April 21, 1976 - Malfoy Manor

"Cassiopeia," Lucius walked through the door, taking only a moment to knock before he entered. "Could I speak with you for a moment? It's an urgent matter."

"Of course," she replied, with some concern, leaving her desk. "Has something happened?"

"The Dark Lord has asked me to accompany him out of the country for a few days," Lucius replied quickly. "We are leaving in a matter of minutes - him, Bellatrix, and I."

"Again so soon?"

"I'm sorry - there is nothing I can do. When Narcissa returns, please tell her that I've left a note for her in my

study, alright?" he explained, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I'm afraid I have to go, Cassiopeia. Just - try to stay in the house, okay? You'll be safe here, the three of you."

"A-Alright."

"Good. I have to go now. I'll see you soon."

Cassiopeia watched as Narcissa paced, her normally calm and composed exterior falling away as tore herself and the rug apart in agitation. She stopped finally, abruptly, in front of her.

"He's going to get killed one day," she pronounced flatly. "He'll go out on one of these missions, tell me not to worry, and I won't see him back. If I'm fortunate, maybe I'll get his body."

"Narcissa - "

The witch's eyes remained hard. "My husband is going to die before he reaches thirty, all because of that monster."

"Narcissa," she chastised quietly, sympathy and unease clashing within her. "Don't say such things when the Lestranges are in your home."

"Then get them out."

"I can't, Cissa - "

"I want them out," she hissed, before her tone changed suddenly. "It is unseemly for a married woman to stay home alone with unwed men. I'm afraid our guests will have to leave."

Cassiopeia nodded. "I'll go inform them, then."

"I shall send for some elves to help them pack. Please pass on my most sincere apologies."

"Of course."

It was only when they were finally, truly alone that Cassiopeia could finally let go.

She hadn't even felt it before - the tension that she'd carried in her body, the stress that had been placed on her mind - but she realised now, how close she'd come to a breaking point. The environment of fear had transformed them all for the worse; she could only hope now that the transformation would not be permanent.

"Cassie - I'm… I'm unbelievably sorry for losing my temper with you," Narcissa apologised that evening, laying a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were glassy, and her face drawn.

"There's no reason to apologise," she frowned. "I'm not upset - you did nothing wrong."

"Don't say that, darling. I - I promised myself, when I was younger, that I wouldn't repeat my parents' mistakes. You didn't deserve to be the outlet for my stress."

She thought to refute Narcissa's words, to convince her that her actions were understandable, justifiable, even, but there was something in her expression - something that told her those words would pass her by unheard.

"Then… I appreciate your apology, and forgive you," she said. "For now, though, why don't you go to bed early? I think it would do you some good."

"You… might be right. Say goodnight to Severus from me, would you? Sleep well."

April 22, 1976 - Hogwarts

The next day, it seemed that Narcissa's worries had passed, or, much more likely, she had resolved to keep them concealed - keeping resolutely content as she put her and Severus to work, taking advantage of the emptiness of the house to do some spring cleaning.

They were joined by Tully, and tasked with the upper floor of the house, while Cissa and Dobby took on the rest. Truthfully, it wasn't a greatly difficult task - aided by elf magic, their wands, and a wonderfully-useful book of household spells from the seventeenth century. Still, when evening came, she collapsed into bed, weary and exhausted, yet feeling lighter than she had in almost two weeks.

Then, of course, came the dreams.

The room blinked in and out of focus. Colours swirled around her, muddled and distorted. There were voices - so many voices - but no matter how she strained to hear, they were always unintelligible - muffled, as though she were underwater. A sharp scent - spirituous and pungent - hung in the air. Her head was spinning, and her throat burned. She tried to move her limbs, but there was no response - not even the slightest indication that she was in control of her own body.

She awoke, sweat-soaked, and with a racing heart. Already, the details of the dream were fading away, but that feeling of awful helplessness, of vulnerability, remained with her throughout the night.

April 23, 1976 - Malfoy Manor

She needed to do this now - it would be the only opportunity she would have for a while.

In two days they would return to Hogwarts - with Dumbledore, and hostile students around every corner - and the summer, if all went to plan - she would spend with Professor McGonagall, far from anyone she knew.

Now. She needed to do it now.

"Severus?"

"Come in."

He was laying comfortably on his bed, dressed in a worn pair of sleeping clothes, and idly drawing on a piece of parchment. As she entered he looked up, his eyebrow rising as he realised what she held in her hands.

"... How exactly did you manage to procure that?" he asked, seeming remarkably unperturbed as he set aside his work.

"It wasn't actually as difficult as I expected," she answered, shutting the door behind her. "Dobby was more than happy to pilfer the wine cellars for me, and even recommended this - " she read the label, straining to see clearly in the dimness of the room, " - Pinot Noir."

"How… fortunate. May I ask why exactly I'm being involved in this?"

She pursued her lips, recognising the tone of his voice.

"Severus, I need to build up a tolerance, and the only way I can do that is by drinking. I can't leave myself so vulnerable to alcohol that just a glass makes me absolutely defenceless and inept - I can't. I just need someone to watch me - to make certain that everything goes alright. If it goes badly in any way, I promise I won't try again, but I need to do something."

She saw the reservation in his face, the worried furrow in his brow even as he slowly nodded his agreement.

"Will you be telling Narcissa?"

"She already has a lot on her mind," she replied.

Severus exhaled. "Alright - but, I'll dictate the rules. If I say enough, then enough."

"Of course."

He glanced at the clock, then pushed aside the covers, and allowed her to climb onto the bed. "I guess we won't be sleeping much tonight, then. Go ahead, pour the first glass."

With the slightest of tremors in her hands, she poured the wine into a small glass she had brought - filling it to the brim. The bravado she had put on for Severus faded quickly, and she almost choked on the harsh taste of the wine as she swallowed her first sip, already regretting her decision.

"You alright?" he asked, taking the bottle from her. "I don't think it's supposed to be that unpleasant."

She shook her head. "I'm just not used to it, I'll be fine in a moment."

She took a second to rest, before taking another sip. It went down much easier than the first, and she sighed in relief. The third sip followed, and then a fourth - much larger than the previous had been.

Too much. "It'd be easier if it at least tasted good," she commented after she had finished coughing. "But it just tastes… like alcohol."

"I believe that's the point," Severus responded, as she downed the rest of the glass, shivering in disgust. "Take it easy, Cassiopeia."

"Alright. Five minutes?" she asked, and he nodded. "Then tell me what you were drawing when I came in, so we can pass the time."

Two spots of colour appeared high on his cheeks. "It was nothing, just some meaningless sketches."

"Mm-hmm. Of what?"

"Cassiopeia… no more questions."

She smiled. "Or what?"

"Or…" he glanced around the room, seeing little he could threaten her with. "Or I'm not letting you stay under my covers."

"It's alright," she smiled mischievously. "I'm warm enough."

He shook his head. "And that would be the alcohol talking. It's freezing here."

"Ah… so that means - "

She tugged the covers off of him, and onto herself, and he rolled his eyes at her behaviour, before summoning a blanket from the sofa for himself.

"Hey," she pouted, reaching for her wand, before she realised it had disappeared from the bed. "Where did you put my wand?"

"Away. I don't need you to start cursing me when you're drunk."

"I wouldn't curse you."

"Of course you wouldn't." He nodded towards the bedside table, and she handed him the glass to fill once more. This time, it took her little over a minute to get it down.

"It does definitely get easier," she commented, setting the cup down. "Are my hands warm?" she asked him, holding them out. "It kind of feels like I'm sitting near a fire."

He'd barely touched her skin, before proclaiming, "No - they're cold. Tell me when it goes beyond that." He filled the glass again.

For a while, they sat quietly as she drank, taking her time with the next dose as she sipped at it slowly and carefully. After she had finished, she set the glass down, and moved closer to him, setting her head against his arm, and her legs against his.

"I thought you said you were warm?"

"It's still nice being next to you," she murmured into his shirt-sleeve. "But I'm also starting t'feel a little... lightheaded. I don't want to fall off the bed."

"Ah," he said, then added after a moment: "You do know, though, that drinking once isn't going to - 'cure' your intolerance?"

"Mm-hmm," she answered. "S'better than nothing, though."

"...Are you getting drowsy?" he asked, and frowned when she nodded. "No more drinking, then."

Cassiopeia pouted. "But I was just starting to enjoy it. I feel... I don't know... warm, and tingly... and nice. I can't describe it...you should try."

"And be miserable for fifteen minutes while I wait for it to kick in? No."

"C'mon, Sev. You'll like it," she implored, turning her eyes to him.

"Absolutely not." He stood firm.

"Please?" she asked, making her eyes wide. When he refused to even answer, she began trailing her fingers down his arms absently. "Sev…"

He gently pried her wandering fingers from his person, rolling his eyes when she refused to let go of his hands, instead pulling them closer, as if to examine them. She ghosted her fingertips over his skin, gently tracing the various marks and little scars that adorned it.

"You know... I've always thought you have lovely hands," she said, her voice hushed, almost reverent.

"Is that so?"

She nodded her head. "I can't look away... s'pecially when you're brewing. There's just something… magical... about them."

He shook his head. "The alcohol's gone to your head, Cassiopeia," he said. "Come on, you should go back to bed, and sleep it off."

"My bed?" she asked pitifully. "But it's so far… I want to stay here."

"I am not letting you sleep in my bed."

She leaned against him, smiling sweetly. "I promise I won't do anything…"

He sighed, mystified by her strange behaviour. "You're going to regret this in the morning."

"We'll see," she smiled, clumsily pushing the blanket off of him, and tucking the covers around them both. She entangled her legs with his, before laying her head against his chest. "Goodnight, Sev."

After a moment's hesitation, he placed his hand on her head, entangling his fingers in her hair. "Goodnight."

•••

Like I said, shorter chapter this week - sorry for the late release too, I got into a small car accident, and has to see a doctor. (Everyone involved is alright, thankfully.) Next week should be back to normal, hopefully, so I'll see you then.