August 10, 1975 - Nazyalensky Home

She stroked at the owl's grayish feathers, smiling slightly as it simply leaned into her touch instead of rebuking her. The second test-flight today had ended with a nose-dive onto her desk and her almost-friend was understandably upset about that.

She looked onto the papers scattered across the floor, and shook her head mentally. "I'm gonna have to clean that up, you know."

The owl fixed her with a stare that could only be described as completely different, and she laughed quietly, carefully pushing the tiny animal from her lap.

As she crouched on the floor to clean up, her stomach cramped in hunger, and Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, her good mood vanishing. She'd strived to ignore it these past couple of days, distracting herself with the owl's needs and suppressing her own. It was getting harder to do so, however, as her food supply had ended yesterday, the last piece of bread disappearing into a sharp beak that tore at it eagerly.

The stabbing pain that waxed and waned throughout the day was almost enough to convince her to ask for Severus' and his mother's help. Almost being key - she still had some pride left.

Biting her lip, she continued her work. It was only a minute later, however, that her fingers stilled on a sheet different from the others, its texture very familiar to her. Grasping it lightly - it was almost falling apart - Cassie held it to the sunlight streaming through her window, her heartbeat racing.

Though the parchment was small, the handwriting on it was immediately recognizable to her. Dated the first of February, 1954, it was an excerpt from her mother's journal collection - one of the ones she'd thought had been lost.

Her eyes quickly scanned over it, taking in the few lines of text. Nothing that she didn't already know; a documentation of one of the first meetings between her parents, when they were both just older than teenagers.

Still, her curiosity had been sparked. The rest had to be here too, then, didn't it?

Replacing the parchment on her desk, Cassiopeia surveyed her room critically, rubbing at her stomach as the hunger panged again. Thinking back, she thought she could remember a mass exodus of Vienne's things following her death, things that her father had taken to -

The attic. She remembered clearly, now. Books, accessories, even a favourite rug, all had been taken into the attic, never to be used again.

Filled with purpose, now, she left the owl on her bed, marching into the place that had served as her home for the past month. It was darker than she remembered, colder, and Cassiopeia glanced around in unease as she carded through the stacks of old belongings, feeling, for some reason, that she shouldn't make much sound.

Several minutes later, she came upon an old, ornate chest, tucked at the far end of the room. She opened it like she had the others, glancing cursorily through its contents before her eyes finally met what she'd been searching for. Five journals; haphazardly scattered across to the bottom of the trunk, pages torn, and creased, and almost falling from the binding. Reverently, she took the topmost one into her hands –

Cassiopeia froze, her heart almost jumping out of chest as her ears picked out an unfamiliar noise. There was someone at the front door - she was sure of it. There was someone at the door.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. The journal clattered to the floor, and it broke through the haze, if for a split-second. She pressed herself against the furthest wall from the entrance, her breath quick and panicked, and her hands trembling at her side.

Oh god, I'm going to die. He's going to kill me.

She'd thought –

A shout sounded from below, and she cringed back, squeezing her eyes shut. Blood rushed through her ears, and she tried to keep quiet, hoping he wouldn't find her.

Footsteps made their way across the house, doors opening and closing, before finally, a minute or two later, arriving at her door. It swung open.

She held her hands in front of her face to protect against the inevitable blow.

"Cassiopeia?"

Her breath hitched, and ever so slowly she lowered her hands. It wasn't the enraged face of her father that met her, but rather horrified grey-blue eyes, framed by long pale blond hair.

"L–Lucius?"

He stood in front of her; unkempt, and dressed so differently from the way he usually presented himself. His eyes surveyed the scene he'd come upon, and seconds later he finally spoke gently. "Cassie. I was looking for you."

"Why?" she frowned, refusing to step closer to him. What if Henry was hiding just behind the door, waiting so he could take her by surprise?

Lucius' eyes hardened. "Severus wrote to me, and I received the owl this morning. I came as soon as I could. You didn't answer the door."

"But – What are you going to do?"

"Give your father a lesson to remember, and then take you home," he answered matter-of-factly.

"He – He isn't here," she replied quietly. "I thought you were him."

It was clear that Lucius wanted to ask several questions, but he settled on only one. "Is he coming back?"

"I don't think so," she answered carefully, allowing her fingers - which had curled into fists - to unclench. Maybe this was real, and Lucius had come to take her away.

"Good. Do you think you can get your things ready in five minutes? I have someone I need to see."

She nodded mutely, and seemingly satisfied, Lucius disapparated with a crack. She flinched at the loud sound, but began to gather the journals robotically, still not fully coming to terms with what had happened.

I'm going home with Lucius. Severus – Severus told him to come get me.

These two thoughts swirled around her head for some time, almost seeming to block out all other notions which wished to drift into her head. As she folded her clothes into her trunk it was, I'll be staying with Lucius and Cissa, and as she packed the owl into an old cage from the attic, it was Severus somehow found out.

The second thought disturbed her. She didn't know what exactly it was Severus knew; whether he'd seen her, or heard something, but whatever it was it had been enough to get him to intervene. She wasn't sure whether she liked that. He was angry at her, furious; they weren't friends. He wasn't supposed to care.

The trunk closed with a final click, and at that moment Lucius appeared to take her to his home.

Malfoy Manor, imposing and elegant as it always was, seemed oddly quiet. Lucius was tense as he walked through the ornate hallway, Cassie trailing behind him, yet when she'd finally mustered the courage to ask what was wrong, they had arrived at the sitting room door.

Narcissa looked years older than when they had last seen each other in person. Her face was lined, and her blue eyes held shadows, but even so, she rose from the chaise with a smile, greeting the two of them.

Delicately, oh-so-delicately Narcissa took her into her arms, allowing Cassie's whole body to sag against her robes. The tension and anxiety of the day, all of it seemed to leave her in a single second, and she trembled like a leaf as Narcissa led her to the sofa, her arms never leaving her side.

Narcissa settled her against her chest like a child, smoothing her hand over Cassie's back comfortingly, as her breath hitched and she fought not to cry. Narcissa only held her tighter, as Lucius watched from beside the door.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" she asked quietly some minutes later, carding her fingers loosely through Cassie's hair. "Eileen could have helped you; I was certain you were staying with her."

"Severus is angry with me, " she replied, slowly breathing in Narcissa's flowery perfume, even as she felt childish for doing so. "It wouldn't have been right to go when he didn't want me there."

"But why is he angry with you?" Cissa asked, her brow furrowing. "I don't remember hearing that you two fought."

"It's – I didn't want to make you angry too," she answered, and Narcissa tsked softly, shaking her head. "It's all my fault; I caused Lily to hate him."

Narcissa looked slightly incredulous, and Cassiopeia flushed before continuing. "I kissed him, some time before, and she found out."

"And he's angry with you over one action?" Lucius asked from the door, his eyes stormy. "He put you in danger because of one stupid fight?"

Cassiopeia frowned, turning to him. "What do you mean, put me in danger?"

"He lied," Lucius replied, almost growling. "Told his mother that you were staying with us. Why else did you think she didn't check up on you?"

"Oh," she faltered. "I thought – I thought she was angry with me too."

"So she'd leave you alone with your goddamn father?" Lucius asked, half in disbelief, and half in fury.

"Well – "

He took a shuddering breath, before turning to face the door. "Cissa, will you set up a room for her? I have to speak to him."

"Lucius – "

"Yes?" he asked shortly, his hand stilling on the door handle.

"Just – be gentle with him. I don't think he meant to do anything like that."

"We'll see," he replied coldly, before almost slamming the door closed behind him.

Narcissa sighed.

Lucius' hands shook as he stood outside of Severus' guest bedroom. He needed to control himself, he knew that, but Severus' actions had gotten into him in a way not many others had. Cassiopeia was like the daughter he hoped to have - would probably never have, if things continued on as they had - and to see her standing there, pressed against the wall, and terrified out of her goddamn mind –

He brought his fist down heavily against the door, and Severus allowed him in. Inside, the fifteen-year-old sat on the large bed, wringing his hands nervously with his head downcast.

"Severus," he said, then paused. "I cannot believe – "

Severus glanced up at him unexpectedly, a myriad of emotions swirling in his eyes. He was angry, that at least was clear. At Lucius or at himself, there was no way to know, but Lucius hoped it was the latter.

It would serve him, he thought, to see his so-called friend now breaking down in Narcissa's arms.

"You don't understand,"" Severus muttered, and Lucius' fury, which he had worked so hard to surpress, exploded out of him.

"I don't understand? I don't?" he asked, stalking towards the bed. "No, Severus, you don't."

He grabbed the boys shoulders, turning him forcefully to meet his eyes. "She could have died. She could have been killed." His voice shook, and his fingers dug into Severus' shoulder with a bruising grip. "All because of your pettiness over a fight that was not her fault."

Lucius released him, a disgusted look on his face as he stalked towards the door, his whole frame trembling with pent-up tension. "I won't blame her if she decides not to forgive you."

•••

Here we are; I hope you enjoyed reading. A special thank you, as always, to SilentMayhem, and to all those of you who've been reading my stories and interacting with them; it really means a lot. Now, however, I'll be taking a week off to plan out the next year of the story, so expect the next chapter on the 21st. Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, and I hope you have an absolutely wonderful two weeks.