September 20, 1975 - Hogwarts

Following the incident, Sirius Black had been assigned detention with Hogwarts' caretaker, Filch, in addition to losing his house thirty points. It put him at odds with his older Housemates, at least those that had not yet been charmed by his popularity, and made him the target of resentful glares from across the dinner table.

She, on the other hand, had been placed with the Transfiguration Professor, making the whole experience of detention little more than advanced one-on-one lessons, which the two of them vowed to continue even once her punishment had ended.

McGonagall - or Minerva, as she'd been invited to call her in private - was especially impressed with her progress in her studies, reiterating once more the invitation to an apprenticeship.

Typically, these began in a student's sixth or seventh year, and continued for at least one more year after they had finished their schooling. Then, the apprentices were encouraged to intern with another Master, or self-study their field, before finally taking their certifications, and becoming a Master of their own.

It was a tempting offer.

With her father still off somewhere - or had he returned to the house? - she had no way of accessing her mother's money, however much there was left of it. Whatever the case, it was still necessary that she find a job soon after leaving Hogwarts, and really, she had few other passions outside Transfiguration.

I'll think about it, M–Minerva, she'd replied to the offer, earning herself a proud smile from the professor, and an invitation to practice an advanced transfiguration one more time before she left.

"What're you thinking about?" Remus interrupted her thoughts, looking up from his book. He pointedly eyed the ink which'd begun pooling on her parchment, and vanished it when she blushed in embarrassment.

"Nothing much; just got lost in my thoughts," she answered, before an idea came to her. "Say, Remus, is there anything you'd like to do after you leave here?"

The Gryffindor's eyes, which had been mirthful just moments before, dimmed. "A lot, actually. I've thought about working in the Ministry, 'bout being an Auror…"

"An... Auror?" Cassiopeia asked skeptically, laying down her quill. "That sounds a lot more like something Potter or Black'd like to do."

Remus paused, averting his eyes. "It doesn't matter - they wouldn't accept me anyway. Can you even imagine it - a werewolf protecting the community?"

"People wouldn't be happy," she replied, eyeing him sympathetically. "But I don't imagine you'd enjoy it there. What about– Professor Flitwick likes you, doesn't he? Have you given any thought to working with Charms?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but the voice seemed to die in his throat as he raised his eyes. Surprised, Cassiopeia turned to look, finding her housemate standing just a few feet from her, lanky hair almost completely obscuring his face as he scowled at Remus.

"Severus?"

He tore his annoyed stare from the Gryffindor's eyes, and turned to her. "Cassie. I've just completed a brew, and was wondering if you'd like to see it."

She paused, looking to Remus who'd already begun to pack his things with a resigned air. "...Give me a few minutes, Severus, I'd just like to finish this essay with Remus."

Severus's expression froze for a moment before he nodded stiffly, and turned to leave. "I'll be in the lab."

As he left, Remus had halted his tidying, looking at her in what amounted to no small amount of shock, and she flushed with guilt. Had he really expected her to abandon him as soon as Severus made his appearance?

"Come on, let's finish this."

She bit her lip. Looking back, she didn't think she could fault Remus for thinking that.

Some fifteen minutes later, the two of them had parted amicably, having more or less completed their essays for Professor Flitwick's class. They arranged another time for them to meet up, later in the week, and though Remus looked uncertain, she assured him that her abandonment would not be repeated.

McGonagall's support was empowering.

When she related this all to Severus in his lab, his response was, as expected, dismissive.

"He lets himself be walked over like a carpet," he said, decanting a small amount of the silvery potion into a vial. "Did he really accept all that without an explanation?"

She shrugged, settling onto one of the lab tables to better watch him. "I don't want to know how he'd react if I told him. I mean, he knows what happened last week, and he still hasn't changed how he acts with Black - they still seem to be friends. Would finding out that he threatened me on another occasion make that much of a difference?"

Severus paused for a second before answering, seeming caught up in the process of enchanting each vial with a seal. "Knowing Remus, no. If he felt forced to choose between you or him - " he cut himself off with a meaningful glance in her direction, before gesturing for her to come closer. "Draught of Living Death."

She did, fingering the vial which he handed her. The substance inside - which was normally a dark, silvery grey - now seemed to be more gas than liquid, a kind of swirling dark mist.

"It's inhalable, now?" she guessed, handing back the sample.

Severus nodded, seeming pleased by her deduction. "Unfortunately, in this form its efficacy is reduced, but one vial is still enough to imitate death for at least five hours."

"And you know this… how?" she asked, slightly alarmed.

"Arithmancy," he replied, tidying his tools. "It's much more useful in potion-making than I ever thought."

There was a second of silence. "Is this what you want to do then, with you life?" she asked, gesturing around the lab. "You have the talent for it."

Severus went quiet for a few moments, before settling down across from her, and resting his chin on his hands. "I've thought about it. Finding some Master, getting my apprenticeship, starting a brewery maybe. But - well, if only it was that easy. I don't think I could flee somewhere, and leave Ma here."

"Are you worried, then?" she asked quietly, wishing she was comfortable seeking out his hand.

He raised his brow incredulously. "People are dying, of course I'm worried." Shaking his head, he softened his tone. "Lucius - he'd been keeping me informed. Not of everything, but…" he turned to her, dark eyes intense. "It's going to be bad, Cassie. Worse, I think, than what we can imagine."

She bit her lip, and with hesitating movements intertwined her hand with his.

"I'm worried," she said finally, savouring the warmth of his hand against hers.

He didn't have much comfort to offer her. "Me too."

November 1, 1975 - Hogwarts

A flurry of dark feathers swooped in front of her face.

Surprised, Cassiopeia looked up from her buttered toast, finding herself eye-to-eye with a majestic specimen of bird.

The owl, black-feathered with silver eyes, was one she could just place in her memory as belonging to the Malfoys, although its appearance was surprising. Communication from Narcissa usually arrived at the beginning of the week, and with a much more inconspicuous owl.

On guard, she untied the letter, resolving to read it in her room as she caught the more poorly-hidden curious stares of her housemates.

She was glad she did.

Cassiopeia Nazyalensky -

When I first met you, some years ago now, I admit I was unsure what to think. I sensed power in you, yes, but power without control and discipline is meaningless, and you had little of it. You were a flighty little thing, and yet you intrigued me.

I began to investigate further. Your father is of no importance, but your mother's family is an ancient one, and was renowned in the olden days for their preservation of the purity of their name.

Your mother's marriage was the effort of generations, all culled in one savage blow.

I had hoped to convince you to salvage whatever purity is left. It would be a devastating loss to see the end to your family name, but all my efforts have been spurned.

I would tolerate this from no other, but my patience for you is not infinite. Do not make the mistake of thinking so.

However, I am certain that there is one of my convictions which you already hold, even if only in the recesses of your mind. I do not think anyone capable of forgiveness of the abuse endured at the hands of such vile filth.

For he is the lowest of the low, isn't he? The violence and savagery are as intrinsic to him, as they are to every non-magical being. Do you not wish to save others from suffering at their hands? I daresay it should be our shared goal to rid our world of their disease.

I hope that you do not mind that this necessary cleansing began with him.

Yours

Just as she was about to set down the correspondence, her father's battered wedding band slipped from the parchment folds, covered with blood.

•••

Thank you for reading, and to SilentMayhem for being a wonderful aid. Have a delightful week :)