Temptation

by Blcdrc

Summary:

Theodore Nott didn't get tempted easily, well not until she came along.
So tempting, and so forbidden.
Just what he needed.

Notes:

Hellooo everyone, thank you for choosing my story and I hope you enjoy it!
English is not my first language, so ignore any errors you might stumble upon, I am probably already working on it;D
This is my first Harry Potter fic on this platform, to fit the plot I will be changing a bit of the timeline for the years 1996 and up.
And just to be secure I will be making our main characters age-appropriate.
Making Theodore Nott 18 (going on 19) in sixth year.
And my OC 17 (going on 18) in fifth year.
2 poster collages at the end of my two main characters!

Chapter 1: Malfoy

Theo's plan for tonight was to get laid, but just after he drank this whole bottle of Fire Whiskey he has, well, borrowed from Goyle's secret, not-so-secret stash. Goyle has started suspecting Theo after the last two bottles had mysteriously vanished and then appeared again, only empty, but Theo, of course, lied to his mate, and said he saw a few ladies around the stash but couldn't place names and faces together, which obviously angered Goyle more, but what was he going to do? Report to bloody Snape or McGonagall that someone had stolen and drunk all of his, very much forbidden, booze? Since then Goyle had hidden the remaining bottles in a different place, under his fucking bed, and tried covering it with a Notice Me Not charm. But when Theo needs something, you can't hide it from him. Stupid bloke, that Goyle, makes him wonder every day how was he still in the same year they were. He may be stupid, but at least he gets one thing right, he knows his way with alcohol and doesn't shit around that, always the most expensive, best tasting, strongest Fire Whiskey, probably stolen from his daddy's collection. At least he's good for something.

He sat down at the green sofa in front of the fireplace, the unopened bottle leaning against his thigh as he leaned back, admiring the still sober, not blurry sight in front of him, his imagination jumping to the things he knew he would be doing when he got himself ready for the night, meaning: getting himself drunk to forget everything except the feeling in his trousers that he will be getting care of soon, too.

His friends were waiting for him at some Ravenclaw party, he had promised them he'd come by just after finishing some things up. That was a lie. He just wanted to start with the good drinks and not the cheap, probably with water mixed drinks that they were serving there. Bloody butterbeer, whoever said it got them drunk, lied. Theo never felt even tipsy with liters of the drink in his system.

He was alone in the Slytherin common room, which was rarely this silent, only the cracks from the fire pit and Theo's breathing and drink shuffling. Most of the Slytherins were at the party, as the Ravenclaws knew how to get a party started, and they also knew that a good party meant inviting the Slytherins. The ones that didn't go were stuffed in their beds inside their dorms, boring, spitting at the Slytherin party image. But those were usually the first and second years, not that Theo had given them any look at all, too young, or any year under him, to be frank, maybe some fifth years but not any worth remembering.

Just as he was about to open the heavily liquidated bottle, a loud 'thump' was heard from the entrance, and a low, feminine voice, cursing, and spitting insults, to what it seemed herself because Theo could only hear one person's footsteps angrily making its way towards the large room's center.

It was his reflex to shove the bottle between his legs as he turned his head to where he expected the obviously raged female to enter, anticipation in his eyes as he listened to her voice send whispering curses and rage-filled words to whoever or whatever was the reason of her anger.

The first thing his eyes caught was the witch's platinum blonde hair, it stretched down past her shoulders, but above her hips. It didn't take long for Theo's eyes to fall down to her clothes, or whatever that kind of dress could be called, as it didn't cover much of her, the short black dress covered her stunning pale legs to just above her knees, it hugged her slim figure to every curve tightly, but he just noticed it was long sleeved, only the sleeves were pretty much see-through, just a little shade of black on them. She held her shoes in her hand, as well as a jacket that seemed too big on her and also familiar to Theo. He smirked at the sight of the young witch, as he wondered who she was, not being able to see her face clearly. She must be younger, he thought to himself, he knew and probably fucked more than half of the Slytherin girls from his year and above, they tend to like him quite a bit, even though he was younger than them, and he didn't mind it. He had nothing to mind.

„Responsible my arse...“ He heard her hiss under her breath, she must have not noticed him yet, he watched her, his full attention on her, she threw the jacket over the chair in front of her, and her shoes, she let them fall beside her as she continued the bitter talk with herself.
„Fucking hell!“ She let out, still not looking Theo's way, and his smirk never left his lips, he was interested now, he was about to introduce himself. Her appearance made sure all of him was interested.

„Such filthy words coming out of such a pretty mouth...“ He must have startled her as she fastly gripped her wand pointing it to where he was sitting, almost like a reflex to her. He raised his hands in a 'sorry' kind of way, or maybe 'don't hurt me, didn't mean to scare you' kind of way. For a second her eyes widened, like she was compromised, like she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to, but she dismissed that with a roll of her eyes that he still couldn't tell the color of as she stood too far. Did she just roll her eyes at him? He watched her for a few seconds before she decided to break the not-so-uncomfortable silence between them.

„I'm not in the mood for your games Theo...“ Well, she obviously knew him, which made him think even harder, fuck, did he know her from somewhere before, his eyes glued to that pretty face of hers, she sure did look familiar now that he stared at her for this long, shit, did he sleep with her and forgot about it, maybe he was drunk, but godsdamn if he would ever forget legs like those if he ever touched them, no, he didn't, he ensured himself, not any amount of alcohol would make him forget having sex with that stunning body that stood in front of him. But from bloody where, was he an arse for not remembering the stunning witch's name, but he could have sworn he never saw her before, alright, maybe he did, but he wouldn't have paid her much attention then, but that sounds wrong. How couldn't he notice her? She wasn't unnoticeable. But damn he knew that face from somewhere.

Shit. He stared for too long.

Just as she was about to say something, a loud 'bang' interrupted her, and loud footsteps that seemed to be storming into the room caught her attention and she rolled her eyes in the direction where they were coming from, putting her hand on her temple and shaking her head.

Soon, the familiar voice of Theo's best mate filled the room, he talked loudly, not usual for him.

„What were you fucking thinking Cass?“ Cass. He shot a glance to where his best friend was standing and toward the witch in front of him. Holy fucking Merlin's tangled beard.

Everything fell into place, puzzles got together as Theo remembered.

Cass as in Cassiopeia fucking Malfoy. Draco Malfoy's younger sister. Holy shit.

His eyes drifted to her body once again but he forced them off as his head was struggling to comprehend the picture. How in the bloody hell did he not see it from the beginning, the platinum blonde hair, her, now very visible, green-greyish eyes the expensive dress.

Cassiopeia Malfoy. When did that happen? He could have sworn he saw her the other day in her princess pajama when he was sleeping over at the Malfoy's, which would be five years ago. And she was certainly not wearing a princess pajama now, and holy shit, how did he not notice her.

She is all grown up.

And stunning.

And fucking hot.

And Malfoy's little sister.

Shit.

„Get over yourself Draco, I am not a child anymore, I get to decide what I wear, where I go, what I do, and whoever I am going to do it with!“ She yelled back. She did someone? At the party? In that dress? And Theo wasn't there to witness that?

Draco's reaction, completely understandable.

Damn.

„Over my dead body Cassiopeya, I am responsible for you here, and I will not allow my fucking little sister to run around half-naked in front of horny Cormac!“

Cormac? That dirty son of a bitch. No way.

They either didn't seem to notice him or decided to ignore his presence, either way, Theo didn't mind, he was fully invested in the arguing that was going on in-between the two siblings.

„Half naked?“ She spat out, looking like she might hex him at any moment now. Which would be undeniably funny. „Maybe if you trusted me, you would know that I fucked him off a long while ago, and I was at the party because I was invited by my new friend, and I was there to enjoy some time with them. I didn't take a sip of alcohol, which obviously can't be said same to you.“

Ohhhh.

She's got a sharp tongue. But that lies in the family, after all.

Not that she lied, Draco was known for his alcohol tolerance, but he didn't look like he tolerated it well tonight.

She glared daggers at Draco, and after a second she grabbed her shoes from the floor and took the jacket into her hand, throwing it hard into Draco's chest.

Draco's jacket.

Draco stood there silently, the jacket didn't budge him one bit, he didn't move, he just stared at her, his face not showing what he was thinking.

„Here is your fucking jacket. I hope that you are happy you ruined everything...“ Her voice sounded as if it was going to crack at any moment now but she held herself steady, as she turned around away from him, turning her back to him.

„Don't leave now, we aren't finished!“ He yelled after her but she shot him her middle finger in the air, not turning around, she walked away towards her dorm.

The silence was thick, not necessarily awkward but maybe unnoticed.

„Well that was something...“ Theo broke it Draco looked at him, as if it was the first time he had seen him. He didn't even notice him before.

„Were you here the whole time?“ Draco asked making his way towards his best friend, he looked tired, but not angry, there was something else to it, something Theo only saw on Draco's face a few times in all the years they were best friends, their whole life.

„I sure was, damn, I knew I made the right decision when I stayed here. Absolutely better than the party!“ Theo leaned back in his seat, lifting the bottle as Draco sat on the armchair on his left, the chair that he would always sit on, and pretty much everybody knew it was his. He was going to drink the bottle alone, but his mate looked like he needed it more at the moment, and Theo was never the type to say no to his friends. He finally opened the bottle up, pouring a bit into his mouth, and with a hiss, as the strong liquid went through his throat, he handed the bottle to Draco, who of course didn't reject. He took the bottle and with a swing took a good sip in, pressing his eyes together and shaking his head as the drink was doing what it was supposed to do.

Theo knew better than to ask about the fight now, maybe once he calms down, but for now, he'll avoid it.

„Where are the others?“ Theo asked as he took the bottle from Draco to take another burning sip. He was awaiting the answer to where the rest of their friends were: Mattheo, Blaise and Enzo...

Draco's hand went towards his head, where undeniably a headache was forming.

„They stayed, waiting for Cormac to leave...“ Theo, of course, knew what that meant, but this would be the first time it did, as Theo couldn't remember if Draco ever had beaten up someone for his younger sister, because they hadn't. Theo wished he was there to help out, he hated that nasty bastard, he hated his guts. Deserves every hit he gets.

Theo only nodded as he continued switching the bottle with Draco.

After some silent time, and a quarter of the bottle gone, Draco looked down at the almost finished alcohol in his hands and laughed.

„Goyle?“ He only asked, and Theo laughed as well, giving him the confirmation he needed to laugh more. Of course, Draco knew about who was the real guilty party of Goyle's disappearing stash.

Some more time passed and Theo and Draco were accompanied by the rest of the group, who came in laughing, Mattheo, of course, with blood on his knuckles. They laughed together as the three of them shared the scene of scared Cormac finding himself with three angry, drunk Slytherins. Theo would have laughed more if his mind wasn't switching to the young Malfoy witch, and her legs, and long hair.

He needed to get that out of his head.

But there were so many questions piling up in his head.

Sure he was never interested in the younger Malfoy, not enough to even bother asking about her or to even have her pop in his head at some random time, but when he thought about it now, he did not see her once here in Hogwarts for the 5 years she is supposed to be. There is no chance they never crossed paths, how could he miss her here, her hair, just like Draco's, not something you don't notice. Damn him if he ever saw her here before this.

Chapter 2: Cigarettes

Notes:

Sooo sorry for the long time I needed to update this story, it just fell behind on my to-do list...

He didn't fall asleep for a long time last night, it might have been because of the confused thoughts about the young Malfoy, or maybe because he didn't take care of his business when he needed to and he didn't really feel like taking care of it himself, so he let it bother him for the rest of his sleepless night. Then early, too early in the morning, Blaise woke them up, something about getting to the Quidditch pitch and preparing for this year's tryouts, which Theo's hungover brain didn't comprehend the best, so it took him a good old water splash from his mates to wake him really up. He gasped at the sensation, water dripping down his face and soaking his favorite pillow. As they laughed at his surprised face he picked up the closest thing he had to himself, which happened to be the empty bottle from last night, and he threw it in their direction. He expected a loud crashing sound, glass everywhere but it never came, his eyes darted to the levitating bottle just near Draco's leg, and Draco who held his wand in his right hand, staring at him...

„Keep that for the pitch!“ Draco reminded him as he awfully slowly levitated the bottle back on the nightstand. For a second there Theo couldn't believe his eyes, he expected his friend to react completely differently, but this calm response made Blaise and Theo exchange confused looks. Draco was usually the type to match the energy, certainly not the one to calm situations down, those parts in this friendship belonged to either Blaise or Enzo, it depended on who was there at the moment, but never Draco.

If Theo wasn't awake before, he was now, though his head was torturing him for last night's choices. Even though he was wet already, he needed a quick shower, it's the start of a new school year and he can't get out looking like whatever. But before the shower he used his wand to dry the pillow and sheets, not bothering to make his bed.

Of course, he had to wait for his two mates in front of him to finish showering as he was the last one to wake up.

The cold water felt better now that he was awake as it splashed his face. It felt good, it ran down his body, the cold brought him back to reality, out of his morning thoughts. He grabbed the towel and threw it around himself, walking out of the bathroom half naked, something that the boys grew to become comfortable with. As he put his clothes on, his eyes darted to the clock on his left, catching the number 7:40, meaning breakfast had already begun, and the rest of his friends were waiting for him in the common room. His hand gripped the Quidditch equipment that lay under his bed and before taking his wand he made sure to put his pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He'd sooner forget his wand and head than his cigarettes, an addiction he discovered two years ago, and never got rid of it, better say, never wanted to get rid of.

Ancient runes were his first period, he stuffed his books and quill together with his quidditch equipment.

As he headed downstairs to the common room he could hear the voices of his friends discussing their class schedule for this year, and by the way, they groaned he could tell they were not happy with it.

„Here is our princess! Sleep well?“ Mattheo's voice rang in his head as the hungover made sure he didn't forget about it.

„So good I could hear you snoring!“ Theo responded, the boys laughed, Mattheo and Enzo, along with Goyle, were in the room next to Draco, Blaise, and Theo, and Theo knew that if it weren't for both Muffliato and the Silencing charm, he and the ones around him would go crazy.

„Maybe you would've slept better if you saw Cormac's face last night when he saw us, really, a shame, it's the kind of thing you have to see in person...“

„I doubt it is the last time though...“ Enzo added.

„Let's hope it's not the same reason because then it might just be the last time for him!“ Draco's voice was serious and joking at the same time. They all laughed. Though Draco was joking, Theo and the others knew he a part of him was serious.

Just as they exited the common room they were welcomed by the beautiful black-haired Slytherin. Pansy was leaning on the wall next to the entrance, her hair and makeup perfectly in place, not a trace of last night's party on her face. Of course, there won't be. A smirk crept on her slightly crimson lips as she greeted them.

A whistle came out of Mattheo's mouth.

„Good morning to you too!“ She responded. „Heard you had some fun last night, huh?“ The arch of her dark brow was almost natural.

„Mandatory fun...“ Mattheo smirked. Theo's eyes fell down at her skirt that was just above her kneecaps, something you can't really see within every girl here. But as he brought his eyes back, he was met with her gaze. Pansy was really the boy's girl best friend, a sixth member of the group, who just occasionally allowed herself to have fun with them, but only ever to blow out some steam, both for herself and them, and she didn't come alone, she came in a package along with Daphne Greengrass, who was maybe in Theo's top 5 favorite occasional hookups, the first spot for now still holding a girl one year above them, who likes to come by Theo's when her boyfriend doesn't take proper care of her. He smirked as she caught him staring.

„Heading to breakfast?“ She asked.

Blaise shook his head no, „We'll be there in 20 minutes, 30 tops, we have to take these to the pitch!“ He explained and she nodded.

„You're missing your other half!“ Enzo brought to everyone's attention.

„Yeah, she forgot her wand somewhere so I'm waiting for her here, so we can get breakfast!“

A few moments later they parted ways. The cold September air hit them hard, Theo's lungs immediately craving the warmth of the grey smoke. So he didn't wait long to light up the first cigarette for today, pulling the smoke in until he could feel it reach the bottom of his probably rotten black lungs. Then handing it to Mattheo who craved the same.

They finished at the quidditch pitch fast, Mattheo and Theo sooner than the others. 

He turned to blow the smoke into Draco who was approaching them, Draco, unlike Theo, was an occasional smoker, he didn't really smoke, until he got mad. Blaise gets a few smokes out when he's with his mates, Enzo too, while Mattheo and Theo rather breathe in smoke than clear air for the rest of their lives.

Once they were done, and headed back, the group walked through the halls as if they owned it, the younger kids avoiding them, and the others eyeing them out.

The Great Hall turned the attention to them as they entered, at the end of the Slytherin table, around where Pansy and Daphne were sitting, open seats were waiting for them, as per usual.

Theo took the seat next to Daphne as he threw a hand around her shoulders, greeting her.

„Hello to you too!“ She smiled at the brunette. Since they arrived for the new school year Daphne and Theo haven't seen each other, somehow, always missing one another.

„You look good!“ Theo complimented and she smiled. He liked her, she was a good friend, and a good fuck, but nothing above that, and she knew that, and she never looked for anything deeper than that, she wasn't that kind of girl.

„You're not bad yourself...“

She was interrupted by Pansy who was holding a cup of tea in her hand, sipping it gracefully.

„Have you heard the news?“ And news that enters Hogwarts always goes through Pansy, who then, depending on how good it is, shares it wider. „Snape is going to be teaching DADA this year!“

„What happened with Professor Lupin?“ Enzo ate the sausage.

„They didn't say, they only said that Snape is taking over, but it's probably for the better, the fool last year didn't teach us much...“

„Like you care about learning!“

They continued their talking, Theo didn't care much to join or to listen, instead, his eyes fell on the familiar blond who just entered the Great Hall, holding her books to her chest as she talked to the brunette, Daphne's sister, Astoria. They seemed like they were going to join them but didn't, they sat a few seats down, never once glancing over here, probably for the better, because they would've caught Theo staring. Astoria seemed to have placed her things down and unlike Cassiopeia, she walked over to them. Everybody knew her, and even though she didn't hang out with them, they all treated her kindly, she was Daphne's little sister after all.

„Just came to say hi, and Daph, did you accidentally take my potions textbook, I can't find it anywhere and I need it?“ Her older sister glanced over at the pretty brunette and shook her head.

„I'm not sure, you can go check in my dorm...“ The two sisters didn't look alike one bit. Daphne was blonde, sharper features, but more of a bitch, whereas Astoria had long deep brown hair and much softer features, but was much nicer. Daphne tends to be quite overprotective of her younger sister, keeping her out of trouble and things she is in, including this friend group.

„Wait!“ Pansy yelled at the brunette before she managed to walk away. „Why don't you come sit with us here, tell your new friend to join us!“ Draco glared over to her and she just smirked and shrugged it off. Astoria didn't wait long to call the blonde over. They took a seat and Theo could see that younger Malfoy was avoiding older Malfoy.

Pansy jumped over to take a seat next to her and shook her hand. „Draco's sister, huh? I see the resemblance. We haven't officially met, I'm Pansy, we're going to be great friends!“ They shook hands and Theo's eyes were trained at his best mate.

„Cassiopeia, nice to meet you!“ She spoke, her voice was much softer than last night.

„Look at that, a friendly Malfoy!“ Pansy smirked in Draco's direction. „Never thought I'd live long to witness that...“

„Piss off Pansy!“ He rolled his eyes as he stretched his hand out to pick an apple from the bowl in front of him.

„Mattheo, nice to finally meet the girl for whom we beat up a guy last night! We have to thank you, didn't have such a productive back-to-school day since ever!“ She smiled.

„I'm sure my brother is the only one deserving of the thanks!“ She finally shot a look at her brother, who seemed to be the one ignoring her now.

„This is Blaise, Enzo, Daphne, and Theo!“ Pansy introduced the bunch and Theo caught the glance she left on him for a bit too long.

„Nice to meet everyone...“

The two siblings looked awfully alike, though she took quite some of her mother's beauty, Theo smirked at her, but she didn't even spare him another glance. Her hair fell gracefully down her back, two long strands were pulled back in a silky black ribbon, and on her neck a pearl necklace, no doubt those were real pearls, as you would never see a Malfoy walking around in fake jewelry. As the girls proceeded to talk Theo saw his best mate get up, putting out a lame excuse of going to class, they still had 20 more minutes. He chose to follow. Nodding to the rest to stay put.

Draco was clearly upset, though Theo didn't understand why.

„Hey, hey, wait!“ Theo ran after his best friend. „Where are you going, we both know you aren't going to class, so what's up?“ He asked as they walked through the corridor.

„Nothing, she's just going on my nerves...“

„Who, your sister?“ His question didn't receive an answer for a second, he assumed Draco was debating what to answer.

„Yes, I don't have time to always look over her, I mean, last night she wasn't even supposed to be at that party, I don't even know how she got in, or whatever...“ Instead of taking the stairs that led to the Ancient Runes classroom, Draco strolled down the corridor to the castle's backyard which tended to be quite empty at early times like that. He stopped behind a large stone pillar and leaned on it.

„You've got any cigarettes left?“ He was mad. Theo pulled out his pack from his pocket handing one to Draco while taking the lighter and lighting it up for him. Draco took a long pull, letting the smoke burn his lungs for a bit before blowing it out. For a moment both stayed silent, appreciating the warmth the cigarette provided them with.

„Gotta say, it's funny seeing you get mad over shit like this mama bear...“ Theo let out an unintentional snort laugh, making Draco shoot him a dirty look.

„Glad one of us gets to laugh!“

„Come on, is it not? You getting yourself all worked up because of your sister, bloody amazing, if I knew she'd get you this mad all of the time, she'd be here sooner... By the way, how come she's here, she wasn't here before, right?“ Theo's jokes might just have intentionally or unintentionally led to his main question, he was thinking about awfully much, and needed to get out of his head.

The next pull might have been longer than the first one. „No, she just transferred. Beauxbatons.“ In just a few words Draco answered many questions in Theo's head. Beauxbatons. Makes sense, though why not Hogwarts? It is the top school when it comes to magic and surely is much closer than France. More questions.

The cigarette hit the floor and Draco pulled his wand out, with a silent Evanesco it disappeared into thin air.

No words were needed to get them going to class, they had 5 more minutes, just enough to get there in time.

Before they entered the classroom Draco turned to his best friend and looked him in the eyes. Draco's eyes seemed more serious to Theo this year than before, his whole demeanor did, and that probably came along with his sister. „If I'm not around, and you see a guy running around her, get rid of him, I don't care how you do it, especially Cormac!“ Theo did not expect this but gladly took it.

„Alright Mama Bear!“ He laughed at his best friend, turning away not to catch his salty face when he glared at him. Theo and Draco knew each other fairly well, so it always kind of surprised Theo when he'd get to know new parts of his mate.  And this older protective brother agenda suited him well, maybe because Cormac was involved in this, and Theo disliked him as much as the next guy.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3

Chapter 3: Quidditch

Notes:

Another Chapter, hope you enjoy!
I'd love to hear your thoughts so far;D

Nothing made her angrier than people poking their noses in her business, especially when it was her brother. For Merlin's sake, she was here for two whole days and he has already managed to ruin it for her. She wondered if it was something every older brother did or if it was just a thing for her stupid one to fuck everything in her life up.

Though for these 2 days, she really grew to like Hogwarts, fewer rules, more fun, and more fun boys. But last night she really didn't mean to get involved with anyone, she had just arrived and had yet to be introduced to everything and everyone, and that made her lose her mind even more when her brother shouted at her and Cormac when he tried to talk to her, in front of everybody. He had no right. She can handle it, it is her life, and she knows what she doesn't want, and she surely doesn't want Cormac. He didn't care until now, so why now? She knew he wasn't very enthusiastic when he found out she was getting transferred to Hogwarts, and that was totally fine with her, but to act fully mad when she tried making a few friends, that had her fuming.

Since she figured she wouldn't be able to have a normal sibling relationship with him here, not that she did for a long time, when she thought about it, the last normal, not shouting at each other kind of conversation they had was probably just before she started Beauxbatons, she will avoid him.

„Do you want to get out later, a walk around the castle, to show you the grounds?“ Astoria asked her smile kind, something Cassiopeia appreciated on her. She had known Astoria from a few years ago when her father had brought her along to a meeting he had with her father, at the time they had bonded over their love for the porcelain doll collection they both had. Though Cassiopeia surely owned a few pieces more, a few of which were unique and rare, Astoria never seemed to envy her, or she never showed it openly, that was what Cassiopeia liked most about her, her groundedness and calm demeanor.

„Yeah, I think I'd like that...“

„We could go by the Quidditch field, there are tryouts for the Slytherin team today...“ Her friend winked at her, gesturing to the boys that would be around there. Cassiopeia smirked as they got to their last class for the day.

Come to classes, she found them to be much fun, they are pretty much the same as in Beauxbatons, though she'd argue they are a bit easier here, well for what she's seen this one day she had them, maybe she should wait a few more days to make that conclusion but for now, she didn't hate it. She always was an excellent student, something that was expected from her, being a Malfoy and all that, and so was her brother, second in his year, just below a girl she knew he always envied, Granger, she had heard him talking or better say losing his mind about when they were younger. She was a muggle, something their family had a strong agenda against, and with that, she was the best in his year, and him never being able to be better, it was so funny to Cassiopeia, so funny she always wanted to meet that girl and thank her even though she was a muggle. Her parents were expecting her to exceed here too, which felt tiring, but also unavoidable. Many things in her family were unavoidable, amongst them were family holidays and dinners, and a reputation Cassiopeia tends to forget about. But just yesterday she was reminded of it, upon her arrival here, and after a private Sorting Ceremony, when she parted with her family, she had come across two girls, Raveclaws, they had approached her intending to get to know the new student, but after she had told them their name, they stood there in shock in front of her, she had asked them what the matter was, and they explained to her they would have never guessed she was a Malfoy, not by the way she talked. She didn't question them anymore after that, as she knew what an arse her brother could sometimes be. She couldn't deny it, and a few hours after the word spread out that „Malfoy's little sister transferred to Hogwarts“  she found herself catching dirty looks and whispers, which honestly, just made her mad, but to those kinds of people, who chose not to give her a chance to introduce herself before they judge her, she decided to show just how Malfoy she could be.

After dismissal, Astoria and Cassiopeia headed towards the Quidditch field, on their way Astoria informed her about all the „hot guys“. Most of them were older than them, and in Slytherin, and her brother's friend group, but there were some honorable mentions from the other houses.

„So did you see anyone who interested you at the party last night?“ Honestly, she didn't. There were a few cute ones, but none of them caught her attention. Not at the party at least.

„No, not really, but I just arrived so there's plenty of time...“

Their conversation about boys ended there, as neither of them felt comfortable enough to share things like crushes or boyfriends yet, but Cassiopeia knew that it wouldn't take her long before they came there.

Climbing up the tower to the bleachers Astoria and Cassiopeia find themself not alone, the girls from breakfast, Astoria's sister Daphne, and Pansy were taking up the front seats. Astoria didn't seem eager to go down, taking a seat at the back Cassiopeia joined.

„So, is your sister as annoying as my brother? Or is she normal?“ Cassiopeia let her eyes fall down to the blonde she would have never connected to Astoria, then back to her friend who did the same.

„No, not really, she's actually pretty cool, I like to hang out with her sometimes, we're pretty close, but she doesn't like me hanging around her friends much...“ She explained, Cassiopeia's mind went to the time she was like that with Draco, which was really a long time ago, sometimes she wished they stayed like that, but they had no chance against the time and distance.

Cassiopeia didn't comment after that, they stayed quiet for a bit as the tryouts started and they watched boys and girls fly on brooms, trying to impress the older Slytherins on the ground. She never got the hype over Quidditch, she found it rather boring, but it was something Draco always loved, and therefore she used to try and follow up, but she stopped.

Suddenly a broom stopped in front of the bleachers, right in front of the two older girls, Cassiopeia recognized the guy as Theodore Nott, her brother's best friend, whom she had known way before her brother even started Hogwarts. Last night she had an unexpected encounter with him, his comment being something that stuck in her mind the whole day.

He had said something to the girls, and after a moment his eyes drifted up to where she and Astoria were sitting, he didn't wear the smirk from last night. Theodore Nott was Cassiopeia's first-ever crush, but that evaporated a long time ago.

He didn't take his eyes off of her for some time, not until the girls in front of him turned around and looked at them too. He had said something and they'd laughed, turning their looks away from them.

Soon he flew away, and the girls got up before they walked past them they stopped for a second, Pansy smiling at the younger girls, her crimson lips showing off her white teeth, Cassiopeia found both of them very beautiful, it was no shock they were quite popular with the boys.

„Got the whole school talking Malfoy...“ The black-haired witch said with a smirk on her lips. There was no mean undertone one would hear with a sentence like this.

„Nothing I haven't heard already...“ Cassiopeia's hands laid crossed on top of her crossed legs, lady-like, something she was taught to be her whole life, and all her previous school years had to be. It stuck with her throughout the years.

Pansy looked over to her best friend with a smirk on her lips, then back to the younger girls.

„I like you.“ She said her tone amused. „Maybe more than your brother already, don't tell him tho-...“ She winked at her before they turned around and walked away.

The Quidditch field emptied, but the two friends stayed talking, getting to know each other, bonding over now different interests and not over long-forgotten dolls. Forgetting the time, they hadn't gone to lunch, so they had waited in their dorm for dinner. When the time came they walked to the Great Hall. Many weren't there yet, including her brother and his friends, which was working in her favor.

Taking the silverware she noticed how some of the other students used their hands, she didn't like that, maybe because she spent her whole life in lessons on how to act ladylike, and in her previous school there were expectations for the students there, you had to act a certain way to be accepted, which of course, with the Malfoy name, comes without a question.

A sound of laughter made her attention drift away from the food on her plate to the entrance, for a second there she scolded herself for not eating faster, her brother and all of his friends came in like a pack of wolves ready to hunt down their prey. She knew of these friends of his, well, most of them, she knew Theo from way before, he was in their house even before they started school, Blaise too, Mattheo and Lorenzo she knew only off of stories Draco told when their mother and father asked about the people he surrounded himself with here, the Parkinsons are family friends for a long time, though she hadn't had the chance to meet Pansy until today, and Astoria's sister too, Daphne. There were two more boys she couldn't remember names to, but has seen them in school today, she knew they were Draco's henchmen in the earlier years, but as it seems they they don't hang around him much now. She knew her brother and his friends would sometimes gather in the Manor, but that was usually when she would be away in France with her own friends, not that she ever wanted to be around them. But from all of them, she knew Theodore Nott the best, even though that wasn't much at all. She used to have such a big crush on him growing up, but she got over it once she started Beauxbatons, it was only a childhood crush and nothing more, really, she doesn't see him that way now. But she would be lying if she said he wasn't attractive, he was, only now that wasn't a big thing to her anymore.

„Oi, little Malfoy!“ She heard from around the table as they chose to sit all around her friend and her. The male voice belongs to Mattheo Riddle. „How you liking the school so far, you're not getting lost, are you?“ She slowly turned towards him and with a smile, she answered.

„It's quite alright...“

„Everything you ever dreamed of!?“ He let out a chuckle after his question.

„And so much more...“ She answered sarcastically, with a smirk on her lips. There was no point asking her these questions, keeping in mind, she was here for only two days.

After her answer the crew started talking something about Quidditch she didn't care to understand, and she was finished, only waiting for her friend to get done too so they could leave.

„So, Cassiopeia, are you going to see your brother play Quidditch in a few weeks?“ Pansy asked while putting a strawberry in between her lips and biting in. It made some of the boys from the Slytherin table look over, mesmerized, Cassiopeia noticed.

„No, she's not“ Draco answered before she could even attempt to think of an answer, and she didn't like that, rude.

She leaned on her hand so she could see Draco better. „Didn't know your name was Cassiopeia!?“ She raised an eyebrow. „If I needed someone to talk for me I'd call Mippy!“ Her words made his friends laugh through their teeth. Draco seemed mad now but at his own fault. „To answer your question, I probably will not, I'm rather not the biggest Quidditch fan, though, I will make an exception if it would make my brother happy!“ She smirked in her brother's direction. The answer sounded sarcastic, to be funny, but she knew that deep down she had meant it, even though she wouldn't admit it right now, she did mean it, but they didn't know that.

With a fake laugh, Draco brushed her words off, while his friends made a few 'aww' sounds pointing in Draco's direction.

Cassiopeia noticed a surprised look from Theo, and she smirked at him, she wasn't the little girl her brother didn't want around her friends when sleeping over.

„A Malfoy if I ever saw one!“ Said Daphne in a low tone. Theo confirmed her words with a nod and an amused smirk.

Moments later Astoria and Cassiopeia got up, waving bye to the crew that was surrounding them.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3

Chapter 4: Bet

Notes:

Another update, enjoy!

As the first week of school flew by, most students found themselves adjusting to the rhythm of classes and settling into their routines. But for Theo, exhaustion seemed to weigh heavily upon him, dragging his body down onto the common room sofa. His gaze fixated on a spot on the back of a bottle of Ogden's, yet he lacked the strength or desire to indulge.

Blaise pulled it out of some stash he wouldn't tell his friends about, something about „them drinking it dry in the first week if not less“, one would call them alcoholics but they prefer the prefined term Whiskey Enthusiasts.

As Theo sat in sober silence, his friends, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, began to tease Blaise about his latest stepfather. Despite their tipsy banter, Theo remained detached, lost in his own thoughts, and too weary to engage in their joviality.

„So what are your thoughts? How long will this one last?“ Number 7. Blaise had long since stopped getting close to his mother's partners after the second or third, Theo couldn't recall, instead opting to assign them numbers rather than learn their names. Though Blaise was very defensive when it came to his mother, he knew his friends never meant any harm with the jokes they'd often tell.

„I'm putting my money on 7-9 months!“ Draco raised the stakes with his prediction, his eyes on Blaise who usually aloof and guarded, watched the exchange with a faint smile playing on his lips, amused.

„We'll have to get more specific if we're going to bet money on it!“ Enzo, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through his veins, eagerly joined in the wager, his voice cracking mid-sentence but his confidence unwavering. The boys erupted into laughter, their camaraderie evident even in the midst of their drunken antics. When usually not much opinionated, he was a part of the group and even though many wouldn't be able to tell at first, he fit in well, he's a Slytherin after all. „I'm going to say a year and 20 days!“

„Alright then 15 galleons, and I'm going to bet 7 months and 7 days...“ Draco, ever the competitive one, placed his bet with precision, the weight of his words carrying more significance now that galleons were on the line. The boys listened carefully.

Theo shifted in his seat lazily, his eyes switching between his friends, as yet another bet came on. The last time they bet Mattheo won, it was a bet that got him a week's worth of detention because he had run up to Snape and without a warning pet him on his head, the expression on Snape's face was worth it of every galleon Theo had lost that day. They had laughed about it for half an hour straight. But this kind of bet was something that took time, more serious, and worth more.

„10 months and 3 days!“ Mattheo confidently placed his bet on the table. Theo had thought about it, he wasn't sure, he could go for luck, as Blaise hadn't told them much about him, probably because he himself hadn't bothered to know anything more than the fact that he wore that ring that 6 others wore before him.

„I'll say 8 months, round.“ He spoke, his words not starting to slur like his friends. He didn't feel like drinking tonight, especially being this tired, he still debated if he should get a few sips down. His hand hovered over the bottle of whiskey, a fleeting moment of hesitation before he ultimately chose to leave it untouched on the table

They all switched looks over to Blaise who nonchalantly lit up a cigarette, his closed eyes and sly smile didn't escape the notice of his friends, Theo could only recognize it as him knowing something they didn't. Information that stayed unsaid, secret.

„Will the son be putting down the money or does he think that Number 7 is finally the one!?“ Mattheo mocked, making Blaise open his eyes, his response a mere shrug. They all knew that, when it came to Mrs. Zabini, there was no right one.

„5 months tops!“ Blaise's proclamation hung in the air like a lingering haze, his words carrying a weight that seemed to settle over the group. Theo watched as the smoke from his cigarette curled into a perfect circle before dissipating into the surrounding air, a visual echo of the fleeting nature of Blaise's prediction. „This one won't last long!“ He added almost silently.

Theo could sense the unease that rippled through the group, Enzo's panicked expression betraying his realization that his own bet was far off the mark. But amidst the tension, a chuckle erupted from Mattheo's direction, breaking the silence and diffusing some of the tension that had settled over them.

„I bet I'd last the longest if Mrs. Zabini would give me a chance, I'd be such a good step-daddy to you Blaisy...“ The playful banter continued, with Mattheo's jest about being a stepfather to Blaise eliciting laughter from the group. Even Blaise couldn't suppress a smile at the absurdity of the suggestion, though it quickly faded into a more somber expression, trying hard not to look as amused as he was.

„You'd be gone by the end of the week if that long...“ Blaise's tired voice cut through the laughter, his words carrying a hint of resignation.

„I'd die a happy man!“ Mattheo added and it sparked another round of laughter. Mrs. Zabini was a beautiful woman, one of class and manners. Every last one of Blaise's friends had thought about her in an unholy way, how could they not, she was a remarkable kind of beauty, one that had heads turning. But Blaise would often shut those thoughts of theirs. Comments like those would often drift to the other side too, Draco's mother. The blonde witch who had them in a chokehold the first time they saw her, every last one of them. Theo found her more his type. However, Draco was far closer to his mother than Blaise was with his, and therefore much more defensive, though he would let a comment or two pass. Mrs. Malfoy was, similar to Mrs. Zabini, of high class and exuded charm and grace, but much closer to the boys. The comments had, luckily for Draco, dwindled as time passed and Narcissa Malfoy was seen as the mother of the group. Often sending packages of sweets tailored to each boy's preferences, that she had probably learned through Draco. And Draco didn't mind that, or if he did he never mentioned it.

As Theo reclined in his seat, his fatigue weighing heavily on him, he found himself drifting away from the laughter and banter of his friends. His mind slipped back to one of two open tabs of worries. He had thought about his own mother, or better say the few memories he managed to preserve of her throughout the years since her death. He loved his mother, she was his favorite person, his person. After her death, just around when he turned 8, he was left with only his father, who had never remarried, and Theo didn't know if he was more grateful or ungrateful for that, though it waged more to the grateful side, he wasn't ready to have another woman acting like a mother to him around his house. Unlike his mother, Theo resented his father. And for the time after her death, he had made Theo's life a living hell. The man's disapproval, a constant shadow looming over Theo's every move. Despite his best efforts to live up to his father's expectations, Theo found himself falling short time and time again, his rebellious nature clashing with the rigid standards set by his father. He was, for the most part, the reason for Theo's excessive drinking and smoking problem. And was the reason why Theo was drinking the first day he was back in Hogwarts this year. He was never happy with Theo, but that didn't bother Theo anymore, he had, for a long time now, stopped caring about his father's expectations for him. „You are a Nott, my son and you will act like it!“ His father has reminded him, he often would, not letting him forget the reason his life was so miserable lately. Hogwarts became an escape for him, he didn't have to look at him here, here, nobody actually cared for his father, here, he was his mother's son.

Theo's attention snapped back to the present as Mattheo's words pierced through the haze of his thoughts: „So, I think we're drunk enough here for Draco to tell us about his sister!“ He glanced towards Draco, his curiosity piqued by the mention of his sister, Cassiopeia. However, instead of meeting Theo's gaze, Draco's eyes bore into Mattheo with a glare that mirrored the stern intensity of his father, Lucius Malfoy.

It was a glare that Theo had become all too familiar with over the years, one that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. It was a reminder of the authority and control that Draco wielded, inherited from his esteemed Malfoy lineage. But beneath the facade of poise and composure, Theo sensed a hint of vulnerability in Draco's expression, a reluctance to delve into the topic of his sister.

 „We will never be drunk enough for that!“ Draco's stern warning echoed in the air, his words carrying a weight that left no room for doubt. „And while we're at it, if any of you fuckers even think of stepping near her in any way other than strictly friendly, I will curse you so every time you just as much look at any other woman, you see your boggart!“ The intensity in his expression mirrored the seriousness of his threat, leaving his friends momentarily silenced by the gravity of his words. It was a side of Draco that Theo had seldom seen, one born out of a fierce protectiveness over his younger sister, Cassiopeia. Draco was always very protective over his mother, but never in this matter, his sister was a new pushing point for him, one that was only awaiting to be used by his mates. Every one of them was aware of her in one way or another, but not as much as they were now when she was here.

As the tension settled over the group, Theo couldn't help but sense the underlying dynamics at play. While Draco's warning was undoubtedly rooted in genuine concern for his sister's well-being that lay underneath their suggested distant relationship, there was also an unspoken challenge embedded within his words. Mattheo's mischievous grin hinted at the temptation to push Draco's boundaries, while Enzo's solemn nod suggested a respect for the boundaries set by their friend. Though he himself wasn't sure he was far from it, as he had already gotten onto some thoughts about her the first night he saw her, but to be fair, he didn't know it was her, and it was before Draco made sure to warn them. As for Blaise, it's been a talk around the school that he has been hooking up with one girl for the whole timing of last term, but he denied when asked about it, which made Theo wonder more about it, but not as much as to make him make any kind of effort to find out for himself.

„Mama bear is back...“ Theo's light-hearted comment elicited a chuckle from his friend, a brief moment of levity amidst the underlying tension that had permeated their interactions. Theo couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Draco's demeanor.

„Piss off!“ Theo also noticed that his best mate, Draco, was more often not in the mood lately, but then again, he couldn't blame him, Theo wasn't either, none of them were. Unspoken burdens settled on their backs over time, the kinds none of them had dared to share, however much they trusted each other. Each of them found the weight lightened while in each other's company. They mostly understood, and didn't question, that was what made it easier.

An hour later, at almost 3 in the morning, Theo rose from his seat, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling in his bones. The hour was late, and he knew it was time to call it a night. His friends, a bit more inebriated than him, had already stumbled off to their respective dormitories, leaving Theo to take care of the aftermath of their late-night gathering. The responsibility fell onto the person who drank the least that night, and tonight it was Theo's turn.

With practiced efficiency, Theo waved his wand in a series of flicks, banishing any evidence of their impromptu hangout. The empty bottle vanished into thin air, along with the lingering scent of cigarette smoke that hung in the room.

The common room was now empty and quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the remaining embers in the fireplace. Theo paused for a moment, taking in the peaceful atmosphere before turning to leave only to catch a certain blonde sneaking inside. He smirked at the sight.

Theo allowed his eyes to set upon the younger Malfoy as he stood by the fireplace, far enough for her not to notice him looking. Theo leaned casually against the warm stone fireplace, his gaze fixed on Cassiopeia as she tiptoed into the common room with her shoes in her hands, so as to not make any noise, her blonde hair catching the soft glow of the firelight. He watched with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as she navigated the room, her movements careful and deliberate.

It was 2 AM, Friday, and her first week in Hogwarts, where had she been? Already getting herself into trouble. As Cassiopeia dropped one of her shoes, Theo resisted the urge to chuckle at her predicament. Instead, he remained silent, observing her with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. It was evident that she was trying to be stealthy, but her efforts were not entirely successful.

With a subtle shift in his posture, Theo made his presence known, he observed her in a relaxed manner. „Need some help with that?“ He smirked in her direction. She looked up startled, only now noticing she was not alone, and her position was compromised, she was not happy about it, especially after her eyes landed on the figure that was watching her from a distance. She froze momentarily, her eyes widening in surprise. However, she quickly regained her composure, flashing him a mischievous smile in return.

„No thank you!“ She spoke in whispers, so as not to bring any attention to herself from anyone that might hear her from the dorms.

„Are you sure, because you sure look like you do!“ His face was smug, proud like he intended to catch her.

His gaze inadvertently drifted downward, drawn to her with an irresistible pull. Cassiopeia caught the subtle movement, her keen awareness evident, yet she made no move to chastise him. Instead, she offered a playful rebuke in a soft whisper, her eyes never leaving his. "Staring is impolite," she teased, retrieving her lost shoe with a graceful motion.

Theo was acutely aware of the breach in etiquette, a lesson ingrained in him since childhood. Yet, despite his best efforts, he found himself captivated by her presence, unable to tear his gaze away. It was a dilemma made all the more complicated by the warning echoing in his mind from just an hour ago, a cautionary reminder from his closest friend.

After a brief pause, Theo made a conscious decision to bridge the gap between them, closing the distance with purpose. With a smirk playing on his lips, he addressed her with a hint of amusement in his tone. "Cassiopeia Malfoy sneaking in, a week into starting Hogwarts?" he remarked, his smirk widening as they stood mere meters apart.

„And Theodore Nott after me. Tell me did my brother put you up to this? Hm?“ The subtle hum she emitted reminded him unmistakably of her heritage, echoing the same mannerisms he had observed in Narcissa. „Though I don't see how he would pay for your service, you surely don't need money, and as I've caught on, you two are still pretty close, so he has no leverage on you, or if he does, he wouldn't use it against you. Tell me, Theo, what do you do this for? Or is it just a hobby of yours, in that case, I'll have to say, it doesn't suit you!“ Her words were barely louder than a whisper, yet they carried the weight of her scrutiny. Cassiopeia didn't avert her gaze, even as she brushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear.

„And maybe it just so happens I catch you sneaking in past curfew?! But if that is what you would like for me to do, to alert your brother, surely I won't mind, and I'm quite sure he's not yet asleep...“ His tone was sleepy but cocky, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Suddenly, all the tiredness had evaporated from his body.

„I'm sure you've got better things to do than act as a nanny!“ But she didn't falter, her voice steady and unwavering, refusing to tolerate his attitude.

„Actually, lucky you, I do not. And as for the position, it's called doing your brother a favor...“ He smirked, meeting her gaze with a playful glint in his eyes. The platinum-blonde witch eyed him carefully, her expression unreadable as she weighed his words. She wouldn't back down, and neither would he, especially not while sober.

Cassiopeia chuckled softly, shaking her head in mock disbelief. „I see you've found yourself a new pastime – playing errand boy for my dear brother. How positively thrilling for you. But just a word of caution: if you're going to play the lackey, at least try to look the part. It's not a good look on you, pretty boy. And as for me, I have much more exciting things to do than babysit grown wizards. So, by all means, carry on with your little favors, it is thrilling to see what has become of you after all this time, though I had higher expectations for you! Ta-ta for now!" With a wink and a flick of her hair, she turned away, leaving Theo with a sly smile on his lips.

He should have expected what he got, but surprisingly he wasn't mad, he was amused, intimidated, in the best way possible. For a second there he had forgotten about everything his best mate told him and found it rather hard to back away, as he has, not in a long time, had a girl backfire at him.

When he came back to his dorm, he looked at the bed to his left where Draco slept, even when asleep tired lines marked his face, Theo noticed that more lately, but never dared to ask him about it, if he was going to talk about whatever it is that's bothering him he would, it wasn't Theo's place. And he surely wasn't going to distress him about what happened tonight, he didn't have to know, it was nothing, even more, that Theo had not actually seen anything other than her sneaking in, but that was harmless, Theo knew from experience. If it was something bigger, it wouldn't be a question if Theo would go to Draco about it, but it wasn't, so there was no reason.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 5: Manners

Notes:

This was originally a very long chapter so I broke it down into two Chapters, I'll upload the second as soon as I get the chance!
Enjoy!

She was careful in the morning, her mind playing games of guessing with her. Would he actually tell Draco about catching her or not? She saw it on his expression last night, he was amused but kept his distance. Surely, he wouldn't stoop to such levels of pettiness. Right?

She shook her head, pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind as more pressing matters demanded her attention. Like the letter, she had received at breakfast that very morning from her mother. They had made dinner reservations, and both she and her brother were expected to attend. Their parents would be coming to pick them up, as that was the only way they could leave Hogwarts beyond Hogsmeade. Her mother, aware of Cassiopeia and Draco's strained relationship, had sent separate letters to each of them. With Draco and his friends absent from breakfast, Cassiopeia had to deliver the letter personally. This also meant she would likely encounter Theo again and discover whether he had decided to report her or not. Holding her own letter in one hand and the sealed one in the other, she walked slowly through the corridor, paying no heed to the curious glances of passing students. Unfortunately, her luck did not extend to finding her brother in the common room; as always, he managed to complicate matters. Now, she would have to venture up to the boys' dormitory, though she had no idea which room was his. She would simply have to rely on luck, and she detested that.

Passing the first few dorms, Cassiopeia deduced they were likely for the first and second years. Opting for the back, she settled on two doors. The first seemed too predictable, so she chose the second. Without overthinking it, she knocked, and after a few moments, the door swung open.

Standing before her was a shirtless Theo, a towel snug around his waist and a hand firmly on the door. His gaze swept over her, and, predictably, he smirked. It seemed fate had brought them together once more. Fantastic.

"Is Draco there?" Cassiopeia asked, making a concerted effort not to glance down.

"Well, good morning to you too!" Theo greeted her, his hair still damp from the shower, droplets cascading down his chest, which she carefully avoided looking at.

"Is this his dorm?" She tried to peer past him, searching for any indication that her brother resided there, but found nothing. Even if she did, she wasn't sure what she would be looking for, as Draco was the type to keep things impersonal despite spending much of his time there.

"It is... But he's in the shower right now. Would you like me to pass a message?" Theo leaned against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on her. He could tell she had been wondering whether he had told Draco about her sneaking in last night, but he didn't feel the need to offer any closure. However, the more she contemplated it, the more she trusted that he hadn't said anything. After all, her brother wouldn't wait until after shower time to confront her. Sensing her unspoken question, she refrained from asking outright.

Cassiopeia handed him the sealed letter. "Tell him mother sent this and I'll be waiting for him down in the common room at quarter to seven!" When he finally accepted it, she allowed her eyes to roam over his torso. He was lean, taller now, much taller than her, with the faint outline of his abs visible. But she could have made the same observation even if he had been wearing a shirt, not that she minded. "And maybe put a shirt on!" she quipped, though she couldn't deny enjoying the view. Theodore Nott was undeniably attractive, a fact she begrudgingly acknowledged, but there was no need to make a fuss about it. He was just Theodore Nott, after all.

Theo's lips curled into a wry smile as he accepted the sealed letter, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Well, isn't this a delightful wake-up call for Draco," he remarked dryly. "I'll be sure to let him know family obligations are calling!" His playful retort to her comment about his attire was laced with sarcasm. "Not a fan of the shirtless look, huh?" he mused, his smirk widening. "Then please just notify me before your next visit, and I'll make sure to wear my finest robes, just for you, princess!" When she didn't respond, he waited a beat before adding, "Anything else?"

"No—" Cassiopeia's response was cut short as Theo abruptly closed the door in her face, leaving her surprised and with her mouth hanging open in astonishment. Rude. She turned to leave, but as she stepped towards the stairs, she was greeted by a tall figure. The boy towered over her, a fact she hadn't paid much attention to before. It was Blaise Zabini.

"Little Malfoy," he said in greeting, using a nickname she knew would stick with her for a long time, especially among her brother's friends. While she wasn't particularly fond of it, she found it tolerable — certainly better than any of the nicknames Theo had used in the past two days.

"Zabini," she returned the greeting. Aside from these simple words, neither of them made any effort at further conversation or small talk. Cassiopeia was honestly grateful for the lack of chatter, as she had grown to dislike small talk. Blaise passed by her, and she continued walking, relieved.

Once in her own dorm, which she was lucky enough to share with Astoria and a girl named Jasmine, Cassiopeia settled into her space. Jasmine seemed to have her own circle of friends and showed no intention of integrating with Cassiopeia and Astoria, which suited Cassiopeia just fine. While there was a certain distance between them, Cassiopeia appreciated the lack of animosity.

After a minute of comfortable silence, the soothing sound of rain tapping against the window filled the room. Astoria's voice broke the tranquility. "I take it didn't rain much in France?" she asked, her curiosity evident as she sat in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. Cassiopeia turned her head to look at the beautiful brunette, meeting her gaze through the reflection.

"It did, but it's quite different there, more subtle. Here it's much louder, stronger," Cassiopeia explained, her tone carrying a hint of nostalgia. She was once quite familiar with Britain's weather but grew more accustomed to the one she encountered in France over the years spent there. "In France, you often wouldn't notice it's raining until you stepped outside and saw the wet ground, the ponds..." Her gaze lingered on the raindrops cascading down the window. While she didn't miss France as much as her words might suggest, she couldn't deny the bittersweet memories it evoked.

 „What's it like in Beauxbatons? I heard that there are no boys there, that it's an only girls school!?“ Cassiopeia's eyes fell from the window to Astoria, who held her eyes steadily on Cassiopeia.

„That's not true, there are plenty of boys there, trust me, only, the school, for most of the time is represented by girls, so that's where that probably came from.“ The smile on Astoria's face showed that this wasn't the last question about Cassiopeia's last school. But Cassiopeia didn't mind, she shifted on her bed, turning so she could comfortably hold eye contact with the brunette witch in front of the mirror.

Astoria swiftly gathered her hair into a neat bun, then settled onto her bed, lying on her stomach with her head cradled in her hands, eagerly anticipating whatever her friend was about to share. With a radiant smile, she continued her questioning: "What are they like? Did you have a boyfriend there? Were you even allowed to have a boyfriend?" The questions flowed effortlessly from her lips.

 Cassiopeia returned the smile. "They aren't much different from the ones you've got here, though I have to say they have better manners," she replied, her mind briefly flickering back to Theo's half-naked form from earlier that morning. "You are allowed to have relationships, of course, as long as they don't cause any harm to you or the school..."

Astoria's curiosity persisted. "Did you?" she asked once more.

"One, but I wouldn't call it quite a relationship," Cassiopeia admitted cautiously. It had been a relationship, lasting seven whole months, but it ended abruptly. "It was somewhat of a fling, but he was nice..." His name was Hugo, a Dutch student in the same year as her. Although their breakup was sudden, she held fond memories of him, just as she did for all her previous friends.

"What was he like?" Astoria's curiosity prodded Cassiopeia to delve into the recesses of her mind where memories of Hugo and her other past friends were stored, a file she hadn't opened in a long while.

"Well, he was tall, with dirty blonde hair, and he had a really nice smile," Cassiopeia recalled, picturing the boy with light blue eyes and a laugh that could light up a whole room. They had been friends before anything happened between them, and in retrospect, she wondered if she had even liked him more as a friend. But it was all in the past now; it didn't matter. She would probably never even see him again. "Did you? Have a boyfriend, I mean?" Cassiopeia shot a wry look in her friend's direction, prompting Astoria to chuckle.

"Not really, but there were a few I really liked... I'm not much of a fling kind of girl," Astoria admitted. It was evident in her demeanor. Unlike her sister, Astoria exuded a sense of purpose and direction. Cassiopeia could see that Astoria had high expectations for herself, prioritizing education and personal growth. She also seemed to have a clear vision of her future, aspiring to settle down with the perfect man and build a loving family. Such determination and clarity of purpose were not traits Cassiopeia possessed. She avoided making long-term plans, considering them a waste of time.

"Well, that's alright. Maybe it's better like that," Cassiopeia responded, her mind wandering back to her time in France, at Beauxbatons. She made a mental note to write to her friends there, as she hadn't heard from them in a while.

Astoria's next question brought her back to the present. "Was it hard to leave? I mean, all of your friends are there, and you've spent many years there..."

Cassiopeia paused, considering her response. "Sure, but I like to think I've got friends here too," she replied, casting a glance at Astoria.

"Of course," Astoria agreed with a smile, understanding the sentiment.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur until Cassiopeia found herself getting ready for dinner. She slipped into a knee-length dress, its green satin fabric draping elegantly over her frame. Brushing her hair until it cascaded freely down her back, just like her mother liked to see, she adorned herself in the new black robes she had acquired, knowing the weather called for their warmth.

Her friend observed her preparations, offering a simple yet heartfelt compliment that brought a genuine smile to Cassiopeia's lips. "You look pretty," she remarked, her sincerity evident in her expression, a detail Cassiopeia had come to recognize throughout the week.

"Thank you," Cassiopeia replied softly, glancing at the clock and realizing it was time to leave. "See you tonight!"

"Have a great dinner!" her friend called after her, well-intentioned though it nearly prompted Cassiopeia to chuckle.

As Cassiopeia descended the stairs, she scanned the common room for the familiar sight of her brother's blonde hair but found herself surrounded by various shades of brunette instead. Draco was nowhere to be seen yet, but his friends had already gathered, including both girls and a few other Slytherins, likely younger ones. She briefly considered asking them about Draco's whereabouts, but ultimately decided against it, opting to wait a few more minutes in the hope that he would arrive soon.

"Are you sure you're not going on a date?" Pansy's sudden appearance caught Cassiopeia off guard, and she found herself being pulled out of the corner where she had hoped to wait unnoticed. Pansy deftly pulled apart her robes to inspect the dress beneath. "A bit too long for my taste, but you look great! Narcissa's choice undoubtedly," Pansy remarked with a smile, turning to address the others in the room who were now looking at them. "Though I think you're missing some pearls..." Cassiopeia's neck felt bare without her usual pearls, but she had decided against them as the dress's style didn't necessarily call for a necklace.

"I'd have to agree, what is a Malfoy without some pearls, or at least some diamonds?" Mattheo chimed in, chuckling at his own jest.

"Emeralds if you ask me..." Enzo added with a grin.

Blaise and Theo remained silent, their smiles speaking volumes.

"I'd have to agree with Enzo on this one, emeralds are the move!" Daphne remarked, settling back into the sofa.

Cassiopeia brushed a strand of hair out of her face before speaking up. "Thanks for the input. I'll make sure to consult the Slytherin style council before getting dressed for my next family outing..." Her tone carried a hint of sarcasm, eliciting a few chuckles from the group.

Before anyone could add anything else, Draco cleared his throat, drawing all attention to him. Despite being late, Cassiopeia chose not to comment on it.

"Let's get this over with," Draco muttered, his tone indicating his lack of enthusiasm for the upcoming dinner. Cassiopeia shared his sentiment.

"You look great, mate. Say hello to your mother!" Mattheo interjected with a grin, prompting a playful smack from Pansy.

Draco didn't respond, instead making his way to the exit, silently signaling for Cassiopeia to follow. Without a word, she fell into step beside him. A distant „Have fun!“ was heard from the common room, presumably Pansy, as they walked away. Cassiopeia couldn't help but wonder if "fun" was even on the agenda for the evening ahead.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 6: Dinner

Notes:

As promised the second part, only it took me a month to publish it, sorry for that, I have had a lot going on in the past month...
I will try updating more frequently, but I can't promise anything!
Thank you guys for all the kudos, comments, and views, it means so much!

As Cassiopeia quickened her pace to match Draco's, she couldn't shake off the tension hanging in the air like a heavy cloak. It was as if they were competing in a silent race of who could avoid conversation the longest. With each step, she hoped the distance between them would bridge the unspoken gap, yet it seemed to widen instead. Though she often didn't mind the silence between them, she found herself wondering at times. When did they become so distant? What was the turning point in their relationship?

Since he had not mentioned anything about last night, Cassiopeia finally put her worries about Theo snitching to rest.

But then, like a scene from a scripted play, Lucius and Narcissa emerged at the exit, statuesque and composed, their presence commanding attention. Narcissa's eyes softened at the sight of her children, a silent reassurance in her gaze. Meanwhile, Lucius remained the epitome of sternness, his demeanor unchanged, as if etched in stone.

Cassiopeia couldn't help but wonder if Lucius had taken lessons in stoicism from the very walls of Malfoy Manor or was it that he was the one who taught them.

"My darlings..." Narcissa's voice was a delicate whisper, laced with affection as she addressed her children. Her gaze lingered on them as if silently assessing their well-being and appearance. Cassiopeia felt a flicker of warmth at her mother's gaze, but it was fleeting, overshadowed by the weight of the unspoken tension between them. "Shall we?" Narcissa's question hung in the air, carrying with it the anticipation of the evening ahead.

Draco's nod was resolute, while Cassiopeia's smile wavered uncertainly before settling into place.

Narcissa linked her arm through Lucius', a silent gesture of unity, before leading the way towards the waiting carriage. It was a mere formality, a means to reach the apparition point beyond the Hogwarts grounds.

Lucius, ever the gentleman, assisted Narcissa into the carriage with a tenderness that belied his stoic exterior, one that he only held around her, and her only. Cassiopeia watched silently as her brother followed suit, their father's presence a silent reminder of the expectations that hung over them like a dark cloud.

As Cassiopeia settled into her seat, she murmured a barely audible "Thank you..." to her father, the words lost in the quiet hum of the evening air. Draco joined them, and with a final glance exchanged between the family members, they set off towards their destination, each lost in their own thoughts amidst the silence of the carriage ride.

As the Malfoy family arrived at the apparition point, Cassiopeia felt a sense of familiarity wash over her. She knew exactly where they were headed – a wizarding restaurant in Paris, renowned for its elegant ambiance and exquisite cuisine. The view of the Eiffel Tower from their usual table was simply breathtaking.

They have visited the restaurant countless times, so it was no surprise the seating host immediately recognized the family. He greeted them with a warm smile, his calm voice blending seamlessly with the soothing music in the background. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, welcome. Follow me, please, your usual table. The waiter will be with you shortly." The restaurant was regularly frequented by famous British wizarding families, so it was expected that the staff spoke English. However, when it came to the Malofys, they had the luxury of choosing which language to speak, as each member of the family was fluent in French.

Taking their robes, the host led them to their secluded table in the back, away from prying eyes. Cassiopeia couldn't help but notice the subtle glances directed their way – a reminder of their prominent status in the wizarding world.

As they settled into their seats, the atmosphere was filled with an air of anticipation. Without much conversation, they turned their attention to the menu, focusing first on the drinks selection.

A waiter, impeccably dressed like the others, approached their table with a polite greeting. "Good evening, how can I get you started?“

There was a brief pause before Lucius took the lead, ordering a bottle of wine with a subtle glance at his children. Cassiopeia sensed the unspoken message – they were finally deemed old enough to join in the family tradition of wine with dinner.

The wine arrived, and poured into their glasses with a flick of the waiter's wand, marking the official start of their dinner. Cassiopeia couldn't help but feel a sense of privilege at being included in this ritual, a fleeting moment of unity amidst the complexities of their family dynamics.

Each of them took one last glance at the food side of the menu, silently deliberating their choices for when the waiter returned. The silence lingered, a palpable presence at the table. Now that both Draco and Cassiopeia had reached the age of wine and dinner, it seemed questionable if the adult family conversations would follow. However, Cassiopeia appeared slightly unprepared for this shift, while Draco exuded an air of composure, as though he had anticipated this moment.

"How is school?" Narcissa finally broke the thick barrier of silence that nestled between the family members. Her gaze lingered on Draco, granting him the honor of answering first as the elder sibling. Draco's expression remained unchanged, though his voice softened slightly. This was not surprising to Cassiopeia; she couldn't recall a time when Draco spoke to their mother in any other manner. Their connection had remained unchanged over the years.

"It is fine, Mother. We're only a week in," Draco replied, his posture composed, his eyes locked on Narcissa.

Cassiopeia contemplated her response as her mother's attention shifted toward her. She had spent much of her time acquainting herself with the castle and reconnecting with her childhood friend, nothing particularly noteworthy to mention.

"Cassiopeia?" Her mother's voice jolted her back to the present, and she raised her eyes to meet the gaze of the darker blonde witch before her. Narcissa regarded her with curiosity, awaiting an answer that Cassiopeia had only seconds to conjure. Fortunately, the next question provided her with an opportunity to offer a response that would likely please her mother. "Have you settled in, dear?"

"Yes, I have. Hogwarts has yet to disappoint me," Cassiopeia replied evenly, her voice a steady line. She offered a pleased smile, which her mother graciously accepted.

"And what about friends? If I remember correctly, one of the Greengrass sisters is your age?" Narcissa inquired, clearly well-informed. Cassiopeia wasn't surprised; her mother's frequent tea gatherings with other pureblood wives often served as platforms for gossip. When it came to the wizarding society, Narcissa was sure not to miss the latest news.

"Yes, Astoria Greengrass. I share the dorm with her. We found each other quite familiar," Cassiopeia replied, carefully choosing her words. Astoria, in her parents' eyes, was the epitome of the ideal friend for Cassiopeia. She checked all the boxes: pureblood lineage, from a prestigious and esteemed family, excelling in her studies with a flawless record. Something that some of her previous friends hadn't come close to. It made her mother smile.

"That's lovely! How are your friends, Draco?" Narcissa's attention shifted back to her son, a question Cassiopeia was all too familiar with. She had heard it countless times over dinners at Malfoy Manor after returning from France. Her mother adored Draco's friends, likely for the same reasons she admired Astoria. Draco excelled in something Cassiopeia struggled with—his friends met their parents' expectations perfectly. Most of them came from esteemed families, were well-connected within the sacred 28, and held prominent positions in the wizarding world, cementing their status at the top of the social pyramid.

"They're good, as always," Draco replied, his tone carrying a hint of indifference. He made no mention of Mattheo's greeting, as expected. Such greetings were often meant to irk Draco, a game Mattheo seemed to enjoy playing.

As the waiter reappeared to take their orders once more, a brief silence settled over the table. After the waiter departed, their father interjected into the conversation.

"I'm hoping I won't have to clean up your mess in Hogwarts too, Cassiopeia," he remarked, his tone carrying a weight of implication. It was a veiled question, intended to draw her attention back to her past actions at Beauxbatons. Cassiopeia met her father's gaze, maintaining a polite smile that masked her inner thoughts. She had anticipated such inquiries tonight and had prepared her response.

"I assure you, Father, there will be no such issues repeated," she replied calmly, careful not to show any signs of defiance. Despite her inner reservations, she understood the importance of respecting her father, even when she disagreed with him. That was simply the expectation placed upon her as his daughter.

"Good. I'm expecting you to excel in your studies," Lucius continued, his expectations clear as always. It was a standard that came with bearing the name Malfoy—a legacy of high achievements and unyielding standards. Cassiopeia understood this implicitly, knowing that she too would be held to the same rigorous standards, now more than ever with Astoria as a close rival in academic pursuits. She felt a pang of sympathy for Draco, knowing that he had too faced this pressure since his first year at Hogwarts. Turning to Draco, Lucius raised the familiar topic once again, his gaze expectant. "Like your brother, right Draco?" The unspoken comparison to the muggle-born witch Granger, the top student in their year, hung heavily in the air. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Granger wasn't a muggle-born, which by default made her less deserving of the title of a witch than any pure-blood. It wasn't like he wasn't giving all of himself, he did, and that's what made it sad. However much he tried he was always second to her, and that was a problem in Lucius' eyes. Cassiopeia could see the weariness in Draco's expression, the weight of constantly being second-best taking its toll.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding his father's gaze as the conversation replayed like a broken record. Cassiopeia felt a twinge of empathy for her brother as she watched him struggle under their father's expectations. Finally, after a moment of unbearable silence, Draco met Lucius's eyes, his expression resigned. "Yes, Father," he replied quietly, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. It was a response laced with resignation, a silent acknowledgment of the relentless pressure he faced to measure up to an impossible standard.

As the silence enveloped the room, Cassiopeia's gaze fixed itself ahead, caught in a moment of contemplation. She found herself pondering whether this pervasive quietude was the perennial state of their family dynamics. Was it always like this? She struggled to recall the last instance she had regarded her father with genuine admiration and affection. Undoubtedly, she still loved him; Lucius was, after all, her father, and an enduring affection lingered within her. However, expressing this sentiment had grown arduous over time, as he seemed incapable of providing her with the emotional connections she yearned for. She couldn't help but wonder if the cherished aspects of him from her childhood had dissipated if the tender father who once delighted in showering her with affection and gifts had vanished into the abyss of passing years. That Lucius existed now only as a distant memory, a relic of bygone days lost to the relentless march of time.

As the food materialized on the table, the oppressive silence persisted, each family member hesitant to shatter it. Cassiopeia pondered whether there existed any words or actions capable of alleviating the discomfort of the dinner table. Ultimately, she resigned herself to the ongoing silence, recognizing that any attempt to interject might only exacerbate the tension. Patience seemed the only recourse, acknowledging that healing required time. But how much time? Would the atmosphere thaw by the next family gathering, or perhaps not until the holidays? Uncertainty loomed over them like a heavy cloud, casting doubt on when, or if, normalcy would return.

The magically prepared food tasted exquisite, as it always did in France. Yet, despite the culinary delight, Cassiopeia couldn't shake off the sensation of trespassing. Although far from Beauxbatons, the familiar ambiance of France stirred conflicting emotions within her. She had frequented this country countless times before her time at Beauxbatons, and its unchanged beauty was a constant in her life. However, returning after leaving the school felt disconcerting. Suddenly, she no longer felt the warmth of welcome she once experienced, a feeling she knew was irrational considering her peaceful departure and the enduring presence of her old friends in her life. Despite this, an inexplicable unease settled in her chest.

Snapping out of her reverie, Cassiopeia redirected her attention to the silent dinner unfolding before her. A quick glance from Narcissa conveyed an inscrutable message, leaving Cassiopeia perplexed. As the conversation tentatively resumed, it became apparent that it served only to fill the uncomfortable void of silence, devoid of genuine connection. Superficial questions hung in the air like a thin veil, shrouding the table in an aura of detached politeness. Despite sitting among family, the atmosphere felt strained, as if they were mere acquaintances exchanging polite inquiries rather than blood relatives sharing a meal.

The wine on Cassiopeia's palate carried a bitter-sweet taste, a departure from the pleasurable indulgence it had been on countless occasions before. Rather than feeling like a reward, it now resembled a symbolic initiation into adulthood, tinged with a hint of punishment. As she swirled the liquid in her glass, her parents observed her discreetly, attempting to conceal their scrutiny as she feigned the demeanor of someone experiencing the taste for the first time.

The strained atmosphere weighed heavily on Cassiopeia as dessert remained nearly untouched, her mother's reminders of politeness echoing in her mind. As Lucius announced the end of the dinner, she couldn't shake the sense of sorrow for what their family had become. Despite the rain having ceased, the tension lingered in the air like a palpable force.

Once outside, they parted ways at the apparition point, Lucius and Narcissa heading to Malfoy Manor while Draco and Cassiopeia made their way to Diagon Alley. Narcissa's final admonition hung in the air: „I will expect a response to my letters!“ A moment passed before she added: „Now, good night, take care of your sister Draco!“. Cassiopeia fought the urge to roll her eyes, but it seemed futile.

As they prepared to apparate, Cassiopeia stepped closer to Draco, acknowledging the safety of his apparition compared to her own. "Goodnight, Mother, Father," Draco said curtly, to which Cassiopeia echoed softly, "Goodnight."

Draco's silence often reminded Cassiopeia of their father, though she refrained from commenting on the resemblance. She didn't believe a few details were enough to compare the two.

As the carriage came to a stop in front of the castle, Draco alighted first. She noticed the subtle flinch as he debated offering her a hand, but he ultimately chose silence, extending his hand silently. Cassiopeia understood and accepted it without resentment.

For a fleeting moment, she considered asking him if he was alright, sensing the weight of the dinner on him, but opted for continued silence instead. It had been a while since they engaged in anything beyond superficial chit-chat.

Their footsteps echoed through the towering walls of the castle. Cassiopeia no longer attempted to match Draco's long strides, content to lag behind in the dimly lit corridors. As they descended into the Dungeons, the darkness obscured her view of her brother, reducing him to a distant silhouette. She followed his lead, disappearing into the shadows. Ultimately, she lost sight of him when he turned towards the boys' dormitories.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 7: Satisfaction

Notes:

Even though I said I wouldn't, I kept you waiting for another month, and for that, I am so sorry. Things just kept coming my way.
I had this chapter half written in my drafts but only managed to finish and edit it today.
Thank you, guys, for all the views, kudos, and comments! I love getting every notification<3
Without further ado, enjoy!
WARNING: NFSW (just an itty bitty smutty scene) AHEAD!

As Pansy whisked her away from the secluded corner where she had been silently waiting, Theo couldn't shake the memory of his surprise earlier that day when he opened the door to find none other than Cassiopeia Malfoy standing before him. She had caught him fresh out of the shower, just a minute too late to catch her brother, though he refused to admit he was grateful for the timing. Despite her attempts to avoid his gaze, he noticed the subtle defiance in her eyes, which only fueled his smirk. There was something undeniably captivating about her.

Though Theo knew pursuing anything with his best mate's sister was out of the question, not that he had ever thought of doing such a thing, he couldn't resist the banter she effortlessly threw his way. It was harmless fun, he told himself, and she proved herself far too entertaining to ignore.

He begrudgingly acknowledged, albeit only to himself, that she was undeniably attractive. He had come to that conclusion the previous weekend when he first laid eyes on her. However, Draco's ominous warning still lingered in his mind.

Her presence brought his thoughts full circle when Pansy made a passing comment about her dress. He silently agreed that it might be a tad too long, but nevertheless fit the occasion, but opted to keep his observations to himself, content to simply observe Cassiopeia's presence instead. He caught a glimpse of Narcissa in her, the resemblance undeniable, especially now that she was wearing a dress undoubtedly chosen by her mother. And Narcissa was an attractive woman. He would never deny that. However, he saw Narcissa more as a maternal figure, the closest he'd get as he had no himself, not for a long time now, while Cassiopeia remained something he didn't know much about.

He shook the thoughts to the back of his head, seeing as though those would get him only in trouble, instead opting to find a replacement for the muse in question. One he didn't lie to himself about. Luckily he never had trouble with that side of the job.

Theodore Nott was quite the charmer among the girls, known for his wit, wealth, and a touch of mystery. While he could be a bit of a jerk at times, that only added to his allure and made him all the more beloved. And of course, his reputation in the bedroom was widely acknowledged and admired.

During one summer holiday at one of the many parties he frequented, Theodore had a girl approach him. She was an American student visiting her cousin in Britain. Unreserved and familiar, she spoke to him as if they had known each other for years. She mentioned hearing rumors about his prowess and came to verify them for herself. Theodore, always the gentleman, ensured she didn't leave disappointed. He never learned her name or her cousin's, nor did he encounter her again, but it didn't bother him much, as he wasn't one for long-term connections.

That mindset hadn't shifted, although Theodore was aware that his father would inevitably broach the topic. The expectation was clear: find a high-status, pureblood Slytherin girl to marry soon after graduation, thus perpetuating the family lineage. Being part of the Sacred 28 added weight to these expectations. Theodore pondered why his father hadn't pressed him about a suitable match yet, but he was grateful nonetheless, as such matters won't be a priority for him for quite some time.

None of the boys were contemplating marriage yet, as evident from their interactions with girls, although they never discussed it openly. The joke about Draco being the first to succumb to that pressure stemmed from Lucius's influence, as he wasn't one to defy expectations. While they hadn't delved further into the topic, the idea of their eventual marriages crossed Theo's mind. He speculated that Draco might be the first, followed by Blaise, especially given the enigmatic girl he kept silent about. Theo hesitated to place himself on the list, knowing his father's influence could sway his decision. Mattheo shared his sentiment, appearing unlikely to marry. Enzo, however, sparked mixed thoughts; Berkshire's reluctance to settle down contrasted with his playboy reputation, leaving Theo uncertain about where to place him.

Theo pushed aside thoughts of marriage, focusing instead on the girl he'd found to distract himself with. Simply appearing in the hallway garnered the attention he sought. Their relationship, as she described to others, was merely acquaintances, and to her fool of a boyfriend too. Theo had no interest in anything beyond their arrangement (occasional hookups), and on that they both agreed, finding a thrill in the risky encounters, especially knowing they could be caught by him at any moment. It was a rush he preferred over safer options.

The empty, seldom-used classroom in the dungeons served as a popular hookup spot for older Slytherins. With their focus solely on physical satisfaction, conversations were brief. A quick muffliato and locking spell was their sign to begin. From the outset, Theo had her pinned against the wall, his hands swiftly removing any obstacles in the way. Her shirt, unbuttoned, lay open for him to get easier access to the back of her bra. If unclipping a bra was a sport Theo would be a worldwide champion. As the white lace fell to the ground Theo lost no time, his lips circling the nub. Her soft moans were what he liked to take as a „job well done“, but Theo was a perfectionist when it came to certain things, and he wasn't there for a job well done, he was there to hear his name screamed out. And he would get what he came here for.

As his tongue worked her hard nipples his hands worked on getting her skirt off, when it pooled on the floor, Theo looked up at the brunette.

"Is this lace for him or me?" His question slipped from his smirking lips. He already knew the answer but relished hearing her say it.

Her hands around his neck drew him closer, her kisses assertive, mirroring her personality. "Why not for both?" she teased, to which he didn't object. Fortunately for Theo, jealousy wasn't a feeling he harbored when it came to the girls he hooked up with. He wouldn't mind if she had been with all his friends; jealousy simply wasn't in his emotional repertoire.

His hand slipped under her panties, her gasp, a sound he never grew tired of. He watched her face closely as his fingers moved in circles around the sensitive bud. She grabbed his shoulder with more pressure as his pace increased. Her breathing, irregular, her eyes closed. He enjoyed the view.

As her mouth opened, no sound out of it, he found it the right timing to dip his finger in. A loud gasp escaped her open mouth. He knew just the right pace to get her off. One gets to learn that after all of the times, they hooked up. Only that must not include her boyfriend, considering she keeps coming back to Theo.

„Yes, Theo!“ Not loud enough, he thought to himself. Slipping in another finger, faster. The way her nails dug into the back of his neck, he knew she was close.

„Yes, darling?“ His nonchalant smirk made this all seem as if it were nothing.

And a second later, he got what he came here to do. He got his name screamed out. If he didn't muffliato the room, he was sure her boyfriend would finally find out how his girlfriend sounds when she's satisfied.

Her head fell on his shoulder, as she came down from her high, her breathing coming back to normal, as he pulled his hand back, catching a glimpse of his work. While she still rested he used his wand to clean her up.

While she usually doesn't leave until he gets off, this time she had warned him beforehand that she doesn't have much time, and that he won't be getting his end satisfied. He didn't mind much. After all, he does get something in return, some more boost to his ego knowing with what little effort he can get a girl lose herself.

„You know I'm sorry I won't be getting you back for this!“ She said in a low tone as she collected her clothes from the floor. The brunette looked at him, her eyes betraying a hint of guilt as they always did, yet she kept coming back.

"Don't worry, it's not like it's the last time we'll meet," he chuckled, confident in his statement. However, a lingering thought crossed his mind about whether their encounters would cease before she graduated Hogwarts.

She adjusted her bun and gave him a soft smile. "Yeah, I have to hurry now! I'll see you around, Theo!" She headed towards the locked door, which he unlocked remotely. He knew her boyfriend was waiting for her somewhere.

"Tell him I said hi!" he teased with a smirk, earning a sarcastic look from her before she exited the room.

Theo leaned back against the table behind him, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket—the last one in the pack. He lit it, taking a deep drag. He considered going into the hallway to smoke but decided against it; it was the time when prefects often patrolled the dungeons, and he wasn't in the mood to negotiate detention. So he took his time with the burning feeling in his lungs.

When he thought the timing was right, Theo walked to the door and opened it quietly. As he closed the door behind him, he noticed a figure heading towards the Slytherin common room—Draco. He considered catching up with him but then saw a better opportunity present itself.

He followed her slowly into the anteroom of the Slytherin common room. As they entered, she quickly turned around, pushing him against the wall beside the entrance door and placing her wand at his neck. Her reaction surprised him; she peered into his eyes, a hint of fear fading in her light green gaze.

"What's got you so tense, princess?" His voice carried a teasing tone, despite the unexpected situation. "Dinner went well, I see?" The semi-question was tinged with sarcasm, yet Theo was genuinely interested in how the Malfoy dinner had unfolded. He knew that even if she didn't tell him, he'd soon find out from her brother.

He hadn't expected to startle her to the point of having a wand at his neck. "My bad," he said casually, though a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.

"Don't say," she replied, turning away from him to remove her robe. He observed as she tossed it over her arm, noting that her dress showed no sign of being worn, not a single wrinkle, likely the work of magic.

He matched her steps, walking beside her. "Need anything?" she asked, picking up on the tired and unamused tone in her voice, something he noticed was quite common. Was he boring her? Impossible.

„No. Do you?“ He returned.

"From you? No." she replied, giving him a look that was hard to decipher. Without another glance, she turned left toward the girls' dormitory, leaving him curious once again about her.

He made his way to his dorm, where he knew his friends were already waiting for him. Opening the door, he saw Mattheo standing by the window with a cigarette, Blaise lounging on his bed after a shower, Enzo sitting on the chair next to Blaise, and Draco standing beside Mattheo, clearly waiting for a drag. Theo's assumption about the dinner seemed to be correct.

"Look who the cat finally dragged in!" Mattheo's smug expression lit up as Theo entered. Theo made his way to his bed, flopping down on it and positioning himself to face his friends.

"I had to take care of some things," Theo smirked, casting a knowing glance at Draco, who bore visible signs of how the dinner had unfolded on his face.

"The one with the boyfriend, or a new one? Do enlighten us!" Blaise inquired. Although Blaise wasn't a fan of cheating or particularly fond of Theo's choice to hook up with a girl already in a relationship, his opinion of the girl in question changed after meeting her partner.

"I think we already know..." Enzo chimed in after a single glance at Theo. It was amusing to Theo that almost half the school, including all his friends, knew about him and the girl, yet her boyfriend remained oblivious.

 „So how'd the dinner go?“ Theo asked. Draco wasn't a big talker when it came to the tougher aspects of life. None of them were. But they usually get most of the stuff out one another.

"Like usual..." Draco's succinct response conveyed enough for the boys to grasp the gist of the situation. In moments like these, when the gravity of the situation required it, none of them resorted to joking. This was one of the rare instances when they knew how to be serious with each other.

"Lucius still a jerk?" Mattheo's question was his way of maintaining the serious tone.

Draco shifted his stance, declining Mattheo's cigarette this time, his gaze fixed on the window. The silence hung heavy, but they all understood the unspoken rule of waiting for the right moment to speak. It took Draco a moment to collect himself before he turned to face his friends again. "I'm too tired for this shit," he stated softly, his expression revealing more than his words did.

They did understand; after all, they had witnessed each other in similar situations and knew the feelings involved. So, after a few minutes, the room emptied out. Mattheo and Enzo returned to their dorm, leaving the remaining three roommates to silently prepare for an early night.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 8: Sister

Notes:

After the longest wait- sorry about that. A new chapter.
Enjoy<3

It was well past curfew when she finally returned to her dormitory—not the usual late where exhaustion would lull her to sleep, though tonight, she supposed, was an exception. Astoria, it seemed, took her beauty sleep very seriously; good for her. Jasmine's bed was empty, likely off somewhere with her usual clique. Cassiopeia tread carefully, her steps as light as a house elf’s, ensuring she didn’t rouse her slumbering friend. She knew that if she did, Astoria wouldn't hesitate to pester her for every detail about the dinner, and frankly, Cassiopeia couldn't bear the thought of reliving it right now.

She stepped into the bathroom, her dress slipping off effortlessly, pooling at her feet like liquid silk. She gazed into the mirror, a sigh escaping her lips. The reflection showed nothing more than a girl who would give anything to go back to the simpler days of childhood. She imagined how the dinner tonight might have unfolded if only the guests were the same as those from a few years back. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips as she reminisced about the days when life was simpler, laughter more genuine, and conversations unburdened by hidden agendas. Now, everything felt like a performance, and she longed for the days when she didn't have to wear a mask.

She thought of her brother. She had never truly understood his way of living. Was he happy? The question lingered in her mind, adding another layer to her already heavy heart. She wondered if he ever felt the same, wishing to escape the present and return to a time when everything made sense.

Taking the silver comb, she began her nightly routine with slow, deliberate strokes. When she was certain her hair was thoroughly combed, she set the comb down. Splashing her face with cold water, she looked in the mirror once more. She couldn’t tell if the drops sliding down her pale face were from the water or tears. The uncertainty deepened her sense of melancholy, blurring the lines between her emotions and reality.

Whatever it was, she wiped it away, determined to erase the traces of her vulnerability.

Morning arrived far too soon. Cassiopeia opened her eyes to the sound of humming, a familiar melody she couldn’t quite place. The clock read 8:12. Judging by the softness of the hum, she knew it was Astoria, getting ready for breakfast.

“Oh, you’re awake! I hope I didn’t wake you!” Astoria said, looking over with an awkward, pursed-lip smile.

Cassiopeia managed a small, reassuring smile in return, her mind still foggy from sleep and the lingering weight of last night’s thoughts. “No, it’s fine. I was just about to get up anyway,” she reassured her friend.

"I was just about to head to breakfast. Would you like me to wait for you?" Astoria asked.

Cassiopeia considered it carefully, unsure if she was even hungry. She decided she would prefer to stay behind this morning. "That's alright, I think I'm going to skip today."

"Are you sure? Would you like me to bring you something?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Sure, if you get a hold of an apple, I'll be around here."

Astoria nodded with a warm smile. "Of course. I'll be back soon."

As Astoria left, Cassiopeia lay back down, listening to the fading hum of her friend's melody and trying to find some peace in the quiet room. Jasmine must not have come back to the dorm last night, judging by the neatly made bed.

She sat up in bed, uncertain of what she had in mind for today. Not that she had any plans, really.

"Ladies do not slouch on the bed. Get up and get ready!" Her mother's voice rang in her head, a stern reminder of her duties. Even though her mother wasn't present, Cassiopeia had internalized that voice, making it a constant presence in her mind.

With a resigned sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, deciding to face the day despite her lack of enthusiasm.

She was in the bathroom, tying a black ribbon in her platinum hair when a sudden knock made her flinch. She thought it might be Astoria back from breakfast, but then, why would she knock on her own dorm door?

Cassiopeia made her way to the door slowly, suspiciously slipping out a, "Who is it?"

"Daphne!" came the familiar voice.

Cassiopeia relaxed slightly and opened the door, standing in the doorway looking at the two best friends. When you look at them, they simultaneously appear so much and yet nothing alike. However, when it came to their voices, it wasn't hard to discern the two; even a blind person could tell them apart. Pansy spoke faster, her voice higher-pitched, while Daphne's words came out more slowly, with a distinct rasp to her tone.

"Astoria left for breakfast some time ago," she informed them, assuming Daphne was looking for her little sister and Pansy was there simply because wherever Daphne went, Pansy followed and vice versa. It seemed the two girls always came in a pair.

Daphne smiled, her eyes scanning the room briefly. "That's alright. We actually came to see you, Cassiopeia."

Cassiopeia's brows shot up in surprise. She stood there, looking at them as if they had just asked her to Avada them.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" Pansy's question made her move from the doorway, letting them in, still confused.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of my brother's girlfriends visiting me?" The confusion turned into an immediate look of suspicion.

Daphne took a seat on her sister's bed, glancing briefly at the items on Astoria's nightstand, probably checking if any of her possessions had found their way to her sister's room. Finding nothing out of place, she looked back up at Cassiopeia.

Pansy leaned on Cassiopeia's bedframe, her usual smirk on her always perfectly set face. She looked at her best friend's sister with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"We wanted to talk to you about something," Daphne began, her tone serious but not unfriendly. "Something important."

Cassiopeia's suspicion deepened, but she nodded, waiting for Daphne to continue.

Pansy chimed in, her voice still carrying that playful edge. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. We just thought you might want to be involved in a little... project we're working on."

"A project?" Cassiopeia echoed, her interest piqued despite herself. "What kind of project?"

Daphne exchanged a glance with Pansy before responding. "It's about your brother. We need some help…”

"Lately, Draco has been..." Daphne struggled to find the right words to describe the older Malfoy.

"An arse? A bitch?" Cassiopeia offered a few options. She had tried to understand her brother's attitude since coming to Hogwarts, but even when she acted kindly toward him, he had turned away. Hell, all of his friends had been nicer to her than her own brother. Yes, she had come into his territory, but it wasn't like she was trying to hang out with his friends or him, for that matter. Even last night, when she felt bad for him, he had gone back to his dorm without even saying goodnight.

The older girls let out a chuckle. "Well, something like that," Daphne said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "And we were thinking of surprising him somehow, to get his mood back up, 'cause, you know, it's not fun when a Malfoy isn't in the mood!"

Oh, she knew.

"Yeah, I can't help you with that. It seems that you know him better than I do. Maybe you've noticed, we're not the closest," Cassiopeia admitted. She wasn't proud of it, but she knew it was a fact. But one thing she did know was that Draco hated surprises. "But I guess I can tell you he isn't into surprises..."

The blonde witch leaned back on the bed, her arms holding most of her weight: „So, no surprise?“ She looked between the two girls.

„You should probably just get him surrounded by the whole friend group, a few drinks, and jelly slugs, I don't think he needs much more...“ It seemed as a passing thought, there were a few things Cassiopeia knew made her brother happy, it wasn't hard to figure.

Pansy pushed herself off the bedframe, a smile plastered on her pretty face. „You're right, will do!“ Her friend followed, Daphne got up. „Thanks, little Malfoy!“ It seems the nickname will stick.

„You're of course invited!“

„I'll pass!“ She was sure her brother wouldn't like to see her around his friends again, especially not when the night was supposed to be for him. And however much she liked to go on his nerves, she had decided to sit this one out.

„As you wish, you can come by any time!“ They wasted no more time running off to prepare whatever there was to prepare. Leaving Cassiopeia alone, once again in her dorm.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 9: Library

Notes:

Another Chapter drop, cause I owe you-
I forgot to thank everyone for the kudos and hits, I really do appreciate it!
PS. Let's act as if the Hogwarts library doesn't have a smart/magical way of searching books...
Enjoy<3

It didn't take her long to grow bored. Cassiopeia decided she needed to go to the library to find a book for the essay due next week. Heading downstairs, she ignored the curious looks she received—a recurring thing even after all the time she had spent at Hogwarts. The whispers died down the second she entered the book-framed room. Madam Prince greeted her with a nod and a brief smile, but neither of them made an effort to talk. Cassiopeia walked over to the section where she hoped to find the book she needed.

The Malfoy library held twice as many books as Hogwarts, but she found it harder to orientate herself in these new surroundings. She scanned the shelves, her fingers lightly brushing the spines of old, leather-bound tomes.

A girl walked right past her, silently holding a few books in her hand with a few more levitating behind her. Her hair, although pulled up into a bun, looked like it was about to burst out, and a quill was tucked behind her ear. She seemed entirely absorbed in her own world, minding her business without paying attention to her surroundings.

Cassiopeia observed from a distance, finding the girl fascinating, something in her looked so familiar. The girl sat by the window, seemingly following some kind of routine, trying to blow back the little strand of curly hair that fell into her face. After a few attempts, she gave up and used her fingers instead.

The girl looked like she knew her way around here, and Cassiopeia had nothing to lose. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the girl, who had yet to notice her approach.

"Excuse me," Cassiopeia said softly, trying not to startle her. "I'm sorry for interrupting you. I was hoping you could help me find a book..."

The girl looked up, her brown eyes meeting Cassiopeia's with a mix of curiosity and warmth. She smiled politely, trying to dispel the usual "mean girl" vibe many had described her as having before getting the chance to meet her.

She looked up from her book, her eyebrows raising slightly as she saw Cassiopeia. "Uhm, yes of course, what book are you searching for?"

"It took her a second to find the book Cassiopeia described, a simple smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you!" Cassiopeia said, turning around to leave, but the girl stopped her in her tracks.

"You are a Malfoy, right?" The question sounded more like a rhetorical one.

Cassiopeia turned to look at her again, the polite smile back on her face. "Cassiopeia, and you are?" Curiosity got the better of her.

The girl's hand hesitantly extended for a handshake. "Hermione Granger," she introduced herself. It all made sense— the books, the bushy hair, the intellect. Of course, she was her. Cassiopeia found herself newly intrigued by the girl standing before her. "It's not every day I encounter a pleasant Malfoy," she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of Gryffindor boldness, one without the usual resentment. But despite understanding the underlying meaning, Cassiopeia couldn't suppress the defensive edge in her reply.

"Ah, well, not every Malfoy plays by the predictable rules that come with the name. Sorry to disappoint!“ The smile slipped from her face, realizing she was being irrational. After all, the girl had spent all her Hogwarts years with Draco, who had no choice but to despise her; she unwillingly turned his life into a race he could never win.

"Oh, I... I didn't mean—" Hermione's voice trailed off, her eyes widening with regret.

"It's alright, I understand," Cassiopeia responded with distant politeness, her tone cool and composed. "It was a pleasure, Granger!" Cassiopeia remarked, her tone tinged with amusement.

Hermione glanced at her as if Cassiopeia had just attempted an Unforgivable Curse on her. She watched Cassiopeia intently as she exited through the doors.

Returning from the library after the amusing chat, Cassiopeia encountered the sweaty Quidditch team just as they emerged from the pitch. Leading the group were Mattheo and Blaise, with Draco, Enzo, and Theo close behind. She hoped to slip by unnoticed, but that proved impossible.

"Oi, little Malfoy!" Mattheo called out from a distance, hastening to catch up with her.

"Riddle..." Cassiopeia greeted, as he eyed her from head to toe.

"No need for formalities, just Mattheo is fine," he chuckled. Cassiopeia glanced up at him, her expression unamused. While she didn't dislike her brother's friends, she wasn't eager to socialize with them either, especially if it meant Draco would later accuse her of encroaching on his territory. Mattheo grinned cockily, adjusting his Quidditch robes with a flourish, "out for a stroll to grace us, mere mortals, with your presence?"

She cocked him a smirk but never said anything in return.

„Don't worry, I won't tell anyone if you're trying to catch a glance of all this!“ He smirked, pointing to himself.

It made Cassiopeia let out a laugh. Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh yes, Mattheo, because I couldn't possibly resist the allure of your sweaty Quidditch robes."

He smiled, amused by the way she talked to him. „I do tend to have that effect on girls...“ He shot her a playful smirk.

The banter was interrupted by a pointed cough from behind. Glancing back, Cassiopeia caught Draco glaring at her, his expression laden with unspoken tension. She rolled her eyes, annoyed by the coldness between them. Her gaze drifted past her brother to Theo. While Cassiopeia didn't particularly appreciate Mattheo's post-Quidditch appearance, she found Theo rather easy on the eyes. A stray strand of hair fell across his face, having shed the bulk of his Quidditch robes to reveal a simple Slytherin-green t-shirt that accentuated his lean frame. He walked quietly among his friends, focused ahead. Sensing Cassiopeia's gaze on him, Theo glanced up, meeting her eyes.

The rational thing would have been to look away, feign disinterest, and pretend she hadn't been staring. But in that moment, Cassiopeia found herself uncharacteristically unmoved by the usual concerns. She held his gaze, silently challenging the fleeting moment of connection.

An amused smirk tugged at Theo's lips as Cassiopeia finally decided to look away, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. She knew whatever had just transpired shouldn't happen again.

Excusing herself from Mattheo with a flimsy excuse, Cassiopeia swiftly made her way to her room. She felt unusually warm, as though she had been sitting under the sun for hours.

"Ah, there you are! I was looking for you!" Astoria exclaimed as Cassiopeia entered, her eyes following her friend with curiosity.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 10: Cheers

Notes:

A short one, but a longer one is coming, I promise!

Pansy had informed the friend group about her and Daphne's plan to cheer Draco up. While she insisted it was just a casual get-together, she couldn't resist going a little beyond that. She bought a bloody cake.

Theo found it amusing how Draco reacted to it. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, but while Draco knew about the gathering, he didn’t realize it was meant for him. Theo, Draco, and Mattheo had walked into the Slytherin common room together. At that late hour, the room was empty except for their friends, who had undoubtedly scared off any younger students to their dorms.

As they stepped inside, Pansy was practically bouncing with excitement. Her crimson lips spread into a wide smile as she rushed over to Draco, eager to pull him toward his chair.

"Come on, Draco, this one's for you!" she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. There was something to Pansy when she did things like this, for her friends, the way she got excited, in between the four walls and just the eyes of her friends. To everyone else, she was a narcissistic bitch that loved her clothes collection more than any human alive.

Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. "What’s this all about?"

Pansy winked, guiding him to the seat she had so meticulously arranged. "Just a little something to remind you that you’re not alone, even when you’re being a moody git." Daphne was by her side, smiling at her words as she agreed, she pushed forward the cake they spent their trip to Hogsmeade for.

Draco smirked despite himself, but there was a flicker of genuine appreciation in his eyes. "A cake, really?" he asked, his tone somewhere between amused and exasperated as he noticed the elaborate confection on the table.

Enzo chuckled, clapping Draco on the back as they took their seats. "Yeah, mate. Apparently, you needed cheering up, and what better way than with cake?"

Mattheo grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Pans and Daph's idea, of course. Pans, of course, couldn’t resist making a bit of a scene."

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You lot are ridiculous," he muttered, but his voice lacked the usual bite.

As they settled into the cozy warmth of the common room, the mood lightened. Conversations flowed easily, and for the first time in a while, Draco allowed himself to relax. The friends' plan, with its mix of understated care and just a touch of drama, seemed to be working.

When they finally cut into the cake, the laughter and banter that filled the room were genuine. Even Draco couldn’t help but join in, a rare sight these days. As the night wore on, surrounded by friends who understood him better than anyone, Draco felt a little of the weight on his shoulders lift. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

Theo relished these small moments when nothing mattered besides the present. Blaise had brought a bottle from his stash, declaring it a good enough occasion to get drunk. But if you were to ask Theo about it, he’d say any occasion is good enough to get drunk.

By now, he was on his third glass, and the familiar sting of Firewhiskey had faded. He was nearing that blissful point where his thoughts didn’t matter anymore, and that was always the final destination. Sitting in his seat, Daphne’s head rested comfortably in his lap, and they shared a cigarette, the smoke vanishing into thin air as they exhaled—a spell they’d learned after their first time getting caught smoking on the grounds.

"Blaise?" Pansy’s voice rang out from the corner, laced with that unmistakable note of drunkenness she always got after a few glasses of Firewhiskey.

Blaise, his head thrown back over the sofa and lost in his own thoughts, picked up at the sound of his name. He turned slightly to look at Pansy, not bothering to move from his relaxed position. "Pansy?" he replied, his voice carrying the lazy drawl of someone who had fully embraced the haze of the evening.

Pansy, sprawled out in a plush armchair, grinned back at him. “Are you going to share that bottle, or do I need to get up and take it from you?”

Blaise chuckled, tilting the bottle slightly in her direction. “You know where it is. Help yourself, love.”

Pansy huffed playfully but made no move to rise, instead raising her own glass, which was already half-full. “I was just checking that you hadn’t passed out on us. You get all quiet when you drink. What are you thinking about?” Her question was kind of loaded, but with the alcohol in their system, it didn't carry much of the usual heaviness. Her words slightly slurred but her tone curious. She was leaning against the arm of the sofa, her glass dangling loosely from her fingers.

Blaise blinked slowly as if coming back from a distant place. “Nothing and everything,” he said with a lazy grin. “Just enjoying the quiet before the storm.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow, smirking at his cryptic response. “You’re such a poet when you’re drunk, Zabini.”

Theo chuckled, taking another drag from the cigarette before passing it back to Daphne. “Blaise, a poet? That’s something I'd want to live long to witness.”

Blaise finally moved, sitting up a bit straighter as he poured himself another glass. “I’ll have you know, Nott, that I have many hidden talents. Poetry might just be one of them.”

Daphne laughed softly, her head still in Theo’s lap as she reached up to take the cigarette. “Alright, then. Let’s hear something poetic.”

Blaise narrowed his eyes playfully at her, but there was a glint of mischief in them. “Roses are red, Firewhisky burns, the night’s still young, and the world still turns.”

Pansy groaned dramatically, but she was smiling. “Merlin, Blaise. You really are wasted.”

“And yet,” Blaise retorted, raising his glass in a mock toast, “I’m still the most coherent one here.”

Daphne exhaled a stream of smoke, her eyes half-closed as she nestled further into Theo’s lap. “I’ll drink to that,” she murmured, passing the cigarette back to him.

Theo took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before releasing it into the air. The warmth of the Firewhisky, the comfort of Daphne’s presence, and the low hum of conversation around him made the moment feel almost surreal. It was one of those rare times when the weight of their world—the pressures, the expectations, the looming darkness—faded into the background.

Across the room, Draco was leaning back in his chair, his expression more relaxed than it had been in weeks. For once, the tension in his shoulders was gone, replaced by a rare, genuine smile as he bantered with Mattheo about some inside joke only the two of them seemed to understand. Enzo silently observed by Blaise's side, a drunken smile on his lips.

“Cheers to keeping it simple,” Blaise said suddenly, raising his bottle in a mock toast. “And to nights like these.”

Pansy giggled, lifting her glass in agreement. “Cheers!”

Theo raised his glass as well, meeting Blaise’s gaze for a moment before knocking back the rest of his drink.

As soon as Theo brought the glass to his lips, his eyes darted to Draco. His friend was now deep in thought, his expression distant. But as soon as Draco felt eyes on him, he quickly masked it, slipping back into his usual guarded demeanor. Theo’s gaze shifted to Mattheo, who seemed to be staring intently at the last bit of alcohol left in the bottle. Enzo, never much of a drinker but far from a lightweight, was idly twirling his wand between his fingers, his focus elsewhere. Blaise had returned to his 'thinking about everything and nothing' expression, while Daphne was finishing up the cigarette. Pansy, on the other hand, was out cold, slumped comfortably in her chair.

When the time came to wrap the gathering up, Enzo offered to take Pansy up to her dorm, given that he was the closest to soberness. Daphne followed behind with a tired expression, her usual energy drained from the late hour and the lingering effects of the Firewhisky. The rest of the boys lingered for a moment, exchanging a few quiet words before heading off at their own pace, each lost in their own thoughts.

By the time Theo finally reached his dorm, exhaustion weighed heavily on him. He barely managed to change into something comfortable before collapsing onto his bed. He didn’t bother waiting for the lights to go off; as soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep claimed him almost instantly. The lingering warmth of the Firewhisky in his veins and the soft sounds of the castle at night were the last things he registered before drifting away into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 11: Threats

Notes:

Hello everyone, soooo, I was wondering if you guys would read fanfics about the other Slytherin guys too if I were to write them. Maybe to kind of see how each of them perceive their friendship, and add some plot and some romance of course, different tropes. The stories could or don't have to be connected to this current one I'm writing, the pairs could also be with some of the already existing characters or I could have some more OC's come to life. I do have a few ideas already on my mind, but I'd love to hear what you think first. If you would like that leave a comment about what you're thinking. If yes, which Slytherin would you like to read about first?
Thank you for the support and kudos, I appreciate everything<3

Potions—she couldn’t find the damn book. And it was her first class, right after breakfast. Maybe it had slipped off her bed, and fallen underneath. She often read when she couldn’t sleep, which had definitely been the case last night. That had to be it. Just as she lowered herself to peek under the bed, a voice made her flinch.

"Looking for something?" The voice wasn’t friendly; it lacked the warmth she was used to from her friend. This one was sharp, dripping with a smugness that made Cassiopeia’s skin prickle. She looked up to find the dorm mate she’d barely seen around—perhaps three times in all the time she’d been at Hogwarts—standing in front of her bed.

Cassiopeia said nothing at first, her eyes narrowing as she met the girl’s gaze, but the silence didn’t seem to discourage her.

"Maybe the time you lost last night, sneaking around trying to go unnoticed?" The girl’s lips curled into a smirk like she had uncovered some grand secret. "Because it was anything but that..."

Cassiopeia had forgotten all about the Potions book now. She got to her feet, her gaze never leaving the raven-haired girl. It was true—she had snuck back into the dorm late last night, and she had thought she’d done so unnoticed. Apparently, she was wrong. That would be a first. Her eyebrow arched as she stepped closer, her posture steady, her face betraying nothing but curiosity.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about." Denial—the first stage of defense. And right now, Cassiopeia hoped it would be the only one she’d have to use.

The girl’s smirk widened, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, don’t play dumb. For a Malfoy, you lie awfully bad."

Cassiopeia disagreed on that. If she could ever rely on anything, it was her ability to lie. But it seemed she’d yet to prove that here.

"I don’t care where you were or what—or who—you were doing," the girl sneered. "I want to know who you’ve got wrapped around your finger so you don’t get caught sneaking around. Which prefect’s turning a blind eye for you?"

There it was. The real reason for this confrontation. Cassiopeia could sense the envy dripping from her words. It made sense—the girl had likely been caught herself. Probably last week, considering she’d spent two days in detention with Professor Sprout. But just for the way this dorm mate chose to approach her, Cassiopeia wouldn’t have given up that information even if there were a prefect in her pocket.

The girl’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. "So, what is it then? You paying them off? Or are you the type to... sleep your way to favors?"

Cassiopeia Malfoy sleeping her way up? The very idea was laughable. If she were ever to use anything other than her intelligence and resourcefulness to climb her way up—even higher than she already was—it certainly wouldn’t be her body. That option wasn’t even on the list.

She tilted her head slightly, her voice dripping with cool condescension. “I think you should visit the infirmary. It can’t be normal to be seeing things like that. You should hurry before class start—wouldn’t want it to get worse and have you imagining things like that again.”

The dorm mate's smug expression faltered, and Cassiopeia resisted the urge to smirk. She wasn’t someone who liked to classify herself as a "mean girl," but moments like these, with people who thought they could intimidate her, called for exceptions.

Jasmine, however, didn’t seem to appreciate being made out to look like a fool. Cassiopeia found it amusing how easily she could make the girl lose her composure. No amount of makeup could cover the flush of red creeping from Jasmine’s neck to her face.

"You think you can get away with things like these us mere mortals can't, just because you're a Malfoy—"

Before Jasmine could finish her sentence, Cassiopeia's eyes drifted down to where the corner of her Potions book was peeking out from beneath her bed. She quickly knelt down, grabbed it, and straightened up again, her cool gaze settling back on her dorm mate.

"You flatter me, Jasmine—really, it’s nice that you have such a high opinion of me," Cassiopeia said, her voice dripping with mock politeness. "But don’t tear yourself down just because you can’t reach that. I’m sure there’s something great about you too."

She smiled sweetly, which only seemed to fuel Jasmine’s anger even more. The flush in the girl’s face deepened, her frustration practically radiating off her in waves.

"You might want to calm down before you burst a blood vessel," Cassiopeia added with a faint smirk, a subtle challenge hidden in her words. "It wouldn’t be a good look."

"Now, if you’ll excuse me." She glanced at the girl once more before pushing past her, fully prepared to leave the ridiculous encounter behind. But just as she moved, Jasmine's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, bringing Cassiopeia to an abrupt halt.

The grip wasn’t painful, but it was enough to make Cassiopeia’s skin prickle. The sudden, bold move sent a rush of anger coursing through her, and her eyes darkened as she turned back to face Jasmine again. Her expression remained composed, but her gaze was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. One she must've gotten from her mother.

"Maybe you should taste some detention," Jasmine sneered, clearly not planning on letting go anytime soon. She was trying to intimidate Cassiopeia, thinking that threats and aggression would make the younger Malfoy back down.

Wrong.

Cassiopeia wasn’t thinking of resorting to harshness, not initially. But the girl was overstepping her boundaries, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back. She glanced down at where Jasmine's hand gripped her arm, then slowly raised her gaze back to meet her dorm mate’s eyes, cold and unyielding.

"Maybe you should take your hand off me," she said, her voice low and controlled, a warning in every syllable.

Jasmine smirked, undeterred. "Or what? Daddy's gonna have me sent to Azkaban?"

Cassiopeia’s lips curled into a smirk of her own, but hers was sharper, more dangerous. She leaned in slightly, her eyes gleaming with a dark promise. "Or you’re gonna wish my daddy came to send you to Azkaban."

There was a flicker of doubt in Jasmine’s eyes, though her grip remained stubbornly tight. Cassiopeia didn’t flinch, didn’t move, her cool expression never wavering. She wasn’t the type to throw empty threats around, and she made sure Jasmine knew it.

"Is that a threat?" Jasmine asked, her voice laced with defiance, though there was a tremor beneath it.

"It’s a promise," Cassiopeia replied, her tone icy, colder than she’d ever heard herself sound before. The shift in her own voice was unsettling, like a stranger had taken over. Her eyes had darkened, and she knew if she looked in a mirror right now, she wouldn’t recognize herself.

Jasmine must have felt it too. Her grip on Cassiopeia’s arm loosened, and after a tense moment, her hand fell by her side. She must've read in between the lines too, because by the look of it, this conversation wasn't going to leave this dormitory.

Cassiopeia glanced down at where the girl had grabbed her, brushing off the spot as if clearing away dust. Her expression remained stone-cold, no trace of her usual politeness. "Enjoy the rest of your day," she said flatly, her voice devoid of warmth.

After that, Cassiopeia wasted no more time. With the book she needed in hand and her wand safely tucked into her pocket, she left the dormitory, her steps swift as she made her way to the Great Hall, leaving Jasmine behind in the silence of her own poor choices. Her friend was waiting for her, as promised, to join her for breakfast.

As she walked, her mind briefly lingered on the encounter. She hadn’t expected her first enemy at Hogwarts to be a fellow Slytherin—her own dorm mate, no less. But jealousy, as she had just witnessed, could make people do reckless, stupid things.

Still, Cassiopeia wasn’t one to dwell on conflicts. She’d made her stance clear, and that was enough. With the confrontation behind her, she allowed herself to relax as she approached the Great Hall, ready to move on with her day.

After a brief breakfast, Cassiopeia and an oblivious Astoria made their way to the dungeons for Potions class. As they descended the cold stone steps, Cassiopeia's thoughts wandered to the strange relationship she had with their Potions professor—her godfather.

The first Potions class she had at Hogwarts had been nothing short of surreal. She had expected it to be, knowing that the man standing at the front of the classroom, robes billowing, was her godfather. But the odd part wasn’t their connection—it was how little she actually knew him. Despite the title, Cassiopeia had barely spoken to him. Respect was there, certainly, but their conversations had been limited. Five brief exchanges in total, and three of those had only occurred in the last year or two. Ones she wouldn't repeat again.

In contrast, Draco seemed closer to him—though "closer" was perhaps a stretch, given Snape’s famously distant demeanor. But the connection between them made sense. Snape had been Draco’s Potions professor for the past six years, and there was something about the unspoken understanding between the two that always intrigued her.

Still, it was strange to think that, despite this lack of closeness, Severus Snape was the man who would be granted guardianship over Draco and herself if anything ever happened to their parents. Merlin forbid, she thought, a slight shudder running through her at the mere idea.

“Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: The Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation,” Professor Snape's low, calm voice announced, cutting through the stillness of the dungeon classroom.

The Draught of Peace—Cassiopeia was quite familiar with it. She had seen it around Malfoy Manor more times than she cared to admit. In fact, she’d used it herself not too long ago. It was effective, to say the least.

"Be warned," Snape continued, his voice carrying an undercurrent of seriousness, like it always did, "if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy, sometimes irreversible sleep. So you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

His warning cut through the class like a sharp wind, and the usual low hum of whispers was absent. It could have been that the students were finally interested enough to listen, or perhaps they were simply too intimidated to look away. After all, Snape was known as the strictest professor in all of Hogwarts—a fact Cassiopeia had known long before stepping foot in the castle.

The ingredients and the exact recipe appeared on the board at the front of the room, neatly written for all to see. Every pair of students had a cauldron, ingredients, and tools in front of them and was expected to brew the potion correctly.

Cassiopeia found herself paired with a Hufflepuff girl whose name she couldn’t recall. It didn’t really matter to her. As long as the girl could follow instructions and didn’t mess up the potion, Cassiopeia didn’t care who she was working with.

She scanned the list of ingredients: powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn, the ingredients were to be precisely measured and set to use.

The Hufflepuff girl glanced nervously at Cassiopeia, clearly aware of who she was, but Cassiopeia paid her little attention. Her focus was entirely on the cauldron and the precise steps Snape had outlined. She wasn’t about to let anyone—especially a nervous partner—ruin her potion. This was one of the few things in class she actually took seriously. Maybe it was her father's voice that rang in her head to exceed in her studies, or maybe it was the shame that she would feel knowing she had every predisposition to be outstanding in this class and still failed.

"You start with the moonstone," Cassiopeia said curtly, glancing at the girl. "Just don’t overdo it, read the recipe and ask if you have any questions.“ Her words were firm, but not harsh.

Suddenly, just as she grabbed the next ingredient in her hand, her head started to thump. With a soft inhale and exhale she shook her head off, bringing herself to ignore the ache and focus on the task at hand. She raised her head to find Professor Snape glaring at her, she didn't think anything of it, since he seemed to stare a lot.

The Hufflepuff nodded quickly, her hands shaking slightly as she measured out the powdered moonstone.

Cassiopeia sighed inwardly but remained calm. As long as they stuck to the instructions, the potion would be perfect. Snape would expect no less from a Malfoy, and she wasn’t going to give him a reason to be disappointed.

With five minutes still on the clock, Cassiopeia and her Hufflepuff partner were the first to finish. The potion in their cauldron bubbled softly, a perfect turquoise blue—the exact shade described in the instructions. The Hufflepuff girl looked almost giddy with excitement, as though it was her first time successfully completing a potion.

Though Cassiopeia had taken on the more crucial tasks, ensuring the ingredients were measured and handled with precision, she had made sure to keep her partner involved. After all, a successful brew required teamwork, no matter how much of the heavy lifting Cassiopeia had done herself.

Snape’s sharp gaze caught their finished work, and with his usual long, silent strides, he was by their table in an instant. His black eyes swept over their workspace—every ingredient placed neatly aside, no spills or clutter—before he focused on the cauldron. He stared at the bubbling liquid, his expression inscrutable as he mentally compared it to his own perfect brew.

Cassiopeia stood calmly, her arms crossed, waiting for his judgment. The Hufflepuff beside her, on the other hand, fidgeted slightly, her excitement evident as her eyes darted between the cauldron and their professor.

After a long moment, Snape hummed, a short, neutral sound that could mean anything. He looked up at the pair, his gaze lingering on the bubbling turquoise potion before meeting Cassiopeia’s eyes.

"The color is correct," he said, his voice as cold and emotionless as ever. "The consistency is acceptable. No doubt, the result of precision." His eyes shifted briefly to the Hufflepuff, acknowledging her presence but offering no more than that. "I will inspect the rest of the class. Leave your potion for evaluation."

The Hufflepuff girl beamed, practically glowing with pride. Cassiopeia merely nodded, her expression calm, though she felt a small sense of satisfaction at Snape’s words. Coming from him, anything short of outright criticism was practically high praise.

As Snape moved on to the next pair, Cassiopeia glanced at her partner, who was still brimming with excitement. "Good job," she said, offering a small nod of approval.

The girl smiled widely. "Thanks! You were amazing. I’ve never had a potion turn out this well before." It looked like it.

Cassiopeia shrugged, brushing off the compliment. "Just follow the instructions, and it works out. Simple as that." It wasn't long after that that the class ended and they were free to go.

Just as Cassiopeia gathered her belongings and the classroom began to empty, she felt a presence beside her. She glanced up to see the tall, dark figure of Professor Snape standing close, his gaze fixed on her, unblinking.

"Miss Malfoy, stay for a few moments," Snape said in his familiar low tone, devoid of emotion. There was no hint in his voice as to why he wanted her to stay behind, and Cassiopeia’s mind raced to figure out what this could be about. Had she done something wrong during the lesson? The thought felt unlikely; their potion had been flawless.

Astoria, who had been about to leave, looked over her shoulder at her friend, confusion evident on her face. She gave Cassiopeia a questioning glance, unsure what could have prompted Snape to ask her to stay behind.

Cassiopeia offered her a small, reassuring smile. "You can go, I'll find you after," she said. She didn’t know how long this would take, but whatever it was, she didn’t want her friend waiting around.

Astoria hesitated for a moment but nodded and made her way out of the classroom, leaving Cassiopeia alone with Snape as the door creaked shut behind her.

As her friend slipped out of the classroom, Cassiopeia turned to face Snape, the last student left behind. He was glaring at her, his sharp, dark eyes inspecting her with an intensity that made the silence stretch uncomfortably long. It felt as though he was searching for something in her features, some unspoken truth or secret, though she had no idea what that might be.

Without a word, he turned away from her, his black robes billowing slightly as he walked to the table at the front of the classroom. "Do you know why I asked you to stay, Miss Malfoy?" His voice was low, calm, but with an edge that suggested she should already know the answer.

Cassiopeia blinked, confused. She had no idea why he’d kept her behind, but the way he phrased the question made it seem like she was supposed to. For a brief moment, she wondered again if it had something to do with the potion she’d brewed—but if that were the case, he could have easily addressed it in front of the other students.

No, this was something else. Something more personal. Something meant for her ears alone.

She stood tall, her gaze steady, but her answer was short. "No."

Snape’s back remained turned to her for a moment longer as if he were weighing her response, testing her patience.

He didn’t look at her as he reached for something on his desk. Then, with a quick turn that made his black cloak billow dramatically around him, he walked back up to her. His face was as unreadable as ever—emotionless, cold.

"Your mind is loud," he said, his voice low but pointed.

It took her a moment to piece it together—her headache, the intense staring earlier, his words. He had used Legilimency on her. That bastard.

"You are not working on your Occlumency," he added curtly, his tone carrying a sharp undercurrent of reprimand.

It was true. Occlumency was something she should have been practicing, something Snape had specifically brought up in one of their few conversations last year. Something she had been subjected to before. But between the other things on her mind and things she found more important, she had pushed it aside, prioritizing other tasks. She thought she had more time. Clearly, Snape disagreed.

Instead of focusing on her mounting irritation, she kept her face as neutral as possible. She didn't need him reading more of her thoughts than he already had.

"Instead of trying to prove your importance to your fellow housemates, you should focus on something useful," Snape said, his voice laced with quiet criticism, obviously implying to the memory from earlier in her dorm. With a flick of his wrist, he handed her a book.

Guide to Advanced Occlumency by Maxwell Barnett.

Cassiopeia took the book, staring at its cover with a sinking feeling in her chest. Great, just what she needed—another demanding task to add to her already packed schedule. She had hoped she could put off Occlumency for later in the semester, but it didn’t look like that was an option anymore.

"You are not taking your tasks seriously enough," Snape spat, his voice cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "At this point, you are no different from a first-year who has never even heard of Occlumency. The only thing separating you from them is that your body has learned to recognize when something is going on in your head—even though you don’t."

Cassiopeia bristled at the comparison, her jaw tightening in frustration. Being likened to a first-year was almost insulting, but what stung more was the realization that he was right—she hadn't taken Occlumency as seriously as she should have. And yet, the fact that he had gone through her recent memories, knowing full well she wasn't protecting her mind, left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"By the next time I use Legilimency on you," he continued coldly, "I expect you to be able to direct me to something you either deem unimportant or have fabricated. Do not expect me to be as gentle as I was today."

The threat hung heavily between them. Cassiopeia knew he had his own tasks, that part of his role was to keep an eye on both her and Draco. But it didn’t make his approach any less infuriating. The violation of her mind, even under the guise of training, felt like an overstep. Yet, she couldn’t argue—she knew, deep down, she needed to protect herself better.

Snape’s gaze remained hard and unyielding as he flicked his wand, pressing its tip to the book he had given her. The cover shimmered, transforming into the appearance of a simple Potions textbook. It was a small glamour, but a necessary one. No one is supposed to even suspect she was studying Occlumency.

"You will find," Snape continued, "that allowing your mind to remain so... open is dangerous. Especially for someone in your position." He reminded her. And for a second she felt sick to her stomach at the words 'someone in your position'. Merlin, would it ever stop leaving a bitter taste behind?

"You are free to go," he dismissed her curtly, turning away without waiting for a response. His robes billowed as he strode toward the door, leaving her standing there, no chance given to defend herself or voice her frustrations.

Cassiopeia watched him leave, her mind still spinning from his harsh words. The weight of the book in her hands suddenly felt much heavier than before. Snape’s warning was clear—next time, he wouldn’t hold back. And next time, she had to be ready.

As she stepped out of the empty classroom, her frustration still simmering beneath the surface. She couldn't allow herself a failure like this again. She had been given a warning, and the consequences of ignoring it were far too dangerous to entertain.

Her pace quickened as she made her way through the corridors, the glamour-clad textbook clutched tightly to her chest. Her head was spinning, most likely the lingering effect of Snape’s Legilimency. She could still feel the residual heaviness from his intrusion like her thoughts had been prodded and jumbled.

She realized she should revisit her own knowledge of Legilimency as well. It had been a long time since she’d studied the subject, and slipping it into her Occlumency practice wouldn’t hurt. If Snape was going to test her mind again, she needed to be prepared from all angles.

"Hey! What did Snape want?"

Astoria’s voice suddenly cut through her thoughts, and Cassiopeia nearly jumped. Her friend had appeared beside her, falling into step as they walked down the hall. Cassiopeia had been so deep in her thoughts she had almost forgotten about her friend. Shaking her head to clear it, she pressed her lips together, already preparing the lie that would inevitably follow.

"Oh, nothing important," Cassiopeia replied, her voice calm as if nothing were wrong. "He asked about the potion we brewed today. Thought I might’ve done it before, given how it turned out. He wondered if I had the prior chance to learn about it at Beauxbatons." Cassiopeia smiled, though inwardly she felt a small twinge of guilt at the deception. Would she ever get to tell some truth? Likely not. But did it really matter?

No, it didn’t. Not right now.

 "Did you?" Astoria asked almost immediately, her curiosity piqued. Cassiopeia hesitated for a moment, quickly realizing she needed to respond.

"Um, no," she replied smoothly. "The class schedule is pretty much the same at both schools. I would've learned it around this time there too." It wasn’t a complete lie—just a carefully constructed half-truth. The schedules were indeed similar, but she had brewed the potion before. Still, a half-truth was better than a whole lie.

Astoria seemed satisfied with the answer and didn’t press further. Cassiopeia breathed a silent sigh of relief, grateful the conversation had shifted. But then she noticed Astoria’s gaze shift, falling on a figure leaning casually against one of the stone pillars by the window.

Mattheo Riddle.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, a casual smirk on his face as he stood with two girls flanking him, both vying for his attention. The scene was almost typical for him, but what really caught Cassiopeia's attention was the way Astoria looked at him—an unmistakable glint of interest in her eyes.

A smile tugged at Cassiopeia’s lips. A distraction. A useful one, at that.

"You know he’s an arsehole, right?" Cassiopeia asked as they walked past him, whose smug presence still lingered at the pillar, flanked by admirers. She had noticed the way Astoria's eyes had softened for him, and while she found it endearing, she also knew her friend could do much better.

"What?" Astoria winced, as if Cassiopeia had just uncovered her deepest, most well-guarded secret.

"Riddle," Cassiopeia clarified, her tone more teasing than accusatory.

"Oh, no—no, that’s not—I’m not into him," Astoria stammered, struggling to find the right words, her cheeks flushing as she tried to deflect.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow, amused by her friend's flustered reaction. "I’m just saying, he’s an arse, and you’re Astoria." It wasn’t the clearest explanation, but they had somehow gotten to know each other well enough to understand what was being said.

Astoria blinked, processing the words, then finally sighed. "You think so?"

"Anyone who's friends with my brother is an arse, trust me on that," Cassiopeia said, the words slipping out naturally. She almost added Draco to the list, but somehow, it went without saying. A part of her wished things weren't that way, that she didn’t hold such an opinion about her brother and his friends, but growing up around them, hearing the things she heard, had left her with little doubt. They were boys, like any other, and blood or bond didn’t change that fact.

Astoria looked at her, clutching her books tightly to her chest. "Blaise isn’t—" she protested gently, her voice carrying a hint of defense for their mutual acquaintance. It wasn't as much defensiveness as it was hope.

He is, Cassiopeia thought to herself but kept it silent. Blaise was different, in a way—polished, smooth, the closest thing to a man in Draco's circle. But underneath it all, he was still part of that group, still prone to the same arrogance and detachment. He just knew how to mask it better.

Cassiopeia offered her friend a small smile, one that didn’t fully disagree but didn’t quite concede either. "Perhaps."

Astoria nodded as if understanding what wasn’t said aloud. They continued walking in comfortable silence, the unsaid truth lingering between them. Cassiopeia knew that, despite her friend's protests, Astoria saw the same flaws in her sister's circle that she did—she just wanted to believe that there is someone that was different.

But Cassiopeia had learned long ago that hoping for people to be different from who they truly were often led to disappointment. And though she didn’t wish that for Astoria, she knew her friend would have to see it for herself.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 12: Off-limits

Notes:

Enjoy!

Blaise, the bastard, had woken Theo up with a splash of cold water that morning. Luckily for Blaise, Theo had been too hungover to fully retaliate at the moment, though the thought of revenge was already simmering in the back of his mind. There was no world where Theo Nott would let something like that slide. But first, he had more pressing matters to deal with—namely, the splitting headache from last night’s drinking session. Thank Circe for hangover potions.

Even with the potion kicking in, Theo still didn’t feel like practicing Quidditch after class. But with a match looming on Friday, missing practice wasn’t an option. They had scheduled the pitch for today, and he knew better than to skip.

Now, fifteen meters in the air, the cold wind sliced through him, biting against his skin. He hovered, keeping an eye on the new players they had join the team after the trials. He didn’t particularly care for the additions—new blood always meant he had new targets to practice his own moves on though.

Draco and Mattheo were both somewhere higher in the air, with some more players, doing their job correcting their game.

Theo waited his turn.

One of the new recruits hurled the quaffle, and that was Theo's cue. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, his broom slicing through the air with precision. The players beneath him hadn’t even noticed him coming in. As one of them reached for the quaffle, Theo bolted forward, snatching the ball from his hands with a practiced ease. The wind whipped around him as he shot through the air, weaving past the defense as if they were standing still.

In one fluid motion, Theo propelled the quaffle through the highest scoring hoop. The satisfying thunk of it passing through echoed, and Theo turned on his broom, glancing back at the players who had failed to stop him.

"If that's the best you can do, we might as well call off the bloody match," Theo barked, his voice cutting through the cold air with sharp authority. He wasn't the team's captain, but his words carried weight, as though he were. Like any other Slytherin, Theo despised losing, and while defeat didn’t sting him as badly as it did some of his friends, he definitely preferred celebrating victories. Winning drinks were always sweeter.

The players below him remained silent, gritting their teeth and getting back to practice without much protest. Theo, satisfied for now, descended lower to where Blaise and Enzo stood, observing the game from the ground. They had positioned themselves at a vantage point where they could see everything, taking mental notes on who was match-ready and who wasn't.

Theo flew alongside Enzo, his eyes trained on the players still in the air. "I've seen Pansy fly faster on a broom than them," Enzo muttered, not even bothering to look at Theo. His eyes stayed locked on the field.

He wasn’t lying. The new recruits were playing overly cautious, too careful, and it was starting to grate on Theo's nerves.

"Sometimes I think we should ask her to join," Blaise chimed in, leaning against his broom with a smirk. "Promise her a shopping spree if we win—nobody would be able to keep her from the hoops."

That earned a genuine laugh from Theo. "She’d curse herself blind before she'd let herself get dirty or sweaty."

The boys snorted with amusement, all too familiar with Pansy's aversion to anything remotely athletic. Theo couldn’t help but remember a moment from two years ago, after a particularly grueling match they had won. Pansy had been so caught up in the victory, she'd forgotten herself and hugged Draco—unfortunately, Draco had been soaked in sweat from the game.

As soon as Pansy realized what she'd done, she recoiled in horror, pushing him away like he'd just hexed her. "Disgusting, sweaty gnomes," she'd said, grimacing as she wiped her hands dramatically. "You lot need an anti-sweating spell before you come near me after a game."

She had stormed off immediately to take a shower, making a huge fuss about cleanliness and hygiene, and ended up arriving late to the celebration party that night. Draco had laughed it off, but Pansy's high standards for post-match interaction became somewhat of a running joke among them.

The three of them shared another laugh as they watched the rest of the team fumble through practice. It wasn’t a perfect session, but it wasn’t hopeless either. They just needed to toughen up before the match—get rid of the hesitations, stop worrying about making mistakes, and start playing with the confidence Slytherin was known for.

"Still," Enzo said thoughtfully, "if they don’t shape up soon, we’re in for a long match on Friday."

Blaise’s smirk faded slightly, already planning how to push the team harder. "Don’t worry," he muttered, his eyes narrowing with determination. "They’ll shape up. I’ll make sure of it." Without wasting time, he flew up, already barking corrections to the team, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

Theo watched him for a moment before glancing at Enzo, who was still staring at the players struggling in the sky. "How long do we have to stay here?" Theo asked, already calculating how much longer they were supposed to endure the mediocrity on display.

Enzo finally tore his gaze away and glanced at Theo. "About 10 more minutes."

Theo shrugged, already feeling done with the lackluster practice. "Want to join me for a smoke, then?" Ten minutes was short enough to call it a day in his mind—he’d done his part.

Enzo grinned, not needing to think twice. "Yeah, I can’t watch this shit show much longer anyway."

With a shared understanding, they flew down to one of the wooden towers beneath the bleachers. Theo already had a fresh pack of cigarettes in his pocket, anticipating the moment. He handed one to Enzo and lit up his own, taking a deep pull and exhaling slowly. The warmth of the smoke filled his lungs, bringing an immediate sense of satisfaction.

"Should've gone for a smoke as soon as I saw the first throw," Theo muttered, leaning back against the pillar and watching the smoke curl up into the cold air. The chaos of Quidditch practice felt miles away now, a distant blur.

Enzo chuckled, taking a drag from his own cigarette. "Honestly, mate, watching this was painful- I'll have to get laid after this to forget it-„ Enzo snorted.

They shared another laugh, the easy rhythm of their banter filling the quiet beneath the bleachers. Theo took another pull from his cigarette, feeling the tension melt from his muscles.

"Think they'll pull it together before Friday?" Enzo asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

Theo exhaled another cloud of smoke, watching it dissipate before answering. "Yeah. We’ve got this," he said confidently. "Blaise and Draco will whip them into shape. And if not... well, there’s always more hangover potions after."

Enzo snorted. "Fair enough."

Theo took another pull of his cigarette just as the rest of their group joined them. Without a word, he handed the obviously irritated Mattheo his cig, who took it without question. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the distant figures of the Gryffindor team approaching the pitch for their practice session. At the front were Potter and Ginny Weasley, walking side by side, brooms in hand, looking very much like a couple. It was almost nauseating how cozy they seemed.

"Rumor has it they’re official," Enzo said, his eyes following the Gryffindor pair.

"Who? Potter and the Weaslette?" Mattheo turned to Enzo, then glanced back at the approaching couple.

Enzo nodded, exhaling smoke into the crisp air.

Mattheo scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Shagging his best friend's sister? Well, Saint Potter isn't as saintly as we thought, huh?" His grin widened with amusement, and the group let out a collective chuckle.

"Imagine one of us making a move on Draco’s sister," Mattheo added, clearly pleased with the reaction he was getting.

The boys laughed, but Draco, standing a bit to the side, wasn’t as amused. His jaw tightened slightly, his expression hardening at the mere suggestion. Theo noticed, but kept his thoughts to himself, though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander for a brief moment. The idea of someone making a move on Draco’s sister wasn’t hard to picture. In fact, the thought had crossed his mind more than once. But for the sake of his best mate, Theo quickly shoved the idea to the back of his mind.

"Don't worry, Draco, I'm only joking," Mattheo teased, that familiar smirk still on his lips. "You made it clear Cassie dear was off-limits." His tone was light, but the underlying truth of Draco's warning was unmistakable. They all knew how protective Draco was when it came to his sister, and he’d made sure no one forgot it.

Draco rolled his eyes, clearly tired of the topic, but there was no real anger there. It was just part of the dynamic.

Theo, standing beside Draco, let out a breath, but his mind had already begun replaying the memory of the first time he saw Cassiopeia at Hogwarts. The way she looked in that dress, her legs, the way she carried herself—it was impossible to forget. And then there was that time he’d accidentally startled her, and she’d shoved him against a wall in pure instinct. The memory hit him like a jolt, sending a familiar tension through him. He was sure it was only a split second, but she had somehow found her way into his thoughts, lingering far longer than he’d like to admit.

But she was off-limits. Draco had made that crystal clear. And Theo knew better than to cross that line. He couldn't allow his thoughts to drift in her direction—not even accidentally.

Merlin forbid, Theo thought, shaking his head slightly, trying to push those thoughts away. Maybe the best approach was to pretend she didn’t exist— occupy his mind with other, not-so-off-limits candidates. It was the only logical solution. Plenty of girls at Hogwarts were vying for attention, his attention, and focusing on one of them would be far safer.

Yes, he thought to himself, taking another drag from the cigarette. That should work. Focus elsewhere, forget about her.

After a few more minutes of banter and a welcome change in topic, the group finally made their way to the locker rooms, the chill of the afternoon air lingering as they descended from their brooms. The practice may have been lackluster, but the familiar rhythm of post-Quidditch routines took over.

Theo was still turning over thoughts in his head as they entered the locker room, but he shoved them aside as soon as the hot steam from the showers filled the air. Stripping off his gear, he stepped under the spray, letting the water wash away the last remnants of his earlier musings. His muscles flexed under the water, as he moved his hands through his hair.

The sound of water hitting tiles and the usual chatter from the rest of the team filled the space. The boys already making plans for the evening.

Once cleaned up, they dried off, dressed, and started making their way back to the castle. The weight of practice had lifted, and the mood was lighter.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 13: Checkmate

Notes:

Another chapter as an apology for the long time of not posting!
Enjoy!

Post-class, in the comfortable silence of her dormitory, Cassiopeia pulled the canopies around her bed and flicked a silencing charm for good measure. The glamoured Occlumency book sat in front of her, its appearance still that of a simple Potions textbook, but within its pages lay the key to mastering her own mind. She flipped through the pages, skimming through the dense text, eager to reach the practical sections.

"Calm yourselves," the instructions began, and Cassiopeia inhaled deeply, letting her hands rest on her knees as she closed her eyes. "Clear your mind of any thoughts," the book instructed.

With a few more steady breaths, she began to push her thoughts aside, one by one, each fading into the background. "Blank." Her mind emptied, and soon she found herself in a vast nothingness, the blackness of her subconscious surrounding her like a shroud. She could almost feel the void solidifying, her thoughts silenced. Another breath in. Exhale.

Cassiopeia prepared herself for the imagined presence of someone attempting to breach her mind, her instincts sharpening, defenses rising. But she knew no one was coming. She was alone in this mental fortress, and without an actual opponent, it felt… futile. Her eyes fluttered open with a frustrated sigh.

The practice seemed absurd. Without someone to actively challenge her defenses, how could she know if she was truly succeeding in her attempt to Occlude? It was easy to block out nothingness, to clear her mind when there was no pressure. But when it came to Snape, or worse, someone who truly sought to pry into her thoughts, would she be able to keep them out?

The doubt gnawed at her. Without a real test, it all felt too simple, too easy. She could read the theory and practice alone in her dorm, but none of that would prove she was capable of protecting her mind when it mattered.

There was no one who could help her—not really. It wasn't as though she could simply approach someone and ask them to force their way into her mind. That kind of request would raise more than a few eyebrows. For now, all she could do was wait for Snape’s next attempt. She knew it was coming; he had made that much clear.

Perhaps she could try to Occlude during the day, practice shutting off her emotions as a form of training. Devoid herself of feeling, bit by bit, until it became second nature. But even that had its risks. Her friends would notice if she suddenly started acting cold and detached, and she wasn’t keen on drawing attention. It was a delicate balance she had to maintain, and until she found a better way, she would have to continue practicing in isolation.

In the meantime, though, she could revisit her Legilimency. That, at least, could be practiced in the open without raising suspicion. Few people knew about it, and even fewer would notice its subtle effects if she didn’t go too deep. She could start small—simple observations, gentle nudges into the minds of others, nothing too invasive. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something.

“Cassiopeia?” Astoria’s voice cut through the canopies, pulling her out of her thoughts. With a simple flick of her wand, Cassiopeia disabled the silencing charm and parted the material.

"Oh good, you're awake. I thought you were sleeping," Astoria said with an awkward smile.

"I was studying," Cassiopeia replied, another small lie, though not far from the truth.

Astoria didn’t linger on the comment, instead handing over a letter sealed with the unmistakable deep green Malfoy wax. The familiar emblem gleamed under the candlelight. Her mother.

"Professor McGonagall was handing out letters in the Great Hall," Astoria explained. "She asked me to bring you this."

Cassiopeia glanced up, offering her friend a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

Astoria smiled back, her expression soft. "After you're done with that, would you care to go down to the common room with me?"

Cassiopeia's gaze lingered on the sealed letter in her hand, her finger tracing over the familiar green wax of the Malfoy crest. She could open it now, let her mother’s carefully worded expectations wash over her like they always did, but a part of her hesitated. Her mother likely hadn’t written anything new or particularly interesting—just the usual reminders of duty and responsibility.

Maybe if she didn’t open it right now, she could avoid that familiar knot of inadequacy tightening in her chest, the feeling that no matter how hard she tried, it was never enough. She could put it off, at least for a little while. Perhaps, for just a short time, she could be a normal teenager—like her friends.

Cassiopeia glanced back at Astoria, who was waiting patiently, and allowed a smile to slip onto her lips as she set the letter on the mattress behind her. "We can go right away," she said with a lightness she didn’t quite feel. "I'll read the letter later."

Without another word, Astoria grinned, grabbing Cassiopeia’s hand and practically dragging her down the stairs with her usual enthusiasm. The sudden burst of energy was a welcome distraction, and Cassiopeia found herself momentarily free from the weight of the unopened letter.

Just before they reached the bottom of the stairs, Astoria stopped abruptly, letting go of Cassiopeia’s hand to smooth down her hair, fussing over every stray strand. Presentability, as always, came first.

Cassiopeia chuckled softly, watching her friend’s small but habitual ritual, the same one she reckognised by herself. "You look fine, Astoria." She looked more than fine, she was beautiful, but she was always beautiful.

Astoria shot her a playful look. "Says the girl who always looks like she stepped out of a portrait." It was compliment, Cassiopeia knew, but she couldn't not think about how she never learned any different, never in her life would she allow herself to be seen as anything different. She said nothing back, instead giving her a grateful smile as the two moved.

As soon as Cassiopeia stepped into the common room, her eyes landed on Daphne, the blonde lounging casually on the couch. Just below her, Blaise and Enzo were engrossed in a game of wizarding chess, their attention so fixed on the board that they seemed oblivious to everything else happening around them. The common room was lively, filled with students chattering and unwinding, and it was still early enough that the younger years hadn’t yet been chased off to their dorms.

Despite the usual buzz, the group’s usual spot was only half-occupied. Daphne sprawled comfortably on one side of the couch, while Blaise and Enzo took up the other. The remaining half of the space—normally occupied by the rest of the group—was empty, waiting for the others.

Astoria, always comfortable sliding into the familiar scene, headed straight for the empty armchair positioned above her sister. She gracefully perched herself there, a soft smile lighting her face. Cassiopeia followed more leisurely, opting not to sit, but rather to lean against the side of the armchair, her gaze sweeping the room with a sense of detached calm.

“Oh, new company,” Daphne said lazily, her eyes drifting over the two girls. Her gaze lingered on Astoria, as if casually inspecting her to see if her younger sister had ‘borrowed’ anything from her wardrobe. Cassiopeia always found it strange that Daphne didn’t seem to mind Astoria hanging out with her friends. She wasn’t sure if this laid-back attitude was normal or if Draco’s more possessive ways were the standard for siblings.

Blaise hadn’t so much as lifted his gaze from the chessboard, entirely absorbed in figuring out his next move. Judging by the pieces accumulating on his side of the board, victory was within his grasp. Enzo, on the other hand, had glanced up at their arrival, his smile brief but warm, though he remained quiet, clearly deep in thought over his next move in the game.

Cassiopeia gave a small nod in response to Enzo’s silent greeting before shifting her weight slightly against the armchair. The relaxed yet charged atmosphere of the common room felt oddly comforting after the day’s events, a welcome change from the usual tension that often seemed to cling to her.

Daphne’s gaze lingered on her sister for another moment before she turned back to Cassiopeia. “Haven't seen you around lately,” she said casually, her tone curious but still light.

Cassiopeia smiled faintly. “Studying. Can’t let Draco get all the praise around here,” she quipped, hoping the joke would steer Daphne away from asking too many questions about the kind of studying she'd really been doing. It wasn’t a complete lie, but Occlumency wasn't exactly a topic she wanted to share freely.

Daphne raised an eyebrow, her expression mildly impressed. “You’ve got more discipline than the rest of us, didn't take you as such.” she teased, settling back into the couch. "You two got some competition going on? Who can impress the Malfoy parents more?"

Cassiopeia smirked at the suggestion. In truth, there probably was a silent competition between her and Draco, but it wasn’t something either of them ever openly acknowledged. Instead, it was this unspoken pressure, always lingering in the background, pushing them both toward some undefined standard that never seemed quite within reach.

Before Cassiopeia had a chance to respond, Blaise moved a figurine forward, knocking down one of Enzo's pieces with a smooth, deliberate motion. His eyes stayed fixed on Enzo, a barely-there smirk tugging at his lips. “Checkmate.”

Enzo rolled his eyes, flicking the fallen piece away and leaning back in his seat, defeated but not particularly bothered.

Blaise turned his attention to Cassiopeia, his smirk still lingering. "I'd bet on Draco—sorry, little Malfoy," he said, clearly having been listening to the conversation all along.

Cassiopeia smiled. She didn’t mind the playful jab. "I didn’t think you’d choose any differently," she replied, matching his tone.

Blaise chuckled, leaning back in satisfaction, while Daphne straightened up on the couch, turning her focus back to Cassiopeia. “No, but really—I thought you’d be more, how do I put it, ungraceful?”

Cassiopeia laughed at the unexpected comment, her head tilting slightly as she regarded Daphne.

“When I saw you at that party the first night, I didn’t believe them when they told me you’re a Malfoy,” Daphne continued, her tone more reflective now. “I can’t seem to pinpoint you anywhere.”

Cassiopeia’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. There was truth to what Daphne said. Sometimes she felt like there were two versions of herself—the one who didn’t care about anything, carefree and aloof, and the one who cared far too much, burdened by expectations and the weight of her family’s name. That first night at Hogwarts had been a test, a moment where she wasn’t sure which version of herself she wanted to present.

„What can I say? I am full of surprises!“ Cassiopeia joked.

„I can confirm-“ Astoria added, though Cassiopeia didn't figure out if she was talking about something specifically or if it was just her observation, but she pushed the thoughts aside.

And in that moment the familiar voices came through the hallway, coming closer with every second. Everyone's attention turned to them. Theo, Draco and Mattheo valtzed in, they were talking about something before they came close to the group, instantly stopping to greet the ones already there.

„Didn't know we were on babysitting duty-“ Mattheo's voice rung out as he launched himself next to Enzo, his eyes trained at the two younger girls. Astoria looked at the older Slytherin for a moment, seemingly not amused by the comment. She had that look on her face as if she wasn't taken seriously. And Cassiopeia understood her. But Mattheo wasn't to be taken seriously, his mental maturity hasn't yet reached the two-digit numbers.

Cassiopeia, of course, wasn't gonna let it slide, and was already opening her mouth to witty out a response.

"Must be a change for you—it’s usually you that people are babysitting," Cassiopeia said with a smile, her tone light but sharp.

The comment sailed right over Mattheo’s head for a moment, but the reaction from the rest of the group was instant. A few scattered “OHHH” and “Not bad” echoed from around the room. Even Blaise smirked slightly, though he stayed quiet, ever the observer.

Mattheo, to his credit, didn’t take offense—if anything, he looked amused. He let out a laugh, shaking his head. Cassiopeia’s eyes flickered toward her brother, who sat with his usual straight posture, his expression completely unreadable. Draco, unsurprisingly, did not seem entertained by her presence here. His stiff demeanor spoke volumes, though he kept his silence.

Theo, on the other hand, had a completely different reaction. He let out a short, nonchalant laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange, and patted Mattheo on the shoulder as if to console him.

"Alright, alright, my bad, little Malfoy," Mattheo said, raising his hands in surrender, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Daphne, either ignoring the exchange or simply uninterested in the banter, turned to the three boys who had just arrived. "Where were you lot?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Theo, still looking amused, leaned back against the couch while Mattheo answered. "Theo and I were catching a smoke outside, and Draco was in the library."

Cassiopeia’s gaze instinctively drifted to her brother at that. It didn’t surprise her to hear that Draco had been in the library, not with his grades. What did surprise her, though, was that he needed to be there at all. He had always been effortlessly good at nearly everything—while Cassiopeia, no matter how hard she tried, always had to push herself just to keep up with the expectations set before her.

It was a small, almost insignificant thing. But it had always bothered her. That quiet difference between them: how easy things seemed for Draco, and how much she had to fight for even the smallest recognition.

Her eyes lingered on Draco’s face, tracing the subtle details that most wouldn’t catch. The way he looked older somehow, as if the weight on his shoulders had only grown heavier. The thin, stretched lines beneath his eyes. Even through his usual mask of indifference, Cassiopeia swore she saw something—something fleeting. Sadness? Worry? She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but for a brief second, it was there.

And then his eyes met hers.

She didn’t look away. Instead, she held his gaze, trying to catch whatever had surfaced just moments ago, to prove to herself that she wasn’t imagining it. But the second had passed, and all that remained was his usual guarded expression.

He didn’t like that she was staring at him—she could tell. His posture stiffened slightly, his jaw setting, but he said nothing. Neither did she. The air between them grew heavy, and when the conversation around them lulled, Cassiopeia finally turned away, unwilling to make things more awkward than they already were.

Exactly 20 minutes later, at 8:30 PM, Cassiopeia excused herself from the group.

She pushed herself up from where she had been perched, stretching slightly before smoothing her robes. With casual ease, she glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if anyone was paying attention. They weren’t. Or at least, they were good at pretending not to.

Satisfied, she slipped toward the exit, the familiar chill of the dungeon’s corridors grazing against her legs as she stepped into the empty hall. The cool air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the common room, and as she silently made her way toward the stairs, she let out a slow breath.

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 14: Closet

Notes:

Another chapter, enjoy<3

The castle was alive with the quiet hum of evening. The way to where she was headed was long—twisting corridors, hidden staircases, and more than one set of moving steps that required careful timing—but she didn’t mind. There was still an hour and a half before curfew, just enough time to do what she needed.

As she moved through the castle, she passed groups of students still lingering after dinner, laughing, talking, sneaking glances at each other under torchlight. Some hurried off to their dorms, others disappeared into shadowed corners for whispered conversations. None of them paid her any mind. No one asked where she was going. And no one would understand even if they did.

She turned down the final corridor, the one with the empty stretch of stone wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. She slowed her steps, her thoughts already shifting inward, sharpening her focus.

I need the place where everything is hidden. A place where I can find what I need.

She walked past the wall once. Twice. And on the third pass, the stone began to shift, bricks folding and sliding, forming the heavy wooden door that hadn't been there a moment before. The Room of Requirement had heard her call, as it always did.

Cassiopeia stepped forward and opened the door.

Inside, the Room of Requirement was quiet—dimly lit, and filled with a chaotic collection of forgotten magic. Tall shelves overflowed with dusty tomes, parchment scrolls curled in corners, odd trinkets and spell-ridden artifacts scattered carelessly across the floor. It was a maze of magical history, both alluring and overwhelming. But Cassiopeia didn’t need everything. She only needed one thing.

She stepped inside and gently closed the door behind her. The soft click echoed like a final breath before silence reclaimed the space.

With practiced ease, she moved through the narrow path that had, over time, etched itself into her memory. Her footsteps were soundless against the worn floor as she passed rusted potion cauldrons, shattered mirrors, and books stacked in precarious towers. It was strange, how familiar it all felt now—this graveyard of forgotten magic, this sanctuary of secrets.

And then she stopped.

Her eyes locked on the tall, weathered wooden cabinet standing ahead of her like a sentinel. Its surface was scratched, timeworn, yet somehow menacing in its stillness. A dull ache twisted in her stomach, sharp and unrelenting. She knew this feeling well by now—the silent dread that unfurled inside her every time she faced it. The Vanishing Cabinet.

It stood there as it always did, imposing and cursed in its quiet defiance. A piece of furniture, by all appearances—but Cassiopeia knew better. It was a gateway, a weapon, a test. It was the reason she was here. And the reason she couldn’t sleep some nights.

She took a slow step forward, her arms folded tightly across her chest, as though to keep herself from unraveling. The Cabinet seemed to hum softly, or maybe that was just in her head. It was hard to tell these days.

This task had been given to her months ago. Understand it. Fix it. Make it work again. No one had said it out loud, but she understood what it meant—what would come after.

Because when the Cabinet worked, that was when everything would begin. Or end, depending on which side you stood on.

Cassiopeia stared at it for a long moment, feeling smaller than she cared to admit. She wasn’t sure if she feared what would happen if she succeeded, or if she feared the truth even more—that she could.

And that meant she was no longer just a pawn.

She was a piece on the board. One being moved carefully, strategically.

One that could shift the outcome of everything.

She had thought about it—more than once—what if she just slowed down? Took her time, made the work stretch until it couldn’t anymore. Maybe if she delayed long enough, someone would change their mind, maybe someone else would be chosen. But that hope was always short-lived. She was on the clock, and she knew it. Any purposeful delay would mean her own requests, her own protections, would be quietly erased. And she couldn’t afford that.

So she worked.

Against the growling ache in her stomach, against the exhaustion that never really went away, against the guilt that curled in her gut like something alive. She worked, trying to understand the ancient magic behind the Vanishing Cabinet, a relic of a darker time. And on the worst nights—like tonight—she found herself wishing she had never been born into any of this at all.

From the beginning, she had made little progress. Most days it felt like the Cabinet was mocking her, resisting her touch on purpose. The lack of progress made her angry—furious—but after each burst of frustration came a breath of relief. Because failure, as it stood now, meant safety. At least for a little while longer.

Tonight, she must have lost track of time.

By the time she finally looked up from her notes and wandwork, the castle had already grown quiet. Too quiet. Past curfew. Her heart gave a small, tired jolt.

Shit.

She moved quickly, slipping out of the Room of Requirement, careful not to let the door close too loudly behind her. Her feet were light against the stone floors, her breath shallow. She was almost to the dungeons when she froze—footsteps. Steady and approaching from below, echoing up the stairwell. She hadn’t been spotted yet, but she had seconds at best.

She spun around, robes sweeping around her ankles as she started up the stairs again, taking them two at a time. No idea where she was going. She reached the top, turning her head left, then right, thoughts scrambling for somewhere—anywhere—to hide. Her eyes landed on a door nearby. A storage closet? She didn’t know. She didn’t care.

She rushed forward, grasping the knob. Locked.

Of course it was.

The footsteps were louder now, almost at the top of the stairs. Her panic was rising just as quickly as her options were disappearing—until suddenly, silently, a door beside her creaked open.

A hand shot out.

Before she could register what was happening, she was pulled roughly by the wrist into the dark. She stumbled, catching herself with one hand against the wall, heart hammering in her chest. The door shut behind her with a soft click.

The space was small—tight enough that she could feel the warmth of the person who had pulled her in, their breath brushing her cheek in the darkness. The hold on her wrist had loosened but hadn’t disappeared, still a light pressure grounding her.

She didn’t move. Neither did they. For a moment, the world outside passed by them in silence. Footsteps slowed, paused right outside their door.

Cassiopeia held her breath.

And then—after a beat—they continued down the corridor and faded away.

She felt a shift beside her, and then a whisper: “Lumos.”

Light sparked in the small room, bright against the black. She blinked against it, eyes adjusting slowly—and found herself staring directly into a familiar face.

Theo.

He was grinning down at her, a smug spark in his eyes, wand raised casually like this was nothing more than an everyday moment. “Well,” he said, cocky and far too pleased with himself, “what do we have here?” He asked.

Cassiopeia blinked at him, half-shocked, half-irritated, her heart still recovering.

She hadn’t decided if she was going to thank him—or hex him.

He was silent for a moment, letting the closeness stretch between them like a drawn wand, taut and unspoken. Then, slowly, the smirk crept back onto his lips. His hand—the one that had just barely held her by the wrist—moved up with an ease that felt too confident, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

She hadn’t expected it. Not from him. Not here. And yet, she didn’t move.

Cassiopeia stood frozen, eyes locked on his, caught off guard—not by fear, but by something else. Something unfamiliar. Her breath caught slightly, subtle enough to be hidden in the silence. She wasn’t sure what this was, only that it felt like stepping into a space she wasn’t supposed to enter.

“You’re awfully quiet there,” he murmured, the edge of amusement still tugging at his voice. His hand dropped back to his side as if the gesture had never happened. “You’re welcome.”

His words broke the moment, and she blinked, drawn back into herself. She shook her head, brushing her own hair back now, covering the pause with a subtle scoff. Her eyes drifted away from his, back to the narrow crack of light at the door—the gap where the hallway could still be seen. Where real life still existed.

“Thank you,” she muttered, her voice cool, even. Too even. “Though I would’ve figured something out by myself.”

“I’m sure you would,” he replied, the smile in his voice unmistakable.

She didn’t answer. Not immediately. Her focus remained on the hallway beyond the closet door, watching for any sign of movement, any flicker of a patrolling prefect or passing professor.

Theo leaned casually against the opposite wall, the limited space making him feel far too close. “Surprised you haven’t memorised the patrolling shifts by now,” he added, a low chuckle escaping him. “Since you like being out past your bedtime so much.”

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes, the sound of his amusement pulling at the corner of her mouth—but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she leaned back again, returning to her post, gaze still fixed on the hallway.

“Surprised you haven’t tried to pull me into a closet earlier,” she said smoothly, voice quieter now, but pointed. Her eyes finally flicked to meet his, her lashes half-lowered in a look that hovered somewhere between challenge and amusement.

There was a beat of silence.

Theo blinked. Just once. It was a moment where she saw something she didn’t expect—something unguarded. He hadn’t expected that from her, not at all.

But it was gone as quickly as it came. The smirk returned—of course it did—but now, something new lingered behind it. His eyes had shifted, no longer simply teasing, but curious. Searching. Like she had just flipped the board mid-game and now he was trying to figure out what her next move would be.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. “Maybe I was waiting for the right moment.”

Cassiopeia didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. The silence between them said enough.

And suddenly, the quiet of the closet felt different. Not hiding. Not fleeing. Just… held. Hanging in the balance.

Whatever this was—it had just changed.

Notes:

This time a bit more Cassiopeia/Theo content, this is turning out to be a very long fic, still don't know at what it will end... But I think we're moving to the good parts now!!!

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3
Kudos and comments are always welcome;D

Chapter 15: Not over

Notes:

I’d like to thank Theo Nott and Cassiopeia Malfoy for holding my brain hostage until I returned. Unfortunately, they also locked away my sense of time management, hence the wait.

“You know, if you wanted me to do this sooner, you could have just asked. I would’ve gladly obliged.”

The words slipped from his mouth with ease—too much ease, really—but that was always his way. Charm first, logic second. And right now, there was no trace of logic to be found.

Cassiopeia didn’t respond at first. She simply looked at him, that same unreadable look in her eyes, as if she were still weighing whether this game was hers or his. Her silence only egged him on.

Theo shifted slightly, closing the distance just enough to remind her how small the space between them really was. He kept one hand at his side, the other still holding the wand that cast the soft, flickering glow around them. In this light, she didn’t look like a Malfoy—untouchable, poised, guarded. She looked real. Dangerous in a different way.

A part of him—hell, maybe the saner part—was still screaming something about boundaries. Draco’s rules. Lines that weren’t to be crossed. But that voice had never been very loud to begin with, and it was completely drowned out now by the hum in his blood, that stupid, aching curiosity about what would happen if he pushed just a bit further.

It wasn’t just the bait she’d thrown. It was her. Her nerve. The way she’d said it like a dare. As if she knew exactly what game they were playing and had just raised the stakes.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low, playful, but edged with something else now. Something more honest than he was used to being.

“Tell me something, princess,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “Are you saying you wanted me to pull you in here… or are you just not used to people calling your bluff?”

His smile stayed in place, but inside, his pulse kicked up, just slightly. A flicker of anticipation.

Whatever she answered—if she did at all—it would tell him everything he needed to know.

Cassiopeia didn’t flinch. She didn’t break eye contact, didn’t shift or even seem to breathe for a long second. Theo’s words hung between them, sharp and deliberate, like a knife balanced on the edge of her collarbone. And still—nothing.

Until finally, her lips tugged up—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile, but something dangerously in-between.

“I think,” she began, her voice low and composed, “that if I were bluffing, you would’ve folded by now.”

It wasn’t just confidence—it was precision. Every syllable was chosen like a move on a chessboard, calculated and cool. She tilted her head slightly, the silver-blonde strands brushing her cheek, catching the wandlight just so. For a second, Theo swore she looked like something pulled from the pages of an old story—tragic, beautiful, and absolutely untouchable.

But she wasn’t untouchable. Not tonight. She was here. In the dark. Milimeters from him.

Her gaze flickered to his lips, barely—a fraction of a second, but enough to make his fingers twitch at his side. And then she looked back into his eyes, like she hadn’t just set his nerves on fire.

Cassiopeia stepped forward—not even a full step, just enough to close the space so their arms brushed, just enough to let him feel the soft press of her magic humming under her skin.

“I don’t bluff,” she said softly.

Then she leaned past him, hand reaching for the door, pausing just before she opened it.

Her voice was softer now, almost amused.

“But thanks for the save, Theo.”

And then she slipped out into the hall.

Theo let his head fall back against the wall with a muted thud, his body sinking into the stone as he exhaled hard. The witch was doing something to him—something new, something he didn’t like not being able to name. She’d gotten under his skin, burrowed deep without asking permission, and now he could feel her crawling through every nerve ending.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, casting a glance downward at the traitorous reaction of his own body.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, shaking his head like it might knock the thoughts of her loose. Whatever this was—this charge between them, this game she thought she could play—it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

He pushed off the wall, not even trying to mask the sound of the door slamming shut behind him. Let it echo. Let it bite. He stalked down the corridor, every step heavy with tension, jaw tight, breath still uneven.

Whatever poison Cassiopeia Malfoy had just laced into him, it was already in his bloodstream.

And he was already craving more.

By the time Theo reached the dungeon corridor, the usual chill in the air didn’t touch him. His blood was too hot, skin too tight. He could still smell her—citrus, maybe, or something darker beneath it—and he hated that he’d noticed.

He slowed near the entrance to the Slytherin common room, pausing like he might turn back, like he might find her somewhere in the corridor again, though he knew he wouldn’t.

But he watched.

And now he couldn’t stop.

Draco’s warning rang somewhere in the recesses of his mind, like a bell muffled under water: “She’s off limits.” But Theo had never been great with rules. Especially ones that told him where not to look. What not to touch.

Especially when she looked at him like that.

He muttered the password and stepped into the common room, only a few students still lingering, none of them his friends, voices low, the hour late. He scanned the room instinctively—out of habit—but she wasn’t there.

Just as well.

He wasn't sure what he’d do if she was.

Not tonight.

He dropped down into the chair closest to the fire, elbows resting on his knees, staring into the flames. The ache beneath his skin hadn’t faded. It pulsed in time with thoughts he couldn’t untangle.

What was she doing out that late?

Why the fuck did she have to look at him like that?

Like she could see right through him.

He raked a hand down his face, leaned back, and let his head rest against the top of the chair, jaw clenched.

This wasn’t good.
This wasn’t safe.

And it wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Notes:

Yes, yes, I know: this short chapter after a 5-month break is illegal. Report me to the Wizengamot.

Chapter 16: Mind

Notes:

At this point, Cass is probably drafting a cease and desist against me for emotional damages. But do enjoy tho-

She listened to the shuffle of her dormmates moving about, the familiar cadence of drawers closing, shoes scraping the floorboards, conversation bubbling as they prepared for breakfast. Astoria had knocked on her canopy earlier, called her name in that cheerful lilt, but Cassiopeia offered some flimsy excuse about needing a few more minutes. Astoria, mercifully, hadn’t pressed.

When the last footsteps faded and the dormitory door clicked shut, Cass finally exhaled. She wasn’t even sure if it was air she’d been holding in or if her lungs had simply forgotten their rhythm. Either way, it did little to ease the pressure swelling in her chest. Sleep had been laughably out of reach last night; her mind had spun itself into knots she couldn’t loosen no matter how hard she tried. She hated that — hated how little control she seemed to have when control was the one thing she prided herself on.

Occlumency was supposed to fix that. She’d thought she’d been making progress, that she’d learned to pin down her thoughts and keep her emotions quiet, orderly. But last night made a mockery of it. Every time she closed her eyes, there he was — Theo Nott, with that insufferable smile tugging at his mouth as if he already knew she’d be seeing it again when she tried to sleep. She could still feel the weight of his gaze, the way it lingered on her like it meant something. It was ridiculous. Maddening.

And yet… she couldn’t stop replaying it.

She didn’t have time for this. For him. She couldn’t afford whatever game he thought he was playing — not with her, not now. She had work to do, a role to uphold, a thousand expectations pressing down on her shoulders. This — distraction — was exactly the sort of weakness Snape had warned her against, the kind that could drag her off course before she even realized it.

But Merlin, it had been so quiet for a moment last night. So unbearably quiet inside her own head. When Theo smiled at her, when she let herself… breathe, she hadn’t felt the entire world crushing her spine. For one single moment she hadn’t felt like a Malfoy with a target branded on her back.

Cassiopeia swallowed, scowling at herself. What was she even doing, cataloguing the curve of his grin or the warmth of his hand as if it mattered? As if he mattered? He was a boy with clever eyes and pretty words, nothing more. And she didn’t need pretty boys. She wasn’t here to feel better, or lighter, or anything else that made the weight of her reality easier to carry. She was here to finish the damn cabinet, to etch her name into her family’s history, whether she wanted to or not.

And yet, some traitorous corner of her mind — the one she’d rather hex into silence — hoped she could put that task off just a little longer.

She shook her head, as if she could dislodge the memory of last night along with the tangle of her thoughts. It clung to her anyway, trailing after her as she forced herself upright. In the bathroom mirror she was greeted by a pale face framed with sleep-tossed hair, dark half-moons smudged beneath her eyes. Once, she used to smile reflexively at her own reflection — a private, automatic assurance. Now, her lips stayed flat, unyielding.

She twisted the tap, cupped water into her hands, and splashed her face once, then twice. Droplets clung to her lashes, trickled down her cheeks, but nothing shifted when she looked up again. Her expression stayed as empty as before. A sigh slipped free. Maybe a shower would do better.

She stripped without ceremony, stepping into the stall and letting the spray hit her full in the face before it cascaded down the rest of her body. The water felt like escape, rushing past her as if it could carry her unrest away. Like she was running. Like she always was.

She closed her eyes, drawing her breath in and out, trying to sync herself with the rhythm of the water. Inhale. Exhale. Quiet. For a fragile moment, her mind obeyed — silence spread, her Occlumency walls firming like a clean slate of stone. Blank. Untouchable.

But when she blinked her eyes open, the stillness shattered. Thoughts surged back in, memories crashing down with the force of a wave. She staggered slightly, catching herself on the tiled wall. The water still streamed over her, but it wasn’t soothing anymore. It burned. Not physically — worse than that. It was the sting of weakness. She turned the tap off sharply, gripping the edge of the stall until her knuckles whitened.

Occlumency was meant to shield her from this. To stop the pain before it could sink in. And here she was, barely holding her ground against the simplest of intrusions. It wasn’t enough. She couldn’t afford “good enough.” She needed to master this, completely. Anything less was failure.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged transformed. Her damp hair was pulled into a sleek low bun, fastened with a black bow tied with precision. Her makeup was light but deliberate, concealing every trace of fatigue, every imperfection scrubbed away until only poise remained. Her uniform was immaculate — pressed, tailored, and seamless, no thread or fold out of place. Black knee socks paired with polished shoes finished the picture: the flawless Malfoy daughter.

Cassiopeia gathered her books, exhaling once to steady the mask before slipping out of the dormitory. By the time she crossed into the flow of the morning crowd, she looked exactly as she was supposed to — untouchable, untroubled, ordinary.

She slipped into her usual seat beside Astoria, and for a while time seemed to settle back into its routine rhythm. Astoria leaned in almost immediately, asking if she could borrow Cassiopeia’s History of Magic notes from the last lecture. Cass reached into her bag without hesitation, sliding out the neat stack of parchment with its carefully measured handwriting, and passed them over.

As Astoria bent her head, quill already scratching furiously to fill in the gaps she’d missed, Cass’s gaze drifted to the small pile of her own books. That was when she noticed the pale envelope, its corner peeking from between two spines. Her family’s seal gleamed faintly against the light. She must have gathered it up with her things that morning, she has almost forgotten all about it.

A flicker of unease tightened in her chest. She glanced around the Great Hall. Astoria was absorbed, Draco was nowhere in sight and neither were his friends, and the rest of the students were lost in their own chatter and clatter. No one watching.

Cassiopeia slid the envelope free, tracing the crest with her thumb before carefully breaking the seal. The parchment inside unfolded with a crisp rustle, her mother’s elegant script sweeping across the page.

“My dearest Cassiopeia,

By the time this reaches you, the days at Hogwarts will already be moving with their usual unforgiving pace. I trust you are managing them with your characteristic grace. I need not remind you of the importance of appearances; I see enough of myself in you to know you do not forget.

Still, allow me the indulgence of saying — you have always been more than capable. I never doubted it, not even as a child. You carry a presence that does not need announcing, and I hope you know that is something few ever master. It is a gift, and I expect you to guard it well.

Do not mistake me, my darling — this is not duty speaking, but pride. I find myself thinking often of you, at school, walking those same corridors I once did, and I feel a quiet certainty that you will not falter where so many others might.

When your schedule allows, I should like to take you into London. There are a few things I would enjoy selecting for you — clothes, of course, but more than that, simply the time to be with you. Send word of when you are free, and I will make the arrangements.

As for your brother, I know he can be infuriating in his own particular way — but you know as well as I do that it comes from the same heart that would fight the world for you if asked. Look after him, Cassiopeia. As he will, in his own manner, always look after you.

I am expecting to hear soon from you!

With all my affection,
Mother”

She held the letter for a few moments longer, eyes skimming back over each elegant curve of her mother’s handwriting. It wasn’t unusual for Narcissa to be soft-spoken with the people she loved — her husband, her children. Yet it always caught Cassiopeia off guard, how easily she forgot that gentleness existed at all within their family. Her father would never pen a letter like this, of course. He hardly ever voiced his affection when they were together. But deep down Cass knew it was there — muted, measured, never as abundant as her mother’s, but present all the same.

A faint smile tugged at her lips. Narcissa must have sensed her unease back at the dinner in Paris. She always did. Nothing escaped her mother’s notice — her composure, her moods, her silence — and while that constant watchfulness often felt suffocating, in moments like this Cassiopeia was grateful for it.

She folded the letter neatly and slid it back into the envelope, tucking it between her books as she made a mental note to write back before nightfall.

Just as she finished, the sound of laughter carried over the clamor of the Great Hall. Draco appeared from the entrance with his usual entourage, Theo among them, his head tipped back at something Enzo had said. As they drew closer, Theo’s gaze shifted, locking onto her almost immediately. His mouth twitched as if fighting back a smile — amusement, maybe, or the ghost of last night’s memory. Cass didn’t linger long enough to decipher which. She dropped her eyes to her table instead.

“Finished?” she asked, her voice even as she glanced at Astoria’s quill still moving.

“Almost — one more line.”

Cass gave a small nod and began gathering the rest of her things, her gaze flicking once more to where her brother and his friends had settled — thankfully not close enough to invite conversation.

Astoria returned the parchment with a grateful smile, and together they rose for class. Passing by Draco’s group, Cass kept her head forward, her steps measured. No words were exchanged. But she felt it — Theo’s eyes following her, steady and unashamed, as though she were the only person in the crowded hall.

Her jaw tightened. Why was he doing this? What could he possibly want from her — from this? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She didn’t.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

In the classes she deemed too dull to demand her full attention — subjects she could easily master on her own later — Cassiopeia devoted herself to Occlumency. No one noticed, of course; on the surface she looked every bit the attentive student. But beneath that mask, she was slipping again and again into silence, forcing her thoughts to still, building and dismantling her walls over and over until the motions felt as natural as breathing.

Each time those walls buckled, irritation prickled sharp and hot beneath her ribs. Failure was intolerable — but retreat was worse. So she pressed harder. Again. Again. Again. She would not yield to her own weakness.

She knew she wouldn’t yet withstand a true assault, not from someone like Snape. If he pushed at her mind now, he would tear straight through. And she couldn’t allow her corrupted mind to be seen as it is, now she had things to keep. But there was progress, however slight. At least, that’s what she told herself in the brief moments before she scolded herself for the thought. Progress wasn’t enough. Progress wasn’t mastery.

She needed perfect silence, perfect control. Anything less was useless. And until she had that, she would not stop.

Besides, she still had to review her Legilimency, to test herself, to ensure beyond doubt that she had mastered that half of the art as well. If she faltered there, it would undo everything.

Class ended, and she drifted down the castle corridors hand in hand with Astoria. Her friend was in full rant about a quill that apparently had a mind of its own, but Cassiopeia only half-registered the words. Her mind was elsewhere, sorting and re-sorting her priorities like a deck of cards that never quite stacked straight.

“Earth to Cass, anyone home?” Astoria teased, giving her a sideways glance.

Cassiopeia blinked back to the present. “I’m listening—” she lied, the corners of her mouth twitching into something that only half-qualified as a smile.

Astoria arched an eyebrow. “Sure you are. You’ve got that look again — like you’re plotting to overthrow the Ministry.”

Cassiopeia’s chest tightened. She had already exhausted most of her usual excuses, and Astoria’s sharp eyes made her wonder how much longer she could keep the truth hidden. Her silence stretched a beat too long, and that in itself was answer enough.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right? We’re friends.”

The simple word — friends — pulled her gaze up to Astoria. The truth of it stung. Astoria was, without doubt, her closest and perhaps only real friend here. And the thought of losing that, of letting the weight of her secrets corrode it, was unbearable. But what she carried wasn’t the kind of secret one could share like gossip. It was darker, heavier, and dangerous — knowledge that would shatter safety, maybe even loyalty. And Astoria wasn’t the type to forgive that kind of deception.

“Right— of course,” Cassiopeia said quickly, forcing conviction into her voice. “We’re friends. And I know it goes both ways.” She slipped into the practiced rhythm of a lie, soft but steady. “But really, it’s nothing. I’m just… trying to juggle everything. School, family, obligations… I’ve let things pile up, so I’m sorting through it all now.”

It was flimsy, she knew, but it was the safest mask she had. She prayed Astoria would accept it — or at least, choose not to press further.

Astoria nodded lightly, a smile tugging at her lips. “I get it, yeah… But you’re overthinking again. If you keep winding yourself up like this, you’ll burn out. You need to give that head of yours a break.” Her tone turned mischievous, as if she already had a solution in mind.

Cassiopeia let out a faint breath, caught between amusement and exasperation. With everything she still had to do, relaxation was a luxury she couldn’t afford. And yet… the idea of even a few minutes of peace sounded dangerously tempting. “Maybe you’re right,” she murmured. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Astoria’s eyes lit with anticipation. “Okay, hear me out. I know you said you’re not into these things, but just this once, will you come with me to the match tomorrow? It’ll be fun, I swear — and after we win, there’s going to be a party! Please?” Her voice tilted into a pleading whine, her expression soft as a puppy begging for scraps.

Quidditch wasn’t her scene — not by a long shot. But as the thought settled, Cassiopeia realized it could work in her favor. A crowded, noisy match meant she could slip through minds with her Legilimency unnoticed, masked by the chaos. And afterward, she could easily excuse herself before the celebrations, leaving her the time she needed for the cabinet. Maybe, just maybe, Quidditch wouldn’t be such a waste of her time.

“You sound awfully sure we’re going to win,” Cassiopeia said, an amused smile tugging at her lips.

“Of course we are!” Astoria beamed, brimming with confidence. “Have you seen the players? Blaise and your brother have had them training nonstop. There’s no chance they’ll lose.” It was the most certain Cassiopeia had ever heard her friend sound about anything.

“Alright then,” Cassiopeia conceded with a light shrug, “if you’re so sure, I’ll trust you. Can’t be seen supporting a losing team.”

Astoria practically lit up like a torch. “Yes! Thank you! You’re the best! I promise, you’re not going to regret it.”

Cassiopeia returned her smile, though hers was edged with quiet calculation. As long as she could use the opportunity for her own purposes, regret was the last thing she’d feel.

Night fell quickly. She had just sent her reply to Narcissa, confirming the time for their shopping trip. The dormitory was hushed, Jasmine present but distant — ever since their last exchange, her dormmate hadn’t spared her so much as a glance. It surprised Cassiopeia, if only faintly, but then again, wasn’t that what she wanted?

The common room downstairs had been unusually quiet as well, stripped of its usual laughter and chatter. Her brother’s circle was nowhere to be seen. Cassiopeia imagined them tucked obediently in bed to “rest” before the match — which was so unlike them it almost made her laugh. Still, she couldn’t think of a better explanation.

She had just slipped into her nightclothes — soft silk, black with silver piping, chosen less for comfort than for the way they made her feel composed, even alone — when the door burst open.

Astoria swept in, arms full of something bright and rustling. She practically beamed as she stopped in the middle of the dormitory, holding up several green-and-silver flags like trophies.

“Look at what I finally got my hands on!” she exclaimed proudly, and before Cassiopeia could answer, she was already pressing one into her hand. The fabric unfurled — half green, half silver, the serpent crest bold in the middle.

“I would’ve gone for the larger ones,” Astoria went on, “but of course, they were gone by the time I got there.”

Cassiopeia tilted the flag between her fingers, her expression unreadable but her voice smooth as glass.
“Perfect. Nothing says subtle Slytherin pride like waving a giant banner in everyone’s face.”

From behind her, Cassiopeia caught the faintest scoff. She didn’t need to turn to know it came from Jasmine. The temptation to snap back flickered at the edges of her mind, but she swallowed it down. Silence, for once, was the sharper weapon.

Astoria, blissfully oblivious to the tension, set the rest of her things onto her bed and spun toward Cassiopeia, practically glowing. “The team turned in early to their dorms. Which means we’re definitely winning tomorrow.”

Cassiopeia blinked, brow faintly arched, her confusion plain as she lowered herself onto her bed. “Do enlighten me — how do those two things correlate in any way?”

Astoria leaned forward, flag in hand like she was about to whisper a state secret. “It’s this superstition they have. Started as a rule Blaise pushed, but now it’s tradition. The night before a match, they don’t drink, they don’t smoke, and they don’t… you know—” she wiggled her eyebrows for emphasis, “—with anyone. It keeps them focused. And every time they’ve done it, they’ve won. Every. Time.”

For a heartbeat Cassiopeia was honestly baffled. The idea of that particular group of boys abstaining from their favorite vices — even for a day — was almost laughable. They were the kind to treat indulgence like oxygen; she couldn’t picture them willingly setting it aside, even for Quidditch.

“So you’re telling me,” she said slowly, her tone sharpening with dry disbelief, “that right now, my brother, Theo, Blaise, Mattheo, and Enzo are… what? Sound asleep in their dorms. At—” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “—eleven o’clock?”

Astoria gave a little shrug, though her grin didn’t falter. “I’m not saying they’re actually asleep, but yes. Pretty much.”

“Sounds like utter rubbish, if you ask me,” Jasmine muttered from her corner.

Cassiopeia didn’t so much as glance her way. Good thing no one had asked. Still, for Astoria’s sake, she bit back the retort pressing at her tongue.

Astoria, unfazed, lifted her chin. “No, it’s true. Daphne told me herself.”

Well, if Daphne said it…

Cassiopeia met her friend’s earnest gaze, and a laugh slipped out despite herself. “Merlin— I had no idea it was taken that seriously.” She’d heard her brother’s stories before, the ones he recounted over dinner at the manor with the same sharp pride their father wore. She knew how much Draco valued Quidditch, but never imagined the rituals ran quite this deep.

“It’s even stricter when they’re up against Gryffindor,” Astoria added gravely.

Of course it was. Cassiopeia didn’t even bother asking.

Their conversation meandered on a little longer before Cass climbed into her bed and drew the canopy shut. Lying back, she stared at the ceiling, picturing her brother and his friends heroically abstaining from every one of their vices — all for the sake of a Quidditch match. The thought drew another small smile to her lips.

But it didn’t last. Because, unbidden, another face intruded. Blue eyes, a familiar smirk, and this time a flash of Quidditch green — the uniform she remembered him in, white shirt beneath, confidence radiating as though he owned the pitch.

Cassiopeia shut her eyes, exhaling sharply through her nose as she shook the image away. The irritation in her breath betrayed what she refused to admit out loud. She was tired of it — of him, of this ridiculous game he had dragged her into.

She needed to stop.

And she will.

She is.

Notes:

Consider this your official Slytherin house points system: kudos = 10 points, comments = 50 points, rereads = eternal glory.
See you in chapter 17 (aka whenever I finally stop procrastinating like it’s an Olympic sport).

Chapter 17: Mantra

Notes:

Welcome back to Temptation, otherwise known as Theo Nott’s Slow Decline into “Oops I Want My Best Friend’s Sister” Madness.
This chapter brought to you by: showers, shame, and Slytherins with repressed feelings <3

Theo had hardly slept through the night. Ever since that damned closet encounter, he was out of it — his mind corrupted by her. Her face wouldn’t leave him, nor her scent, nor the way she’d tilted her chin up and looked at him through her lashes. And her hair. Circe, her hair.

He was going mad. He had to be. It’s just a girl. His best mate’s sister, no less. A beauty, sure — but still.

And yet… the way she hadn’t moved, not even a fraction, the way she’d looked at him like she knew exactly what game she was playing — that’s what burned. He’d saved her ass, and she’d repaid him by staring at him like he was about to get lucky, then bolting like nothing had happened.

It was driving him insane. Maybe it was the alcohol. Except he’d only had one drink last night. Nowhere near enough to mess with his head. There had to be another explanation. Maybe she was messing with him somehow. Maybe it was her perfume. Or maybe — hell — he’d just been wound up before he pulled her into that closet, and it tipped him over. That had to be it. He’d probably have tried to snog a bloody Hufflepuff if they’d been in there instead of her.

Yeah. That was it. He repeated it like a mantra, clinging to the thought. The sanest explanation for his own sake.

Because he’d never do that to his best mate. Right?

He dragged himself out of bed, the first one up for a change. Two hours of sleep — if that — sat heavy in his eyes, but he couldn’t lie there another second. The bathroom door shut behind him with a snap of the lock, and he stripped without even looking at himself, stepping under the icy stream of the shower. Cold water coursed down his back, chasing away some of the fever that wouldn’t leave him alone, the misery pulling him southward like an anchor.

Normally, he would’ve gone looking for a hookup, anyone to burn this out of his system. But with the match tomorrow, and that stupid bloody rule they all swore to — no drinks, no smokes, no sex — he was stuck. Trapped with it. Which left only one option.

And Merlin, he hated it.

Merlin, he’d tried it all. Picturing bloody Dumbledore doing jumping jacks in front of him, McGonagall breathing down his neck with detention slips — even blasting the shower from freezing to scalding. Nothing worked. Not a damned thing.

He let out a ragged sigh, realizing the last option staring him in the face. Either he took care of it himself, or he’d be walking around with a hard-on all day like some kind of humiliation ritual. Brilliant.

One hand braced against the tile, the other slid down, and the second his mind flickered — it was her. Always her.

What the fuck was this?

He tried rerouting. Forced himself to think of other girls. Any girl. Faces he’d had before, quick hookups, nameless bodies. But no matter how hard he tried, it kept snapping back. To her. To that closet. To the sly look in her eyes. To the way he’d tucked her hair behind her ear, the strands glowing soft under the faint light of his wand. Beautiful. Too beautiful.

A low groan tore out of him as the image seared sharper — her lashes low, her gaze lifted, aimed right at him. His knees nearly buckled.

For a long moment he just stood there, chest heaving, water pounding down, staring blankly at the tiles like he didn’t recognize himself. There was no fucking way he’d just done that.

For fuck’s sake. Off limits. Off limits. OFF. LIMITS.
He muttered it like a mantra, over and over, as though words alone could burn it out of his head. Yeah, perfect — a new mantra. Not don’t hex your professor, not win the match tomorrow, but don’t jerk off to your best mate’s sister. Grand.

The cold water crashed over him again as he tried to shake her out of his system. He just needed to stay away from her. Get his head straight. Then everything would settle back into place.

Out of sight, out of mind. That was the plan.

And no one would ever know. Not about last night. Not about this morning.
No — this was getting locked up tight, buried in his head with no key, no escape route.

Imprisoned.

Just as he was about to finally step out of the shower, a knock rattled the door.

“You’ve been in there for an hour, Theo — what are you, a girl? Wrap it up!”

The voice was muffled through the water, impossible to tell if it was Blaise or Draco, and Theo wasn’t about to waste time guessing. He dragged his hands through his wet hair one last time, then twisted the tap off. Cold water clung to his skin as he stepped out, grabbed a towel, and dried off quickly. Damp strands of hair fell into his face as he pulled on clean boxers and pushed the door open.

Sure enough, his two best friends were standing right there like he’d broken some kind of school record.

“What were you doing in there? You’ve been forever,” Blaise said, brows raised as he reached into his closet for a towel of his own, eyeing Theo like he expected an actual explanation.

“Showering,” Theo answered flatly — the half-truth. The other half stayed locked in his chest where it belonged. His eyes flicked to Draco, and for a moment, the guilt twisted deeper.

Draco looked like the Knight Bus had run him over four times, then reversed for good measure. He’d been carrying that worn-out look for weeks now — only shaking it when they were out on the pitch, or on rare nights when he came back late from the library. Theo had wanted to ask, but Draco wasn’t exactly the “open up and spill” type, and if it mattered, he’d say something. That’s how it usually worked between them.

Besides, Theo wasn’t exactly in a position to prod. Not when he’d spent half the night and a good fifteen minutes in the shower thinking about Draco’s younger sister in ways that would get him Avada’d on the spot if Draco ever knew.

So he said nothing.

Blaise muttered something under his breath as he brushed past Theo and disappeared into the bathroom. Theo pulled on his clothes, keeping his eyes on the floor until the guilt stopped gnawing quite so loudly.

Half an hour later, the three of them had regrouped with the rest of their mates and headed toward the Great Hall. Draco and Blaise walked ahead, their voices low as they tossed strategies back and forth for tomorrow’s game. Behind them, Theo, Mattheo, and Enzo trailed, Mattheo in the middle of a loud retelling of his failed hookup from the night before.

“…and then she tells me she can’t go through with it because her cat was watching us.” Mattheo threw up his hands in dramatic disbelief. “I mean — what the fuck was I supposed to do? Ask the cat politely to leave the room?”

Enzo barked a laugh, Theo snorted despite himself, and Mattheo smirked like he’d won.

“Maybe a simple pspspsps would’ve done it—” Enzo offered, smirking, laughter breaking through his words.

“Like hell. The damn thing just stared at me like I was the one interrupting. So I had to go to bed like some pathetic first year—alone—with a raging, unresolved boner. The night before the no-hookup rule kicks in. Bloody marvelous.”

Enzo let out a bark of laughter. Mattheo clutched his chest in mock tragedy, as if reliving the trauma. Theo forced out a huff of air, but it wasn’t amusement. Not really. His mate’s words hit too close to home. He could relate, more than he’d ever admit aloud. Maybe, on another day, he would’ve thrown his own story into the mix—gotten a few laughs, shrugged it off like it didn’t matter. But this one? This was a story that, if spoken, would get him hexed into St. Mungo’s by his best friend without so much as a trial. So he said nothing.

They settled into their usual seats at the Slytherin table. Theo didn’t bother scanning the Hall for faces, but even without trying, he caught the flash of blonde at the far end. So much for “out of sight, out of mind.” His eyes flicked down to his plate—two slices of buttered toast and a cup of unsweetened tea. Bland, deliberate. Safe.

Movement pulled at his focus: she was standing. Cassiopeia rose, Astoria at her side, the two of them slipping away from the table with the kind of quiet grace that made it look planned, practiced. Theo’s gaze clung to her against his will, like there was a string tied somewhere deep in his chest. Why? He didn’t know. Maybe to see if she’d look back. If she’d acknowledge the night before.

She didn’t. Not even a flicker. Not a glance. Nothing.

His chest tightened, though he smothered the reaction quickly. Perhaps that was his answer. Perhaps what happened in that cramped, dark closet hadn’t been anything at all—just a moment, a game. One he’d already lost.

Not that he cared. He didn’t. Not at all.

Just another girl in a school full of them. One he wasn’t even supposed to look at. One he’d spent the morning wanking off to with his hand clamped over his mouth like some guilty fucking schoolboy. One he’d erase from his head any day now. Right?

Right.

He repeated it like a charm, over and over, as the grand doors closed behind her and the thread that tied his eyes to her snapped. He dropped his gaze back to his plate. His mates didn’t notice. Thank Merlin. There was nothing to notice.

She was just hot. He was just a guy who noticed. That’s all. Nothing special.

He chewed his toast, swallowed it down, and finished his tea in silence. Then, without a word, he got on with his day. Making damn sure he didn’t think about her. Not for a second.

Classes wrapped up faster than he could process, and by the end of the day Theo’s head was spinning. Circe, he needed a cigarette. Of course, Blaise had made him leave the pack with him—“just a precaution,” he’d said with that smug little smirk.

Theo wasn’t addicted. Not really. But today had drained him, and all he wanted was the sharp burn in his lungs to keep his thoughts from chewing him alive. Instead, he had nothing.

He considered sinking into the common room sofa like some pathetic little boy, but that would mean thinking. And he wasn’t in the right state of mind for that. Not tonight.

So he did the next best thing—he left the dungeons. Maybe a walk would distract him, let him trick himself into silence. The courtyard was full of students, all of them busy with their own trivial dramas, their own chatter.

His eyes drifted sideways—and then he saw it. A thin curl of smoke rising above a patch of grass.

Daphne Greengrass.

Her tie was hanging loose around her neck, shirt unbuttoned at the top, robes tossed carelessly across the grass beneath her like a blanket. A half-burned cigarette balanced between her fingers, and in this moment, she looked better than air itself.

He walked over. She spotted him immediately, lips quirking into a knowing smile.

“What’s got your balls in a twist?” Daphne teased, her tone casual, like she already knew the answer.

Theo shoved his hands into his pockets, answering her smile with a tired one of his own.

“Ah—” her grin widened, a spark of recognition lighting her face, “I almost forgot. Day before the match.” She inhaled leisurely, smoke curling around her like a crown.

He looked down at her sprawled form. “Yeah. Torture day,” he muttered without enthusiasm.

She held the cigarette out toward him, her hand lifting lazily, her voice sing-song as she offered, “I won’t tell if you don’t...”

He almost caved. Almost. But he’d survived harder days without one, and tomorrow—the victory smoke—would taste better. Sweeter.

He shook his head, gaze sliding away for a moment before settling back on her. “Thanks, but Blaise would probably ask to smell my breath tonight. Bastard’s obsessive like that.” He managed a small smile. “What are you doing sitting here alone, anyway?”

Daphne withdrew her hand with a little shrug, exhaling smoke through her nose, looking every bit the picture of lazy grace.

“Waiting for Pans. She said she’d meet me after Charms, but you know how she gets when a Ravenclaw starts asking for her notes…” Daphne rolled her eyes, then tilted her head at him. “So until then, I’m stuck with whoever wanders by looking like their soul’s been wrung out. Congratulations, that’s you.”

Theo huffed a laugh through his nose, lowering himself down onto the grass beside her despite himself. The smoke lingered between them, and he let his head fall back, staring at the overcast sky.

“Lucky me,” he said dryly. He dropped down beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. He liked these moments—their talks. Daphne was good company. A good friend. A good hookup too, when the itch got too strong and neither of them wanted to bother with strangers. But more than that, she was steady. Reliable.

He never fooled himself into thinking there was anything else there. Not anymore. Two years ago, after the first time they’d slept together, he’d been stupid enough—naïve enough—to think maybe sex equaled love. That maybe he was in love with her. Then he’d slept with someone else and realized it wasn’t love at all. Just release. Just need.

The best thing was—Daphne felt the same. No expectations. No strings. No mess. Just friendship, sharp wit, and the occasional night tangled up when neither of them wanted to be alone. And he’d always rather have her as his friend than his fallback. Always.

“You know, I gotta say—don’t get me wrong, I know it’s the start of the season—but you look like absolute shit,” Daphne remarked, flicking ash from her cigarette before snuffing it out with a casual wave of her wand. “All of you do. What is it this year? Did you collectively decide you’re going to stop sleeping, chain-smoke yourself into oblivion, and drink your way to graduation?” Her brows lifted as she turned back to him.

Theo huffed out a laugh, though it felt hollow in his chest. Honestly? It sounded like a better plan than facing the mess of school, family, and expectations sober. But this year was different. Everything felt darker, heavier. Like last year had been one long, reckless party, and someone had turned off the lights.

He didn’t know what had changed between then and now. Everything had changed. Nothing had changed. He couldn’t pin it down.

“Yeah. Wish I knew,” he muttered finally, shrugging. “We’re all just… tired.” It was the closest thing to an explanation he had.

Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, just thoughtful. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon. So did she.

Then a pair of long legs cut into his vision as someone flopped down on Daphne’s other side.

“You could’ve told me we had company,” Pansy said, brushing her hair back with a flourish as she dropped down. “I’d have brought more.” She produced two chocolate frogs from her bag, smug as ever.

“Well, somebody had to keep me company while you took your sweet time,” Daphne shot back, lips twitching.

“I had urgent matters to attend to,” Pansy replied with exaggerated seriousness.

“Mhm. Urgent enough to smudge half your lipstick off?” Daphne deadpanned, eyes narrowing as she leaned closer.

Theo watched them spar, amusement tugging at his mouth. Their banter was sharp as ever, Pansy’s mock indignation meeting Daphne’s lazy snark in a rhythm they’d perfected over years.

“Whatever,” Pansy said with a dismissive flick of her wrist, before pivoting her attention to him. “Theo, darling, you can have mine if you want.” She offered him one of the frogs with a bright smile.

He shook his head as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing grass from his trousers. “Thanks, Pans, but I was just about to go anyway.” He gave Daphne a sidelong smirk. “I’ve done my job here.”

Daphne tilted her head at him, eyes narrowing slightly, curious. “And what exactly was your job, Nott?”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started back toward the castle. “Looking less like death warmed over. Clearly, you’ve both got it covered.”

He left without another word, heading back into the castle. The tall, cold stone walls seemed to swallow him whole, the chill sinking into his skin like water.

On his way through the corridor, a familiar pale figure stepped out from the opposite direction. Draco. Alone, hands in his pockets, hair slightly mussed, expression softer than it had been that morning. Not relaxed—Draco Malfoy never looked relaxed—but lighter. Like whatever weight had been pressing on him had shifted, even if only slightly.

Theo slowed his steps, curiosity flickering. What was it with the library? Draco disappeared there half the time, only coming back looking vaguely alive. Was he actually reading until closing and somehow getting off on it? Was that the secret cure? Theo didn’t know, but it was starting to drive him mad.

“Is there some secret party going on in the library that I don’t know about?” Theo asked, falling into step beside him.

Draco shot him a sidelong look, brows arched. “What?” There was the faintest curve at his mouth—not quite a smile, but close enough to notice.

Theo smirked. “Don’t ‘what’ me. You go in there looking like you’ve been hexed six ways from Sunday and you come out looking… well, not like sunshine, but—lighter. So, what is it? Free Firewhisky behind the Restricted Section? Madam Pince giving private lap dances?”

Draco’s lip twitched, equal parts exasperated and amused. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m an observant idiot. Something’s going on in there.” Theo shoved his hands in his pockets, watching him. “What is it? Did you finally figure out how to grow a soul?”

“Ha, ha.” Draco rolled his eyes, gaze flicking ahead down the hall. He didn’t answer right away, which only made Theo more suspicious.

Theo nudged him with his shoulder, voice dropping just enough. “You’re not… sneaking around with someone, are you?”

Draco’s jaw tightened—just a flicker, but enough. He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Theo let out a low whistle. “Merlin, you are. You sneaky bastard. That’s why you’ve been acting like a corpse during the day—because you’re off having… whatever it is at night.”

Draco cut him a sharp look. “Drop it, Nott.” His tone wasn’t angry, but it carried enough steel to warn Theo he’d get nothing more if he pushed.

Theo smirked, though he tucked the questions away for later. Fine. Secrets, then. “Alright, alright. My lips are sealed. For now.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “But just so you know—if you’re sneaking off with Madam Pince, you’d better obliviate that memory out of me. No way I’m living with that image in my head.”

Draco’s mouth twitched—there and gone again, but enough to pass for a smile. “Get stuffed.”

They fell into step, shoulders brushing once as they headed toward the dungeons. The conversation drifted after that, lighter than it had been in weeks. No barbed remarks. No heavy silences. For once, it didn’t feel like walking beside a ghost. Just two mates, taking the long way back to the common room. Theo had missed this.

By the time the clock struck eleven, they were all in their dorms. Not asleep, not even close—but lying in their beds, waiting for the night to pass.

Theo wished he could just close his eyes and wake to tomorrow. Skip the hours in between. He set his quill down, his finished DADA essay tucked against the closed book, and let his head fall back onto the pillow.

His friends were occupied—Draco scribbling something with his usual grim focus, Blaise flipping lazily through a magazine—so Theo didn’t disturb them. Not that he could have held a conversation right now, anyway. His mind hadn’t left the storm it’d been stuck in all day.

And tonight, the storm pulled him back to his family. If you could even call it that. A dead mother. An asshole father. That was all he had to claim. He wondered, not for the first time, if his father would show tomorrow. Probably. If Lucius Malfoy went, there was no reason his father wouldn’t drag himself along.

Merlin, Theo hoped he wouldn’t. He couldn’t remember a single point in his life when he’d actually wanted to see his father. Sometimes, on the darkest nights, he asked himself why it had to be his mother who died. Why not him instead? There was never an answer. Just the cold truth: life wasn’t fair, and it never would be.

He thought of his friends then, and for their sakes almost wished Lucius wouldn’t attend either. But as school governor, the man had a permanent seat. No matter what, that hawk-eyed presence would be there. Watching. Judging. Theo could only pray that neither of their fathers showed up tomorrow.

His mind shifted—unwillingly, inevitably—to the stands. Who else would be there? Daphne and Pansy, of course. Always front row, always chanting like it was their sacred duty. Daphne’s little sister too, clinging to her side. And then… Cassiopeia.

He remembered that one night at the Great Hall, when she’d said she wouldn’t bother coming unless Draco asked her. Which was about as likely as Snape leading a cheer squad. Still… she might come anyway. For her friends, if not for— well, whoever.

Not that it mattered to Theo. Not really. Whether she showed or not, it made no difference.

He stared up at the dark canopy of his bed, jaw tightening. It would just be a shame if she missed watching them crush their first match of the season, that’s all.

And maybe—just maybe—it would give him one more reason to win. Not that it had anything to do with her, of course. Definitely not.

Notes:

Cassie didn’t look back at him in the Great Hall, but you totally can—in the comments <3

Chapter 18: Intrusion

Notes:

Hi hello yes I am aware it’s been a moment. Please accept this chapter as my formal apology, there will probably be some more apologies later;D
oh and let's pretend that quidditch works like this-

She had thought of everything.

Every lie was constructed with the precision of a charm, rehearsed in silence until it no longer felt like deception but strategy. She’d go to the game with Astoria—easy enough. While the crowd roared and eyes stayed fixed on broomsticks and sky, she’d pick someone in the stands. Someone harmless. Someone who wouldn’t notice a flicker of intrusion behind her eyes. A quiet, quick sweep through their mind to sharpen her Legilimency.

After that, she’d excuse herself. A headache, maybe. Or a sudden chill from the wind. Something believable enough to slip away with time still on her side. The Room of Requirement would be waiting. It always was. She’d get her work done, put her hands to use before the castle spilled back to life, and return to the dorms tucked into the mass of students as if she’d never left.

No distractions. No delays. No weaknesses.

What she hadn’t accounted for was guilt. Not the sharp, panicked kind, but the slow, familiar ache that had begun curling into her stomach every time Astoria smiled at her. It was ridiculous, she told herself; she’d lied before, hidden things before — it was practically second nature. But Astoria was possibly her only real friend in this place. And watching her light up over the past few days, excited for the match, excited that Cassiopeia would be there with her — it made every prepared lie feel heavier.

She kept reminding herself it was safer this way. For Astoria, for herself, for their friendship. Some truths were simply too jagged to give away. And loneliness had teeth; she wasn’t eager to feel them sink in again. At least not yet.

So the lies remained. For now.

Astoria had her arm hooked through hers as they walked back toward the dorms, practically buzzing with pre-game energy.

“Preparations!” she declared, as if announcing a festival rather than a school match. Outfit changes, touch-ups, and every green accessory they owned was scattered around their dorm. Just in case anybody missed what house they were cheering for.

Cassiopeia let out a small laugh, letting herself be tugged along. Astoria chattered on about ribbons, glittering pins, and skirts that may or may not be weather-appropriate, not that it mattered, girls in Hogwarts learn the warming charm first, and for a good reason.

Cassiopeia forced herself to nod, to smile, to match the energy just enough so Astoria wouldn’t look too closely.

Just enough so she wouldn’t notice the storm beginning to coil behind Cassiopeia’s eyes.

“Remember when you said we’re just going to watch the game?” Cass leaned back into the seat by the window, crossing one leg over the other as an amused smile tugged at her lips.

Astoria, perched in front of the mirror, fixed the bow in her hair for what had to be the fourth time. She looked over her shoulder with a breezy innocence that fooled absolutely no one. “We are.”

Cass tilted her head toward the bed.

The bed, currently drowning in Slytherin paraphernalia — green ribbons, glittered pins, a striped scarf, two scarves actually, face paint, pompoms that absolutely did not belong to any casual Quidditch spectator, and what appeared to be a homemade banner curled at the foot of the mattress.

She raised a brow, lips twitching. “Are we, by any chance, providing the Slytherin cheer squad with all their props?”

Astoria’s smile bloomed immediately, bright and entirely unashamed. She stepped over and picked up two small triangular flags, flicking them lightly so their embroidered serpents shimmered. “I thought we could… enhance the atmosphere.”

“Enhance,” Cass repeated, biting back a laugh.

“Yes,” Astoria insisted. “Spirits have been low since the last practice. Morale is very important.”

Cassiopeia arched a brow. “Morale.”

“Morale,” Astoria echoed with exaggerated firmness, thrusting one of the flags into Cass’s hand. “Besides, it’s tradition.”

“It’s not,” Cass deadpanned.

Astoria dismissed her with a flick of green fabric. “It is now.”

Cass sighed dramatically, twirling the small flag between her fingers before letting it fall lazily into her lap. “Already making up traditions?” A smile teased at her lips. “And here I thought I had at least a year before we started doing that—”

Astoria spun around, scandalized and delighted. “Please. We would’ve started ages ago, but someone waited five years to come to Hogwarts!”

Cass placed a hand over her heart in mock offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

“Definitely,” Astoria said without hesitation, grin widening. “We would’ve been best friends since day one, not from day…” She squinted thoughtfully. “Day 2,936.”

Cass snorted. “That’s not even close.”

“It sounds dramatic,” Astoria shrugged. “And accurate to the emotional suffering I endured before you arrived.”

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes, but warmth tugged at her chest — sharp, inconvenient warmth. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously correct,” Astoria said, grabbing another ribbon from the pile. “Imagine all the traditions we’ve missed.”

Imagine if you knew what I was actually doing today, Cass thought, the guilt pricking again like a warning needle under her ribs. And she hated every second of it.

But aloud she said, light and easy, “Well, we can always make up for lost time.” She really hoped they could. At least one day.

Astoria beamed, and Cass could only force her own smile to stay in place — steady, easy, untouched. Or at least convincing enough.

Once they were finished and ready to leave, Cassiopeia paused by the mirror, catching her reflection in the corner of her eye. The green ribbon tied neatly into her blonde hair caught the light, softening the sharp line of her profile.
It hit her then — how long it had been since she’d worn green in her hair.

Mother would be thrilled, she thought, a small, foreign ache blooming in her chest. She still nags me about it every so often…
But she shook the thought off with a quiet exhale. Sentimentality was not on today’s schedule.

Five minutes later, she and Astoria were swept up into the river of students flowing toward the pitch — scarves of every house bobbing in the sea of chatter, the clatter of shoes on stone, the excited hum rising with every step closer.

By the time they pushed into their seats, Cassiopeia’s eyes were already moving, sharp and restless.

To their right stood the tall tower reserved for staff and visiting guests — still empty for now, the polished railing gleaming in the early afternoon sun.
To their left stretched a long row packed with students, the stands pushing to yet another tower to be filled.

More people poured in. Scarves. Badges. Painted faces. The chaotic, energetic anticipation of the first match of the season.

Cass leaned forward slightly, studying the flow of the crowd, the rhythm of noise, the pockets of distraction.

Perfect.

She noted exits, blind spots, the best angles to lock onto an unsuspecting mind. Her Legilimency practice would be easy enough — a quick skim, a harmless thought or two, nothing more.
She only needed a minute. Two, at most.

She nodded to herself, almost imperceptibly.

The Legilimency part of today’s plan wouldn’t be a problem.

Right in front of Astoria and Cass, two familiar figures swept into the row — Pansy and Daphne, both perfectly polished as always. Green scarves draped artfully around their necks, their hair pin-straight and glossy, small Slytherin flags clasped delicately between manicured fingers.

They sat with practiced elegance, crossing their legs in unison as they immediately fell into gossip — hushed, rapid, and filled with the kind of judgmental delight only they could manage so gracefully.

Astoria leaned in, hiding a grin behind her hand.
“They might not look like the biggest Quidditch fans at first,” she whispered, “but wait till the match starts — they’ll be louder than the entire Ravenclaw section combined.”

Cass’s lips twitched.
She didn’t doubt it for a second.
If not for the sport and not for the house pride, then the boys on the pitch would be more than enough to turn Pansy and Daphne into feral banshees by the ten-minute mark.

Minutes trickled by, and the stands transformed.
Row by row, no seat remained empty.
Color and energy spilled through the stadium — green, red, blue, yellow — the noise swelling into a constant, vibrating roar.

Cassiopeia’s fingers curled around her small flag, her heartbeat syncing with the rising anticipation in the air.

The match would start any minute now.
And with it, so would her plan.

Cassiopeia sat perfectly still, patient, composed, as Dumbledore’s voice boomed across the stadium announcing the start of the season. The stands erupted as the players marched onto the pitch, broomsticks in hand, shadows stretching long over the grass before they kicked off the ground in a synchronized burst of air.

Slytherin rose in a clean, practiced formation — Draco at the center, hovering opposite the Ravenclaw Seeker.
He wasn’t smiling.
He didn’t even look around.
His gaze was locked forward, sharp, narrowed, as though nothing in the entire world existed but the snitch and the win.

“We are so winning!” Astoria squealed beside her, bouncing in her seat.

Cass didn’t answer.
Her eyes stayed on her brother, and though she would never say it aloud — not to Astoria, and Merlin forbid to Draco — she knew her friend was right. That look in Draco’s eyes wasn’t hope or determination. It was certainty. Possession. The same way he looked at something already his.

Her gaze drifted — not by choice, she told herself — to the other end of the pitch.
Theo circled near the hoops, steady on his broom, posture relaxed in a way that looked effortless but wasn’t. He turned slightly to say something to Blaise, wind tugging at the strands of his dark hair.

Cass allowed herself one heartbeat longer to look.
Just one.
For analysis, she insisted silently. Tactical observation. Nothing else.

She forced her eyes away before the thought could settle.

Mattheo and Enzo, both beaters, but each seemingly completing each other.

Her eyes didn’t stay long on the two more players, she hadn’t met them yet, didn’t quite care to either—

On the field, Madam Hooch blew her whistle sharply, rules rattled off in her usual clipped tone — then another whistle, stronger, slicing through the air.

And the game exploded into motion.

For the first few minutes, she allowed herself to watch.
She couldn’t help it — the pitch was alive. Players shot across the sky in streaks of green and blue, brooms cutting through the air with practiced precision. Every turn, every dive, every formation had a ruthless kind of elegance. Years of training sharpened into instinct.

She watched the fast game development, the way the ball sped towards Slytherin hoops but never quite reaching them. She caught herself keeping track of the defence more than she had planned.

It was… compelling.
Too compelling.

Cass tore her eyes away.

No distractions. Not today.

She inhaled slowly, letting the roar of the crowd blur into a distant hum as she scanned the nearest rows. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular — only someone close enough, unsuspecting enough, and unimportant enough to forget the moment entirely.

Then she spotted the girl.
Hufflepuff.
Yellow scarf, soft expression, eyes flitting excitedly between the chasers as if she were trying to follow all of them at once.

Perfect.

Cassiopeia straightened slightly, angling herself just enough to watch her without being obvious. Legilimency without eye contact was still beyond her, at least with any real accuracy. She needed a window — a second, a glance, a slip.

Her pulse slowed. Her breathing steadied. She let her presence sharpen, like a blade held between her teeth.

The Hufflepuff turned her head at the exact moment the stands erupted — a cheer from the right, a collective gasp on the left — and her eyes caught Cassiopeia’s.

Just a flicker.

A single accidental connection.

Cass held the look, unblinking, her expression unreadable.
A second stretched — thin, fragile — as if the world hesitated with her.

Then the girl broke the gaze, turning back toward the match, none the wiser.

Just what Cass needed.

A door cracked open.
Barely.
But enough.

She exhaled once, steady, and quietly slipped into the mind she’d chosen.

In one second she was surrounded by roaring students and whipping banners—
and in the next, she was somewhere entirely different.

A bedroom.
Soft yellow light. Honey-colored quilts. Badger motifs stitched into pillows.
Definitely Hufflepuff.

The girl sat on her bed, cross-legged, a small notebook propped against her knee. The pen scratched across the page in looping, dramatic strokes:

“I saw him again today, but he didn’t even look at me—”

Cassiopeia’s expression didn’t shift, but she recoiled inwardly. Merlin. She had no desire to sift through adolescent heartbreaks. She wasn’t here to pry into crushes or secrets that did nothing for her purposes.

With a mental flick—sharp, precise—she pushed the memory aside, letting it dissolve like smoke.

The next one snapped into place.

The Great Hall.
Golden plates. Morning chatter. The girl sat with her friends, laughing over porridge. Their conversations bounced between the match, the difficulty of next week’s Herbology exam, and some silly rumor about a cursed broomstick.

Cass kept moving. Another nudge of will, another shift—

A corridor. A passing glimpse.

And there—
brief, but unmistakable—
Pansy and Daphne drifting past like they owned the hallway.

One of the Hufflepuff girls snorted.
“I’m convinced Parkinson only comes to school to waltz around, steal boyfriends, and bully people.”

Her friend giggled in agreement.

Cass didn’t see more. She didn’t want to.

The second the words brushed across her awareness, she snapped herself out—cleanly, sharply, before anything else spilled over. The girl’s mind fell away like a door slammed shut.

Back in the stands, Cass blinked once. The world returned all at once: the roar, the colors, the crack of a Bludger somewhere overhead.

Across from her, the Hufflepuff girl winced and pinched the bridge of her nose—the telltale echo of a headache that always followed an intrusion. Nothing alarming. Nothing suspicious. Just a moment of discomfort she’d forget by morning.

Cass didn’t spare her another glance.

Instead, she turned her gaze to the opposite side of the stands—
where a Gryffindor boy sat leaning forward, scarf loose around his neck, completely absorbed in the match.

And she wondered if he’d make the next suitable target.

She waited. Patiently. One second… two… and then—

His head turned sharply, as though he felt her eyes on him. For a heartbeat their gazes crossed, but the moment he realized she was staring, he flinched away, eyes dropping immediately to the pitch.

Not as brave as she expected a Gryffindor to be.

Cassiopeia let a small, amused smile tug at her lips.

One blink—
one breath—
and she slipped into his mind, lightly, barely brushing against the edges.

The first memory surfaced instantly:

Dim lights.
A cracked window.
A cold wind drifting in.
And the sharp, lingering scent of cigarettes.

He was sitting alone on the sill, shoulders slouched, staring at the stars like he was waiting for one to answer him. He took a final drag and flicked the half-finished cigarette out into the darkness.

She swept past it.

Another memory.
Warm, flickering light—
the Gryffindor common room, almost certainly. He sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire, chin in hand, looking exhausted or bored or both—

And then—

She was yanked out.

Hard.

Her vision snapped white at the edges, a violent, pulsing throb exploding behind her eyes. It felt like being hit in the skull with a Bludger. Loud. Sudden. Wrong.

Merlin—what is—

She didn’t need a second thought to know.

She’d felt this before.

Someone was trying to breach her mind.

Her heart lurched, thundering against her ribs. Her breath hitched. The crowd roared around her, but the noise felt distant, underwater, as she forced her eyes open and scanned the stands.

Nothing.
No one staring at her.
No unfamiliar presence she could latch onto.

Her pulse spiked.
Occlumency—now.
She pushed back, hard, trying to smooth her thoughts, to isolate the intruding pressure and block it out.

She had to.

But whoever it was—
they were strong.

Her mental barrier trembled, strained, and she gritted her teeth.

In.
Out.
In.
Her breathing steadied. She forced her thoughts to quiet, to still, to sink beneath the surface where no one else could follow.

One wall wasn’t enough.
She built another.
And another.
Every probing push meant she layered her defences thicker, tighter, until the pressure finally—
finally—
began to ebb.

Her heartbeat slowed.
Her vision sharpened.
Her thoughts slipped back under her control.

Only then did she lift her head.

And above her—
high in the tower reserved for professors—
Snape stood with his arms behind his back, his gaze fixed directly on her.

Expressionless.
Unreadable.
Cold as a blade.

No anger.
No approval.

Just the quiet, unmistakable acknowledgment:

I saw you.

And worse—
I tested you, again.

Cassiopeia’s stomach twisted, but she held his gaze.
She did not look away.

Not this time.
Not until he looked away first, and she finally registered her name drifting toward her through the haze.

She didn’t know how far he had made it, or even if he did. She’d know, sooner than later.

“Cass—Cassiopeia? You alright?”

Astoria’s voice cut through the echo left behind by the breach. Her brows were drawn, worry softening the usually steady lines of her face. She must’ve seen the wince Cassiopeia couldn’t quite swallow down.

Cass blinked once, twice—pushing the pressure in her skull back behind its walls. “Yeah—yeah, I’m good. It’s just the noise—” she said, forcing a small smile even as her mind still trembled around the edges.

Astoria exhaled, relieved but not fully convinced. “Yeah, it can get pretty loud,” she said gently.

Cass nodded, turning her gaze back to the pitch just as the whistle sounded again.
A clean, sharp note slicing across the stadium.

Ten-minute break.

And thank Merlin for that—because she needed those ten minutes to put herself back together.

Whatever the hell that testing was.

A violent intrusion.

Notes:

Thank you for reading and for your patience between updates — I promise the fic is not abandoned, it’s just… plotting menacingly. <3

Notes:

I appreciate any kind of feedback<3