October 28, 1976 – Hogwarts

Five years under the tutelage of Professor Slughorn had prepared him for just how unbelievably lazy the man was, but it did not lessen the strain of the burdens bestowed upon him now.

The consummate Slytherin, Slughorn had passed all his inconvenient responsibilities onto Severus: brewing potions for the Infirmary and for classes, organising the ingredient cupboards – even gathering necessary ingredients from the greenhouses and from the grounds. He knew, of course, that Severus would not protest too badly – knew this was his only chance at obtaining a Mastery.

He'd never be able to afford it without the support of the Dark Lord. And in return for that support, every two weeks he received an owl from Lucius, encoded in which was a list of the brews he would make.

Poisons, mostly, but also some recreational hallucinogens, strength potions, and various healing brews – specialised healing brews, for curses and wounds which could not be countered by run-of-the-mill Pepper-up or Burn Salve.

He tried to put their uses out of his mind. Cassiopeia didn't seem to mind exceptionally, often wandering down to watch him, electing to write her essays or do her homework with the bubbling of cauldrons as background music. She aided him, also, though she refused to touch the potions that would cause harm.

She had a deft hand, and could follow a recipe precisely, even if she lacked much of the creative flair that separated those with innate talent from the rest, and her aid was invaluable. He had never before given much thought to the burden of work placed upon Apprentices, realising with a slight tinge of guilt that he had not appreciated just how capable Cassiopeia was at managing her time, keeping up with her studies in all her classes while also undertaking highly advanced theoretical work.

Minerva, unlike Slughorn, at least seemed concerned with actually teaching her Apprentice – rather than foisting her entire workload onto them, and patting herself on the back for a job well done.

Still, with help, he could usually manage to get through the week's obligations with a day or two to spare. Nominally, he used that time off to relax, to live the life of a typical student, if only for the weekend. In actuality, four of those hours – at the least – were dedicated to improving Cassiopeia's inadequate duelling skills.

Well, inadequate for his demanding standards: he was well aware that she was now advanced far beyond the skills of her classmates.

They continued nonetheless, stealing away to what they'd named the 'Wishing Room' in a fashion he knew the others in his class saw as suggestive – Aurora had been giving him mirthful smirks and knowing smiles whenever he entered the common room.

Cassiopeia seemed oblivious – or perhaps she found the thought so repulsive that she did not even wish to acknowledge it. Severus silenced his pessimism with a sharp movement of his head, startling the object of his thoughts who sat next to him with her head in a book.

She glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow, her face framed by the gossamer wisps of hair that had escaped the braided crown she had pleated. He couldn't help the affection that rose within him at her sight, the sharp pain in his chest as he remembered – for the hundredth time – how deeply he had hurt her. How he didn't deserve even to be her friend.

"It's nothing," he said quietly, glancing away.

She gave him a slight smile, knowing well that he was concealing the truth, but she reached out with her hand to entwine her fingers ever so slightly with his. Her gaze fell back to her book, but her hand remained, and his heart beat with unbearable loudness in the quiet of the common room.

October 29, 1976 – Hogwarts

Cassiopeia was not, in fact, oblivious to the knowing looks from her classmates. If the glances hadn't been obvious, Aurora's excitable questioning in the privacy of her dorm would have been enough to make clear everyone's suspicions.

If her friend seemed disappointed when she denied anything going on, she had brightened almost immediately afterwards. Her parting words still rang clear in Cassiopeia's mind:

'If it's not happening now, it will be soon enough. The man is hopelessly enamoured with you, Cas.'

She'd thought to deny the statement outright – a few months ago she'd have dismissed it as ludicrous – but her upbringing had sharpened her perceptiveness, and when she accepted the thought as even a possibility, it was easier to see the signs she had previously overlooked, or wilfully ignored.

If she could wipe away their shared past –

She gave a brittle smile to her reflection.

The last and only time she had taken such initiative with Severus, her life had been ruined for a year, then irreparably marred. She'd be… willing to try, she acknowledged to herself – it wasn't as though she hadn't spent long nights thinking about what it would be like – but it would have to be he who would make the first move.

If he admitted his interest, she would be sure he was doing this of his own accord, and not because he wanted to prevent her from being hurt by his rejection again. She knew he felt guilty about his actions to this day, and the last thing she wanted was an indulgence of her affections out of a misguided sense of pity.

November 2, 1976 – Hogwarts

Cassiopeia stepped out in front of the first-year class, hiding her trembling hands in the fabric of the dark robes she'd donned. When she had first accepted the Transfiguration Apprenticeship, she had not considered this would be one of her duties – assisting her Master in her teaching role. She had occasionally helped out before, demonstrating some spells for classes, or walking around and correcting incantations, but she had never before been given full reign – even if Minerva was watching her from the shadows, in her Animagus form.

Being a teacher did not seem like a career she would enjoy.

She took a breath, surveying the tiny Slytherins and Gryffindors. "I am Apprentice Nazyalensky, and will be temporarily covering your class while Professor McGonagall is unavailable. Can anyone inform me of the topic that you covered two days ago?"

There were so few, she realised now that all their attention was on her, a little startled. Her typical classes consisted of fourteen students at the least, while this one only had a pitiful ten – only four of them adorned by silver and green.

She raised her brow when she received no response. It was her age, she knew – she was only five years older than them, and had a youthful look: no matter how she attempted to hide it with heeled boots, and stiff, structured clothing.

"I asked a question," she said, walking up to the first row. At least when they sat she towered over them. "Should I continue to receive no answer, I will begin taking away points."

That spurred them into action. "Needle into quill transformations," one of the Slytherins responded. "We're supposed to perfect them today, then begin learning quill to book."

"Thank you. Three points to Slytherin."

As she took a step back from the class, she frowned at the animosity on the Gryffindors' faces. She knew the house divide ran deep, but – Merlin, these were first-years, barely a month into their first term.

She began her instruction, but it was clear that the Gryffindors now viewed her negatively – for giving her own House some points? She wasn't even technically giving them: just relating them for Minerva to later actually assign. Whatever the reason, they refused to heed her, whispering among themselves rather than concentrating on the easy assignment.

"Is there a problem?" she asked with a tight smile, stepping to the worst perpetrators. "I see you have not even attempted your transformation."

One of the boys rolled his eyes. "You're not even McGonagall. And you're a snake. There's no reason why we should listen to a sixth-year."

She took a deep breath. "Be that as it may, Professor McGonagall assigned me to this duty specifically. I have it on good account that she will be… very disappointed… to hear of your dereliction today. If you are having trouble with this basic transfiguration, feel free to ask me, but if I see you neglecting your work again, it will be points."

Why had she thought that her little speech would solve anything? She cast a helpless glance to Minerva as the boys ignored her, who gave her what she interpreted as an encouraging 'mrow.'

"Five points from Gryffindor," she intoned, loud enough for the entire class to hear. Groans rang out from the left side of the room, and she added: "Each. Did I not make myself clear enough?"

She was met with mutinous glares, but the punishment seemed to encourage them to at least try. 'Try' being defined very loosely, as one of the lions almost poked his friend's eye out, jabbing at the needle with his wand.

By the end of the lesson, any nervousness she may have felt had morphed into restless irritation, and when the class was finally dismissed she collapsed at her desk, glaring at Minerva.

"I can't do it, Master. The children are – " she ran her hand through her hair. "I have no patience for them. They are idiots – stupid, spiteful idiots, and I have no authority over them. Meting out punishment helped a little, but god – how many points did I take, in the end?"

Her Master grew from her Animagus form, stepping from the shadows. "Thirty from Gryffindor, and ten from Slytherin, offset by five points each."

"Sorry," she muttered at the desk, not feeling very sorry at all.

Minerva only laughed. "It's a difficult job, I won't deny that. You did fine, Cassiopeia, however, you may be right that this isn't something you'd enjoy. I may make use of you yet, however; I'll just have to find a way to give back some of those points – it wouldn't do for Gryffindor to lose the House Cup, no?"

"Please, don't ever make me do this again."

"We'll see, we'll see," Minerva said, giving her a rare smirk. "Now hurry down to dinner, you need to restore your energy, I can tell."

She meandered through the halls for a few minutes, allowing the harried look she involuntarily sported to fade. Severus walked up to her as she came into the Great Hall, his face graced by an amused smirk. "I'm hearing horror stories."

"About my teaching?" she asked with a resigned sigh, heading to her seat. She honestly didn't care as much about the kids' approval as she'd thought she would. They were eleven year olds, for Merlin's sake. The five years' age difference seemed like an insurmountable gap at the moment.

"The lion firsties were commiserating about the loss of points."

"It's not my fault they're little shites who refuse to listen," she responded snappily.

Severus laughed, and the sound soothed away some of the irritation coursing through her. It was rare now, to see him voice his emotion so freely.

"Oh, I don't blame you in the slightest. Merlin, imagine if Slughorn made me teach," Severus said, sitting at the table beside her. "I'd be worse than you, I'm sure – however you may feel, you at least have that modicum of patience that I completely lack."

She couldn't help the smile that crept up her face as she imagined an older Severus in the Potions Lab – because what else would he teach? – snapping and snarling at the students. "Perhaps."

Severus shuddered momentarily, and she raised her brow. "I'm just remembering – we were eleven, once. Gods."

"We weren't menaces, at least, like they are."

"I'd hope not… I am never having children."

"Seems like we're of the same mind, then."

November 7, 1976 – Hogwarts

Cassiopeia donned the simple, forest-green dress robes, sighing as she plaited her hair. Why she continued humouring Slughorn and attending the Club Meetings she had no idea, but he had been so very insistent that she come – if not of her own accord, then as Severus' date. Because of course Slughorn's apprentice was obligated to attend every single one.

Severus would have to make it up to her, she thought, meeting him in the hall outside the common room. Inexplicably, an image of him, unclothed, kneeling between her knees flashed in front of her mind, and she furiously fought not to allow her emotions to show on her face. She wasn't sure how well she succeeded.

"Shall we?"

They walked the short path in companionable silence, and she attempted to put the thought out of her mind – scolding her overactive imagination. She didn't even know if he liked going down on –

Merlin, Cassiopeia.

If he didn't, and they ended up dating, she thought she'd be rather disappointed. Cailean had set a rather high standard.

Calm the fuck down.

By the time they arrived at the party and had been greeted by Slughorn, she had more or less composed herself, emphasis on the 'less.' She took a moment to survey the other attendants as she took a seat, feeling a jolt of shock as she realised Pettigrew was right beside her.

There was no way he had been invited on his own merits –

Evans. She'd brought Remus last time, and it seemed this month was Peter's turn to be the pity invitee. Cassiopeia moved as far away from him as she could, unable to quell her disgust with the bumbling, rat-faced boy.

Conversation flowed freely as the soiree began in earnest – for all she disliked Slughorn, Cassiopeia could not deny that he was an excellent conversationalist. She was just listening in to a story from one of the Slytherins, intrigued despite herself, when she heard Pettigrew shift in his seat, and her eyes snapped immediately to his.

He glanced away, red-faced. Coward.

She returned her attention to the conversation, smiling slightly as she observed Severus' captivation. Dragon breath seemed like an invaluable ingredient to improve the potency of several high-level potions, even if it was fiendishly difficult to collect.

A moment later, she took a bite of the, admittedly, rather excellent roast, when her world exploded into pain. Blinding, heart-stopping pain. Her muscles convulsed, every nerve burning like dittany on raw skin, she couldn't breathe. She didn't think she made a noise, but then, suddenly, there were screams all around her, hands grabbing desperately, her mouth being wrenched open – the very touch of air was like flame, she wanted to die – and then everything went dark.

•••

My apologies for not posting last week, I got my covid booster and experienced fairly severe side-effects. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and that you have a lovely week.