Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just Cassidy and Troy and those few insignificant others… most of which will become significant later.

Well, I'm a bit sorry for not having this out sooner! This is where the story will kick off. I just wanted to let you know that from now on, things are going to get a hell of a lot more confusing, and prepare for the worst…

And this chapter will be half interview, and then the rest will be her story.

-x-x-x-

Chapter summary: Ginny questions a lot of how Narcissa's teachings have affected Cassidy after all these years, and the quiet girl can do nothing but reflect painfully also. Ginevra Potter can only pick out the clues so far to the puzzle she needs to fix, and all Cassidy has to do is hold onto her sanity when they plunge back into one of her most painful and influential memories… meeting Draco.

House of Drawn Shades
By Darkwing731

((--Chapter Six--))
Break

January 2006

Ginny was muttering furiously to herself, the feather to her quill zooming back and forth across the wad of paper where she had written notes excessively, in lists, columns, and shoved in any free spot she could fit or find. Clearly, she was trying to save as much parchment as she could.

Cassidy thought this was for good reason: her story was a long one, and Ginny would need to do a lot more than take notes. What she had to tell, well, it wasn't pretty. And nothing, no words could hold the true meaning, the true feeling of what poured out of her memory.

And somehow Cassidy knew that when this time came, and it would very quickly, that Ginevra Potter would not attempt to write anything down, but gape in disbelief instead.

There were empty tea cups pushed near the edge of the table, and a waitress came by and picked them up, clinking together the sides and looking at Cassidy expectantly. She ordered two more silently, and the waitress left again.

She tucked a lock of her raven hair behind her ears, her eyes darting to the window; the fog was clearing slowly, and lurking figures could be seen. Nervously, she looked down. She didn't want to start thinking about the possibilities of being found, and telling her story, nonetheless. She didn't want him to come around again, to have his eyes spark in malicious delight while she had to close her eyes to keep herself away from insanity.

She just wanted him to stay away… for good.

But she knew it would never happen, and she knew she never had a chance from hiding from him. She was surprised she had lasted this long with her children, only being discovered by her husband. Cassidy had to just keep holding on to the string of hope that had gotten tangled in her pitiful life.

And she knew that it was going to break soon. She wasn't safe for long—this was why she wanted to tell everything to Ginny, and quick. And maybe—

It's not like they've found out more than you, her mind said sharply. She didn't argue with herself, but she knew that her information was stronger… and her ideas, well, they wouldn't go unnoticed.

Anything about Hermione Granger these days never went unnoticed.

"Okay, so let me ask you a few questions," Ginny muttered, flipping back and forth between different sheets of paper and shifting her ink-stained finger across them. Her hand stopped, her fingertip poised: Ginny looked up, her face rather hard.

"I need you to explain as best you can, all right?" Cassidy nodded after a moment. "After the attack on Poland, you were kidnapped, and brought to that—that place. Voldemort did something to you, and everything was wiped out, except for the vague suspicions of what was left in that nightmare of yours. And then, all of that painful stuff." Cassidy didn't exactly see the question in this; she raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Why is it this happened the night of, and following investigations of the night that—" Ginny paused, and she glanced down at the table, clenching her jaw, drawing her strength together; "—that Hermione Granger committed suicide?"

Cassidy smiled, only a little. She didn't believe that Ginny had said that so freely. Only because it was written down, and all that the government could prove—at the moment, anyways. Ginny was an AIT, an Auror in Training, and all this reporting business was merely for classified information, so therefore, in order to receive information, she could not deal out opinions, merely justified facts.

But it was mutual this time, wasn't it?

"Is that really what you think?" Cassidy asked quietly. Ginny frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Cassidy leaned across the table without a moment's hesitation. If there was one thing she had learned, every wall, every surface, every person had ears against her.

"Do you think it was suicide?"

Ginny was still, and her eyes were round. The stony look Cassidy had on her face was not meant to hurt her, but it did. Perhaps Cassidy knew of the torment it would bring back to the surface, or perhaps she didn't. Was she really asking for an opinion, or a person to help in the convincing the world that it was murder, not suicide?

"That's not information, Cassidy, it's an opinion. I'm in training to be a government protector, so therefore—"

"But you see, I'm not asking the reporter. I'm asking the seventeen year old girl who was there to see Hermione die." Ginny was white.

"I didn't see it," she choked out. "Ron did." Cassidy cast her eyes to the table.

"You and Harry—"

"The rocks. The—the explosions. We—" But she couldn't say anything more. She pressed her palms firmly to her eyes for a moment, and then blinked, eyes glossy but her eyes harder.

"Even still," Cassidy continued on, as if she could care nothing for the painful memory that was ripping Ginny in two to think about; "Ron saw it. I've seen the reports after his words. Any information he wished to withhold was given to you and Harry, I know it. Tell me what you think."

It was unnerving how suddenly fierce Cassidy looked. Her expression had not changed much, but she was gripping the table, and her lips were parted, her breath louder. There was no anger, but maybe… desperation? Ginny couldn't tell, but the determined look on her face was driving the redhead mad with curiosity and an urge to walk away as fast as she could.

"There were other forces, so no, I don't think it was suicide," Ginny said suddenly. She glanced around, as if trying to catch any eavesdroppers. "But I won't say anything else on that matter. It's—"

"Concealed information. I know," Cassidy cut across, lips pointed downwards and her fingers drumming the table, only to stop suddenly. She pulled her hand out of sight, and placed it between her knees.

"Anyway," Ginny sputtered. She had lost track of what her point was, and what her topic of interrogation would be. She flipped the pages again, her fingers zipping across them until they stopped suddenly.

"I wanted to ask you previously, before we had gotten into that bit of… I need to know if you remembered anything from that night at all," Ginny said.

"No you didn't," Cassidy corrected her automatically. "You wanted to know why everything happened to me on that night, and following investigations of Halloween."

"Oh," Ginny said suddenly, frowning. "Yes, you're right. I must've… but tell me why, please."

"Well, I actually haven't a clue as to why it happened. Perhaps it was because well, Hermione and I—" Cassidy leaned closer, and Ginny's face suddenly flashed with understanding.

"You were both—special. A certain type of…" Ginny made a gesture that was rather obscure, but Cassidy nodded.

"Yes. I would think that was the main reason, for the Dark Lord wanted Hermione for one thing specifically, and me for another," she said, looking at her fingernails.

Ginny scribbled down some notes and stopped suddenly. "What were the reasons?"

Cassidy looked up, almost blankly. "Hermione for her power, and me for—" She stopped and bit her lip. "I can't tell you the rest."

"You have to, Cassidy," Ginny urged. She suddenly reached forward and clicked a little button. The grinding noise stopped. The café seemed oddly quiet without it.

"Tell me," Ginny said. Cassidy's face remained as it was: impassive, but her eyes were darker than usual. "Please."

Cassidy leaned across the table, not for the first time that day, and motioned with her hand. Ginny placed her ear near Cassidy's mouth. "I am to be the undying solider, the ultimate defender of the Dark Lord."

She pulled back quickly, and the little color that had been in her cheeks was gone. She pursed her lips for a second, but then she was quite colorless and blank as she was before.

"And are you?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide.

Slowly, Cassidy shrugged. "So far." She cast her eyes down at the table. "But at the moment, I'm in hiding, so anything I do is to keep myself hidden."

Ginny said nothing else, but merely stared at the woman before her. She fidgeted, and then hit another button, and the grinding noise resumed.

"Seeing as that was pointless to ask you," Ginny said, and Cassidy understood. She needed to fool the Auror's out of knowing what Cassidy had told her. She knew telling Ginny had not been a mistake—it would go to the right hands, and pass through the right ears.

"I would like you to tell me what I asked before," Ginny told her, taking up her quill again. "Do you remember anything else from that night?"

"Nothing more than I told you," Cassidy replied, her voice suddenly much colder than it had been. Ginny gave her a questioning look, to which Cassidy's face only hardened.

Ginny looked at her perplexedly for a moment, but then started scribbling furiously again, as if the world would end and it all depended on the efficiency of her notes whether a savior would come. She wrote and did not stop nor pause for several minutes, cramming in little lists and words into random spaces in which she could fit before she was forced to go to another page.

Ginny put down the quill and looked up again, her lips frowning slightly. "Tell me about Narcissa up until Lucius came into the picture."

"He never really came into the picture until Draco did, which was Christmas break, my first Christmas with the Malfoys," Cassidy explained, her voice rather flat. Ginny nodded.

"Narcissa was a strict teacher: she was firm, she did not waste time on foolishness and excessive mistakes. She punished when the time called for it, and she rewarded when she thought proper." Cassidy laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her fingertips.

"You said she hit you, and a fair few times," Ginny commented, a rather contemptuous look on her face.

Cassidy actually threw back her head and gave a little derisive laugh. "Narcissa cuffed me. It was a slight slap on the shoulder for saying something rude, if you will. No one actually hit me until Lucius got down to business with me and set me straight."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny said immediately, looking alarmed.

Cassidy's face was colder, and she looked mutinous at the memory that she was no doubt shortly reliving. "You'll see."

Ginny seemed to dwell on this dark statement for only a short time before she started asking questions, sounding crisp and professional.

"And what about Draco?" Her face wrinkled in distaste, and Cassidy could only conceal her smirk.

"When I met him during break, he was arrogant and easily angered. He was hiding something, I knew it almost immediately. But he seemed to enjoy his mother fawning over him and his wound, and tried to subtly stray away from his father. Not physically, but he didn't look at him, tried not to get involved in any conversations and seemed to glare at the back of Lucius' head whenever he got the chance," Cassidy said offhandedly, as if this were a memorized speech and it was only a matter of reciting it clearly.

"His wound?" Ginny repeated. Cassidy gave her a look.

"You know what I'm talking about, Ginny." Ginny made no indication that she even heard Cassidy speak these words. "From Halloween," Cassidy said quietly.

"When did you find out about those?" Ginny questioned, taking up her quill and writing something down.

The ebony haired woman was pensive for a moment. "I'd say about a year later. Of course I had heard bits and pieces of conversations, both from Draco and, erm, other sources, but I got it out of Draco's cousin a year into living with the Malfoys."

"You said you knew that he was hiding something when he came. Did you confront him about it?"

Cassidy's eyes flashed, and she suppressed a smile. "I did. He told me, boasted to me really, that he had been attacked viciously by a hippogriff, and when I asked him if I could actually see the wound, I could tell that it wasn't from a creature of any sort. It was too clean and too straight to be from talons or a beak. I knew it had been a stabbing of some sort."

"And did Malfoy—Draco, sorry, did he get angry?" Ginny inquired at once.

"Yes, very angry. He told me something that hurt quite a bit. More than anything else, actually. It's ironic when I think about it." Cassidy glanced out the foggy window again, breathing deeply. She would not meet Ginny's eyes.

"How so?" the redhead asked.

"Because, compared to everything else I've lived through, it should be something that I wouldn't even dwell on. But… I was innocent then. I had no idea what was going to happen to me, and his words hurt me more than any cuff or insult Narcissa had thrown at me."

"What did he say?" Ginny asked in a hushed voice, her quill quivering but not moving. She had forgotten to keep taking notes.

Cassidy smiled grimly.

-x-x-x-

December 1997

Narcissa was too anxious, and it bothered Cassidy. It was only her son coming home, for Merlin's sake. The boy wasn't the king of the world, or deathly ill. It was just Christmas break!

But she wasn't about to say anything or give any indication that she was longing to scoff. She wasn't about to let Narcissa know that she was annoying to the point of driving Cassidy up the wall. It would've given the Malfoy enough power to smirk and tell the girl to suck it up.

They weren't in the main foyer this time, but in the sitting room that the Malfoys had fought against the Weasleys in. There was tea, Cassidy noted with a slight smirk; china cups with rich steaming liquid, brown and swirling with cream. Gold and silver outlined the saucers and the cups in little intricate designs, and each curve of the porcelain delicate and quaint.

Lucius was scheduled to come home and to bring his son with him, and be here in five minutes. According to Narcissa, punctuality was everything, and Lucius would enter with their son in five minutes on the dot.

Their son. Narcissa had ranted non-stop for hours during the past week that Cassidy knew enough to write the bloke's life history. His name was Draco, (a name that earned Cassidy's sniggers) he was tall, just as beautiful and perfect as Narcissa and Lucius combined, intelligent and athletic and popular. He was well known, quite the younger version of Lucius himself and a witches' man.

Cassidy had remained silent through the telling of his history, but couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at her words. When she had asked to see a picture or a portrait or something that had Draco on it, Narcissa snapped that she couldn't.

For he was much handsomer in person.

And at that statement, she had earned a sharp cuff for snorting openly.

But now they were sitting on cushioned sofas, made of some soft leathery material that Cassidy didn't think possible to make. However, she sat comfortably, and sipped on her tea, waiting for Perfect Husband Lucius and Perfect Son Draco.

She rolled her eyes at this thought, and shifted in her seat, pulling at her dress.

She was not allowed to pick out her own attire that morning, for Narcissa had been livid when Cassidy had picked out the same outfit she had worn weeks ago for the trial meeting thing. Narcissa had literally torn it off of Cassidy, leaving her in her undergarments.

But now, she was wearing a bottle green dress, tighter than the last one had been and Narcissa was quite intent on making her wear a more updated version of a corset, something Cassidy had opposed to immediately… only to find Narcissa lacing her up five minutes later.

It did make her figure look nice, but she bloody couldn't breathe! It was so tight around her chest that her bust was pushed up and tied so tightly that she couldn't fill her lungs at all.

She had only learned to breathe by quick little breaths that filled her stomach rather than her lungs. It worked, but Cassidy was not pleased with having to convert to this.

Her hair was tied in a silky bun on the base of her neck, little slivers of curly ebony hair falling from her forehead, only to be pushed back constantly around her ears.

There was a noise, more precisely, an echo from the foyer, and Narcissa sat up suddenly in her seat. A little pop was heard, the scuffling of feet, and then the little squeaky voice of a house elf.

Footsteps, and then the shift of the doorknob as the door opened.

Cassidy smirked to herself; oh no! The end of the world is here! she thought sarcastically to herself, stifling a laugh.

Narcissa kissed each of Lucius' cheeks and welcomed him back. He kissed her in return, and went and sat on the sofa opposite Cassidy, where Narcissa was sitting. She smiled awkwardly at Lucius, who glared at her quite openly.

Turning away to see if she could glimpse Draco, Cassidy thought, Lucius is still wearing the bow, I see.

It sounded as if Narcissa squealed in delight as she nearly attacked Draco. But Cassidy knew better. Narcissa would not squeal because 'it sounded like a pig,' which was something that the Malfoy woman simply could not have.

"Mother, please." Draco's voice was deep, not sounding as dangerous as his father's and slightly amused.

"Oh Draco, how are you? I do hope you're alright after, well, you know. Please, tell me how it has been for you in school? Are you excused from the appropriate subjects for your injury?" Narcissa was flooding him with questions.

"Mother, I'm fine," he answered back in a clipped tone.

His mother gave a little sigh. "Fine, then. Into the parlor now."

Narcissa and her son came back into view, and upon viewing Draco, Cassidy suddenly agreed with all of Narcissa's bragging.

Draco was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome. He had gleaming silvery eyes, much like Lucius, and his hair was the same whitish blonde as Narcissa's. It was combed back, but slivers had fallen over his eyes, to which he tossed his head a bit to move them.

He was dressed entirely in black, bringing out his pale complexion even more. He quirked an eyebrow the moment he caught sight of Cassidy, and she noticed how sharp his face was.

She stood up at once. "Hello," she said nervously. She saw Lucius sneer at her from the corner of her eyes.

Draco moved forward and took her hand, kissing her knuckles. "And who would you be?"

"Erm…" Her eyes were drawn suddenly to the bulk of his arm, where it appeared he had his arm in a sling. She wondered what had happened to him briefly. "I'm Cassidy. Valeska," she added quickly, flushing.

His lips turned to a smirk; "Pleasure," he said, his eyes sweeping over her. "Draco Malfoy," he added, giving her a nod and a suggestive look.

Cassidy sat down, her hands fidgeting, and Draco sat next to her. He turned and gave his mother a little questioning glance, to which she gave a tiny shake. He seemed to understand and made no further silent inquires.

Narcissa sat beside her husband and handed him the tea and saucer. Lucius' eyes were glued on Cassidy, though hostilely. His lip was curled and he did not look too pleased about something.

"Really, Narcissa, why is she dressed so extravagantly? I said to give her clothing, not gold and silver to parade about in," Lucius said, glaring at Cassidy and then giving his wife an angered look.

Nice to meet you too, Cassidy thought dryly. She and Draco exchanged a look, and it seemed to the Malfoy heir that this was not surprising.

"Well, Lucius," Narcissa started, sounding slightly careful about her words. "I thought it appropriate since she was meeting both you and Draco." Which was, in fact, entirely true, Cassidy hadn't a doubt about that.

"If you had though that would change my outlook, it did not. Fashion will not move my opinion," he drawled, throwing Cassidy a distasteful look.

Now really, what had she done?

Narcissa looked slightly frustrated, but did nothing to defend Cassidy anymore. She was still for a moment, before she snapped her fingers. With a crack, a house elf appeared.

"Bonny, bring us something to eat," Narcissa ordered.

"Yes miss," the little creature squeaked, and disappeared once again. Cassidy frowned at its automatic obedience.

"I wouldn't bother with food, Narcissa," Lucius said. He gave Cassidy another dirty look, and stood. "I'm too disgusted to eat." And he walked out of the room, clutching a long, thin cane with a silver snake head.

Narcissa rolled her eyes a bit, stood up and followed Lucius out of the room, leaving Cassidy and Draco in silence.

She looked awkwardly at him, and he smirked slightly. "I don't think your father likes me very much," she said quietly, and gave a nervous little laugh.

"I can tell," he agreed. There was a moment of awkward silence (for Cassidy anyways), and she shifted around a bit while Draco took his sweet old time looking the girl over.

He had never seen her, never met her, never heard of her. But he sure as hell didn't mind having her live in his manor. She wasn't so bad on the eyes, and there were plenty of things he could do (preferably to her) during break and during the summer if he ever got bored.

Smirking to himself a bit, he could tell that this break would be a very boring one if he didn't do anything about it.

"So why are you here, exactly?" Draco questioned her, sounding polite.

She chewed her lip for a moment. "Apparently my parents are dead and your parents are my Godparents," she said as casually as if they were talking about the weather.

"Your parents are dead?" Cassidy nodded.

"It's alright, I can't even remember them. There was this huge accident or something, I don't really know any details, and they died and I lost my memory completely," she told him, and gave a little shrug.

"When was this accident, do you know?" He leaned forward slightly, putting his good arm on the back of the sofa, and his arm was draped so it was nearly touching her. She looked at his arm warily for a second before speaking.

"I think it was a few days before Halloween, but I'm not really sure. I woke up on the fifteenth of November," she said. "I was in a coma," she added after a moment to his curious look.

"Now tell me," Cassidy said. "What happened to you? Surely your arm hasn't been like that forever."

He smirked at this and leaned to her a bit closer, a smug look on his face. "Well you see, my father had taken me on a bit of a break from school, and since I'm Head Boy it gets very overwhelming sometimes. Everyone is always asking me for help and opinions and advice—" He gave a little dramatic sigh. "In need of entertainment we came across some Hippogriffs, and they uh, attacked me. Nearly lost my arm," he bragged to her, taking off the shoulder of his cloak with his good hand. He undid the top buttons to his shirt and revealed his shoulder and arm.

He was all bandaged up around the neck, and his arm was literally strapped to his side while gauze was slung under his shoulder, across his collarbone and around his neck.

She delicately touched the heap that was tied tightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"It attacked you here?" she murmured, her fingers grazing over it.

His smirk widened, and he ran his fingers through his hair and winked at her. "I nearly died, but my father bought the best doctors, not that it was a problem, we've got loads of money, and they pretty much brought me back from the dead."

She gaped at him a little, as if astonished and impressed, but she wasn't fooled. If a hippogriff had really attacked him, it would've injured a lot more than his neck. Even if it had made a lunge at him and giving him minor damage, it would not just be that specific area.

"And did it hurt your arm here too?" she questioned. She really didn't know why she was pretending to act so stupidly, but he seemed to be enjoying the attention. She was just inflating his ego, she could tell. And she would need to shut her mouth sometime soon.

"No. I managed to fight it off after it hurt my neck. That's the only thing that's wounded. It's pretty deep," he said, and this time he shifted so obviously that he was so close their legs were touching. Cassidy found this slightly suspicious, and only found it weirder when he casually draped his arm on the back of the sofa, and therefore on the back of her shoulders.

She raised her eyebrows, and suddenly stood up. "Well, I wonder what prompted them to attack you. Perhaps they were rabid?" she asked, striding towards the door. She turned and looked back at Draco, who looked sullen.

She smirked to herself and walked out, knowing that he was hurriedly following her.

-x-x-x-

They were in the main library, and she was searching around for the H section. She doubted she would find it, for she was stuck in the N's and couldn't find an H for the life of her.

Draco was watching her scurry around with little amusement. He just wanted her back over where he was so he could flirt with her a bit more. She was pretty, a fair catch and it was entertainment he wanted.

She paused after a moment, and huffing, went and sat opposite him at a desk. She looked frustrated. "This library is too big, I can't find anything in here," she complained. At first, the thought of Narcissa snapping at her to suck it up flashed through her mind, but she was with Draco, so did manners matter?

"I honestly don't see why you wanted a book anyways," he said. She frowned.

"To see what kind of things would prompt an attack on you, that's what," she told him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you wouldn't be able to find anything in here unless you searched for days," he drawled.

"I would too!" she argued, standing up and turning around. She looked about. "Now, if I was over there, perhaps the H would be somewhere around…" She drifted off in thought for a moment.

Draco took this opportunity to do something to his favor. He stood, taking the few necessary steps next to her and placing a hand very low on her waist. She turned around abruptly, winding herself closer to him, and ending up less than a foot from his body.

"You know," he said in a low voice, husky almost; "that dress compliments your figure magnificently."

She blinked, eyes wide. She was silent. He coiled the sliver of her ebony hair that had fallen from behind her ears, tucking it back again and leaned towards her, but—

"Boy," snarled a voice, sounding suspiciously like Lucius. Draco jumped back from Cassidy, who was asking herself in an astounding silence if Draco had nearly kissed her.

Draco's expression darkened at the sight of his father, livid and looking murderous, striding into the room. "I'll have a word with you, Draco. This moment," he spat, and stormed out again.

Draco gave an aggravated sigh, and with obvious reluctance strode out of the massive library after his father, muttering under his breath.

Cassidy watched them go, confused and trying to calm her pounding heart. She had only just met Draco a few hours ago, and he made a pass at her! Really, was he always like this?

She did not find out what was wrong by dinner, which was, almost entirely, a tense, quiet meal. All she could hear was the clinking of silverware and china before Narcissa was fussing over her son.

Cassidy was diagonal from Narcissa, who was to the right of Lucius. He was occupying the head of the table, and Draco was to his mother's left, Cassidy across from him. Draco did not look to happy about something, and he was glancing at his father darkly every few moments. Cassidy was tempted to ask, but at the moment she was trying to concentrate on which fork to eat the salad with, (Narcissa was watching her out of the corner of her eyes) and it was, so far, appearing to be a difficult task.

Cassidy had no doubt that Narcissa would continue to teach her everything about elegance and proper everything until the girl got it down perfectly. She knew it was going to be a very long time, and while she was educated in more important matters, mistakes would be handled harsher.

However, Cassidy had no idea of what punishments were to come. She knew nothing of the plans that Lucius had in store for her, and because of his, shall we say, home employment, every moment would be spent on her.

And soon she would know that these moments would be more painful than she could imagine.

At that moment, a steaming soup was laid out for the four of them, and Cassidy suddenly found herself nervous as her hands grazed over the multiple utensils that she could use. She had only a brief mention of which fork or spoon to eat with, and even if it didn't entirely matter to a common person, it mattered to Narcissa, and if it mattered to her, the Malfoy would make it matter to Cassidy.

The girl touched one spoon, and looked up at the blonde woman. Narcissa glared at her; Cassidy's hand switched to another, and Narcissa's angry look stayed the same. Cassidy grabbed the last one, and finally, there was no hostility left, and the girl could eat.

However, even though Narcissa had never mentioned the area of proper dining once, Cassidy could never forget the horrified, disgusted look when the girl had woken up from her coma and simply devoured the delicious soup, throwing all manners and first impressions into the wind. Cassidy would not have Narcissa looking at her that way again.

So most of the meal was focused on trying to eat as lightly and as carefully as possible. She watched the constant interaction between Narcissa and Draco with mild interest, finding nothing else to do besides that, and watching how she lifted her spoon.

Narcissa was fussing very dramatically over Draco, asking him if he wanted help eating, if she could do anything in the world to help him, if he was alright, did his arm hurt? Bombarding him with questions like she had in the parlor, she could see Draco reacting the same way. Or nearly, at least.

He wasn't fighting her wholeheartedly. The corners of his mouth were uplifted, so it wasn't quite a smirk or a smile, just a subtly pleasant look. He did nothing to fight off his mother except the very fake "I'm fine," every few moments. Narcissa was beaming still, and doing everything within her power to fuss over him.

Lucius was silent nearly the entire meal, and like Cassidy, was observing his wife and his son. He disapproved of Narcissa's frivolous behavior, but truth be told, she hadn't seen Draco in so very long, and Lucius knew how much she adored their son.

So, he supposed he could allow this for now.

Cassidy however, had long given up on figuring out which spoon to which at what time, and was much more interested on watching the affection that Narcissa was displaying. After the few weeks that had flown by, the only thing she had received from Narcissa was scolding and a smack over the head many times a day. The motherly attitude she was presenting was something entirely new to the girl, and she had to admit, it was amusing almost to watch mother and son.

"So Draco," drawled Lucius, breaking the warmth between Draco and his mother. Draco's expression darkened immediately at his father's voice, and the only indication that he gave that he had even heard Lucius was an acknowledging grunt.

"Is your arm anywhere near well enough for you to start playing Quidditch again?" inquired Lucius. Cassidy quirked an eyebrow at the elder Malfoy's expression, her eyes darting between father and son. Lucius looked calm, but the arch of his brow implied that he was mocking Draco about something. She looked who Draco, who looked downright pissed off.

Draco gave his head a little shake, sinking into his seat and shifting a bit, touching the bulge of his bandages. Three pairs of eyes followed this movement, and Draco suddenly scowled fiercely before then stabbing the food before him.

"Do you think, my son, that you'll be able to play this year at all?" Cassidy's eyes darted to Lucius; he was leaning on the tips of his fingers, the smirk on his face faint, but suggesting the cruel amusement that she could bet would linger on his face for a long time afterwards.

Draco grunted in response, giving a tiny shrug to one shoulder.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter anyways, does it? You could never win over Gryffindor, and with a damaged arm, do you suppose you'll get any better at the sport when your arm is healed?" Lucius said silkily, the cruel delight on his face now present and obvious. Draco, though reluctantly, raised his eyes and glared at his father.

"Well I wouldn't know, father," Draco spat, his face twisted in anger and dislike. "It's hurting so badly it's like someone severed it with a knife."

This is interesting, were Cassidy's immediate thoughts. Her eyes flicked between the arguing two like she would watch a tennis match.

Lucius' face was suddenly clouded in furious anger. He glared back at Draco, who glared fiercely back. Obviously, some bad situation had occurred between them, Cassidy guessed, and Draco was still very tender about it.

But suddenly she was being yelled at; Draco looked over at Cassidy, and at the same time Lucius did. He saw the interest and curiosity in her face, and was immediately raged. He had done too much to put at stake over the past few months, and if that girl picked up any hints, any clues that she could piece together…

"What do you think you're looking at, you foolish girl?" Lucius roared at her suddenly. Cassidy had almost expected Narcissa to sigh, and was not at all surprised when the woman did.

"Well?" Lucius demanded, slamming down his silverware. In a swift motion, he retrieved the silver-headed walking cane, and Cassidy resisted the urge to give him a sardonic expression.

What, is he going to beat me with his walking cane or something? She gave a little chuckle at the thought of this.

Lucius lunged from his chair, gripping the silver snake head from his cane, but Narcissa had breathed out a warning, restricting her husband. Cassidy was not sure whether to be grateful or disappointed; what would Lucius actually do if she acted out? Cassidy had to admit, she was thoroughly curious.

"Girl, get out," Narcissa ordered.

"What?" Cassidy asked in disbelief. She had done nothing!

"Get out," the woman snarled at once, almost before Cassidy had finished speaking.

Rolling her eyes in a disbelieving expression, she pushed from her chair, placed her napkin on the table and walked out of the room, muttering to herself under her breath. Honestly, what in the world had she done to deserve being sent out of the room?

She wondered into the library, after nearly a half-hour of searching, and hoped that she could manage to stay out of Lucius' way over the next few days so she could observe the fighting, for she had a dark feeling there would be a lot more of it.

-x-x-x-

Three days past, and Cassidy felt extremely triumphant at her guessing work. Not only did she watch Draco and Lucius radiate fury at dinner, but during the other meals of the day too. And once, Narcissa called for tea… and there was fighting.

Overall, she managed to get down her 'hiding technique', as she called it, in a day in about two meals. When she thought Lucius was at the height of his anger, or he seemed to be implying something other than the topic he was talking about, she would look at the wall or her fingernails and looked terribly bored. It was simple, actually, because all she had to do was listen. But she enjoyed deciphering their expressions, but if she got caught, she was thrown out.

She noticed that Draco was angry about something that happened a while ago, and apparently, Lucius had committed it or had been there, but had done nothing. He showed open contempt towards his father, who really seemed amused by all of it until Draco implied something else with his words. That was the time both father and son would look at Cassidy, and if she appeared to be listening, out she went.

She figured out that whatever Draco was angry about had something to do with herself, whether directly or indirectly. Anytime implications arose, Lucius got angry. Cassidy apparently was not supposed to be catching on to any of this, which made her ever the more curious. She was not only being stealthy as she sat in on their fights, but she was trying to piece together the implications she could pick up.

The last two arguments however did not seem to hold anything out of the ordinary. Lucius was not acting like a father who loved his son; in fact, he was acting much crueler than a regular parent, and he seemed to have taken a particular liking to mocking his son about his Quidditch failure. But from what Narcissa had bragged about, Draco was actually tremendous at Quidditch… but he just couldn't beat Gryffindor.

Gryffindor: what was so special about it? Was there a certain player that made it impossible for a Slytherin victory? What was it?

Whatever it was, Draco could not win against that particular house, and Lucius seemed to take pride in throwing salt on Draco's wounds when it came to Quidditch.

At a sudden thought, she wondered if Draco would drive himself to be even better once his arm healed, just to spite his father and stop him from his sneering remarks. Cassidy knew that if she was in Draco's position, she would show Lucius up. After all, he was not a very kind person, it seemed, and it seemed right to gloat in his face after he declared that an obstacle was impossible.

She sat in the library often, looking from book-cover to book-cover for something interesting, and when something particular caught her eye, she grabbed it. But she was often prone to turning the page, but staring blankly at the words on the page, her head clouded in thought that was completely irrelevant to the book.

Lucius treated his son with cruelty etched on his face, and he seemed the sort of man that would follow a leader who wanted to murder everyone 'unworthy' enough. Draco seemed kind enough, arrogant maybe, but nice. There was great dislike turned to his father. And almost every time an argument arose, Lucius would suffocate it like he was smothering a fire if she was in the room. She had the feeling that whatever it was they were talking about, she was not to know.

And putting all these pieces together made her think. Draco was angry at his father, who took delight in the pain. But every time a double-meaning phrase occurred, he would stop the conversation and get angry. And both father and son would look to Cassidy herself. And so, she knew their fighting had something to do with her… one way or another. And she wanted to find out, and she was going to, she knew that she would in time.

But what could it be about, she kept asking herself. Draco must've held some knowledge about it, for he was the one that brought it up so his father could just as easily suppress it. Perhaps she could ask Draco? No, not now, it was too soon. She had only met Draco four days ago, and despite the fact that he had tried to make a move on her was not good enough of an excuse for her to go and ask him something huge and mysterious like that.

She would just have to wait until Eater break, or something like that. Surely, from than, she could build a friendship with him, and in turn, ask him what the bloody hell was going on that she didn't know about.

He's hiding something from me, she thought suddenly. Lucius is. They both are.

But if the secret they were holding hurt her directly or not, she wouldn't know.

Not for a few years, anyways.

-x-x-x-

Draco was stressed. He was tired out of his mind, and he wanted to do nothing more than sink back and relax and do nothing for about the rest of time. But he couldn't. His mother was always chattering away and making a fuss over him, and even though he rather liked it, he grew weary of it very quickly.

His father wasn't helping in the least, and Draco just wanted to punch his face in at the moment. His father… his stupid, goddamned father. Narcissa didn't even know what Lucius had done to his very own son, the only heir of the Malfoy fortune on Halloween night. If the Mudblood was alive, he would've already been down on his knees because she had saved him.

Well, she didn't really save him… but then, what had happened? He had been so drugged, his mind slurring that he could remember anything clearly about that night except for the pain—god blinding me killing me this pain hurts so much—and the cold edge of the knife against his throat.

And what, he had Hermione Granger to thank for that?

Shaking the thought of the late Mudblood off his mind, he tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere, and quickly. There was always a little suspicious, uneasy feeling whenever he thought about that dead girl, like she wasn't really gone, but hiding just around the corner to jump out and attack him in revenge for the times he had attacked her.

It's something Granger would've done, he mused to himself. Thinking of Granger made his thoughts wonder, and soon, the image of her naked torso was on his mind, and he couldn't help but drift off into a dream-like state where he could see much more of her…

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he jumped up from the seat he was sitting in. She was dead, and he should not be fantasizing about a dead girl, plain and simple.

Especially not a Mudblood, either.

He pushed all form of thought about the late Head Girl from his mind and walked out of his chambers. On his mind, he had every intent to find that Cassidy girl; now she was alive, and he would take every delight in fantasizing about her, and with pride!

He had a feeling he would find her in the library, and he actually did. She was curled up on the floor by the roaring fire, but instead of letting her eyes rip across the page, she was staring into the dancing flames, her eyes cast in shadow.

When Draco shut the door, she started and looked over for this source of noise. She gave him a hesitant smile to the hungry gleam in his eyes. He smirked back at her, and slowly made his way over.

She stood, brushing herself off and shutting her novel. She placed it on the nearest surface, and sat down. He dropped into the couch, settling himself, and looked over at her with a contented air about him.

"Why are you in here so often?" he asked, breaking the silence that had been thickening with tension.

She cast her eyes around the room a moment before answering. "Well," she answered, "I've got nothing better to do, and if I wandered about this mansion, your mother would be furious with me for getting lost." There was a slightly nervous chuckle from her throat.

"Hmm," he agreed, looking around too. "Since I've lived here since I was born here, so I know the Malfoy Manor from front to back." She nodded after a moment, finding nothing else to say in response to this.

"Would you like a tour?" he inquired suddenly.

Without waiting for her to answer, he got up, taking her hand and pulling her swiftly to her feet. She gave a little "oh!" of surprise, before allowing herself to be pulled along after him. He turned, still pulling her a long, and winked, a suggestive look lingering on his face.

It sparked her curiosity, but she had a feeling that this tour of the Manor would turn out to be particularly eventful.

-x-x-x-

It took nearly two and a half hours to tour the house and the estate completely. They rather skimmed everything, actually, because if Draco had shown her every little detail, the two of them would've been touring until midnight.

He did not go far into the gardens, but merely brought her to the back courtyard and to the edge where the walls gave wall to miles of open, rich green fields. On the horizon, she could just spot trees lining the grass, and far out into the distance the meadow rose up to a singular, humungous tree. She would look forward to going about by herself and examining those later on.

In the manor, Draco did not show her the third floor or the basement and dungeons. They were off limits, apparently, despite the fact that Draco did not state it. He showed her the main hallways and all the good shortcuts (she did not doubt at all that she would forget them in an instant) and where the best views were in the manor. From the highest spots in the mansion, you could see water very far off. Draco told her it was a man-made great lake… but it was invisible to Muggles, since it was made by magic.

Now he was showing her what he considered the best part of the house: his chambers. So far, nothing strange had happened, and Cassidy wondered if she was just paranoid about thinking Draco would pounce on her like a cat would to a mouse at some random moment.

Smirking, he opened the snake-headed doors and revealed to her a short hallway, before leading her to the next biggest pair. There were two other sets of doorways, and she wondered where they led to, but Draco answered her thoughts almost as if he could read her mind.

"Those to the right lead up a different corridor to the Tower Library, and this one on the left is a guest bath and loo. These main doors are to my bedroom. Would you like to see it?" There was something about the tone of voice and the faint, but still evident smirk on his face as he said it. Was he planning his ambush there?

Cassidy gave a little shrug, and followed him in. For any other girl, they could spot this as in invitation to do something other than gaze at his room, and Draco knew this. However, Cassidy did not, so she had no idea she was walking into his trap.

His room was decked in silver, gold, black and green. It was large, bookcases lining the walls and a magnificent bed pushed up against the wall. A fireplace was to her right, sofas crowding around it, and to her right was a tall gothic window, a plush seat beneath it.

The door clicked shut behind her, slowly, softly, and suddenly the hairs on her neck stood. She turned around to face Draco abruptly.

His hands were clutching the door handle behind his back, and he was leaning on the soles of his feet. His brow was raised, suggestive, and his eyes glittered with impatience.

She had a sudden urge to get out of his rooms and do something that meant moving away from him.

"Erm, shall we go look at the library? The Tower one?" She was nervous, and her hands twisted at her waist.

His lips twitched into a smug grin. "Why would you want to leave? I'm perfectly content in here... with you." He pushed himself off the door and took a few slow steps toward her.

Oh no, she thought to herself, and in a rush, side-stepped him and jumped for the door.

In a second, he had caught her around the waist and pinned her against the wall, his fingers holding her hold. His mouth was near her neck, and she could feel her heart rising in her throat, her body suddenly much more aware of the inches that separated them.

He gave a triumphant little chuckled and lowered his mouth to her ear, grazing the edge with his teeth. "Tell me, why are you so eager to leave me?" he whispered smoothly, and let out a slow, long breath against her neck. She stiffened when his mouth brushed against her skin.

"What are you doing?" she stammered out, her hands leaving their petrified state and trying to push him away. This was in vain, and apparently let Draco shift to a much comfortable place because in the next moment, he was flush up against her, his hands crawling up her back and his lower body pushed up against hers in a rather evocative way. His nose was brushing hers, and his breath tickled her lips.

"You know exactly what I'm doing," he purred, and in a solid movement clamped his mouth down on hers.

For a moment, she did not move; her body was tense, her muscles seizing up, one by one, before she registered what was happening, and she lifted a swift knee to his groin.

He gave a yelp, falling backwards and clutching his thigh, stumbling over.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he cried at Cassidy.

"What's wrong with me?" she yelled back, outraged. "What's wrong with you! You just attacked me and started kissing me!"

"Well what did you expect me to do?" he said, exasperated. "I invited you into my bedchambers, does that not imply something?"

"I hardly know you!" she burst out.

"So what? The ideal appealed to me, and surely it did to you too!"

She scoffed. "I've known you for not even a week, Draco! I don't want to start frenching you two seconds after I shake your hand!"

"Oh come on, I've been giving you looks this entire time! You think I'm handsome, and surely the thought of snogging me has drifted across your mind. Admit it, it has!" he shot back smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

She gaped at him, her hands twitching and out in the air. "That's a lie!" she cried. "A damn lie! You're a liar!"

"How am I a liar?" he demanded, switching moods abruptly.

"You lied about your arm! A hippogriff didn't attack it, and that was a pathetic cover-up, Draco! Look up your facts next time."

"What a load of shit," he said coldly. "You can't even prove that."

"I can! If a hippogriff had even given you a minor injury, the wounds would be a lot shallower, and would be much more distributed! The same thing goes for a bad wound too, except it would go even deeper. A hippogriff clearly could not have done that to your arm," she stated, crossing her arms and staring back at him.

But if a hippogriff didn't do it, then…

She could recall listening to Lucius' and Draco's fights early, and some exact phrases of theirs. Lucius mentioned Quidditch, and Draco brought up something about a knife…? But then it made sense to her suddenly; the under implication, the knife! A hippogriff hadn't made that clean of a wound, a knife had! So maybe Lucius had hurt Draco, and that would explain why the young Malfoy was so angry towards his father!

"Your father," she breathed out after a moment. He looked shocked.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

"Your father stabbed you! He did that to you, not a hippogriff!" she shouted at him, heart racing. The rush of adrenaline poured through her; she had figured out something that had happened, and all so quickly! It excited her.

"You damn liar! How could you say an animal did that to you when a parent did? How can he be so cruel?" she exclaimed. "Why would you even hide that? Especially from your mother when she loves you so much?" That last phrase was on a whim, but she could see it struck a cord.

"You dirty little—"

"It's horrible, Draco!" she accused him.

"Oh, I'm horrible?" he snarled. "At least I didn't murder my own goddamned parents!"

"What!" she gasped.

"Oh, you didn't know?" He laughed cruelly at her, his smooth composure completely evaporated. "They wiped your mind because you were so intent on becoming powerful so you could take over, that you killed anyone who got in your way, even your own two parents!"

She gaped at him, her eyes brimming with unshed emotion. She couldn't believe something as preposterous as that, it was terrible for him to say something like that! But all at once, the nightmare she could vaguely recall poured before her eyes like a mist, and she terrifying visions of screaming and green light filled her mind… and she knew what he said was the truth.

"No," she choked out.

"Yes!" he spat, triumphantly. "You killed them slowly and slit their necks! And so many others! You know what mass destruction in Poland? It was a revolt led by you, you filthy little murderer!"

"It's a lie!" she whispered, shaking. She was stumbling and reaching blinding for something to anchor herself onto to keep from falling into the painful memory again.

"And you killed everyone else! They all died at your hands, and they couldn't even remove the blood from you until weeks afterwards! The Ministry was going to kill you in your state, but my parents had the will, and it was our decision. Now you're stuck here in my manor, living with the people that your dead parents trusted the most!" he yelled at her furiously.

"I couldn't have killed them!" she pleaded to him, twisting her hands around and trying to push back the tears that had suddenly overwhelmed her. "I just couldn't. They were my parents."

"Well that's just too damn bad. You killed them anyways."

-x-x-x-

Christmas went by in a blur; hundreds of presents, all marked Draco, and perhaps one little thing (another dress) for Cassidy herself from Narcissa, which was rather blander than anything Cassidy had worn so far. However, the blur of pine and foil and cheer mixed all together and left her in a confused mess… she did not enjoy her first Christmas with the Malfoy's very much.

Especially with Draco and Lucius sending her dirty looks every two seconds.

Break was over, and Draco had left. There was a lot of hostility between them now, the same amount, if not more, between father and son. But now that Draco had gone, Cassidy sensed that anytime Lucius was home, his anger would be directed towards her.

Cassidy wondered what would've happened if she had just let Draco kiss her instead of pushing him away and trying to keep her dignity. But every time the scene played through her head with her very own alterations, the screams of her parents' death at her hands echoed through her mind, Draco's voice deep and harsh, and she could barely push the tears away.

She was sure that when he came home for Easter holidays or for the summer after his graduation, he would still hold a lasting grudge on her. If this was what was to happen, she would be sure to apologize. With lessons with Narcissa that were going to continue, she couldn't vent out her frustrations on a book all the time, and perhaps having him as companion would be a good thing. A very good thing.

And in time, it would. But for now, since he had left, things would go steadily downhill. Lucius would, in turn, shift all attention towards her, and would not be kind in the least about it. It was time to show her the lowly position she was in, and only the highest dose of pain and humiliation could show her such.

But for now, she had to wait. Her fate was coming quicker, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

-
-x-x-x-
-

Author's Notes: Mwahah! It's finally done! I'm sorry that took such a long time, but I've been working on it for a while and I finally had a good inspiration to finish it up! Things are going to get violent in the next chapter, and from then on, it's mostly happenings between Cassidy and Lucius for a long while, maybe 7 or so chapters, maybe even up to 10. But I hope you enjoyed this read!

Gods, this took too long! Please kill me the next time I haven't updated for over two months, instead of this hideous five or six! I hope this made up for the wait!

I thank you all for the reviews I've gotten so far! Please please PLEASE review this time too!