November 20, 1976 – Hogwarts

Severus lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. Images of Cassiopeia's performance in the Duelling Hall flashed before his eyes: her fierce grace, her power. It was exhilarating, filling him with a sense of pride: it was through his instruction that she had learnt to wield a wand with such precision, to press her advantages, to embrace the darkness that she was so suited to command.

He would not mourn her descent onto these paths. He cared little whether it was by the Dark Lord's will that the two of them had been prepared to wield the immense power they offered – at the moment, the only matter of importance was the call. It wasn't as though thousands had not been swayed towards their pursuit before.

His greatest difficulty now would be to prevent her from sinking too far – and he was certainly ill-suited to such a task. How old had he been, when he'd taken the first step on the downward path? Much too young.

Crawling back to the light – or as close to it as he could – had been a task only facilitated by her unwavering support, by the threat of losing her forever. It was his turn now, if things got that far: only he knew there would be no abandonment from him, no matter how far she went.

But Cassiopeia was different from him; the anger that came to him easily – the emotion that dark spells fed upon – was more difficult to rouse in her. Unless of course, he remembered with a smirk, she was faced by a hated face. Then, the emotion rose quickly, her eyes flashing with it in a manner that took his breath away.

She would be glorious, as she cut down her enemies. He could not wait to see the revenge she would inflict on Pettigrew once he returned; Dumbledore would mourn his oversight in ever allowing them to come face-to-face.

"Severus? May I come in?"

He smiled slightly as the object of his thoughts ran into the room, barely waiting for his permission. Her smile was radiant, and his heart jumped as she threw her arms around him, knocking his body onto the mattress.

"Narcissa's pregnant," she revealed, laying overtop his chest, her chin resting on his sternum. "Three months along now – she just wrote."

"Give her my congratulations then," he responded, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

His heart beat rapidly as she did not move away from him, instead laying her head on his chest with a contented smile. It was impossible that she did not hear its nervous rhythm, but she gave no indication of it, pressing her warm body against him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Fuck. He cursed the sudden realisation of how lovely she felt against his skin. The last thing he wanted was to ruin this unexpected intimacy with –

She lifted her head then, her smirk indisputably sinful, before she brought her lips to his with unanticipated force. Lying overtop him, she leveraged her weight to her advantage, her possessiveness as she claimed him strong enough to bruise.

When she pulled away for breath, flushed with desire and power, he sat up, tangling his fingers through her hair. It was his turn now to dominate her, to expose her neck as he trailed the skin there with his lips, sucking hard enough at a spot near her collarbone to leave a bruise.

The anticipation made him heady: he would watch the skin there bloom with colour, marking her as his. Yess.

The hand that wasn't curled in her hair he let wander over her stomach, her waist. She wasn't curvy in any sense, but it only made her all the more beautiful in his eyes, and as he allowed his gaze to fall to her chest – admiring it shamelessly – he considered her absolutely perfect.

He had resolved to venture no further than sight, when she snatched his hand with hers suddenly, bringing it beneath her shirt.

"Fuck," he hissed, and the triumph in her face was intoxicating as he explored the soft flesh of her breasts, wishing only that they were fully accessible to him, and not half-concealed by her bra.

"Beautiful," he let the praise fall easily from his lips, watching as she blushed, her answer to capture his mouth once again, letting him feel her smile against his skin.

November 25, 1976 – Hogwarts

"I'll present our idea to the Dark Lord over the holidays," Cassiopeia spoke, pacing the length of the Wishing Room. She was filled with nervous energy, running her hands through her hair.

"That's more opportunity for direct harm," Severus responded practically, almost regretting it when her expression darkened.

"I know, Severus. But there's still a chance Dumbledore's monitoring owls, and the last thing we need is for him to find out what we're doing."

"He'd try to stop us," the wizard sighed in agreement.

"Of course. Two seats, or even one more, working with the Dark Front – even if only sometimes? He'll be furious."

"He'll retaliate against us once it happens, of that I'm sure. But you're right, even if I'm not looking forward to it."

She exhaled, sitting on the sofa beside him. "It might distract him – hopefully – from his current obsession with growing his ranks. Now that we're together, though – "

"He's unstable, Cas, but we're sixteen."

"Almost seventeen. Legally – "

"I don't care what the law says. That is entirely too young to have a child."

"I know, Severus," she quieted him with a look. "It's the last thing I would want – right now, or maybe ever. But it is, unfortunately, a possibility we may have to consider."

He frowned in thought. "The bonding ritual… if the worst comes to pass, it's possible we could explain your… fertility troubles as a transference from Narcissa."

"I wouldn't want to place her in any danger, but – I will try to think of another plan. We still have twenty days at the least, and it's quite possible he means to force us into no such thing."

"I hope so," he exhaled harshly. "Gods… I can't wait for the day he is gone."

"Most people would share your sentiment," she agreed. "And I am certainly one of them."

Severus allowed his head to fall back onto the sofa, utter relief coursing through his veins. At the moment, he didn't care much if it made him look weak – the missive from his mother that he had been awaiting for the past four weeks had arrived, bearing the best news he could have hoped for.

I have communicated with Eimear, and she has agreed to meet with me in a day's time. I will be travelling to France tomorrow morning, and may be gone for some time. Do not write; I will inform you once you can do so. I will be petitioning for her to allow me to rejoin the family.

"Good news?" Regulus interrupted him, throwing himself onto the sofa opposite him. A rakish grin on his face, he looked every inch his brother, were it not the green and silver tie that adorned his neck.

"Quite," he drawled in response, and a wordless 'incendio' turned the parchment to ash.

Regulus raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Who taught you?"

"Sayre, obviously. Don't tell me she hasn't introduced the topic to your year?" he mocked, provoked to banter by his good mood.

"Of course she has – that doesn't mean a single student has even mastered a 'Wingardium Leviosa.'"

"Not even the darling Regulus Black? How… shocking."

"Come off it," the younger wizard rolled his eyes. "It's not like I even need to practice, with OWLs still months away. I just have so many other things on my hands…"

"Oh?" Severus asked, suddenly wondering whether the younger Black brother was being scouted by the Death Eaters.

"Cute guys, obviously," he drawled, and Severus let out a startled laugh. "Haven't you seen how they've been falling all over me?"

"I can't imagine why."

"It's my charm obviously: my humility and utter loveliness. Have you even seen my face?"

Severus shuddered. "Don't remind me."

"That I'm the spitting image of my dear brother? A little difficult, but I'm always up for a challenge. Shall I dye my hair a vibrant shade of auburn?"

"Your mother might die of a heart attack."

"Oh, she'd have a conniption for sure. Can you imagine – her face turning the colour of my mane?"

"I'd rather not. Honestly, I think she'd be more insulted that you were trying to imitate the Weasleys."

"Oh god," Reg laughed. "You're right – and you've never had to listen to her rant about the horde of blood-traitors that they're trying to birth."

"How many are they up to now?"

"Three, and trying for another," he answered immediately, then shook his head with disgust. "I hate that I know that. You don't know how lucky you are that you've never been forced to memorise the family tree."

"Aren't you something like second cousins, however-many-time removed? Walburga is insane."

"Hey, only I get to call my mother a lunatic," he teased, before his countenance turned a little more serious. "But honestly, she's gotten worse recently. I thought having Sirius out of the house would help, but he was a good outlet for her anger – Merlin that sounds awful."

"Sorry for your shit family, Reg."

The younger boy shrugged. "I've learnt to deal with it. Besides, I'll be out of the house soon enough – I'm hoping to get an Apprenticeship with a Curse-Breaker from abroad."

"Fleeing the country, are we?" Severus asked with a raised brow. Was that a subtle – ?

"Oh, I'm terribly tired of Britain. It's so dreadfully boring."

"Only a terrorist group gaining strength," he responded, alluding to the day's newspaper headline, which had proclaimed yet another attack.

Regulus shrugged. "And nothing else. When you've got little interest in joining such an organisation, what else is there to do?"

Severus could not help the slight widening of his eyes, pausing for a moment to consider his words. "I wouldn't know, I'm afraid. It's only recently that I've begun to share your views."

The younger Black brother was bright; it took only seconds for him to make the connection.

"Ah… so we've here a fellow ambivalent."

He shrugged slightly. "You could say that. Though you know where I've been made to stand."

He nodded. "I was always curious why you decided to pick a side so openly. Self-preservation was my main theory, even if it didn't quite make sense."

"You're somewhat correct, still. I assume I don't have to…?"

"Crouch was crowing about the success of his recruit. I'd rather not take my chances."

"Good."

Regulus bestowed him with a beatific smile, before standing to leave, his parting words a relatively quiet: 'good luck.'

Severus shook his head, bemused at the thought of Regulus willingly spending time with him. If nothing else — though Reg was a good conversationalist — it was worth keeping him around to rankle Sirius Black.

December 1, 1976 – Dark Forest

An insistence urged her into the forest, a pulsating band around her chest, pulling her forward. It had begun just after dinner, and she had excused herself from Aurora's presence, discomfited by the sensation. Though she could move of her own accord, any step away from the direction that had been chosen was met with a sense of dread, an all-encompassing feeling that she was making the wrong choice.

Her first thought had been an Unbreakable Vow, and the second a Dark spell. She had dismissed the former outright, but the latter was her main theory at the moment. With this in mind, she had taken her wand, and asked Severus to follow her.

It was only at the forest boundary that the bond, curse, whatever it was, insisted that he stay behind, pushing him away from her in a surprisingly gentle manner.

She could feel she was close – very close – to the magic's source, however, so she had reassured him. That had been but a minute ago – and he had demanded that should she not appear in five, he would be coming to rescue her.

A low braying caused her to turn, startled, finding herself quite suddenly overlooking an overgrown ditch. She would have ignored it, for the noise did not appear again, were it not for the hundreds of silvery strands that adorned the branches.

Spurred into action by her discovery, she cleared away the mess of wood and vines, an expanse of bloody white fur slowly being revealed to her.

It was only when the last of the growth had been cleared away that she realised the unicorn had lost consciousness. It was in a sense surprising – the animals were extraordinarily strong – but also not, for the pool of silvery blood beneath it was larger than it had any right to be.

"Cassiopeia!"

She let out a breath of relief – there was no way she would have been able to heal the animal on her own.

"Here, Severus," she called out, flashing purple sparks from her wand. It took only seconds for him to find her then, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene.

"Help me heal her," she instructed, supremely certain – for whatever reason – that this was the same animal she had now met four times, the mother of the foal. "We can move her later."

The two of them set to work, and the creature was healed relatively quickly, though she did not rouse once.

"Someone did this to her," Cassiopeia said, her words breaking the quiet that had settled over them. "Throwing her in here was either an attempt to hide the body, or to conceal her true injuries."

Severus nodded his assent. He too had noticed the two lacerations that adorned the unicorn's stomach, too precise and deep to have been caused by anything outside a blade or cutting spell.

"There must be a potion they're trying to make. Unicorn blood has very few actual uses."

"You don't think…?"

He shook his head immediately. "To drink it would be utter insanity. Worse. Condemning yourself to such a life…"

"Not even the Dark Lord?"

He paused for a moment in consideration. "No," he decided. "I do not think even he is so far gone."

She inclined her head, then sighed. "It's getting dark, and I'd rather not leave her so vulnerable. I wish there was a way…"

She frowned in concentration. The centaur camp was not far from here, she knew, but it had never occurred for her to ask for a way to keep in contact. Her petition would have probably been denied by the more wary of the herd's leaders, but it would have been exceptionally helpful – preferable to her current action of lighting a bonfire.

As she had predicted, it did not take long for the sound of thundering hooves to reach them, and it was only the shout of a voice she recognised as Ronan's which prevented the drawn arrows of several other centaurs from raining down upon them.

"Cassiopeia of Slytherin," he greeted, galloping to stand before her. "You have called us."

"Ronan," she bowed her head. "I was unsure whether I'd be heard. Thank you. Come, see for yourself why I felt the need to disturb you."

She stepped aside, allowing the fierce centaur to gaze into the pit. His expression was troubled when he turned back.

"We have healed her, but she does not wake and we must return to the school. I would ask for your aid," she said, adopting the formal speech of the herd.

"...And I would give it," he responded after a moment. "I will set a guard to keep watch."

"You have my thanks."

He shook his head in a single, abrupt movement. "The stars have willed it, I would be a fool to refuse," he said cryptically. "Will you need our help for your return?"

"It is not far," she refused. "Thank you."

"We wish you safe passage, Cassiopeia, Severus," he intoned, dismissing them.

The two of them stilled almost simultaneously, hearing a pair of whispering voices hidden in one of the alcoves. While such a thing was entirely expected for a castle filled with teenagers, it was the flash of red hair that caught their attention in turn, compelling them to listen in with an eavesdropping spell.

"... both pure, Padfoot."

It was Sirius – the moniker familiar to them both through the map.

"That's not possible, Lils. Didn't you hear the rumours?"

"I – did, yes, but – it's nothing."

Black made a displeased noise. "Do you think we should tell people? Or even Dumbledore? They snuck out into the Forbidden Forest after curfew, and maybe hurt a unicorn."

"And how would we know that if we hadn't done the same? Honestly, Sirius," Lily said, her tone exasperated. "No, let's keep it to ourselves. Besides, I – I thought… but no, that disproves it."

"Something wrong, Lils?"

"...No. I was just convinced – you never slept with her, did you?"

"Nazyalensky?" Black laughed. "Never. She's a snake, Lils, and so whiny and boring. I would never."

"...Alright."

"Hey. Enough talk about her. There was a reason why I didn't want to go straight back to the tower after all – "

"I'd rather not today, sorry," Lily interrupted him. "There's something... off – "

Severus cut the spell with a violent slash of his wand.

"If she wants to cheat on Potter, so be it. Let's leave them be," he said, before turning to her, whispering in her ear. "You are nothing like he described. Nothing."

"Well, I am a Slytherin."

"And all the better for it," he responded, not even bothering to roll his eyes. "... I don't think they'll tell on us. But – "

"Let's consider our options when we're not half-asleep, Sev'rus," she responded, covering a yawn. "If I didn't have my pride, I might even ask you to carry me downstairs."

"And I may have agreed. Though it's probably best not to test that now," he answered, realising, quite suddenly, that he was extraordinarily tired as well. "I'm afarid I might not currently have the strength."