February 15, 1975 - Hogwarts

Cassiopeia slipped from the Charms classroom quietly, eyes down on the stone floor below her feet. She felt completely overwhelmed in the crowd of students, and desperately wanted to be free from their stares, and their judgmental whispers; to be alone.

Lost in her thoughts, that it was only when she'd wandered near the steps of Ravenclaw Tower, that she noticed the footsteps following behind her.

"Who's there?" she called out, fingers curling around her wand to reassure herself.

There was no response, not that she'd expected one.

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell came out of nowhere, and in the few seconds before she was pushed to the floor, wand flying from her hand, she was painfully reminded of the incident from several days before.

Moreover, she recognized that voice. Not that she needed to, as her assailant revealed himself - much closer than she'd thought - slipping a fabric from his shoulders to reveal the smirking face of Sirius Black.

"What do you want Black?" she asked, her eyes searching restlessly to find a way to escape. She didn't know what to do; she was afraid to get up, she was defenseless.

In that moment she felt painfully vulnerable.

"I saw you, you know," Black said instead, and she frowned at his non-sequitur. His tone was aiming for nonchalant but there was a spark of real anger there. "Don't think you can fool me."

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you think?" he snarled. "Remus. I know you have some motive for trying to spend time with him, and I won't allow it."

It took her a moment to understand what he meant, but when she did she was struck by the absurdity. "He's not yours to control."

"No, but he's mine to protect," Black growled, stepping closer so that he towered over her; and she swallowed in fear, her momentary amusement forgotten. "And I see you're trying to trick him into something, and he's falling for it. I won't let you, so you'd better listen, or there'll be hell to pay."

"Listen to what?"

"Cancel any meeting with him. You're not allowed to talk to him, to write to him, and I don't even want you looking at him."

"And if I don't?"

He smirked, glancing towards his hand. "Well, we'll see if Dumbledore cares enough about some stupid snake to go through all the trouble of getting you a second wand. Or, if he'll just find it easier to dismiss you."

"He wouldn't do that," she replied, knowing that she didn't mean the words. Dumbledore doesn't care about you, you know that. Besides, how would you even pay for it?

"Want to test that?" he asked with a predatory smile, glancing down the corridor for a split-second.

"No!" Her voice was torn from her throat, born from an instinctual defensiveness of the most important object in her life.

"Shut up!" he hissed, surging forward, and striking her face. She pressed her mouth closed to contain her cry, and felt her head throb painfully as it was thrown backwards. Her wand, flying from his hands, clattered to the floor beside her.

It was too late for his warning however. Up ahead of them, two voices suddenly became recognizable, one of them the distinct drawl of Black's younger brother.

Something flashed through the Gryffindor's eyes, and with one last snarl he threw that shimmering fabric haphazardly over his robes, fleeing the corridor.

Moments later, before she had time to compose herself or hide, Regulus Black rounded the corridor, accompanied by a Ravenclaw student she did not recognize.

"Nazyalensky?" he called out worriedly, hurrying to her. He knelt beside her, his brown eyes almost comically wide as he looked upon her face. "Are you alright?"

She began to respond, but was interrupted by a wave of nausea so bad that she felt she couldn't continue to speak, for fear of being sick all over his robes. She was already humiliated enough.

"Nazyalensky?"

"Fine," she responded as firmly as she could, wanting nothing more than to scream at him to go away, and leave her to collect herself in peace.

"Like hell you are," he snorted humorlessly. "I don't know who slapped you, but someone needs to see that. And that someone is Madame Pomfrey."

"I'm not going to the hospital wing," she said, feeling like a petulant child. She knew the stabbing pain in her head was most likely due to Lily's spell, and she'd promised herself not to seek out help. Or was she that pathetic that a mere strike would make her feel like she could barely stand up?

"Mother'd never forgive me if I let Sirius' potential bride be hurt because she's too bloody stubborn to seek medical treatment," the young pureblood snapped, before turning to the Ravenclaw. "Torian, lighten her, and I'll walk her to the Infirmary."

Cassie wanted to protest, both against the phrase 'potential bride,' and the accusation that she couldn't walk herself, but another wave of pain hit her, and it was all she could do not to break down crying.

Calm down, she told herself. It's not as bad as it was before.

Vaguely, she felt her extremities become lighter under the influence of the Ravenclaw's spell, but her vision became more blurred than ever, distorting the sights around her. Regulus pulled her up, allowing her to stumble to her feet.

"Okay, it's not far from here," he said. "We'll make it Tory, but thanks for the help. I'll see you tomorrow."

The blonde-haired boy left with a nod, slipping Cassie's wand into her robe pocket. Fortunately, the worst of the pain had abated somewhat, and she felt confident she'd be able to walk. She'd given up fighting against their destination, however, sure that in this state even a second year would be able to best her.

Regulus pushed open the wooden doors, leading Cassiopeia over to one of the hospital beds, where she finally allowed her eyes to close in pain. Madam Pomfrey, alerted by the intrusion, bustled over to her; diagnostic spells rising over Cassie's body immediately.

"Thank you, Mr. Black, but I'll take care of Miss Nazyalensky now," the matron said sternly, shooing the pureblood outside. He obliged graciously, sending one last concerned furrow of his brow to her before making his leave.

The other beds in the Hospital Wing were unoccupied, and Cassie was grateful for the absence. No one to see her so disheveled, thankfully, and she hoped desperately that none of her tormentors would find out that she'd spent time here.

"Miss Nazyalensky… I'm not usually in the business of meddling in students' affairs; I prefer to leave that to your Heads of House, but this–" she broke off in an unusual fit of frustration, summoning a vial of Bruise Paste to her, and. "You have a moderately severe concussion, dated several days. There is a hand-shaped bruise against your cheek. Why does it seem to me that you've been dealt blows to your head on two separate occasions?"

Cassiopeia bit her lip. "It's not as bad as it seems?"

The Matron's eyes turned stern, and she lightly pushed Cassiopeia into a lying position on the bed. She summoned up a new diagnostic spell, flicking her wand to orient it so that the girl would be able to see.

"Here's your brain. It was most likely struck from behind, propelling it forward in your skull and damaging both the Occipital Lobe, and the Frontal Lobe. The irritation in the back of your head is more traumatic, however – have you had any problems with your vision?"

Cassie nodded, and Pomfrey tsked. "That would do it. I don't suppose you'll tell me who did this to you?"

She shook her head mutely, wincing at the pain.

"You Slytherins and your damned pride," she sighed. "Well, I hope you'll tell someone at least; I'd like to think we'd be able to do something…." the matron trailed off, frowning in concentration. She moved closer to the bed, performing a complicated movement with her wand to enhance the image of the front of her brain.

Cassie spoke up in question, and the mediwitch hushed her worriedly. "I've noticed something unusual in your mind – no, don't worry, dear. It's just… something doesn't line up here; there's a kind of foreign magic mixing with yours that shouldn't be."

Panic stricken, Cassiopeia made to disavow Pomfrey of her notions. "I'm sure it's nothing, Madam Pomfrey. Could I go now? I've promised to meet with Aurora after dinner."

The older woman shook her head resolutely, banishing the spell. "None of that, Miss Nazyalensky. You'll be staying here, and by the evening we should have some potions to help with that injury. No use for you going if you'll just be coming back."

An hour. The length of time Severus had spent brooding today, sitting in front of the common room's fireplace and staring with a dark expression into the flames.

Augustus and Aurora were off doing… something, having disappeared into their dorms immediately after returning from Charms. Cassiopeia was with Dolores Umbridge yet again, although –

Not anymore, it seemed. He observed as the ridiculously made-up girl skittered from the dorm, awkwardly clutching at something beneath her shirt as she all but ran towards the upper floor.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he resisted the urge to go after her. Whatever it was, he wouldn't involve himself.

He was distracted from his thoughts almost immediately, however; summoned to Slughorn's office by a tiny first year who stammered out her message before fleeing from his sight. While a few years ago, such a summons might have inspired fear, now he felt only the irritation of wondering what banal potions he'd have to brew yet again, all in the name of keeping his personal lab.

"Yes, Professor Slughorn?"

The irritation that had been present in the furrow of the man's brow vanished as he came in, and Severus was jovially greeted by an immense smile, and an unwelcome pounding of his shoulder.

"Mr. Snape," the man stated, after he had finished his greeting, "Madam Pomfrey's just informed me that she finds herself in need of some vials of Concussion Soother - for the upcoming Quidditch matches, I presume. I've brewed them myself in the previous years, but I have absolute confidence in your abilities, Mr. Snape."

His Head of House smiled, rummaging in his ornate desk for a brewing guide. Severus did not bother to conceal his annoyance at his unkemptness, but took the text from his outstretched hand nevertheless. "And when do you need them?"

"Oh, as soon as possible would be splendid, Mr. Snape. And if you wouldn't mind taking them up to the Hospital Wing…?"

"No, sir."

"Perfect!" Slughorn boomed, all but shoving him out of the office now that he'd agreed to the favor. "Your help is greatly appreciated, Mr. Snape."

•••

Thank you for reading! As always, a special thank you to silentmayhem, and to all those of you who interact with my stories. If you have any thoughts, I would love to hear from you, and I hope you all have a wonderful week!