Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was chaotic at the best of times.
It was, without a doubt, the best and worst times of any magicals life. In a single week, a student could be on top of the world—with everything they do going exactly to plan, then, BOOM! a bludger comes out of nowhere to throw them off course and send them spiralling to the ground. Broken broom and all.
That was exactly what had happened to Harry Potter, who was at this time running, belting down a flight of stairs (skipping the final four steps). He'd long since been separated from his best friend Ron, and was likely unable to get back to his common room for the rest of the night—unless Snape decided he wanted to sleep (he never did). He just hoped Ron had better luck after Harry had led Snape in the opposite direction.
It was well known that Harry was far and away one of the most notorious students to walk the halls of Hogwarts since his parents had been there—though his grades were nothing spectacular. He was infamous in all circles, good and bad, and known to spend Saturday afternoons with Albus Dumbledore drinking tea. That was far from the truth, neither of them drank tea; and they were talking strategy about the war, not having a leisurely chat about elemental transfiguration over scones with jam and cream. Thus, it was expected of him to be a role model, especially now that he was Head Boy. And, being caught bringing illicit substances into the castle was something he'd rather not be caught doing, especially by Snape, who'd no doubt do everything in his power to get Harry expelled, or at the very least have to relinquish his position as Head Boy.
Neither of those would ever happen, however. Harry was far too integral to the workings of the impending war to be sent away from Hogwarts, and there was none other that would fill the roll of Head Boy better, mainly the Slytherin's (who were so obvious to be in Lord Voldemort's ranks that they may as well be wearing a sign… ha), but none of the other candidates from opposing houses commanded any of the respect Harry did.
It was needless to say that there was a divide in the school, and that tensions—especially between the seventh years—were at an all time high, with the only thing stopping all out conflicts being Harry and Dumbledore himself. So, Harry was no doubt in the clear from any form of real punishment. Though, he would prefer not to get a week's worth of detention with Snape, something that was well within the greasy bastard's power.
Harry barrelled into the entrance hall and whisked down the outside stairs toward the Black Lake and into the clear.
"Lumos," Harry muttered as he got outside, the sun nowhere to be seen. Slowing to a walk as he got closer to the shoreline and the castle's light no longer lighting the path. The walk down was a quiet one, the only noise was Harry's ever slowing breath and the rustling of trees in the wind and faint hum of thestrals in the distance.
It wasn't a long walk down the path to the lake, around five minutes if you took it slow. Harry took half that time, still not fully sure Snape wasn't going to come sprinting after him to curse him all the way up to Dumbledore's office. That'd be a sight to see.
Down on the embankment, Harry let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping and getting ready to sit down and wait it out for the night. Only to be interrupted as he was about to sit.
"Potter?"
Harry spun and aimed his wand at the unknown person, spell on the tip of his tongue.
"Wait!" A wand lit up, exposing Cassiopeia Black's face. She was a Slytherin in his year, though she was neither a Prefect or the Head Girl—she was one that kept herself under the radar, never a step out of line. So, it was a surprise to see her out far after curfew.
"Black? What are you doing here?"
"I... er, I come out here a lot..." Cassiopeia said. "... I've never seen you out here, however."
"Just needed some air..." he replied evasively, eyes looking to behind Cassiopeia, just in case Snape had followed her.
Cassiopeia's eyes flicked down to his wand, apprehensive. "You gonna keep that pointed at me?"
"You're not meant to be out here, you know—it's past curfew. We're also at war, Black…" Harry let the sentence linger in the air, he could see Cassiopeia knew the connotation to what he said. Nevertheless, he dropped his arm, and there was a tense silence between the two as they both stood on the grassy embankment—neither wanting to make the next move. Harry mulled over his options, whether or not he should ask her to sit down or something more drastic; he couldn't take her to Snape, he'd have a fit, so he only had one other option. "... But I don't care enough to take you to Snape."
Cassiopeia visibly deflated, letting out a hollow breath before she responded with her earlier manner. "Snape would give you detention for taking me to him."
Harry shrugged noncommittally (she was right). "I'm going to sit now—join if you want, or don't. I don't care."
A silent understanding was made between them at that moment, as Harry turned away from her to look out on the black lake, that they would be friendly for this night, that the war wouldn't sway their prejudices—that they would act like it didn't exist, and they were normal teenagers…
"Weasley not going to be upset with that?" Cassiopeia came to stand next to him, looking out on the lake with similar reverence as Harry.
"Why would she?" Harry asked, sitting down, Cassiopeia copying him, their shoulders gently brushing and neither making a move to put distance between them.
"What if she thinks I'll steal you away?"
"You can't steal something that isn't hers."
"Not hers? Trouble in paradise?"
"One might think you want me all to yourself."
Cassiopeia blushed under her wandlight, averting her gaze.
"Merlin, Black, I'm not serious," Harry said. "And, considering I was never her's, there can't be any trouble."
"Why are you out here, then—gunna go for a swim?"
Harry shifted under Cassiopeia's intense stare, breaking their eye contact for the briefest of moments as he tried to muster as much confidence as he could. "Y'know our father's were once good friends," he said.
"What of it?" Cassiopeia asked.
"Just seems a shame we've never really talked."
"I never knew my father…'' Cassiopeia said, "I grew up with my Grandmother before she passed, too. And you… well you're your fathers son—for better or for worse… There was never any reason for us to speak with each other."
"No, I guess not."
"Doesn't mean there can't be now," said Cassiopeia. "For tonight only, that is."
Harry grinned. "Swimming doesn't sound like a bad idea, y'know… wanna go for a dip?"
Cassiopeia folded her arms. "We'll get detention if we go for a swim."
"Only if we get caught." Harry winked. "And with me, you'll never get caught."
"Confident in that, are we?"
"I'd bet my vault at Gringotts on it."
"Five galleons isn't worth detention with Filch."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Where's your sense of adventure, Black?" If he were honest with himself, Harry didn't expect Cassiopeia to agree. They hardly knew each other, and the times they had interacted were always on opposite sides of the proverbial battle field, and in a year or so a real one... So it was a long shot, but one Harry didn't mind taking—he had nothing better to do, after all.
"... I—we will be wearing something, right?" Her cheeks had brightened, and she was doing anything but looking Harry in the eye, going so far as to drop her wand a bit so his view of her face was distorted.
"Course not, we'll be skinny dipping." At Cassiopeia's indignant cry, he continued. "That was a joke! Don't you have those in Slytherin? We'll be in our underwear or transfigure yourself some swimwear, if that suits you better. The other option's still open, though." He unbuckled his belt and tossed his trousers aside, not letting her have the time to think it through.
Cassiopeia followed his actions, albeit a lot slower, and took her cloak off.
"Stop fussing that we'll get caught." Harry sifted through his backpack for his Invisibility Cloak, placing The Marauder's Map to one side and checking it briefly to see where the teachers (mainly Snape) were. "I've got that covered." He threw the cloak over himself.
"An invisibility cloak?"
"Yeah." Harry peaked his head out from the top of it. "See? We'll be fine." He tossed the cloak back to his pile of things, taking his wand and conjuring a lamp and charming it to float a couple of feet away from him.
"Okay," Cassiopeia said, unbuttoning her top.
Harry tried not to stare, but couldn't help but peek at her chest. He couldn't see much in the darkness, but the light from his lamp was enough to get a brief glimpse. Cassiopeia's skirt dropped to the ground with a gentle thump, and Harry felt heat rise from the back of his neck.
"R-ready?" He asked—his voice a pitch higher than usual—as Cassiopeia put her clothes in a neat pile by his stuff.
She nodded.
Harry tossed his wand to his stuff then took the first step into the water, hoping the cold will help him come back to his senses. "Might be a tiny bit cold." He took a few more steps until he was knee-deep in the water. "But that's what warming charms are for."
Cassiopeia watched him before dipping a foot in herself.
"Oh, come on, Black! Don't be a little bitch!"
Sensing the challenge, Cassiopeia took a brave step into the water. It only took her a moment before she got out to his level, her arms wrapped around her chest. He took note that Cassiopeia was incredibly close, inches away from him—instinctively going to him for warmth.
Her dark eyes danced in the moonlight, and Harry wondered why he'd never appreciated until now—how was he so blind?
There was, of course, a reason. She was from a family known to support Lord Voldemort, from a long line of Purebloods that dated back to the beginning of Hogwarts. It gave weight to their spontaneous meeting. That, when they woke up tomorrow, this night would never be spoken of again, and they'd speak only formally in class; nothing more than amicable acquaintances… Suddenly Harry found himself caring little for her family's aliegences, far more focused on how her dark hair flowed.
Harry noticed she had tattoos, those you would get from a Muggle parlour. They covered her torso and upper legs, a smattering of black ink against her snow-white skin; he saw flowers and dragons and snakes—there were allsorts of designs and patterns expertly woven. He loved them… "Your tattoos are wonderful…" he said, wishing he could run his fingers along them. "I'd rather have them than my scars."
Cassiopeia opened her mouth then choked back whatever she was about to say. "I'd thought you'd have more," she whispered, tentatively reaching toward his chest before she brought her arm up to adjust her hair, attempting to play off the obvious gesture.
"Just got lucky 'tis all." Harry ran his fingers over his chest. "The hair helps cover one or two as well."
"Luck... I highly doubt that." Cassiopeia huffed, looking up into his eyes. "You're a very talented wizard."
Harry snorted. "You flatter me, Black."
"I mean it."
"Since when are Slytherin's this sappy?"
"Since when are Gryffindor's so humble?"
"Why are you out here, Black?"
"Stargazing is nice—you should try it some time."
"I like this view a lot more."
"I'll curse you if you say that again."
"Whatever you say, Medusa."
"Cunt," Cassiopeia muttered.
Harry gasped, placing a hand over his chest dramatically.
Cassiopeia swatted playfully at his chest, giggling.
Harry laughed, and Cassiopeia let her hand linger on his chest for a moment longer than appropriate. He let her, basking in the warmth of her touch.
"Is this how you get all your girls, Potter?" Cassiopeia asked. "Take them down to the lake, enchant them with your good looks, humble demeanour and fluffy chest… only to ravish them on the grassy embankment. Or an abandoned classroom, perhaps?"
"... You're the only one I've done this with, actually."
"I find that hard to believe."
"It's true."
"So you haven't slept with half the witches in our year?"
"No."
"Sure."
"I'm hurt, Black." He pouted.
Cassiopeia giggled. "You're very easy to wind up, you know—typical Gryffindor."
Harry took her moment of laughter to splash her with water, hitting her directly in the face and ruffling her perfect black hair.
Cassiopeia squealed, attempting in vain to stop the water from splashing her. "Stop it!"
"Nah, not going to happen! You've slighted my honour!" He kept splashing her, waiting for her to take the bait and retaliate.
Cassiopeia did just that, scooping up the water and soaking Harry's face with one large splash. Harry yelped at her ruthless assault and bit back with more ferocity, both of them grinning as they circled each other, attempting to avoid the other's splash, and hit them at the same time.
It was rhythmic for a while. Harry would block as Cassiopeia attacked, and vice versa. That was until Cassiopeia attempted to get closer, gaining confidence after Harry had missed her for a few rotations.
It wasn't long after Cassiopeia had closed the distance that they were both soaked and out of breath, a lull in the action as they sized each other up; and it gave Harry a mischievous idea.
"D'you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"I think it's Filch... There!" He pointed in a random direction behind her, and Cassiopeia followed his finger. Whilst she was looking for a non-existent Filch, Harry picked her up bridal-style, causing Cassiopeia to yelp, and tossed her head first into the water.
"Hey!" Cassiopeia yelped as she came back up, pushing her hair out of her face and spitting water at him.
Harry burst out laughing as Cassiopeia pouted at him, then launched herself at him, causing both of them to tumble into the water, Cassiopeia wrapped around him like a Bowtruckle. Harry regained his footing, Cassiopeia still tightly wrapped around his frame. He tried his best to not grope her arse, holding the small of her back gently, instead and letting Cassiopeia do most of the work.
Their eyes met, and neither of them dared break contact. Harry instinctively pulled Cassiopeia ever closer to him, enjoying how her legs felt wrapped around his torso with her ankles, locking them together. Her body was flush against his, and Harry revelled in the ecstasy of it all.
Cassiopeia's eyes glittered in the starlight, enchanting him with their very own spell. He wasn't sure, but he felt he was being drawn closer to her face. Inch by inch, feeling her warm minty breath against his neck, then against his lips.
They didn't speak. They didn't need to nor want to. All they were doing was following their instincts. He basked in the primal feeling of being with her, obsessing over the way she was tightly huddled into him, her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. His hands tentatively snaked down toward her arse; he seized her, waiting to see if she'd protest.
She didn't.
With newfound confidence, Harry squeezed her arse with vigour. Cassiopeia squeaked, and Harry forced himself to keep it slow, and not ravage her right here and now. He didn't want to scare her off, praying that this moment would last for an eternity—or ten.
Their noses brushed against one another, and the distance closed; lips touching at infinity… It wasn't slow, nor passionate. It was needy, fast, and sloppy. Faces smashing together for the only night in their lives that they were true teenagers, allowed to make mistakes, allowed to be free…
Cassiopeia pushed herself closer, and closer, and closer; they couldn't get enough of each other. Harry slowly brought them toward shore, onto the embankment and laid her down, pushing her into the wet grass as she coiled around him, sucking every bit of life from him—like a dementor with a soul of their victim.
They broke for air, both panting, chests heaving.
"What happens after…" Cassiopeia whispered.
Harry brought her into another prolonged kiss. "I don't know…"
"Don't you know everything, Potter?" She smiled sadly.
Harry let his forehead push against hers. "I wish, Black." He closed his eyes, soaking in momentary ecstasy. There was nothing more he wanted than to spend the night with Cassiopeia; nothing more than to spend every waking moment with her in his arms… to live his life in serenity and out of this cruel and depraved one.
"I don't want to join this war…" she choked, a whisper.
"You're not alone in that."
"But…"
"I was raised for it?"
Cassiopeia nodded.
"If I had the choice, I'd much rather spend a night in a lake with you than an evening with Dumbledore… or another night sparring with Moody… Children don't make for good soldiers…"
They went in for another kiss, this time passionate, slow, and rudely interrupted by an unwelcome guest.
"Did you hear that, Mrs Norris?" Filch's voice echoed closely.
Both their heads darted away from one another, toward Filch's voice. Harry silently cursed—he should've known mentioning Filch's name would bring forth an appearance from the man; as if he had jinxed his own name—what kind of psycho would do that?
"Shit, it's really him," Harry said, deathly still.
"Oh fuck," Cassiopeia hissed, attempting to untangle herself, but Harry grabbed her, keeping a firm hold.
"Quiet. We'll be fine, trust me." Harry slowly rose, summoning all their stuff to him and vanishing the lamp.
They heard Filch's footsteps grow closer, and him muttering under his breath to Mrs Norris.
Harry carefully positioned Cassiopeia in front of him as they stood. "Left foot first, baby steps," he said into her ear, draping the cloak over them both.
They stepped in tandem along the bank for likely fifty metres, but what felt like miles. They made their way into the Entrance Hall, finally able to see where they were going, and Harry steered them toward a Broom Cupboard, setting the cloak aside once they were in.
"Colloportus," he whispered, turning to a drenched Cassiopeia with a shit-eating grin.
"We almost got caught!" A mixture of conflicting emotions graced her face, and Harry was unsure what they all meant.
Harry shrugged. "I've had closer." He pointed his wand at Cassiopeia and hit her with a jet of hot air, drying her off within seconds, before turning the charm on himself. "You know, when I said you should have some more fun, I wasn't expecting you to join in with that." He chuckled, getting his first proper look at her under the dim light in the cupboard.
"I didn't expect that to happen! Do you often partake in such... such insanity!?"
"Comes with the territory."
"Of what!?"
"I've got a reputation to uphold," he said. "And calm down. Filch is still out there."
Cassiopeia huffed.
He folded his arms. "Oh, come on, Black. Tell me you didn't have fun."
"... I've never done anything like that before..."
"Never too late to try something new." Harry paused, studying Cassiopeia… She was flushed red, her chest still rising and falling heavy and fast. "Did you feel the rush—the adrenaline that almost being caught gives you?"
Cassiopeia bit her bottom lip, looking up at Harry with doe-eyes, making his heart skip a beat. She nodded, a grin forming on her lips.
"Good! Now—" Harry rummaged through his bag, pulling out The Marauder's Map "—getting back to our respective dormitories without being caught."
"... What's that?"
"The key to our success," he grinned. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." Harry tapped the parchment, revealing the contents. He went over to Cassiopeia, allowing her to take it all in.
"Is that... Is this real?" Cassiopeia reached out with her hand, caressing the parchment.
"Yeah. Shows everyone in the castle at all times."
"You sneaky bastard... Did you make this yourself?"
"No, our fathers made it..." He paused, looking over not only the surrounding area, but the entrance to Gryffindor tower, checking where Snape had retired to, he was still patrolling the seventh floor. Filch was stalking along the embankment of the Black Lake, too, so Harry let Cassiopeia take it to have a closer look. "We should be in the clear. But I think it's best to keep an eye out. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he can walk through walls."
"Are we going to use the cloak again?" A blush crept onto her cheeks.
"No, I think we'll be fine. But I'll keep it out just in case." Harry tapped on the Map before he rummaged through his bag and grabbed their clothes, handing her pile over.
Cassiopeia took them with a thank you, and they changed in silence. Harry noticed Cassiopeia stealing a glance every so often, but said nothing. He had been doing the same with her, and would rather continue than make things awkward for the both of them by announcing it. Thought the thought was tempting, just to see the shocked expression on her face.
"Let's go," he opted for instead.
Cassiopeia followed Harry as he exited the Broom Cupboard, glancing around the corridor.
"I'll make sure you get to your common room first, then I'll go back to mine," Harry said as he studied the map.
"Is the Slytherin Common room on that map?" Cassiopeia asked, as they walked to the other side of the entrance hall where the steps to the dungeons were.
"No, but I know where it is, so that won't be a problem."
"How d'you know where it is?" She practically blurted it out, ducking her head as she spoke.
"Malfoy showed me."
"Malfoy showed you… Sure."
"It's true, he just doesn't know it."
Cassiopeia snorted. "Did you spy on him or something?"
"That was after we were let in."
"Oh, I see..." Cassiopeia drawled.
"Yeah, Malfoy is always fun to be around... Once you get past the bigotry and all that jazz."
"You've gotten past the bigotry?"
"No." Harry deadpanned.
Harry watched Cassiopeia bite the inside of her cheek to keep her laughter in, but failed miserably as she let out an undignified snort, making him burst out laughing as they descended down toward the dungeons.
"Malfoy isn't all bad though, don't get me wrong, he's an awful person. But there's more to him than just that—or so I've found," Harry said as he regained composure.
"Really?"
"Yeah... I met up with him over the summer…" Harry couldn't explain his reasons, it was forbidden—he wasn't going to die to tell Cassiopeia about why he would meet Malfoy during the summer, but he could tell her that he'd seen the boy.
"Wouldn't expect the two of you to meet up…"
"It wasn't for a nice dinner date—we had things to discuss." He neglected to say that it was for Dumbledore.
"I'd assume that wasn't about wearing matching clothes to Slughorn's Christmas party."
"Got it in one."
Cassiopeia hummed but otherwise remained silent, the only noise in their footsteps as they walked down one of the many corridors toward the Slytherin Common Rooms.
"He's afraid," Harry said.
"I don't believe that."
"You've seen it, then?"
"He's not particularly shy about it."
"He was with me."
"I wonder why…" Cassiopeia drawed. "He's a murderer, you know."
Harry held his tongue on saying that he'd murdered before, nodding instead. "Yeah, I'm aware… But, just because you've killed someone doesn't make you evil." He wanted to believe what he was saying, he truly did. But it didn't sit right with him. There was a line—one no one should cross—and Malfoy had far passed that line long ago. This was no longer about Malfoy, though; this was about Harry, and his own virtue… after all, how could he hold anything over Malfoy when he was no better himself?
"How can you justify murder. It's abhorrent," Cassiopeia asked.
Harry sighed. "Have you ever been faced with your own mortality, Black? Ever looked death in the eye—watched someone you love die—ever had to make the choice between the life of an innocent, and the life of a murderer?"
"I— I..."
"Would you say a better man would've let the murderer live?" Harry asked calmly, not expecting a response—Cassiopeia didn't have one. "Look, I'm not saying that he's perfect, far from it, in fact. But I'm saying it's more nuanced than that… I won't tell you everything. I couldn't if I wanted to, but there's more to it than he's murdered people…"
"I don't care for his sob story, Potter—some of us can still say we're nothing like him, even with the incessant push toward it."
Harry angled them away from the Slytherin Common Room, toward an abandoned classroom, locking the door behind them with a charm far more powerful than Colloportus. The lanterns were dim at this time, barely illuminating their faces, but that just added to Cassiopeia's creep factor as she stood opposite Harry with death. It marred her pretty face.
"I will not pretend to know what or what not you've been pushed into, Black. But I assure you—"
"Of course you know nothing, Potter—you and your bloody group, all too full of yourselves to know! You wanna know something, want to know what it's like, especially when you don't do what Malfoy has done!"
"I didn't m—"
"You didn't mean what?"
"I didn't mean to upset you…" Harry said, taking a step forward, tentative and slow. "I didn't mean to insinuate that you were unfamiliar with Malfoy's situation. But, unlike you, Malfoy went down that path, and I am trying to help him."
"Why?"
"Because he's a child."
"Like the children he's murdered, like the girls he's taken advantage of!?" Cassiopeia demanded, then her voice softened to a whisper. "He's abominable—I thought you of all people understood."
Harry hung his head; he debated with telling her… "He can repent," he said instead.
"Doesn't mean he can be forgiven."
"No, no it doesn't." Harry shook his head, opening his mouth to speak but Cassiopeia beat him to it.
"Oh, you poor boy…" she said in barely a whisper, stepping toward him and cupping his cheek. Harry could barely contain the tears brimming, ready to fall down his cheek. "You've killed, haven't you?"
Harry didn't respond, quivering as the first tear fell…
"You don't need Malfoy to be redeemable to know that what you did wasn't wrong, Potter—I can tell… I can tell you're a good man, even if you don't feel it."
"Am I?… Am I really?" Harry asked bitterly—eagerly; like a child looking for approval.
"It's not my place to say, Potter. But you've got a heart, and that's far more than what can be said for them."
"Thank you…"
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but… what happened?"
Harry waited for a moment to respond, not that he didn't already have an answer. He couldn't tell her, there was no doubt about that. But he resolved, maybe one day she could.
"Perhaps another time, Black. When we aren't on opposite ends of the battlefield, and this is all over."
"... I fear that day will never come, Potter."
"Then I don't want to waste another minute… Not with a reminder of this wretched war—if I can have just a single night with you, Black… that'll be enough for a lifetime."
His troubles melted away into the deep kiss he gave her. He became a man of desire, entrenched in a deep pit of longing—for a woman he'd never have again… That thought sent shivers down his spine, and he pulled her close. Impossibly close. He couldn't not have her, even if it were only for a night: He needed to have her. He knew not why. He knew only that her touch would transcend the pain that lingered in his tattered soul, and perhaps it'd even repair it… perhaps it would not… Yet, Harry would try—always; try to find how to love, if but only for a night, with a woman that had shown him inexplicable love in a single night, during a war filled with hate.
"You're not who I thought you'd be, Potter," Cassiopeia said as they broke away, flushed and panting with a reserved, but giddy, smile on her face. "I thought all the stories of your midnight adventures were lies… fabricated to make you seem like someone you're not. And yet you've proven exactly the man of the stories…"
For the first time that night, and in recent memory, Harry had no quip. He stood there in silence, now in Cassiopeia's grasp instead of her in his, with a dopey grin across his face.
Cassiopeia smiled. "I understand why half the school swoons for you and the other half hates you…"
"I don't want to hear how you think I'm perfect, Black…"
"How about I show you, instead?"
A/N: I haven't really checked for any mistakes on this work, as I couldn't be bothered to read back through it. I hope it all made sense and was fairly internally consistent. I have plans to add to it at some point, though I'm unsure when; it should be 7 chapters long, all around the same length as this one (some may be shorter/longer than others).
I hope you enjoyed!
Salt