She pulls Tom along down the corridor and out a side door to a balcony, walking so fast it's nearly a run.
"Come on," she says as she climbs on top of the railing. "We're still on the first floor. It's just a leap down to the hedges, so don't worry."
"You're insane," he complains as he approaches. "Wait."
"We don't have time to - " she starts. In a flash, he is over the railing and landing squarely on his feet on the slightly slopped hill a few feet below. He turns to her, holding his arms out to her.
"You're insane," she retorts as his hands clasp her hips and she lets go of the railing, allowing him to pull her down. She hears the door open again behind them and quickly ducks, taking him with her. She holds a finger up to her lips and presses her body against the wall. He obeys and does the same with all the noise a ghost might make.
The footsteps stop just short of the railing, turning and going down the balcony toward the front of the house. She hears her father mutter above her, "Cette fille diabolique… Pourquoi ne peut-elle pas se comporter?"
What is he complaining about? She'd put on this dress and danced with that man, hadn't she? Was debasing herself for an hour not good enough for him? No, she could have gone the whole night playing along like a puppet on strings and still he would have found something to complain about. To blame her for.
A broad smile comes across her face as she finally thinks of the perfect present for Tom. Something he'd already asked for - and she is now in a position to give. She giggles as she stands, dusting off her skirt, and gestures for him to do the same before starting to trudge toward the tree line.
"What adventure are you taking me on now?"
"It's a surprise."
"What amazing foresight you must have had to set up a surprise in the guest cottage ahead of time," he says. He must have spent more time here than she'd thought if he knew what direction they were heading in. "Perhaps I should let Professor Murk know about your gift."
"Please don't, the last subject I want to waste my time in is Divination. Second to last, I suppose, in reality but you get the point."
"What's the first?"
"Muggle Studies."
"And why is that?"
"What is there to study?" she shoots back before wincing. "I forgot, sorry - "
"Don't be sorry. It's true. Do you have the key?" he asks as the little brick building comes into view through the darkness.
"No, but I know where it's hidden. The three of us used to sneak back here to play cards since Cain's mother forbid any gambling in the house."
"How long - "
"I don't remember, exactly, but I think we first met when we were two months old. Our mothers were best friends at Hogwarts."
"Slytherin, I presume?"
"Ravenclaw actually," she answers as she lifts up one of the plants perched on a ledge by the door and pulls the key out from under it. "Too bad she wasn't smart enough to avoid marrying my father. If you're wondering why she wasn't in attendance today, my father had her committed after… can't risk anyone permanently damaging his most precious merchandise again, can he?"
A bitter laugh escapes her and he knows well enough not to reply. They reach the fireplace and she reaches for the floo powder, tossing a handful in. She beckons him to step in after her and, once he does, she calls out, "Malecrit Manor."
A swirl later and they are stepping onto a faded Persian rug in a room made of stone. Cassandra steps forward first, glancing around, "Apologies for the mess. I'd offer you tea but I'm sure there isn't any. Come along."
She leads him down a series of stone corridors, all in various states of disrepair - in one, he even notices the moon peaking through a gap in the roof. Their destination is a pair of large oak doors. She taps them with her wand and mutters something before they move to open themselves, revealing a room painted in a faded purple, high ceilings decorated with rusted gold chandeliers and crown molding covered in dust. The room is long and along every wall but the back one are towering bookshelves stacked to the brim. The center of it is filled with worn out chairs, upholstery stained and, in some places, even torn, as well as an ambling collection of shorter shelves.
"Merry Christmas," she declares as she steps inside, waving a hand to set the candles flickering before moving toward a chaise facing the back wall with its two oversized windows showering moonlight into the room. She sits and looks back at him, "Pick anything you like. They're just wasting away here anyway. Except this shelf next to me, those are the ones I would still like to get through."
"Is there any kind of organizational system I should be aware of?" Tom asks, an eyebrow raised as he begins scanning the shelves.
"If there is, I haven't managed to divine what it is yet," she quips back, picking up one of the books off the shelf next to her and opening it as she leans back.
Tom scans each title, picking up a few here and there. He makes it around the room in half an hour, but still does not find what he was looking for. He debates it for a second before deciding to ask. There can't be much risk from just asking.
"Cassandra," he calls out to get her attention while walking up to her.
She lays her book down on her lap and lifts her head, "I see you found a few you're interested in. Wonderful."
"There's still one I am looking for."
"Yes?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Bullock, second edition," he says evenly.
A beat passes while she just stares at him in silence, and for a second he thinks she may ask why or feign ignorance. Instead, she reaches down to a stack of books sitting on the floor next to the lounge she is sitting on and rifles through it before finally lifting up one with a red cover and holding it out to him, "Here, though I reserve the right to borrow it."
"Thank you," he says, taking it and adding it to the stack under his arm.
"I can take those if you'd like," she offers. "The only redeeming factor of paying for such expensive clothes - the pockets always come with amazing extension charms."
He hands them to her without a word and she drops them in, extension charm working its magic to swallow them up even though each is quite a bit larger than the little slit meant to fit lipstick, powder, and her wand in her dress.
"Do you want to explore more, or should we head - " she starts, before whipping her head around at the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside. She turns back to him and hisses, "Behind the sofa over by the windows - hide."
He looks at her quizzically but is swept into following her directions when she starts to push him in that direction. He scrambles back and ducks behind it. The candles suddenly flicker off again. She turns back and just manages to crouch behind her personal bookshelf before the doors swing open again, this time with a thud against the wall as her father enters.
"Tu fou, je sais que vous êtes ici. Come out before I tear your precious books apart," he barks. A moment of silence passes before he yells again while lifting his wand, "Tu penses que je plaisante? You think this is funny, yes? Let us see how long that lasts."
She stands before he can finish his wand movement, greeting him with a shallow curtsy and an even shallower smile, "Hello, father. I thought you would still be at the party."
"You annoying little - I would be, if you hadn't caused my reason for attending to leave! I was almost there, I could have gotten everything back, but no, you had to run away like a child."
"I am a child, father. Your child," she replies, still smiling. A slap rings through the room. She turns her head back to him, cheek red, smile gone. She just stares at him, mouth pursed. He glares back for a few moments before barking his next orders.
"Heal that, redo your makeup, and pick up your things. You're going back to the party, and then tomorrow you are going to fix what you did by flooing to London and asking for that prick's forgiveness - say you got faint and had to leave to rest or something. I'm sure you can come up with a good lie. Your precious Cain is looking for you, so hurry."
"And how am I supposed to explain my absence tomorrow to him? Considering what he's probably paying you for me to go to Hogwarts and stay with his family over breaks, he might want a partial refund. I'm curious, what am I worth exactly? 20,000 galleons a year?"
Her father chuckles, "You must have done a number on that boy, because it's fifty."
"That's quite the steady income. Is your deal with the Russians worth more than that?"
"That is none of your business."
"It must be to be worth the risk, right? Cain may seem generous, but he's used to getting everything he wants - and not sharing it."
"Just fix your appearance and go back to the party. If he has to ask where you are again, there will be consequences," her father says, moving to turn around. He pauses before reaching the door, seemingly recalling something. "You left with a boy."
"He was just one of Cain's friends, helping - "
"Yes, I heard. Riddle. That's not an acceptable name."
"I know."
"Where did he go after that?"
"I don't know. Lost him somewhere in the gardens," she shrugs.
"Don't make me check whether you are lying."
"I am not."
"Good. Remember, I didn't go to the trouble of raising you just for you to squander my investment. If another incident like last summer occurs, even that spoiled brat won't be able to save you - if he still wants to, that is."
She just nods, expression stoic. He turns again and leaves, the door slamming behind him. All is still in the room as his footsteps echo back down the hall. It takes a minute before Tom comes out, standing and walking around to her frozen form.
They stand in silence as he heals the mark on her cheek.
"Thank you," she mutters, voice shaking. A second later, she bursts out into tears.
"Cass," he says, not knowing what else to say.
"I heard them talking but I still thought…" she whispers. "Merlin, I'm so stupid."
Tom knows it would be to his benefit to use this moment to tear them further apart, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself saying back, "I'm sure Cain was just trying to make you happy."
"Then he should have asked me if this was what I wanted!" she says, reaching up to start harshly wiping her face. "You know, I'm a person too. Not just some pretty object to be bought and sold. Aren't I entitled to have a say in - "
"I know. You are," he says, moving her hands away from her now reddened checks and then bending down so he can use his fingers to softly brush away the tears instead. "But the world assigns places to all of us, Cassandra. It's up to us to escape them."
She looks up at him, blinking rapidly. Tom looks back at her, feeling trapped by her gaze. A moment later he feels her lips pressing against his. The feeling barely registers before she is pulling back again, her cheeks red from blushing now.
He can read an apology on her lips already. She gets the words out before he can stop her, "Sorry. I just got carried away in the moment. I'm sure that's all it was. It won't happen - "
He cuts her off, the hand near her face coming in to grip it and pull her back. Something deep inside of him stirs as his lips press against hers again, moving of their own volition. She tries to tug away but his other hand reaches around to the small of her back to pull her into his body and instead they stumble forward, her back bumping against one of the shelves behind her.
Her hand comes up, resting on the back of his neck, and he opens his mouth, tongue swirling out to grab a taste of her as hers does too. Her other hand is in his hair now, sweeping it back, and he thinks they must be so tangled up in each other that they might just have to stay like this forever. He moves closer to her somehow, body molding to hers and every inch of it on fire.
She pulls back again, gasping, but before she can say anything this time he moves his lips to her neck, biting down. She lets out a noise that is the most delicious thing he's ever heard as her fingernails rake against his scalp. He licks and sucks over the indentations he has created, drawing a whispered fuck from her before her hand pulls him back up to her lips and they are swallowing each other whole again.
There is a thud as one of the books from the shelves above them is knocked loose and falls to the floor a few inches from them. She pulls back, surprised, and in an instant he sees reality come back to her. And then it comes crashing back to him a few seconds later.
What has he done?
Why isn't he still doing it?
His mouth is nearly on hers again when she says softly, "We should head back."
He steps back silently, not knowing what to say and not sure if he wants to hear what she would if pressed. Neither of them says anything as they walk back to the fireplace, or as they step out of the other side, or as they step back into the cold air, her rushing ahead faster than even his long legs can follow. Finally, she turns to him as she finishes climbing the steps to the balcony, illuminated by the light coming from the hall to the ballroom behind her. They stare at each other, but by the time she opens her mouth to say something, and he opens his mouth to interrupt, they are interrupted by the sound of the French doors behind them opening.
"I've been looking for you forever, Cass," Cain complains as he walks up. His eyes dart to Tom as he sees him still standing on the grass below, "What are you two doing here?"
"Oh, you know us," Cassandra says casually as she turns to him. "We were just taking a walk to enjoy some fresh air and talking about the Charms reading assigned over break."
Cain reaches out, taking her hand. Tom knows he is fuming despite his smile, "I wish I could be so studious, but with a week left in break I'm ashamed to admit I haven't even started. Cass, a chaser from the Magpies is here and wanted to throw some quaffles around. I was hoping you may be able to keep his wife company while we play?"
"Of course," she says, returning his smile. "I'll see you back at school, Tom."