A couple of weeks into October, Cass got a letter from her sister.

Letters from Orion were a rare event. The girl rarely felt well enough to write, and even when she did, she never liked to do it. So, it was always nice to get a letter from her. Misspellings and all.

It wasn't a long letter. It mostly detailed the events of a book Orion was reading at the moment, then a very brief paragraph about how Narcissa was doing.

Cass didn't think of herself as a very sentimental person. She loved her sister, but she rarely truly missed her during the school year. But recently every time Cass saw the tiny first-year girls who always looked so scared... and she thought of Orion. Orion who was still three years out from starting Hogwarts (if she ever did), who always thought the best of everyone, and wore her heart on her sleeve. Cass really hoped she wouldn't be Sorted into Slytherin.

It was hard to think of Orion ever being put into a situation like this one. Fuck, if a sixth-year girl ever dared say something mean about Orion, Cass knew in her heart she had it in her to kill her.

And that was the only thing Cass could think of as she watched Pansy tear into a second-year girl who'd had the misfortune to bump into them.

Not that Cass had never said something mean to another girl, she absolutely had. She just never punched down to someone four years younger than her. Not to mention someone like this scrawny twelve-year-old who reminded Cass too much of Orion.

"Pansy, come on," Cass finally snapped at her friend. "I have better things to do."

Pansy looked like she wouldn't let it go, but a look from Cass was enough to tame the girl. Cass knew that well.

"Run along now, skrewt," Pansy conceded.

The little girl wasted no time running away.

"You're such a spoilsport," Pansy complained.

"I just don't see the point in bullying twelve-year-olds. What do we have to gain from them?"

This was a question Cass often put out to her friends. They should always do things for a reason. Always.

"We might not gain much more than their fear," Pansy justified, running along to keep up with Cass's longer strides. "But we certainly don't lose anything."

"Never play only not to lose, Pansy. Play to win," Cass said.

"Well, you couldn't have possibly had something to gain from intimidating every single girl in our year, but the body image issues from every single one can be traced back to you," Pansy argued.

This was why Pansy was often Cass's favourite among her friends. The others wouldn't have dared challenge Cass like this.

Cass raised a brow. "Believe me, Pansy, I had something to gain from all of them."

Then, like an annoying little bug inside her head, Cass could almost hear Sirius's voice. You shouldn't get people to do things for you through intimidation, Sugar.

She almost shuddered outwardly. She hated it when he did that. She'd been perfectly fine without a conscience for sixteen years.

Shit. She needed to find Granger and say something mean about her hair stat.


"Have you named them yet, Granger?"

"What? Who?"

"The family of rats living in your hair."

Cass didn't turn to see Granger's reaction. She could imagine it perfectly in her head. The constipated face she always got whenever Cass said something mildly mean.

"Leave her alone, Malfoy," Weasley called out, red-faced.

Cass smiled sweetly at him.

They walked to their seats, Potter trailing behind them, deliberately not looking at Cass.

I don't know, Sugar, you catch a lot more flies with honey.

Cass jumped slightly in her seat.

Fuck.

She remembered that exact conversation with Sirius. She'd explained to him how she had to be mean to people in order to get what she wanted, and for the game of chess she played with the people in her life to lead to her winning.

That had been Sirius's answer.

She tried to shrug it off and focus on her potion.

Cass ended up skipping most of her classes that afternoon. As she'd been prone to do, and instead headed to the spare classroom Snape had secured for her to conduct her experiments in.

But one lesson Cass often forgot was never do potions when your mind is somewhere else. Especially when it's poisons you're handling.

Nothing too bad happened, but Cass definitely inhaled something she shouldn't have because, after a few hours inside the classroom, she started feeling very light-headed.

She stumbled out of the room, feeling warm all over.

It felt like an hour passed and she was only halfway to the Slytherin common room.

"Are you okay?"

Cass opened her eyes, startled. She wasn't sure how it'd happened but she was lying on the floor in an empty corridor—she wasn't sure exactly where in the school—and no one other than Scarface Potter was standing over her, a small crease between his brows.

"What are you doing here?"

Cass tried to get up, but her limbs felt heavy.

Fuck. "That's none of your business, Potter."

"You look... unwell."

"Leave me alone!"

"Listen... just let me take you to the Hospital Wing, something's obviously wrong."

With great effort, Cass finally managed to pull herself slightly upright. Her head spun. "I'm not here to feed your hero complex, Potter, I said leave me alone."

Potter looked at her like she was the most annoying person on earth. "You cannot possibly be this stubborn."

"Watch me," Cass bit out. "You're only being all helpful because you think you owe me something for who I am. But I'm telling you now, you are absolved from any misplaced sense of responsibility you might feel over me. We both might have cared for the same person but the two of us are nothing to each other. We owe nothing to each other. We're still the same as always. If I found you bleeding out in a corridor, I wouldn't help you, so don't try to help me."

Potter looked her over. Then, after a moment, he
left.


Cass lived.

She downed a healing draught once she finally got to her dorm, and after a mediocre night's sleep, she felt well enough. Daphne and Delia both asked her if she felt okay, but Cass dismissed their concerns. If she felt okay to walk from one point to the other, then she was okay in her book.

Cass felt kind of bad that she'd been ditching her friends so often since the year started. She knew if she told them about her seamstress business, it'd probably be fine, but there was something that kept her from doing it.

So, she headed down to the kitchens to do her work and tried not to think about what Sirius would say if Potter was actually bleeding out and Cass didn't do anything to help. She hated how much he'd been in her head lately, as much as she loved her father. She wouldn't grow a conscience now because of him.

But of course, because all the gods fucking hated her, Cass found Granger in the kitchens again.

"Again, Granger? Don't you have to keep Weasley from choking on a chicken leg or something? Figures that'd keep you busy," Cass said.

It took Granger a second to answer. "Ron isn't a child, and I like to check on the elves from time to time."

Cass sighed. "Just don't bother me."

"I'm not sure how my sitting here is going to bother you."

"I said don't bother me."

Granger didn't move from her spot on the Gryffindor table. Both girls worked a few metres apart from each other in silence.

After a while, Cass looked up from the trousers she was mending and saw Granger laser-focused on the piece of parchment in front of her, her jaw was clenched so tight, it was a wonder she hadn't cracked a tooth. Her leg was jumping up and down like a jackhammer.

She probably was only staying on principle.

Cass couldn't possibly still have this effect on Granger after all these years. If she did, then Granger was stupider than Cass thought.

Fuck, she'd absolutely regret this. "Granger."

The other girl turned to look at Cass, her eyes wary.

"You know... you're really pretty, right?" Cass asked.

Granger's eyes widened in alarm. "What?" She sounded offended.

"Don't fish for compliments, Granger, it's unladylike."

"I'm not—just... what?"

Cass rolled her eyes. "I mean, you know you're pretty, don't you? You've never actually believed me when I've told you how horrible-looking you are. Like, you're obviously objectively pretty, even if your terrible outfits and refusal to brush your hair don't help you, it doesn't make you actively less pretty."

Granger blinked at Cass. She frowned. "You're... are you joking? Is this some kind of prank?"

Cass got up abruptly. She walked over to Granger's table and took a seat closer to her, though still keeping a safe distance. "Well, obviously I've always tried to tear you down more than others because you're the second prettiest girl in our year. You're smart, so you must know that."

A blush crept up Granger's cheeks. "You cannot be serious right now."

"Fuck, Granger. Don't get me wrong, most of the things I tell you are true, your hair usually looks like a rat's nest and you never do your makeup right, and your outfits are always terrible, but you are not ugly. You can't possibly still be taking these things to heart after all this time. I mean, after Viktor? Seriously?"

Granger averted her eyes. "I know I'm not ugly. But do I believe you think I am? Sure."

Then, despite herself, Cass laughed. "Oh, Merlin's fucking eye. This is too good. You know every time I insulted you it was with the express purpose of tearing you down so you would be too unconfident to ever try harder with your looks and so you'd be tormented enough to start failing tests."

"Insulted, in past tense? You still do it. Even if it hasn't been as much lately."

Cass waved a dismissive hand. "Ah, you know my heart's not in it anymore. I mostly just do it out of habit now. But now I know you still take it to heart, I might stop, it's not as fun that way."

Granger looked at her, incredulous. "You... are unbelievable."

Cass shrugged. "I thought you were in on it. I mean, you insult me back sometimes. I thought it was our thing."

Granger exhaled. "This is a terrible apology."

"Woah, hold on, Granger. This is not an apology. If anything, it's a clarification of my actions. I wouldn't want to be misconstrued."

Granger glared at Cass. "Right."

Cass sighed. "It's not an apology. But... if you feel bad whenever I say something mean to you, then it's not fun for me. Then, on the other hand, I don't know how I'm gonna keep my mouth shut when you inevitably break out that hideous fringe jacket again or when you put on that hot pink blush that makes you look like a clown again."

Granger shifted in her seat. "I think I need some time to... process this."

Cass shrugged. She went back to her work, and Granger left not long after that.

Cass tried not to think about their exchange once she finally made her way back to her dorm. A letter was waiting for her when she arrived.

Sugar,

I sent another letter to that journalist and surprisingly, actually got a pretty quick reply back. Apparently, he'd been on a long research trip for some book he's writing and that's why he hadn't replied properly before.

He got me a phone number for Linnea's parents. I know you don't have a way to use a phone, so I'm happy to help you with that. I'll have to do some research on how to call Finland, but it can't be that difficult. Still, I thought I should tell you before. I'll only call if you want me to.

I hope you're doing well. You know I'm here for whatever you need, Sugar.

Let me know.

Remus