He brushes off her comment about going back to Beauxbatons as simply the result of her bad mood. Just a temporary lapse, something she had surely come to her senses about by the morning. They don't talk about that night again, and the next week passes normally. Anyway, he has bigger problems to deal with. Namely, Malfoy. Getting that fucker the fuck away from her before he causes any more trouble.
The end of term party is that weekend and he thinks of a way to use it in his favor. A special brew concocted just for her, a well-timed whisper to Malfoy by one of his minions, and an even better timed rescue from Malfoy by Tom. A way to turn her against him and continue to win over her trust for himself.
To avoid any suspicion, Tom does not linger at the party himself. He just does his customary drop in at the start, making the rounds to say hello and cultivate his popularity. Watching out of the corner of his eye as Cain takes every victory drink he's offerred. Watching as she slips loose from his hold, tired of the Quidditch talk, to find Selwyn and a group of other girls who she can stand being with. Watching as Nott approaches her to offer a drink from the very special bottle of champagne which he claims to have acquired for her - which Tom had actually given him. Then he departs.
It should still take a while for the effects to kick in. Long enough for him to sneak into the restricted section and finish the other task he has planned for tonight. Short enough that everyone else will still be enjoying the party when she leaves.
Tom watches from around the corner as she stumbles before catching herself against a wall, pressing her palms flat as she leans into it. Malfoy steps forward, right arm outstretched, until he's close enough for his fingers to brush against her thigh, and says reassuringly, "Let me take care of you, Cassandra."
"I'm fine," she mumbles. She tries to pull away but he pushes forward, trapping her against the wall so that if she tries to move her legs she will trip and lose her balance instead. He closes his fingers around the fabric of her skirt, bunching it up until he can feel her skin. She reaches back to push him away. She misses. Her speech is slurred, "I told you'm not interested."
He grabs her arm with his right hand before she can try again, pulling it back so she can't stop him again. This time he slips his left hand underneath her skirt before pushing it up. He squeezes her leg just above her knee, using his grip to push her back against him, as he says, "Don't pretend to be so modest. I won't tell, so you don't have to worry about him."
"I'm not," she scoffs as she tries to twist her arm out of his grip. He pulls her leg, spreading it apart from the other despite her best efforts to try to keep them together as she slurs, "Don't like you."
"Now, we both know if that was true you would have found a way to get me off of you by now even in this state, don't we? Besides, your body rather gives you away, love," he teases, sliding his hand between her legs. He lowers his head to press his lips closer to her ear and whisper, "Relax, Cassandra. Give yourself to me and I will give you so much more than you ever dreamed of. All that brat wants is to race around on brooms for the rest of his life. I'll become minister one day, don't you want to be the minister's wife? And don't even get me started on the little orphan boy and how pointless that is."
He wedges his knee between her legs to keep them spread as she continues trying to squirm away. As her stance widens, she leans her chest into the wall in front of her, no longer able to keep her balance on her own. She hisses back, "Take your hands off."
She yelps as he tightens his grip and pushes her harder against the wall. He warns, "I said relax. We'll have so much more fun if you play along. Don't pretend you don't want to."
"I'll tell," she whispers. One last desperate attempt to get her out of this now that she realized she's not physically able to do it on her own, no doubt.
"Please do. Not that anyone will even believe your version of the story. They'll think it's just a desperate attempt to come off as less of a slut than you really are. After all, your reputation has already taken quite a few blows. This one will likely prove fatal. You'll be ruined for anyone else. All mine."
"I would nev - fuck," she cries out as he moves his hand. From this angle, Tom cannot see what Malfoy is doing exactly - but he knows whatever it is he wants to kill him for it. Not yet, he reminds himself. He has to let Malfoy finish digging his own grave first. She takes a few more shaky breathes before whimpering, "Stop."
"Aww, are you about to come for me?" Malfoy teases.
Tom is not sure if even she expects what happens next. Certainly, the potion was meant to suppress her magic. To muddy her head so much that she wouldn't be able to control it and get it to come out. Suppressed - definitely not. Out of control - it appears so.
Malfoy is thrown back, hitting the wall with a crack. He crumples to his knees, then tries to stand. A ring of fire encircles him. Suddenly he's clawing at his clothes as if he himself is on fire, even though the flames haven't touched him. He's begging for her to stop. She just stands a few inches away, glaring at him with a smile and a blank look on her face. He falls back down to his knees. He's holding his head and crying.
Tom is fascinated. By the look of terror on Malfoy's face. By how calm she is about the whole thing. As if she doesn't even realize what she is doing.
And then he realizes she most definitely does not realize what she is doing, because the harm she is inflicting passes beyond cruel to potentially deadly. The flames are lashing out to lick at his skin now, leaving welts and scars. He's screaming loudly enough for someone to overhear, and she isn't bothering to silence him.
Tom steps forward, intending to make her snap out of whatever this is, but she does not even look up. He tries to get her attention by saying, "Cassandra… Cass! Look at me. You have to stop or you're going to get expelled."
Still no response. He keeps going until he's close enough to touch her shoulder before trying again, more softly this time, "Cass, look at me."
She shakes her head and does. Malfoy's screaming stops and he falls forward, only his trembling arms holding him up. He's just panting now, trying to catch his breath. The fire disappears as if it was never there. Tom pulls out his wand and stuns him. She looks at him, eyebrows raising as if she's understanding for the first time what she's done and exactly how much trouble she could be in for it.
"Listen to me. I'm going to obliviate him, then take you back to the common room. You can't mention a word of what happened to anyone, understand?"
She nods. He does the spell, then wraps an arm around her waist to help steady her on the walk back. Luckily, the common room is still empty when they arrive. He hobbles his way up the steps to the boy's dormitories with her. There's blood on the hem of her dress and neither of them know if its hers or his, so he offers her one of his shirts to change into.
"What if someone notices…" she starts, taking a seat on his bed, somewhat more comprehensible than before but still holding her head as if every word is a challenge.
"I'll take care of it. Drink this and go to sleep," he commands, voice stern, before turning away to draw the curtains around his bed. His attention is called back to her with a whisper of his name. She doesn't say anything else but when he looks at her he knows what she wants to ask. He drops to his knees so he can look directly at her. "Why would I be afraid of you, Cassandra?"
"It's not what it looks like, I didn't just… there was a reason."
Merlin, why does her face and the tone of her voice seem so familiar to him right now? He realizes it a second later. He'd probably said those exact words looking just as terrified and sounding just as worried when he was younger, at the orphanage.
"You don't have to explain anything to me, Cassandra. Anyway, I know. I heard some of it and just as I was about to step in - well, you know. As far as I'm concerned, he got what he deserved. But some of the professors might not see it that way."
"If they even believe me in the first place, you mean."
"As I said, I'll take care of it. Give me your hand," he orders. She reaches it out to him and he heals the red marks left on her wrist, checking for any other injuries he can see before looking back at her. "Go to sleep, little witch."
She nods, an invisible thanks in her eyes, before laying down and closing them. He pulls the curtains around her and then sets to work.
It will be too obvious if he goes back to the party himself. Instead, he goes down to the common room and waits until the first one, Mulciber, comes trailing back - likely struck out early with all of the girls there as usual - then orders him to get the others, as well as Greengrass and Selwyn for good measure, without making it too obvious they are all leaving together.
Avery and Selwyn come first, luckily. He orders her to go up, muss Cassandra's bed, pull the curtains around it, and if anyone asks say she was already sleeping when she entered the room. The girl gives him a suspicious look and opens her mouth as if to ask for more information, but instead she simply agrees and goes up to the girls dormitories. He has Avery take a seat while they wait for the rest of the boys.
"What the fuck, Tom?" is the first thing Cain says upon walking into the room with the rest of the boys and seeing her. He storms toward the bed, looking back at Tom with an expression that can only be described as murderous.
"Feel free to move her if you'd like to be the one to wake her," Tom answers with a shrug, turning back to the rest of the group. "It goes without saying that what I'm about to say is not to leave this room, but I will say it anyway. Apparently, someone here was not paying enough attention to his girlfriend tonight, so Malfoy took advantage of the chance to drug her and try something in the corridors while pretending to walk her back. Luckily, I was - "
Cain blanches at the news, but it is Lestrange that speaks up. Interesting.
"Where is he?" he asks hurriedly. "Did you tell Dippet?"
"I don't believe there is any need to involve the headmaster in this, Lestrange. That is exactly why I called all of you," Tom says. He watches Lestrange carefully as he speaks, noticing the relief that passes over him. The rest of them probably interpret it as a choice to preserve her reputation. Tom can tell Lestrange understands there's another reason for it. Very interesting.
He continues, looking to the rest of them as he speaks, "Avery and Mulciber, go track down the Slytherin prefects on patrol tonight. They should be around the third floor now. Tell them you heard noises coming from the hallway outside the potions storeroom on your way back. Lestrange, with me. Nott and Rosier, go back to the party and make sure that no one leaves for the next half hour or so."
As the others start to shuffle out, Cain remains standing by her side. Tom rolls his eyes, assuming he is purposefully resisting his orders, "I gave her a calming drought already. There's nothing much else that can be done. The best thing for her is to sleep through the night and sleep it off. Trust me when I say this is the most you can do for her right now."
Cain grits his teeth, finally looking up, "I disagree, but we can deal with that later."
"Shit," the word rolls out of Lestrange's mouth quietly as soon as they round the corner to see the still crumpled form of Malfoy, burn marks covering most of his arms and cuts across his face and chest. Tom ignores it for now.
"Am I correct in believing that the rumors Malfoy smokes are true?"
"Yes," Lestrange responds curtly.
"Check and make sure he has his pipe on him," Tom instructs. Lestrange leans down and rummages through the older boy's pockets, nodding back up to him when he finds it. "Good. There's a secret passageway at the end of the hallway which I will open so it looks he fell down the stairs coming back in from a smoke break after he left the party. It'll explain any head injuries that can't be fixed. Heal the cuts and any large breaks you find, then check the corridor over there to make sure there's no sign of her. I'll work on the scars."
Lestrange nods again and sets to work without another word. Tom goes to open the door first, then comes back to do his part, chasing over and over again until there's barely no trace of the burns, "Vulnera Sanentur."
"Anything?" Tom asks a few moments later when Lestrange repairs.
"Just her hair ribbon. I picked it up. There's one thing I think might help," Lestrange says as he pulls something out of his robe pocket.
A bottle of firewhisky. Sharp thinking. Lestrange pats enough of it on Malfoy's clothes to make sure he smells strongly of alcohol. Tom takes the nearly empty bottle and smashes it at the foot of the stairs, leaving a puddle and shards of glass.
"Do you think that's good enough?" Lestrange asks nervously.
"Doesn't matter," Tom answers. "We need to head back now. The prefects can cover for any missing details. Let's go."
Silence lapses between them until they are halfway back and well out of the path the prefects will take down, at which time Tom decides it is a good moment to bring this up, "So, how many times has that happened before?"
"You noticed Cain doesn't know so you must know it can't have been often," Lestrange replies, staying calm outwardly but clearly uncomfortable.
"You are forgetting that there's exactly two people left who know what happened in that corridor. Cassandra and I. I highly suggest you answer my question."
"I mean, Cassandra always had a temper, but only once that I know of was it nearly that bad. There were just smaller things that added up over the years until I couldn't help but notice a pattern. It's not like… she's not dangerous, really, if that's what you're worried about," Lestrange answers. Even as he says it, Tom can tell he is lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth.
No wonder she'd asked if he was afraid. The only other person who seems to know is.
Avery and Mulciber come back a few minutes after Tom and Lestrange. Nott and Rosier follow about 15 minutes later, confirming the Slytherin prefects shut down the party after finding Malfoy to avoid anybody else getting in to trouble or Slughorn stumbling upon any stray students once he was alerted of the incident.
Of course, the first thing Nott does is head back to the common room to finish snogging a girl. the first thing Cain does is go to her side, taking her hand. The rest of the boys sense the tension in the room and busy themselves with preparing for bed.
Cain prods her and says gently, "Cass, darling, wake up for a second for me."
She stirs, opening her eyes to look at him, face furrowed in confusion for a second before she recollects herself and where she is. She turns toward him, laying her other hand on top of his as well, before muttering, "Cain. You look worried. Don't be worried."
He strokes her hair while attempting a smile, "Alright, I won't be, princess. Do me a favor and get up, yeah?"
She nods and follows his instructions. He shoots a look up at Tom as soon as she shrugs off the blanket to reveal that she is only wearing a rather disheveled white dress shirt, then pulls his own robe off to wrap around her as she stands and shepherds her over to his bed instead.
He sits on the side of the bed as he settles her in under the covers before asking, "Do you need anything, Cass?"
She sits up in the bed, her eyes locked on him as if he is the only one in the room, her voice low, "Water please?"
He uses the Aguamenti Charm to fill the cup on his bedside table and hands it to her. She drinks all of it and then gives it back to him.
"Anything else, darling?" he asks. She shakes her head. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," she answers, leaning forward against his chest as she wraps her arms around him. She mutters into it, "Tom took care of me."
"Yes, wasn't that nice of him," Cain says in a tone too polite to be anywhere near sincere. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, Cass. I promise that in the future, I'll - "
"I said not to worry, remember? I'm fine," she says with a crooked smile up at him. "You can't protect me from everything, Cain."
"I can try, can't I?" he answers back with the same crooked smile. She laughs, and it is a laugh she usually only laughs around him. A noise she's only made around Tom once, in the library. Not mocking or sarcastic or bitter or feigned. Just happy. "You know I'll always be here for you, Cass. Wake me up if you need anything, kay?"
"I know. I love you, Cain," she whispers before pecking him on the cheek.
The quill in Tom's hand as he writes out his schedule for the next day snaps in half.
Cain steps away as she lays down and closes her eyes again, drawing the curtains around the bed and then casting a silencing charm on them. Tom catches Lestrange perk up to attention as Cain turns to him, as if ready to jump in at the first sign of conflict.
He stands there confidently, arms crossed in front of him, as he declares, "For the record, next time my girlfriend is in trouble, just let me know."
"Why? Are you the only one who gets to rescue her, prince charming?"
"You really have to ask why after you used it as an excuse to put her in that?"
"Her dress was dirty."
"So? I thought I already made this clear enough - don't touch Cassandra."
"I wasn't the one that touched her. But I was the one that saved her. Something you seem rather ungrateful for considering that you were so pissed you apparently couldn't even keep an eye on her at the time."
"I did keep an eye on her, so I know I wouldn't have let her drink enough for something like this to happen. I know myself, so I know no matter how drunk I was I would never have let her out of my sight in this state."
"It sounds an awful lot like you are accusing me of something, Cain. What that is I cannot fathom."
"Of course not, Tom," he answers with a grin. "Just refuting your claims of my incompetence. I am perfectly capable of taking care of my girlfriend - and, yes, for the record I would like to be the one to do it in the future, since I am best equipped to handle it."
"Not in this case at least, it appears."
"Really? You found a girl who was drugged and decided to deal with that by drugging her some more. She's fine now but do you think she still will be when the potions wear off in the middle of the night and she remembers what happened?" Cain rants. Tom falls silent, staring down at the stained parchment in front of him, wishing he could snap Cain in half as easily as he'd broken the writing instrument still in his hand. Cain smirks and continues, "In the future, let me take care of Cassandra, since you clearly can't and its not your place to."
Tom waves his hand dismissively and returns to work. At least his sheets smell like her when he finally burrows into them after the rest of the boys have fallen asleep.
Tom is standing in front of his wardrobe the next morning, getting ready for the day after a hot shower and an unusually long night. He can't remember the last time he woke up this late, if ever. He can't remember the last time he slept this badly. Despite the number of hours of rest he supposedly got, he still feels like he is dragging.
A noise behind him prompts him to turn his head to look over his shoulder. He sees her climbing out of Rosier's bed and pulls his shirt on quickly. She stands up, the quidditch robe she is still wearing engulfing her frame, before shrugging it off and laying it on the bed gently.
"They've all gone off to practice," Tom says, turning to her. "Apologies, I assumed you'd gone as well."
"I know, he told me," she says, voice cracking, before taking a drink of water. "You shouldn't be apologizing. I should, but I don't like to, so I'll just say thank you."
She looks at him as if she wants to say something else, but remains silent for a few moments. He already knows what by the expression on her face. Knows what she's seen that has suddenly made her have the impulse to be kind. The whipping scars. That damned orphanage and their damned idea of punishment. Up until this moment, he'd been so careful not to reveal them to anybody else, always changing when the room was empty or in one of the bathroom stalls.
And he's still determined not to talk about them at least, so he grits out in the most polite tone he can manage, "No need. You can leave now."
He's distracted from his bitterness when she reaches for her own shirt - his shirt that she is wearing, actually - and begins unbuttoning the top. He stares, wondering what she is doing, until she pulls one side down and turns to reveal a series of long scars from the top of her shoulder running down below where he can see. Sunken instead of raised like his. The result of a cutting curse, he guesses. Or a knife.
"Who?" he finds slipping out of his mouth.
"My mother. Yours?" she responds calmly.
"The orphanage matron."
"The - " she starts with a look of surprise.
"Yes, you heard that right."
"I didn't know. Though I was wondering, to be honest."
"Why?"
"Lady Lilith. It's a muggle reference. And your name, of course."
"Is that what you laughed at that day?"
"No… mostly no. But I'm being honest when I say I didn't know."
"I know."
"Did you?"
"I guessed," he admits. For a second, he feels ashamed about it for some reason. Expects her to be angry at him for figuring it out. He waits but she does not bite back. He doesn't know what possesses him to ask next, "Can I?"
He does know that he definitely wants to touch her - nearly constantly, though more so now than usual - but he also knows it's a question he does not need to ask to know the answer to.
Unexpectedly, she nods.
He moves slowly in case he startles her or in case she changes her mind. It's the first time he's asked for permission to touch her. He wants it not to be the last. More so, he wants her to ask for permission to touch him. But she does not. She just stands still as he approaches her.
He runs his fingers across the marks, slowly, memorizing every inch of them, of her. Mesmerized by the fact that someone else has nearly the same scars. Mesmerized by the texture of her skin and the way goosebumps rise across the paths his fingers travel along it. Mesmerized by the warmth he can feel under the surface, like something in her is calling to him.
He loses track of time. He knows minutes have passed, but not how many, by the time she whispers, so quiet he almost thinks he imagined it, "Isn't it funny how broken people always find each other?"
"They tried to break us. They didn't succeed. At least, you don't look broken to me, Cassandra," he whispers back, leaning down so his lips are near her ear.
He bends his head to kiss her shoulder. She does not move away. He wants this moment to last forever. Until she turns her head.
He feels the gravitational pull of his body to hers, urging him to take advantage of her movement to press their lips together - and she doesn't stop him when he does. He's devouring her before he knows it, tongue greedily probing into her mouth, hands pulling her closer. She turns fully, keeping their lips together, letting him push her back against the bed post, his body molding to hers.
Nevermind, he wants this moment to last forever. He thinks it will in his mind. He feels like he is falling into a void he will never escape from. She's kissing him back and he is falling.
There's a bang in the hallway. She pulls back suddenly, head turning to stare at the door.
Right, she's technically someone else's forever. Or at least for now.
The noise passes, the door remains closed, and after a few moments she turns back to look at him again, faces still only a few inches apart. Their lips almost touch as she murmers, "This doesn't mean I like you."
"If you say so," Tom responds with a smirk.
"If you tell anybody, I'll kill you."
"If I don't, will we keep doing this?"
She doesn't know how to answer him out loud, so she just stares back into his eyes. He doesn't know how to say he needs it to be more without scaring her away, so he decides to take a tip from Cain's playbook to resolve the dilemma. He doesn't.
Maybe. Sometimes.
I won't say a word, little witch.