Cassandra Louis looked out over the water as yet another summer season was upon the coastline. Even after living in England since she was six years old, she never understood what made the English beaches so endearing, so visit worthy—it was always so cold in her opinion. She sighed, knowing if she didn't depart down to the main lobby soon, she would be facing a firm warning from Mrs. Mayweather, the owner and caretaker of the mid-sized luxury hotel she worked at. That is, it appeared to be mid-sized to the unknown and untrained eye. Truth was, Cassandra was not only an outsider in terms of her nationality, even though she had, due to the nature of her situation, become a dual citizen with the United States and England, but Cassandra stood out from among the guests at Mayweather Suites because, she, unlike everyone else, wasn't a witch or wizard.
***
"I know it might be hard for you to understand Cass dear, but everything you read about in those books we gave you are true. There is a whole other world living among our own, a magical world."
"But how Mommy, where did they learn it? Why are they hiding?" Cassandra's mother and father looked at each other, speaking without words.
"That I cannot answer you sweetheart, at least, not until your older. For now, you are going to have to trust your Mother and I on this—witches and wizards are real. Those books we gave you as we were coming to England, they aren't just any books. They're textbooks, history textbooks for children attending the various witchcraft and wizardry schools around England."
"But how do you know about it Daddy? If it is so secret?"
"Always asking questions, that's my brilliant little Cassandra. Your Mother and I know this because we work with the Minister of Magic and the British Prime Minister—they're like the American President. Your Mother and I try to make the relationship between wizards and non-magical people as smooth and free of problems as possible. You see, your great-grandparents were magical Cass, but your grandfather wasn't. The magical traits didn't carry over to him. But he still maintained a good relationship with the wizarding world, and as his son, he wanted me to take over his position. That's why we are moving to England; it is much easier to do our job from here than it is was in America. Do you understand?"
"I think so," replied Cassandra, nervous as she stared out of the car window and they slowly moved forward in the London traffic. So much had happened in the last few weeks that anything was possible, even for the intelligent six year old.
***
It had been eleven years since that conversation with her parents as they made their way through London's evening traffic. Eleven years since she met her first wizard, the then Minister of Magic, and met her first witch Mrs. Phoenix Mayweather, a distant relative of hers, although the family history was fuzzy. Reluctantly leaving her private balcony, she pulled on her robe and made her way downstairs. The familiar desire to know how to apparate overwhelmed her; normally her muggleness didn't bother her, but each summer she was reminded how disappointed she had been when come her eleventh birthday no letter came for her from any of England's wizarding schools. She had cried for weeks, a sadness which was only replaced by her parent's accident a few months later. But Cassandra shook such thoughts from her head as she walked through the hallway down to the main desk. It was summer, and despite the recent wizarding war, Cassandra knew their opening weekend would bring the arrival of some of their most important visitors, and another summer of wishing to belong in a world which would never totally accept her.
"Good morning Mrs. Mayweather. Are you ready for today?"
"Aren't I always," smiled the warm face of Phoenix Mayweather, a middle aged witch with stunning steal eyes and honey blonde hair which fell down her back in soft waves. Phoenix Mayweather was the only one willing to take Cassandra in after the accident and since then had becomes her primary caretaker, but even more so, Mrs. Mayweather saw Cassandra as her daughter.
"Of course you are," Cassandra softly laughed as she took a moment to look over herself one last time before heading out to make sure everything was ready for the arrival of their first summer guests. Cassandra had inherited her mother's blue-green eyes, which despite all assumptions when she was younger, went beautifully with the curly red hair she had inherited from her father—which luckily for her, calmed down from a vivid red into a velvety auburn. The cloudy seaside sunshine kept Cassandra a sunkissed pale, something she preferred after reading so much about the risk of skin cancer in the health magazines at the local coffee shop she frequented. And at a normal height for her age of 5'6", many would say she could capture the eye of any young man of her fancy, if only Cassandra were interested in dating. Instead, Cassandra buried herself in studying, hoping to one day take on the job as Muggle Ambassador as her parents had before…well, before the accident.
"Oh Cass! You're wearing your new robes, that shade of purple is breathtaking on you. You had better watch out, or you might be stealing another heart this summer young lady. You caused quite a ruckus last year when you had that poor Carmichael boy head over heals for you," smirked Mrs. Mayweather.
"THAT was not my doing. I barely said a word to him and you now it. And it was only a problem because he was pureblood; I still can't get over how hilarious it is that pureblood boys can get it on with any girl they want, but if they want a more stable relationship and it is with anyone who has less than perfect bloodlines in recent generations, it is cause to nearly go to war," argued Cass. Blood purity was something she could never understand. "It's not my choice to be a muggle, anyone who really knows me, knows that."
Phoenix Mayweather smiled, "Just don't make anyone fall in love with you this year dear, at least not too early on. The scars from the war still run deep, a fact I feel the need to remind you. The war may be over—the Dark Lord may be defeated—but our cliental is going to remain pretty much the same. We are still going to have our pureblood families and our half-bloods, even though you know everyone is welcome. Tension might rise between our guests and it is our responsibility to keep that tension low. So no pranks for at least the first few weeks, please Merlin, I am begging you Cass. You and your friends need to keep a low profile at least until the third week of business." And with a pointed look at Cassandra, Mrs. Mayweather walked out to greet her incoming guests.
Cassandra laughed at the memories of past years, when she an a judgment-free Blaise Zambini had charmed every shampoo bottle of the younger female guests into a hair-dye shampoo which left them all with a slimy green hue on their locks for the final days of summer—that is, Blaise charmed the shampoo, Cass just looked up the charm. After checking herself in the mirror one last time, running her fingers through her curly hair and checking to make sure her modest skirt and white oxford shirt were free of lint, she buttoned the two middle buttons of her wizarding robe, took out a deep breath, and went to join Mrs. Mayweather in the lobby, only to stop short when she heard the voices drifting down to her through the corridor.
"It's been rough, not that I let anyone know. I am ready to move on, accept people for their talents and abilities and not their blood, but you know Lucius as much as I do, he remains in his stubborn ways."
"Cissa, have they let him out?"
"No, he's still locked away. Don't get me wrong Phoenix, I miss him, terribly—he's my husband for Merlin's sake—but I pray that he wizens up in there, realizes that blood means nothing, that it never has, that we were too blind to notice that."
Cassandra cautiously peered around the corner to see Mrs. Mayweather wrap a tender arm around Narcissa Malfoy, her oldest and closest friend. In fact, it had been Mrs. Malfoy's suggestion that Phoenix Mayweather open Mayweather Suites, after the late Mr. Mayweather passed away in an Aura accident. Narcissa Malfoy took a deep breath and sighed, the war and her husband's imprisonment had taken a toll on her, it just took a skilled eye to notice. Her eyes sparkled less, her smile forced, but both nearly hidden by her immaculate appearance. Suddenly, there was a pointed and deliberate cough behind him. Mrs. Malfoy rolled her eyes and soughed "you're 18 for heaven's sake, you can introduce yourself young man."
"Draco, it has been too long. The last time I saw you, I am fairly sure you were just learning how to use ride a broom and now look at you, a legal wizard and recent Hogwarts' graduate. And just between us three, you may have your father's stature, but you most definitely inherited your mother's stunning looks," teased Mrs. Mayweather. The young man who walked out from behind his mother shocked Cassandra; she had no idea the Malfoy heir was this old. Whenever she had heard Mr. Malfoy talk about his son, he had made him seen like an infant, a child, not a young man before her. The teenager who stood next to his mother was clearly taller than 6' and had a well-toned body, and the same stony gray eyes as his mother. His only downfall in Cassandra's eyes was his nearly white blonde hair, which was entirely too messy for her liking, preferring instead a more hand-dried look than an "I just woke up and this is my bed hair" impression.
"Cassandra should be out shortly to help you to your room Narcissa. She will be so happy to see you."
"And how is our dear Cass doing this summer. I heard through some of my friends at the Ministry that she applied for the Ambassador position, is it true?"
"Yes, and I hope she gets it too. The poor girl wants the job so badly," replied Mrs. Mayweather. "Cassandra, are you coming?" she called.
Cassandra took a deep breath, tousled her hair, and turned around the corner. "I'm sorry, I got distracted. How are you Mrs. Malfoy, I missed seeing you here over the winter holidays, I hope you're well," she smiled. Narcissa Malfoy had always been one of her favorite quests, despite the tense relationship they had when Cassandra was younger.
"I'm wonderful dear. I am however, not sure you have ever met my son, Draco. He was away studying or staying with friends during our past vacations. Draco, this is Cassandra Louis, she lives and works with Phoenix."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Cassandra replied as she held out her hand. But instead of repeating the motion, Draco Malfoy remained in his stoic position. Cautiously and with a nervous laugh, Cassandra withdrew her hand. "Here, let me show you up to your room. I am sure both of you would like a good rest before the other quests arrive." And with that, Cassandra led the mother and son to the nicest suite a Mayweather Suites, the traditional Malfoy room.
Once in the suite, Cassandra snapped her fingers and a house-elf appeared. "Fauna, can you please bring up the Malfoy luggage and bring a nice pot of hot tea for Mrs. Malfoy and Draco when you're done?"
"Oh yes, yes Miss Cassandra. Fauna loves helping you," and with a pop the house-elf was gone.
"She'll have everything for your shortly Mrs. Malfoy. Let me know if you need anything. My room is still down the hall and up the stairs." Turning towards Malfoy heir she continued, "I hope you enjoy your visit Draco," and with that she turned and left the room.
"Draco Malfoy, I don't think I have ever seen you be so rude in my entire life," scolded Mrs. Malfoy, walking towards her son. "I know you are not talking at the moment, and I can understand why, but Merlin Draco, you can at least be civil. No one blames you for what happened, no one." Narcissa Malfoy softly placed a hand on her son's shoulder and whispered, "Dumbledore knew what his fate was my darling, Severus knew too. It's time you came to accept that. If your classmates can forgive you, you need to forgive yourself." She wrapped her arms around her son, "I love you Draco. Dearly. Please let my lovely, warm, talkative son return to me soon." And with a longing glance and a soft kiss, Narcissa Malfoy walked out of the room, unaware of the tears that started to fall down Draco's cheek.
