part of the process, Maia. Draco will be fine, do not worry," her mother replied in the same tone of voice. She trembled softly, and Maia was glad.

"You are as guilty of this as dad. I know what kind of man he is, but I don't understand you. Draco is a child, he is scared, and you force him to risk his life in this way."

"We have no choice, Maia! You know. Everything has been written since you were born. You were lucky not to be a boy, or you would be in the same position as your brother right now."

"I would have really been lucky if I had not been born in this family. You say you care about us, but you aren't able to do anything to protect us. I don't know what he wants to do with me, but if he has not marked me like Draco, it's because he has something in mind. If something happens to Draco or me because of this, I hope it doesn't let you sleep. If right now I'm not leaving here with my brother, it's because, despite everything, we are a family."

Narcissa looked worriedly at her daughter. Her inquisitive grey eyes stared at her accusingly, and Narcissa shuddered. She knew her daughter was right, what she didn't know is when her little Maia had opened her eyes and discovered what was really going on around her. At times, Narcissa was still seeing her little blonde girl with braids, with warm eyes and a smile on her face. In others, like that one, she only saw a young woman, impassive, impenetrable and strong. Her grey eyes were no longer warm, they were expressionless. Her face was pale and thin, with pointed features. She was tall and slender, there was no trace of the plump girl that so much affection had given.

Maia left the room as soon as Draco's process was over.

Things were going to change that year.