“I didn’t know her well,” he admits, “But she wanted to protect you and your son. She knew that if she was going to lose her life, she wanted to give it for something worthwhile.”

“And you, sweet sister? You would say those lies?”

“I do what I do for gain, you have always known that.”

No good could come of carrying evidence of her lies with her. Dishonesty was something best kept secret.

Your first blunder, brother, she thought, you showed all your cards at once. “I wouldn’t talk, if I were you, Evan,” she said in a low voice. “Everyone here has already guessed why you took me in.”

"There’s nothing I can do to make you trust me, Severus,” she said, “You’re engaged to me solely because I’m a liar. Although I suppose being Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic doesn’t hurt either."

She frowned at her perfectly coifed hair, at her honey eyes, at her lips red as roses. This wasn’t her. Cassandra didn’t know what she was, but this wasn’t it. She wasn’t a bride.

It was raining as James walked out onto the street. He wanted to pretend like things were simple again, like everything was black and white, but he knew better, now. What if Cassandra was playing him? What if it was all some cruel joke, something Severus had cooked up as vengeance?

To the people in their new neighborhood, they were a perfectly normal young married couple, a set of polite, private young people. It was generally agreed by their new neighbors that clearly, the husband was shy, and the pretty wife was very likeable indeed.

This was wearing on him. Cassandra had watched it wear on him from the first day they ran. It had only gotten worse once Antony was born, and all doubt was removed of who had fathered him.

Cassandra giggled. It felt good, to have something lighthearted to talk about. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to giggle. She wrapped her arms around James’ neck, nestling her head against his collar. “Don’t ever change, alright James?”

It was her father who showed her into the room. She was in her best dress, blue taffeta. She was only thirteen, and her eyes were still red from crying. Her hair was braided—the only thing she could do on her own—and she was small. The smallest thing in this massive room.

The words hung unspoken in the air, like a heavy weight. Cassandra shifted and slid down the length of the sofa so that her head rested on her husband’s chest. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “Please.”

He hadn’t told Cassandra, or at least he didn’t think he had. For years afterward, Severus would have no idea as to how Cassandra found out. He wouldn’t know how long she had known, or when she had started to plan.