Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, obviously. I like to think I'd have more respect for my fans than JKR has proven herself to have with her various bullshit tweets about canon, 75% of the content on Pottermore and nearly every other public statement she's said about the books. Not to mention the Book That Shall Not Be Named.

And of course all the transphobia and generalized ignorance about other cultures and countries.

Cassiopeia

By Kylia

Chapter 4

April 25th, 2003

Parkinson Estate

"The Master and the Mistress are not here at the Estate," the house elf that greeted Cassiopeia when she arrived at the front door told her.

"That's fine. I'm here to see Pansy," Cassiopeia explained cooly. She wondered where Mr. Parkinson and his wife were at this point, but it didn't especially matter. The odds were that if the two of them were here, they'd go back to trying to get a marriage contract for her with Pansy signed.

Their pursuit of that idea had been tossed by the wayside when Pansy came out as sapphic exclusively, though obviously Pansy was still expected to get eventually married to an eligible pureblood - or possibly a suitably wealthy half-blood, given the times - and have children. The only real difference from the standard expectations would be that Pansy and her hypothetical future wife would need appropriate magical assistance for the conception stage of things.

But as soon as they found out that Cassiopeia was now technically eligible for Pansy's affections...

Yeah, neither of us need that.

It would come sooner or later, but better later rather than sooner. Especially now.

"And is the young Miss expecting you?"

"No, but you can tell her Cassiopeia is here to see her. She'll tell you to let me in," Cassiopeia told the house-elf. The elf nodded and vanished with a quick popping sound, the door closing behind him. Cassiopeia looked around the estate, occupying herself. To her utter lack of surprise, plenty of the flowers Pansy was named for could be seen all over the estate, in a carefully arranged array of colors, both natural and magically created.

Mrs. Parkinson's fondness for the plant was famous across Wizarding England, as was her interest in decorative art through flowers of all sorts. And she seemed to have only gotten more skilled at arranging aesthetically pleasing displays.

As much as she didn't want to, Cassiopeia had to consider the planning for her father's funeral. Asking Mrs. Parkinson to assist her mother with the preparations - especially when it came to anything with flowers - might not be a bad idea.

She filed the thought away for another time, however, as the door opened and the house elf from before was there.

"Young Miss will see you now," the elf said with a slight bow and Cassiopeia followed him inside. The interior decor was much the same as it had always been, just on this side of tacky and ostentatious - Mr. Parkinson had none of his wife's skill with tasteful decoration, and the entrance hall especially showed his hamfisted touch.

"Where is Pansy?"

"Right here," Cassiopeia looked to the source of the sound, and saw Pansy coming down the stairs into the entrance hall, wearing a black shirt and pants, her hair much shorter than the last time Cassiopeia had seen her.

She continued down the stairs as she kept talking, "You know, I was at the Ministry briefly earlier and I heard a rumor that a gorgeous blonde - a Malfoy who wasn't Narcissa, even - had been spotted recently, in the Ministry. But I thought, no, because if my best friend Cassiopeia was back in Britain, surely she'd have told me." Despite her 'accusation', she had a smile on her face, which ruined the effect of her 'stern' posture, with her hands on her sides when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Pansy," Cassiopeia smiled softly, letting herself forget - for just a moment - that her father was dead as she approached and embraced one of her oldest friends. She held her tight for a moment. "You changed your hair."

"I felt like a change of style," Pansy said dismissively. "And you didn't answer my question."

"There was a question in there?" Cassiopeia asked, chuckling briefly, raising an eyebrow. "I must have missed it." Then she inhaled, looking down at the ground a moment as reality came rushing back at her.

"I... I wasn't planning on coming back to Britain any time soon," Cassiopeia admitted. She'd been happy in America, all said and done. She'd had friends there - none as close as Pansy, Blaise and Theo, granted - and a fairly active social circle, centering around the shared interest in swordplay, after she'd picked that up.

And of course, while her family name was known, and infamous, it wasn't the same. The Malfoy family had never really shown any interest in anything in the Western Hemisphere, and so had had little involvement there, in any fashion.

Which was why Cassiopeia had gone there in the first place, after narrowly missing Azkaban.

"I only came back now because Father is dead," she finally murmured.

"Cassiopeia-" Pansy embraced her again, holding her tight, and Cassiopeia returned the gesture, arms around Pansy's torso for a long moment before the both pulled back. "I'm sorry - I didn't-" Cassiopeia held up a hand,interrupting Pansy's attempt to apologize for something she couldn't have known.

"He was... killed, yesterday. The Ministry asked Mother to keep it quiet, at least for a short while, as they begin the investigation..." Cassiopeia explained. "I got back to Britain six hours ago - I was only at the Ministry to register my change of name."

"You hadn't taken care of that already?"

"Why bother?" Cassiopeia admitted. "I didn't plan to return to Britain for... years. Probably not until..." she looked away. "Not unless someone died."

Pansy took Cassiopeia's hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry he's dead. And they don't know-"

"No, not yet," Cassiopeia answered. "Though they did put Granger on the case. If anyone can solve Father's murder, I'm sure the infamous know it all swot can," especially given the role a muggle weapon had played.

"Come on," she tugged on Cassiopeia's hand, pulling her up the stairs. "I'm getting Blaise and Theo here. I'm not going to make you go through the whole explanation three times,"

Cassiopeia inhaled and followed Pansy into the upper lounge, a more private and discrete sort of room than the main one on the lower floor. Pansy lit a fire with a casual wave of her wand and tossed floo powder into it.

"Nott Manor," she called out as the flames turned green, and then she stuck her head in. "Theo! Get over here, now. And drag Blaise out of whichever guest room he's sleeping it off in while you're at it and bring him too."

Cassiopeia didn't hear what Theo said, but Pansy added, before pulling out of the fireplace, "yes, it's about Cassiopeia. She's back, she's here, and she needs to talk to you and Blaise." Pansy brushed a stray bit of ash out of her hair as she pulled back, putting out the fire - there was no need to turn the lounge into a sauna.

"Blaise is staying at Theo's?" Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow.

"He got into a fight with his mother last week and refuses to go back home on principle." Pansy explained. "And he doesn't want to leave Britain."

"Not even to go live in one of the houses he actually owns in his own right? Not like he couldn't just floo or apparate back and forth." Well, apparating would depend on which of the properties he was living in. Blaise was unusual among British Purebloods in having an extensive portfolio of properties in Europe, thanks to his father's family. He had a chateau and vineyard in France, a villa in Tuscany and extensive properties in and around Tunis. Not to mention smaller homes on Antwerp, Madrid, Barcelona, Rotterdam and Oslo.

The Malfoy Family had properties on the continent as well - not to mention the home Cassiopeia had been living at in America, which she hadn't sold and had no plans to. But nothing quite as wide-ranging or extensive as Blaise's.

Cassiopeia was happy to focus on something much smaller than her own problems right now.

"I guess not." Pansy shrugged. "He won't tell Theo or me, but I think he's seeing someone and doesn't want to tell us," Pansy explained, clearly picking up on Cassiopeia's intentions by her question.

"He denies it, but he's doing something other than just partying when he goes out, and has for like... a month now. At least." Pansy went on. She stepped away from the fireplace and to the door. "Edelweiss!" she called out, and a house elf - not the one that had greeted Cassiopeia at the door - popped into view, wearing what might have once been part of a quilt, judging from the arrangement of the colors.

"Yes, young miss?"

"Bring up four glasses, and a bottle of the MacDerrin Blend. One of the twelve year ones." Pansy told the elf, and with a bow, the elf vanished.

"Pansy, you-"

"Cass, half the reason we have any MacDerrin in the Estate is because it's your favorite scotch. I knew you were going to come visit eventually, so I bought up a dozen bottles a few years ago."

"Yes, but you hate Scotch." Cassiopeia pointed out.

"Not enough to not drink someone when the bottle's already opened and I'm pouring some for you, Theo and Blaise. I'm sure Blaise will bitch about it not being grappa or Guinness, but he'll drink just the same. Theo likes Scotch as much as you do."

Well, that was true, though Theo's preferred single malt was from a distillery near Edinburgh. Blaise would drink just about any alcoholic beverage offered, though he did prefer grappa in general, or if that wasn't available in any variety, Guiness in particular.

"Okay," Cassiopeia conceded, holding her hands up briefly in surrender, and then dropped into one of the chairs, leaning back a bit. "We were talking about Blaise being unusually secretive about seeing someone?"

"We were," Pansy agreed, sitting down in another one, crossing one leg over the other. "I told him I didn't see why he was keeping it quiet from us - did he actually think anyone was going to judge him?" Pansy laughed, "I dated Hermione. I think, short of jumping into bed with Potter or Weasley, there's nothing he could do that would shock us,"

"Potter's engaged, isn't he?" Cassiopeia pointed out. "And the idea of Wesley having sex at all is just..." Cassiopeia shuddered. "The freckles could very well be... everywhere."

"Yeah, he proposed to his precious Ginny a few months ago, the Prophet is still following the wedding preparations with breathless anticipation. The rumors are they both want a small, quiet ceremony, which also has all the press vultures pulling their hair out," Pansy grinned.

"They're going to try to eat you alive, you know, once they find out you're back, and your father's dead." Pansy cautioned.

"They'll find I'm a lot harder to digest than I was five years ago," Cassiopeia countered. "And this time, I'll have every right to sic the lawyers on them if they decide to close in too much."

"The day lawyers stop someone like Skeeter is the day I drink veritaserum and sing a heartfelt love song to Slughorn," Pansy countered. She sighed. "You said Granger got assigned the case?"

"She did," Cassiopeia nodded. "She's still the same sort of person, at the end of the day."

"On the surface, maybe," Pansy's smile turned into a smirk, and she leaned in a bit conspiratorially. "But get her alone and bothered... she's nothing like the girl we knew at Hogwarts."

"Pansy!" Cassiopeia half-scolded, half-tried to suppress a smile at her friend's antics. "I keep telling you I don't need to know the details of your sex life, whoever you were with at the time."

Pansy raised an eyebrow and her hair behind her a bit. "Even when it comes to Granger? Are you sure you didn't fancy her while you were picking on her? You singled her out pretty well, even given that she was Muggleborn."

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at the retread argument - Pansy hadn't conceded it when she'd first brought it up two years ago, so much as just ended the discussion, but apparently she was still convinced she was right.

"I picked on her because I was a little biggoted shite who was jealous she had better marks than me in just about every class." Cassiopeia replied, shaking her head.

The fireplace it again on it's own, with green fire, and out stepped Theo and Blaise, even as Cassiopeia finished:

"I didn't secretly fancy Granger, I promise."

Blaise blinked, pulling a hand down his face, still blinking tiredly. "You woke me up to talk about Granger?" Cassiopeia looked at her friends - like Pansy, she hadn't seen either one in months. Blaise looked more or less like he always did, though with a rumpled, just-woke-up look expression, his outfit, suited for going out to enjoy a night on the town, quite obviously slept in.

"No, were just killing time until you got here." Pansy said. "Have a seat. I've got Edelweiss bringing drinks."

Cassiopeia looked to Theo, who had arrived after Blaise. Theo also looked much like he always did, though his hair was slightly longer than usual. He was wearing his standard severe and nearly formal outfit, as if he'd been working at a high-level ministry office.

"Cassiopeia," Theo nodded and sat down. Blaise sort of just dropped down into another chair and gestured loosely in acknowledgement of her.

"Theo, Blaise," Cassiopeia nodded, smiling softly for a moment, then taking a breath.

"You must have just gotten back?" Blaise asked after a moment.

"Just about. I arrived six hours ago." Cassiopeia nodded.

"I thought you weren't planning to come back any time... ever?" Blaise asked. "What changed?"

"Father was killed." Cassiopeia said softly, though loud enough to be heard. "He died yesterday, and I came back as soon as I could." She looked at the floor, running one hand along the side of the chair arm idly. She was unable to say more before Edelweiss returned, popping into the room with four glasses and a bottle of MacDerrin Blend Scotch.

"Dismissed," Pansy nodded to Edelweiss, and the elf vanished with another pop. Pansy quickly poured four drinks with some quick gestures of her wand. She floated one over to Cassiopeia, who accepted it and took a small sip, the rich,smokey flavors washing over her tongue.

She took another breath.

"Was killed?" Theo lit onto that phrase, and Cassiopeia nodded.

"Murder," she confirmed, trying to prevent any of the seething rage she had at the idea of someone daring to kill her father - daring to murder a Malfoy - left her with. That sort of indignant reaction was nearly natural to her blood, and a small part of her wished she could do the investigation herself, deliver justice herself... drive the Malfoy Sword into the bastard's stomach, let the murderer linger long before dying.

"I'm sorry," Theo said quietly, and he quickly stood up, walking the distance between them to hug Cassiopeia for a quick moment. Cassiopeia returned the gesture, and Theo went back to his seat, grabbing his drink and downing the glass's contents quickly. "I didn't even hear a whisper... the Ministry's keeping it under wraps?"

"Very close to the chest." Cassiopeia admitted. She met Blaise's eye and he nodded once, not being particularly prone to hugs, even quick ones. She sipped at her scotch again. "The investigator - Granger, which is why Pansy decided to bring out her absurd theory again - said that we were allowed to start telling some people, but they did want this kept quiet, for a little while longer."

"So they don't know who killed him?"

"Not a clue," Cassiopeia admitted. "Or if they do, they aren't sharing that." The list of muggleborns, halfbloods and even purebloods from the other side that would have liked to see her father dead was quite long. The list that would have actually done it - and with a muggle weapon no less - was likely shorter.

"He was out in Horizon... looking at more properties..." Cassiopeia's voice broke a little, and she stopped, taking another sip. "Mother didn't know anything until an investigator came to tell her. She sent a message to me and as soon as I received it, I made all preparations to come back, as quickly as possible."

She hadn't been at her home in America when the message arrived, and had only gotten it before it was too late to take the international floo back to Britain, requiring her to spend a night of fitful sleep after reading the letter before arriving back.

Cassiopeia sipped at her scotch, then downed the rest of the glass, leaning toward to take the bottle and pour herself some more. She stopped on finger of scotch, putting the bottle back.

"He's dead. And I can't - Merlin knows I had - I hated him so much, during the war. For dragging the family into the arms of that madman, for getting in so deep..." Not that Pansy and Theo didn't have their own hatreds for their parents over that. But Theo's hate hadn't been mitigated by his father actually being a good father, and the Parkinsons had managed avoid getting in quite as deep into the heart of the Death Eaters the second time around, nor drawn as much of their ire as her family had after Lucius Malfo's failure at the Department of Ministry's.

Theo had all but celebrated when his bastard of a father was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. Pansy's father had served a year in a cell at the Ministry and then been under another year of house arrest.

It was different - not better,not worse, but different, their epxeriences with their Death Eater fathers.

Blaise, of course, had lost his father years before the War even started.

"I know things weren't always - still aren't - great with your father, Pans, but at least you got to sit and talk to him." Cassiopeia murmured. "Even if you have to keep living with him..." She laughed humorlessly. "Maybe you have it worse."

"No...no, I don't." Pansy disagreed. "Dad's an arsehole sometimes, a lot, but... I'd rather have him alive."

"I never asked - did you forgive him?" Cassiopeia asked now, voice quiet. She swallowed, trying to prevent any tears forming in her eyes.

"I... we sort of skipped that part, a little," Pansy admitted. "I... I have forgiven him, mostly. What I haven't forgiven him for is raising me the way he did. I still can't get past thinking the word 'mudblood' sometimes, even when I don't want to. Part of me still looks down on anyone who isn't Sacred Twenty Eight, or similar pedigree."

Theo drank wordlessly at that, the expression on his face probably mirroring the one on Cassiopeia's face. It wasn't as if Cassiopeia didn't occasionally have the same problem, in the privacy of her own mind. Living under the constant threat of the Dark Lord in your own house might have accelerated the process for her - hoping Potter and Granger and even Weasely found a way to save the day every free second you had would do that - a lifetime of being a bigoted shite was hard to lose, even with five years to work at it.

Though she was better than five years ago, or seven years ago, even.

"But I was able to sit down and talk to him..." Pansy laughed darkly, then corrected herself: "Well, more like sit him down and yell at him."

"I probably wouldn't have yelled at Father... but there was a lot I planned on saying to him, since he was finally out." Casiopeia admitted. She tried to imagine herself yelling at her father, and she just... the image died in her mind. She'd yelled before, but that was rarely out of true anger.

No... just like her father and mother, when Cassiopeia got angry - she bottled it up and let it out in small, ice-cold portions, with biting words and sideways comets. With the cold shoulder, and terse, overly polite behavior, with veiled insults and quiet sneers.

She'd long dreaded finally having it out with her father. Their few face to face visits, when he'd been at Azkaban, had had her father be... surprisingly humbled, by everything, but Cassiopeia had refrained from really having it out with him. Their visits had been watched, like everything in the prison, now that Dementors weren't there to provide security.

Neither of them had wanted to have so personal a conversation with other ears.

Same with their letters - they'd begun to... at least slowly build a path to truly patching things up, but the most important things hadn't been said yet. The things Cassiopeia had wanted to say most of all, the questions, the...

Why, Father? Why was it so important that we had to hate muggleborns so much? The Malfoy family was wealthy, powerful, influential, with a long history of success and excellence in Britain, ever since they'd first come to the island. There was plenty to be proud of, to assure them of their elite status,

So many things in her life had been closed off right from the start, because of the attitudes her father gave her, and attitudes she'd gleefully embraced for many years.

"I..." she licked her lips and started again. "I don't know if I could have forgiven him for everything, or even anything. But... it would have been nice to have that chance. Closure." She played her free hand across her lap, balling around a bit of her skirt. "And everything else aside..." She trailed off, closing her eyes a moment and inhaling, feeling tears starting to well up. She set her glass down on the arm of the chair, balancing it, and brought the hand to her face, pressing at her temples, covering her eyes and trying to wipe away any even slight hint of dampness.

"He was actually a father who loved you and cared about you and you loved and cared about him?" Theo offered.

"Yeah," Cassiopeia said, after a long moment, taking her hand down, pretending there weren't small damp spots on her palm and fingers. "It would be simpler if I didn't. But I still know him as the one who first taught me how to fly a broom. Who taught me what it meant to be a Malfoy - the good and the bad. Who was always there to listen, when I was growing up." She barked a hollow laugh.

"Merlin, he was the one who first taught you how to fly too," she nodded to Theo. "He was more than just the man everyone the rest of the Wizarding World remembers him as. When the press descends on me... I'm sure somewill be wanting to hear me say 'good riddance'."

She shook her head.

"I can't. Merlin help me, for everything I hate him for, for everything he did wrong... I can't be glad my father's dead. Not now, not ever."