C. M. Black: Tongue of a Snake

Chapter I: Friends and funerals

The clocks were stopped, curtains drawn and the canaries silenced by a heavy cloth. The floorboard creaked overhead and the silence was broken with every step they look across the long, lower landing. Above him still were several more people, piling clothes and fabrics into boxes, folded neatly and labelled with their content and destination. However, it was the ground floor where most of the work occurred, requiring a quick and steady mind to sift through decades of papers and bills.

Cassy stood in the kitchen, gaze moving from the portraits to the plates that covered every spare inch of wall. The little birds painted on the plates ruffled their feathers, flying around and away from her as she pressed a finger to its surface. At the rustling of papers, she turned towards the door, readjusting the lace sleeves on her dress while she walked.

'Would you like some tea, Uncle?' she asked, stepping no more than a foot into the room.

Papers were scattered everywhere, some noticeably older than than others, yellowed and dog-eared, but still very well kept. The handwriting on each looked different and it seemed that in her seventy-seven years of life Cassiopeia Black -Cassy's great, great aunt of the same name- managed to collect a lot of acquaintances. Some of the writing appeared several times and Cassy almost dared to think her aunt had a few friends, but other than her weekly tea every Tuesday with the other ladies on the street, Cassiopeia never socialised beyond her means and so the thought was absurd.

'Yes, please,' Alphard said, absently, placing another sheet into a pile only he seemed to be able to recognise.

Cassy left wordlessly, filling up the kettle and placing it on the stove. Pulling two cups from the cabinet, she placed them down on the side before leaning over and dragging a plant from the corner of the kitchen counter towards her.

The leaves were turning brown and the brilliant red flower was fading, turning pale pink at the edges, but refusing the wilt altogether.

I wonder if Neville would like this, she thought, at least he would know how to revive it.

Cassy had not seen Neville or Harry for the past month. She had exchanged letters with Neville many times, but had not had the opportunity to meet him personally yet. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to have disappeared into the Muggle suburb and not surfaced for anyone. He had sent no letters, although Cassy had sent them to frequently, even at the busy times of her holiday.

Initially, she had thought it was because she was in Iceland and so Hedwig was unable to fly that far, or perhaps Crin's dislike for the other meant he dumped the letters as he always returned without them, but then Neville contacted her. He was worried. He had not heard anything more than she had and all his letter's were gone, obviously untied and taken when the owl came back. Concerned, he asked her what could be wrong and Cassy had a sinking feeling, but no proper answers. She promised him that if by July thirty-first they had not heard anything, she would personally visit Harry's relatives house.

That date was fast approaching, but Cassy had thought little of it in the last week. The death of her great, great aunt came as a shock to everyone, despite her old age. Cassiopeia was healthy and very much able to conduct herself in a manner that off-put even the most head-strong of young wizards for giving her grief. However, one morning they received an owl from Lucretia, informing them a hysterical house-elf had been to see him when she had not risen one morning. The next few days had revolved around that and shortly after the funeral the family had banded together to sort through her monstrously cluttered house.

The spoon clinked against the porcelain cup as she stirred in another lump of sugar. She lifted the saucers of both cups carefully and glided back into the living room, placing one down on the bookshelf nearest Alphard and her own on the small table beside the leather armchair. Carefully, she perched on the arm and picked up the top paper from the growing pile on the seat, tea in her other hand.

'Don't mess them up,' Alphard muttered, frowning as he read another.

'I won't.'

It was an official letter, unlike many which were letters of personal correspondence, from the ministry. As she scanned, Cassy's eyebrows rose.

'She was a bugger when she was young. Always getting into trouble.' Alphard was not even looking at her, but seemed to expect her reaction. He spoke in a flat tone that he often used with her when he knew she had done something she should not have but he had no way of proving it.

Cassy slowly pulled the tea cup from her lips and put the paper back on the pile. 'So, she has always had a... feisty outlook, then?'

'Calling it feisty would please her far too much,' he muttered, glancing at her over the lenses of his glasses. 'Your grandmother and I were raised to call her rowdy. It used to drive her wild because she thought it made her sound like a teenage boy, but she never stopped. My father said it was part of his duty as an older brother when she used to hex him.'

'How can she complain about being call rowdy when she got into a brawl?' laughed Cassy. 'I should think I would get more than a letter home from the Headmaster if I punched a boy.'

'I hope you have more restraint than your namesake.' Alphard peered up without raising his head and shot her a meaningful look. He mumbled, 'But if you absolutely must, I hope you have the sense to do so and get away with it.'

Cassy smiled into her tea cup, pretending not to have heard him as she read another paper.

There were small thuds, followed by a louder, deeper one. Snappy swearing could be heard from the room directly above and became clearer as the speaker stepped into the landing and stomped down the bare stairs. Emerging from the hall and into the living room dishevelled and highly irritated was Ignatius Prewett. He was Cassy's great uncle through marriage to her great aunt Lucretia, arranged, but the two had grown to love one another as one may love a close friend. They had no children, content with each other's company regardless of expectations. Although the Black family were notorious for their privacy, Lucretia and Ignatius were two of few member's who really kept their business to themselves, even from the rest.

'To think 'Sia kept a cupboard full of books, who keeps books in a cupboard?' he exclaimed to no one as he picked his way through the papers. 'I need a cup of tea, I would offer you one, Alphard, but I see you already have one.'

'That, my friend, is the beauty of having a young ward,' said Alphard, smirking at the floor.

Ignatius rolled his brown eyes, raising his black eyebrows and casting a Cassy a look as he cocked his head to one side. He asked, 'Didn't think to offer the rest of us one?'

'Aunt Druella forbid me from going up stairs. She instructed me to remain on the ground floor and not to touch anything if I can help it,' Cassy replied flatly, placing her tea cup back on the table.

'Watch your tone,' warned Alphard, quietly.

Ignatius did not seem to notice, or at least care, as he nodded thoughtfully and sighed. Running a hand over his combed, grey hair, he looked towards the door way briefly before giving her a sidelong look of understanding. 'I'm not surprised. Never mind then.'

'I can make you one now if you would like.'

'No, no,' he said dismissively. 'I am quite happy to make my own.'

Cassy was certain this was just in case Lucretia came looking for him and he would rather not be caught idling about talking to them, but be seen doing something he could pass off as necessary – even if he would have to make her tea as well. He disappeared into the kitchen and the faint whistle of the kettle began to sound again as it had not long since boiled.

'Are you planning on sorting through all of these today, Uncle?'

'No, there are far too many. My dear aunt collected a lot of rubbish, so I would think I may have to return and spend another two or three days here to sort it out properly.'

'If there is not more in the other rooms.' Cassy smirked as she watched Alphard purse his lips.

'Yes, but I don't even want to think of that possibility at the moment.'

Cassy leant over and picked up a leather-fronted book, filled with moving pictures that seemed to be from the forties or early fifties. She began turning the pages as the kettle whistle became louder, screeching for the attention of Ignatius, who seemed to have forgotten it was boiling. The noise died slowly and not long later he returned with a steaming cupful and perched on the arm of the sofa, much like Cassy did the armchair. He look a big gulp and sighed contently.

'Just what I needed,' he said.

Alphard removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Back clicking as he stood, he moved towards the window, pulling open the heavy curtains to let the last of the natural light in, deciding they had been closed long enough in respect. The lamp light was beginning to hurt his eyes and his legs had long since gone numb from kneeling. He shook them lightly.

'I am going to speak to Narcissa for a moment,' he informed, before exiting slowly.

Cassy returned to the photo-album, eyeing the waving figures with interest as she tried to guess who each of them was. Many she could recognise were merely because they were family. At one point she even saw a photograph of her grandmother, although she was not smiling, standing next to a younger Alphard and Cygnus. None of the siblings looked at all pleased to have their picture taken, posture stiff and chins high. Cassy was amused to see that had not changed in forty-years.

She angled the book to give a better view to Ignatius, who had moved to stand beside her, propped up by one arm resting heavily on the back of the armchair. He pointed down, giving names to the faces she had never seen before and filling in their roles in the family's social dynamics.

'That is Ted Rumen, he was your Grandfathers accountant, of course, he stayed on after his death and cared for your Grandmother in her last years. He's retired now though, she was his last client,' he explained, pointing towards a tall, thin man with round spectacles. He moved onto another, taking the time to point out some of the deceased members of the Black family from before Cassy's time.

'Who is that next to Great Grandfather?' she asked, pointing at a small boy with neatly cropped hair standing next to Pollux. The colour was difficult to determine, as the photograph was in black and white, but it was clearly dark and it looked as if he had pale eyes as well.

A family member, perhaps? She thought, looking up at the other.

Ignatius sat with furrowed brows, the book close to his face as he squinted at it. 'I... don't know. Looks related doesn't he? He might be a friend, I don't recall ever meeting him, but by this age my memory betrays me...' He flicked over the next couple of pages.

Light thuds sounded again and Alphard reappeared in the doorway, glancing at the two as he made with way back over to his clear circle of mat amongst the nest of papers.

'Here, Al,' Ignatius said, pointing as he leant closer. 'Who is this?'

Alphard placed his thumb over the spot he was pointing to and drew the book into himself as he knelt back down. He studied it for a few moments before passing it back. 'Marius.'

Cassy collected the book and stared at Alphard with unrestrained curiosity. It was uncommon for his to give such curt replies and only refer to someone by their first name. That seemed to dawn on Alphard quickly, as he looked up at her.

'Marius, I don't know what his surname is now, but he was a member of the Black family.'

'Was?' asked Cassy, carefully.

'Was, until he was eleven. Marius was a squib, so my father told me, and although parents of Squibs are obligated to care for their children until they are seventeen, he was practically dead to them for the next six years. As soon as he reached that age he packed and left, they did not even have time to force him out. I never met him and nobody knows where he went.'

'I suppose nobody ever tried to look,' muttered Cassy, looking at the poor boy, her great, great uncle for a moment longer before turning the page.

Alphard said nothing, although she was sure he had heard her. Instead, he began shifting papers and put on his spectacles again. 'Anyway,' he said, 'you are to be going home with Narcissa tonight, Cassy.'

'Excuse me?'

'You will be staying at Narcissa's. I have a lot of work to do and won't be home until late. I can't leave you on your own, so you will be staying with her overnight, perhaps two, depending on how much there is to do upstairs.'

Cassy felt the weight of Ignatius' arm lift from behind her and he promptly exited into the kitchen. She stared at her uncle critically, then moved them to the netted window. 'When do I leave?'

'Soon, Narcissa is just finishing up clearing out the wardrobe, then she will take you home to pack. She should be no longer than ten minutes.'

Cassy remained silent, staring ahead. Her eyes tensed in a distasteful expression and her lips drew back slightly at the corners. Papers rustled and Alfred sought to indulge the mood no more, but he glanced up when she was not looking, just as she looked down when he read. Shaking her head, Cassy sighed.

'You can hang a painting over a crack, but it won't make it disappear,' she said, looking imploringly at her uncle. 'It will take a little more than putting us in the same house to make us get along again.'

'What makes you think I'm doing this for you two? I need to work and Narcissa is always pleased to have you. It really had little to do with your squabble.'

Cassy stared flatly and said, 'You have left me alone many times before, Uncle. Plus, you said this will take you several days, meaning you would need to return home at some point each day so you could just check on me then. Not to mention you have avoided attending any dinner invitations the Malfoy's have offered us, showing you are conscious of the issues Draco and I still have.'

Alphard stared back and sighed to himself. 'Since when were you so observant?'

'Always,' she answered lightly.

He rolled his eyes and looked down at his papers with the faintest hint of a smile. 'You're still going.'

Cassy deflated.

It was less than five minutes before Narcissa entered, sleeves of her blouse rolled up and hair pulled back into a bun. She looked as if she had been moving heavy boxes or pulling up carpets, although Cassy suspected she had just be rummaging through Aunt Cassiopeia's wardrobe with the aid of her wand.

'Ready?' she smiled, patting non-existent dust of her skirt.

Cassy stood, readjusting the hem of her dress. She hopped over to her cousin, standing beside her with a strained smile. Looking back at Alfred, she noticed he had turned, still crouching, but the papers were no longer in his hands. He stared back, eventually nodding and bidding them a good evening.

Narcissa opened the door and strode down the short stone pathway, upon reaching the curb, she turned and offered her arm. Cassy took it, standing straight as they disappeared with a small pop towards her home.

Once inside, she was not allowed to pack for herself. Instead, she watched as Narcissa pulled several sets of clothes from their places and folded them into a small trunk she had pulled out from the back of the wardrobe. Enthusiastically, she handed it to Cassy who took her arm again, feelinh far better about the arrangement than Cassy could muster.

There was a familiar tugging at her navel and the world around her swirled once more, but just as quickly as it began, it was over and she was left facing the familiar white décor of the Malfoy family living room.

Pulling away, Narcissa leant around the doorway and called, 'Draco, dear, we have a guest, please come down.' She turned back to Cassy and smiled sweetly before sweeping around the corner and out of sight quickly.

Cassy stared after her flatly, listening as the footfalls on the stairs grew louder. Draco popped into view, not immediately seeing her as he scanned around for his mother. When he did, he jumped, eyes widening, then his eyebrows knitted down.

'What are you doing here?' he barked, looking her over and focusing on her luggage at her feet.

'I'm staying here.'

'For how long?'

'For as long as it takes for Uncle Alphard to sort through Aunt Cassiopeia's documents,' she said simply, showing next to no enthusiasm for the idea.

Draco pulled a face as he made a small "ugh" sound, allowing his shoulders to slump back and roll his eyes down the hall to where Cassy assumed Narcissa was.

'Don't pull that face, Draco,' sounded the disembodied voice of his mother. 'Go outside with your cousin.' Cassy and Draco suddenly wore identical faces of displeasure, but only the latter's was visible from where she stood in the kitchen. 'I mean it.'

Cassy poked her head around the door frame, asking, 'What should I do with my things?'

'I'll get someone to take them up for you,' Narcissa said, although still not visible. 'Dobby!'

There was a long pause, but no crack or voice sounded. The children peered around from where they stood, sharing a look of confusion. Narcissa came into view as she gazed down the corridor at them, but Draco shrugged in response.

'Dobby!' she tried again.

This time there was a crack and a grubbily dressed house-elf appeared by her side. It looked up, large eyes widening more at the look on his mistress' face.

'Where were you? You didn't answer my call.'

'Dobby was in the greenhouse, ma'am,' he whimpered. 'Dobby was so wrapped up in de-fleaing the Malacomb cucumbers he did not hear. Oh, Dobby is a bad house-elf, bad, bad.'

Dobby began to smack his head on the kitchen cupboard doors, grunting with each blow. The sight made Cassy look away discreetly, turning her head slightly down to the left, but she could still hear him.

'Never mind that,' Narcissa said, waving her hand. 'I want you to take Cassy's belongings upstairs to the room she usually has.'

The elf whined and bowed low, skulking past and collecting the case from Cassy. 'Oh, oh, Dobby will have to iron his hands tonight. Bad Dobby, bad,' he muttered inaudibly, but Cassy just caught it as he clambered up the stairs.

She looked to her cousins, but neither seemed to pay the slightest bit of attention to the mantra. Narcissa had busied herself sorting through a pile of letters and Draco was rubbing his foot along a scuff mark on the floor, wasting time before they were forced outside.

Cassy briefly wondered if she could slink upstairs, or pretend she was really tired and ask to go to bed as to avoid spending time with the other, but she was sure Narcissa would see straight through it. Even if she did not, it would be unlikely Cassy would be allowed to leave until she and Draco had confronted each other. She sighed when she felt eyes upon her.

'Well, are you two going?' It a command disguised as a question, forcing the pair to shuffle into the kitchen and out the back door with no arguments. Draco slipped on shoes that sat on the step and waltzed out quickly, not waiting for Cassy as she drew the door closed behind her. She thought if she were to turn and look, she would see her cousin watching from the window.

They wandered out far, beyond the boundaries of the garden and into a field beyond. While walking the beaten path through a golden field, down a slope towards a small river, they said nothing. Draco did not even turn to see if she was still following, rather having his own agenda with little regard to her at all. Soon, they stopped by the riverside and Draco took a seat on the recumbent tree trunk. Cassy moved to the right, sitting in an old, wand-crafted swing. The rope was brittle and frayed beneath her fingers, dun from years of rain exposure.

Her heels dug into the ground as she began to gently push herself back and forth. Like Draco, she stared straight ahead, past the river and into the field beyond. It had not changed since last summer, that much she was certain of. The golden wisps still spouted in every direction, the wind still ruffled them with ever breeze and the old windmill still stood tall in the distance. Cassy half expected it to have changed beyond recognition, or at least have details, imperfections in the land she had never seen before; just something that made sitting in silence with Draco easier. Just something for her to concentrate on instead of the overwhelming quiet, or perhaps something that made her feel as if they were not the only ones who had changed over the past year.

'What happened at the end of last year?' he suddenly said, taking Cassy by surprise. 'Everyone wakes up one morning and three students are in the hospital wing, Dumbledore's back and Quirrell is gone. Yet, nobody seems to know what happened.'

Cassy stared at him, although he had not turned to look at her. He fiddled with a stone he had picked up, brushing the dirt from the surface. Looking back ahead, she shook her head.

'I'm not allowed to tell you. The Headmaster made us swear.'

'A magical oath?' he gasped, eyebrows shooting to his hair line as he turned.

'No, just a promise.'

Draco relaxed, but kept one eyebrow raised. He said, 'Well, you can tell me then. There's nothing stopping you, besides, I want to know what you did that was so bloody special it won you so many points.'

'Ah,' she smirked, 'you're jealous we won the House Cup.'

'I am not! Besides, you only won because Dumbledore favours you lot.'

Cassy let out a hum, leaning back on the swing as Draco threw the stone into the water. She watched him out the corner of her eye, waiting until he turned away.

'Maybe,' she said loudly, 'but had Harry not been unconscious you wouldn't have won anyway. Everyone knows Gryffindor had the best Quidditch team.'

Spluttering, Draco span around, swinging his legs over the edge of the trunk so he could get a better view of her. He gapped openly.

'Don't start that,' he ordered shrilly. 'I don't want to hear it. Of course Slytherin have the best team. We won't lose next year, not when I'm going to try out for the team!'

She breathed out lightly as his shoulders lowered. An easy smile graced her lips as he spoke, she found herself back in familiar territory.

'Good luck with that,' she said in a mock mutter.

Draco heard her loud and clear, offering a simple scoff in return before running his hand through his loose hair. For once, he had not jelled it, having nowhere to be and nobody to impress.

'Besides,' she added, trying to keep the conversation going, 'it is not as of Professor Snape does not favour the Slytherin house. Our Head is quite pleased to be as harsh as anyone on us.'

'It's not favouritism; he just knows we're the best, especially me.'

'He's your Godfather, he's obligated to like you,' she scoffed, looking away casually as Draco turned to argue.

He did not, choosing instead to slide off the trunk and collect more rocks. He threw them one at a time, making them skim across the surface of slow moving water.

'You still can't do that, can you?' he said, not turning to look as he threw another one.

Cassy shook her head, even though he could not see her do so. For all her intellect, she had never been able to do it just right. A few times, she would get a jump or two, but never enough to reach the other bank as Draco often did.

She moved to stand beside him, taking the offered pebble and ran her fingers over the smooth edges. Leaning her arm back as Draco did, she threw it, earning a loud, low plop as it sank immediately.

With a turned head, Draco snorted, gaining a light whack from Cassy before she pried another pebble from his hand.

'Stop watching me,' she grumbled, halting in position.

'You're doing it wrong,' he said, smiling.

'Show me then,' she said, righting herself and gesturing for him to go ahead.

He rolled up the sleeves of his shift dramatically, readying slowly and squinting as if taking aim. He flicked his wrist and the pebble skimmed clean to the other side, landing with a series of small clicks as it collided with the rocks on the bank.

'That,' he said smirking, ' is how a professional does it.'

Cassy rolled her eyes and let a comfortable silence envelope them. She wanted to break it, to voice thoughts and feeling she needed to say, but progress could be a fickle thing and she did not want to destroy everything they seemed to have gained -regained or rediscovered, might have been better words, she thought, for their friendship was never truly lost.

Looking sideways, she noticed Draco's grey eyes on her as well. He looked startled and a hint embarrassed, only a hint because seeing a Malfoy genuinely embarrassed was unusual, but did not look away, seeing no point when she had already caught him.

'I'd kind of forgotten what this was like,' he admitted, although his voice was not soft. Instead it was casual, as if it held no fond memories at all. However, Cassy knew that if it did not, he would not have commented and he would not have stayed.

'Too busy hating me?' she asked, trying to get a reaction, wanting to know where she stood.

'I never hated you,' he said, frowning. 'I just... don't like your house and your friends.'

'You treat me like you hate me.'

'You treated me like you hated me,' he bit back. 'I didn't see you make an effort.'

'I tried to reason with you. I tried to tell you I am still me, the same person you grew up with, but you never gave me a chance to prove it. You couldn't see past my colours and my friends.'

Draco looked as if the thought of sneering and leaving crossed him mind, but he simply shook his head furiously.

'But he's Potter, the Golden Boy.' He almost whined as he spoke, making the corners of Cassy's lips tug upwards.

'I don't expect you to be friends with them, but you can stop being so horrible. That's all I want,' she said, looking at him meaningfully.

Draco sighed, 'I make no promises. We both know I probably won't keep it.'

For everything they had and had not said that year, nothing had really changed. For that, Cassy was glad.

Right! Year Two has officially begun!

What do you think so far? I thought I needed to patch things up a tiny bit with Cassy and Draco, although they're not going to be best buddies at school. They still have their separate circles, after all. I hope I'm doing Draco justice, to some degree, because honestly, I'm not sure what to do with him. You only ever see him as rude and snarky to Harry and Co. or with his parents on some official business. I'm trying to portray him as relaxed and friendly, which I believe he would be with his family. Still, I hope it's all right.

All of the Black family mentioned are real characters. Ignatius came across a lot nicer than I originally thought him to be, but it occurred to me that Molly Weasley was a Prewett and her family was shown to be brave and honourable, so I can't imagine Ignatius being too different. I don't think having a respectable marriage means you have to wed a bigot. He probably won't appear until third-year again though.

Hope you like it and a big thank you to everyone who reviewed the previous story. I hope you will all stick with me through this one.

Thanks!