Cassandra woke with a start three days after her attack, scrabbling at her front to push the werewolf away. Someone took hold of her hands, keeping her still. Then she heard a familiar voice quite clearly.
"It's okay, you're safe now. You're safe, Cassandra."
She felt a light touch to her forehead and tried to brush away the intrusive hand. She forced herself to calm down and opened her eyes, looking at her aunt blearily.
"What're you doing here?" she asked, closing her eyes again. She felt as if her head was full of cotton and the bed seemed to keep tilting backwards.
"You're my niece. Why wouldn't I be here?" Narcissa Malfoy replied.
"Mmfoy," she said.
"I beg your pardon?"
"'raitor," she insisted.
"All right. I'll go fetch the Healer."
"Go way," she said, then passed out again.
Hours later Cassandra opened her eyes again, staring at the shiny crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. After a minute she turned her head and became aware that she was in a hospital ward. She had a heavy headache and a dull ache in her shoulder. She closed her eyes.
St. Mungo's, she thought. What am I doing here?
She felt exhausted, could barely get her thoughts in order. Then the memories came rushing back to her. For several seconds she was seized by panic as the fragmented images of how she had nearly died came flooding over her. Then she clenched her teeth and concentrated on breathing.
She was alive. She didn't know how but she was alive — she just wasn't sure where she'd been. It took her a moment to decide whether or not she was happy to be there and what it all meant. A werewolf had tried to kill her, she was sure of that, but she was still alive.
She could not piece together all that had happened, but she summoned up a foggy mosaic of images from the electrical station and how she and her grandfather had tried to escape. Her grandfather. Was he alive as well?
She could not clearly remember what had happened with the werewolf that'd followed her to the Manor. She had a memory of looking into his human eyes and blood pouring out of his throat.
Suddenly she remembered having seen Cedric. Perhaps she had dreamed him, but she remembered a living room — it must've been the Diggorys' living room — and she thought she remembered him coming towards her. She must have been hallucinating.
The events of that night seemed already like the distant past, or possibly an absurd nightmare. She concentrated on the present and opened her eyes again.
She raised her hand and felt her right shoulder. There were bandages. Then she remembered it all. Nervous old man Balfe. Fenrir Greyback's betrayal. Mimi being torn to pieces. She had summoned her wand and performed the Homorphus Charm. She wouldn't have thought of it if it wasn't for Gilderoy fucking Lockhart and his stupid reenactments in class. That was why she was still alive.
She had been awake only a few minutes when a Healer noticed her.
"Hello, my name is Myrna. Do you know where you are?"
"St. Mungo's," she said hoarsely. The stench of the place was unmistakable. Like death and regrets and the sweaty odor of desperation. Not somewhere she would ever choose to visit, let alone stay. "Could I have some water?"
The Healer gave her a cup. As she swallowed the water she saw another Healer appear on her left side.
"Hello, Cassandra. I'm Hyppocrates Smethwyck. You survived a werewolf attack, you're at the Dai Llewellyn ward for creature-induced injuries. There is no need to be afraid."
She asked the question that'd been making her insides churn. "Was I bit? I fought the best I could but it kept… it kept coming at me."
"So you remember what happened."
"Was I bit?" she asked again, more forcefully.
"No, you were not. You were in bad shape when you were brought to us, but we trust you will make a full recovery. Unfortunately the scratches on your right shoulder and ankle will leave permanent scars, but there should be no loss of function."
She absorbed this information, relief washing over her. She was still human.
"And my grandfather? Is he alive?"
The Healer hesitated for a moment. "I should let your family come in so you can speak about that."
Cassandra's heart sank and her vision blurred with tears she refused to shed. Her grandfather had once told her it could be dangerous to ask a question when you already knew the answer.
"Who's out there?"
"I believe your aunts have been taking turns, as well as the young man who brought you in and his parents," Healer Smethwyck replied. "I'd like to examine you for a moment. Then I will send them in."
After examining her the Healers left, closing the curtains around her to give her some measure of privacy. She heard a door open. Footsteps then the silence returned, but it was spoiled by the knowledge she wasn't truly alone. She could hear the sound of quill scratching parchment to her right. Someone coughed to her left and she realized there were two of them. Strangers behind the curtains.
"Who is she?" asked a woman's voice.
"The Lestrange girl. Haven't you read The Daily Prophet? It's all over the papers," replied another woman. "A pack of werewolves kidnapped her, stashed her in some abandoned building in Lancashire. Her grandfather agreed to pay the ransom but instead of giving the girl back the beasts decided to keep the ransom and kill them both. They shred him to pieces, and a house-elf, and nearly her too. She barely made it out alive."
"Poor love, what a mess."
"It's karma if you ask me. Everyone remembers what her family did. What goes around comes back around."
Inside her head, Cassandra screamed. She threw the curtains open and started firing spells at the woman.
Langlock. Ulcus Sanguis. Exosso. Mutatio Skullus. Confringo.
She shouted those words over and over but they ignored her, because on the outside she was silent. On the outside she was balling her hands into firsts instead of reaching for her wand on the bedside cabinet.
She wanted to see them so she could know who they were. She wanted to sit up, reach out and strike the woman who'd spoken of her family. To hug the one that'd felt sorry for her. She wanted to feel something. Anything. Anyone.
The women left, closing the door behind them, but their words stayed. Cassandra considered them.
The version of events told by The Daily Prophet wasn't at all accurate, but she would stick to it. There was no love lost between her family and the DMLE. Were she to tell a tale of impending war and the prophesied return of the Dark Lord they would have her sharing a cell with her parents before she could say 'Veritaserum'. Nothing could be gained by collaborating with the Ministry.
More footsteps, a few whispered words, then her favourite aunt stepped through the curtains with her daughter in tow. She sat at the end of the hospital bed and Cassandra was so glad to see her, even if she had not come alone.
"Hello, dear. How are you feeling?" she said gently, holding Cassandra's hand. They looked so much alike. They had the same face, the same bearing, the same build. Only her hair was a light soft brown instead of Cassandra's ink black, and her eyes were wider and kinder. They could easily be mistaken for mother and daughter.
"I think I'm still in shock," she answered. "I thought I was going to die."
"Do you remember what happened yet?" Tonks asked from where she stood behind her mother. Her mother, not Cassandra's.
"Nymphadora," Andromeda chided. Tonks said nothing, but she looked sheepish.
"Bits and pieces," Cassandra said.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just wanted to hear how you're doing and make sure everything is going well."
She stayed silent. It should have been obvious that everything was not going well.
"The Healers say you'll be fit to go home tomorrow. We've been waiting for you to wake up, there are some things we need to discuss. Your grandfather..."
"I know," she said, looking away from her aunt.
She felt her hand being squeezed. She knew her aunt didn't grieve for the man who'd raised them as she did, but she had loved him once, too.
"Thank you for being here," she said after a while. "You too, Tonks."
Her cousin smiled at her in surprise. Her nickname was an olive branch, and the girl took it.
"Don't worry about it. It's not every day your little cousin kicks a bunch of werewolf ass and lives to tell the tale. You promise one day you'll tell me how you did it and we're even."
"Nymphadora, honestly," Andromeda said with exasperation, and both girls smiled.
"One day," Cassandra agreed.
"Is there anything you want? Anything you need at all, dear?"
She thought for a moment before speaking again. "How's Cedric doing?"
"Your young man has been worried sick about you. He didn't leave your bedside for days, until the Healers made him go home. Between you and me, I think he was driving them a little crazy."
"He loves me," she said. She thought about her grandfather and Mimi, the only ones whose love for her she had ever been certain of, and in that moment she didn't know whether that was a good thing or bad.
They talked for another half-hour, until her eyelids started to feel heavy and she drifted away.
When Cassandra woke up again Cedric's hands were holding hers. It felt strong and warm and safe.
"Hey," she whispered, not wanting to startle him.
"Hey," Cedric answered, sitting up on his chair. One of his hands left hers and came to rest on her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin softly. His eyes were full of relief. "You have no idea how happy I am right now. I love you so much."
He kissed her on the forehead and she felt his tears wetting her face.
"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," she said, and again they looked at each other. He was crying and now she was crying. He kissed her and she felt real. This was real.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, and she laughed through her tears because he knew her well enough not to ask her if she was fine, and because she was hungry.
"It's lunchtime and they left a tray of food for you not too long ago. I bet it's still warm."
He took the tray and put it down in front of her. There was chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. A carton of juice and what looked like pudding. She was hungry but upon seeing what was on offer, was less eager to eat it. Cedric picked up the cutlery and loaded some mash onto a fork.
"I can do it," she said.
"Sorry."
She took the fork from him with a smile. "Thank you."
She ate most of it, chewing and swallowing small pieces at a time. It didn't look like much, but as she ate it felt like the best meal of her life. The chicken was overcooked and the potatoes were lumpy, but just to be able to eat and swallow and taste made every mouthful exquisite. Because it meant she was alive.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.
Cassandra shook her head and looked away. "Not here. Not yet."
He nodded.
"I'm sorry about Cygnus. And about Mimi."
Cassandra felt herself start to fade.
"They died for me," she said.
"They loved you. When I saw you… I would've done anything to save you."
She couldn't imagine how it must've felt, seeing her in the state Cedric did, holding her nearly dead body. She'd lived through a nightmare but Cedric had been trapped outside, forced to watch her live it. He had been through his own personal hell while she'd been unconscious. But it didn't seem to have changed things for him, not yet at least. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for putting him through all of that and that she loved him too. She said the words over and over in her head until they sounded solid and real.
"I love you."
His eyes softened at that and he kissed her again.
Her last visitor of the day was her aunt Narcissa. The blonde woman stood at the edge of her hospital bed, perfectly dressed, perfectly poised. They stared at each other until older witch spoke.
"I trust you are feeling better."
"I am."
"You did very well."
Cassandra didn't know what she meant, so she didn't say anything.
"Fighting the way you did," her aunt said. "Your mother would've been proud. We're all proud of you."
Something loosened in her chest. Narcissa had been the aunt she was close to once, back when she was a toddler with fat cheeks and grubby hands, and her parents were too busy winning a war to pay her much mind. Narcissa had been much more maternal than her older sister, even before she was a mother herself, and her niece had been the main recipient of her motherly affection. It took a lot of love for Cassandra to hate her the way she did.
Not knowing what else to say, she invited her aunt to sit.
"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been poking around since the night of the incident. Rita Skeeter has constructed a story that has seemed to appease the Ministry of Magic for the most part, but the Auror office has been most insistent on talking to you."
"I won't talk to them."
Her aunt nodded. "That would be wise. You should mind what you say in here as well; the walls have ears, and there is little Skeeter wouldn't do for a front page."
"I could always sic you on her."
The corners of Narcissa's mouth twisted up in a small smile. "However much I would enjoy that, I believe you are quite capable of handling her yourself, Cassandra."
There were a few beats of silence. She looked down and wiped away an invisible piece of lint from her lap. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now, with grandfather gone."
Her aunt came closer and tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, then raised Cassandra's chin so they were eye-to-eye again.
"You do the same thing you've been doing since you were a little girl. You keep your head high, and you forge ahead."