The clock ticked in the stillness of the bedroom.
There was a closeness already to the space.
An air of abandonment, even though its former owner had so recently departed.
Narcissa stood in the doorway feeling the bereavement - her eyes tracing over her daughter's relinquished belongings and seeing the shadows of Cassies past. In the corner playing was the toddler, and there by the bookcase was the child. At the dressing table sat the teenager and, on the bed, rested the young woman. All memories of days long gone…
With graceful silent steps, Narcissa crossed the room to take down one of the many story books that she had often read to Cassandra.
It had been hers from childhood - a favourite of hers growing up, and she had gifted it to her own daughter.
Taking the window seat, Narcissa looked down with glassy eyes at the illustrated cover where the unicorn stamped and whinnied beside its ill-fated companion.
Letting 'Ursula and the Unicorn, and other tales for young witches' by Hortensia Bulstrode fall open on her lap, Narcissa drew her wand and tapped the yellowed pages until they turned to reveal the story she sort.
Her eyes traced over the title – 'The dutiful Dahlinia in the Gilded Cage' - and down to the illustration below which showed a beautiful golden-haired young witch sat upon a perch in the aforementioned cage.
How Narcissa had loved the story once, how her own mother had compared her to the heroine and Narcissa had taken pride in being everything her sisters weren't… and how she had brought up Cassandra to be another Dahlinia.
The story told the tale of the daughter of a witch and wizard of renowned and the purest of blood. Dahlinia was the pride and joy of all the tenants of her father's estate and the house elves of the mansion. Many asked for her hand but her parents turned them away.
One day her parents had to travel without her, the reason why they couldn't take her left unanswered as it often is in such stories, and so her father transfigured his daughter's bed into a beautiful cage and bid her stay inside until they returned.
The cage was enchanted so that no one but Dahlinia or her parents could open it.
Dahlinia being good, obedient and dutiful got inside and let herself be shut in.
No sooner had her parents left, however, that suitors began to call. Wizards of both good and dubious birth who tried to persuade Dahlinia to let them into her cage. Some showered her with gifts, others attempted to marvel her with their magical abilities, and the basest used threats.
Nothing could stir Dahlinia, she simply sat and waited, trusting in her parents.
But, then one morning, the door of her bedroom opened and in the doorway was the most handsome wizard Dahlinia had ever seen. He was charming as well, and sat and talked to Dahlinia, though she made no reply. For hours he spoke telling her of his adventures and his deeds and she found herself falling in love. But still she sat, and still she stayed silent. He finally stood and told her he had to leave, but that he loved her and wanted to take her with him. Though she desperately wanted to go, she shook her head. In return, he sighed, and told her that he could never come back, but she let him go. Letting but one tear slide down her cheek as he left.
The days turned to weeks and yet still she did not try to escape her prison. A year and a day passed, and the suitors had given up.
And then at last her parents returned, and with them was a fierce and ugly looking warlock.
Dahlinia quaked when she saw him, but when her father told her that this man was to be her husband, she made no argument and meekly bowed her head. The warlock approached the cage and her father told her to let him in. Without hesitation Dahlinia did. The warlock held out one of his gnarled hands and Dahlinia's mother told her to take it, and again the dutiful girl obeyed. Then the warlock demanded a kiss. Dahlinia hesitated, looking to her parents for permission and as one they nodded.
She closed her eyes meekly and the warlock bowed his grizzled head downwards and she felt his chaffing lips on hers. Pulling back, she opened her eyes which widened in surprise, for the warlock had vanished and in his place was the handsome young wizard.
It had all been a test of her dutifulness and now she and the wizard could be married and live happily ever after.
In Cassandra's old bedroom, Narcissa turned to the last illustration - Dahlinia and the handsome wizard in wedding robes, with a shower of falling stars around the smiling pair.
She had once thought herself Dahlinia, for unlike her sisters she had stayed sitting in her cage and been rewarded with a handsome husband and what had seemed a charmed life. Though in truth, it had been a consolation prize - a 'bait and switch' from the husband she had been promised and desired, and with it her resolve to be dutiful had been tested to its limit.
Now she wondered how she could ever have loved such a story. How ever had she read it to Cassandra - another Dahlinia. For there was no happily ever after for her blighted daughter. It was impossible. And as for Severus… Narcissa doubted that there was a charming, shining wizard beneath the dour exterior. There would be no happily ever after for either of her children, their fates seemed sealed and she could only watch – a Niobe being punished by the gods for her own pride.
How was her poor misfortuned girl to survive it all? Where was Cassie now? What was happening to her?
Narcissa snapped the book shut and threw it from her with crippling despair.
It skidded across the plush carpet and came to a stop at the feet of the witch who stood in the doorway.
Sister stared at sister in the silence that followed, Narcissa's trembling lip stilling through sheer will power – knowing that a show of weakness would not go underided.
"Sorry to have missed it," Bella sang out. "How was it? Everything you dreamed off for your little girl, Cissy? Did the bride blush and the groom beam? Did you all cry and wave while your handsome son-in-law carried off your defective Dahlinia?" she asked, prodding the book pointedly with the toe of her ebony ankle boot.
Narcissa made no reply, her expression marble and just as chilling as she looked back at the interloper on her grief.
"More importantly…" Bella continued. "Do you think he's fucked her yet?"
Movement was swift, the curse flying from the younger sister's wand and hitting the panel of the corridor behind, missing Bella who had anticipated the move.
Narcissa was left alone in her daughter's room once more, as the mocking laughter of her oldest sister faded as Bella skipped away.
Many miles north of Malfoy Manor, In the staff room of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall swept in - slamming the door behind her.
From their overstuffed armchairs, three pairs of eyes looked up at her startled - wands drawn.
"He's back!" she stated.
"So soon?" Filius Flitwick asked, lowering his wand but not pocketing it.
"Yes."
"I thought after yesterday's welcome," Horace Slughorn sighed, "and his sneaking off soon after, that we might have been rid of him for a while."
"Well, we are not," Minerva snapped, pointing her wand at the kettle that began to whistle furiously. "And not only that," she continued, heatedly pouring herself a cup of tea, "he has returned with a wife."
"A wife?!" was the shared exclamation from the other three.
"Yes. A young wife," the irate witch replied, sitting down with a thump in her usual hardbacked chair.
"How young?" Pomona asked, subtly cleaning up the boiling tea that had fallen to the wooden floor.
"Twenty - if that"
"Not a former student?!"
"No. She looked vaguely familiar, but not a student, thank Merlin for small mercies!"
"What does she look like?" Slughorn asked.
"What does that matter?" Pomona replied with a frown.
"I only thought to enquire to see if one of us might know who she is if she looked familiar to Minerva," Slughorn replied, holding out his hands placatingly.
"Like a mooncalf caught in a poacher's trap!" Minerva intoned, glowering over the rim of her cup as if Severus Snape still stood before her.
"Are you sure they are married?"
"Oh yes! Carrow was with them when I had the misfortune to turn into the wrong corridor, and he took it upon himself to introduce me to Mrs Cassandra Snape."
"Cassandra?"
"Yes... do you know her?" Minerva asked looking across at her colleague.
The others also turned to observe Slughorn, taking in the thoughtful look on his face and practically seeing the internal silver tray of calling cards that his mind was rifling through. "Was she blonde?" he finally asked.
"Yes. Blueish eyes. Very pale face. Pointed features… So, you do know her?"
Slughorn cleared his throat and sat back. "I was rather well acquainted with Abraxus Malfoy when the old gentleman was alive. Very generous man. We often used to see each other at the Greengrass summer ball. I recall the rather wonderful one of 196-"
"Horace," Minerva interrupted irritably, "is this relevant to Severus' new wife?"
"Well… not entirely."
"Well could we ask that you come to the point?!"
"Very well, My dear," Slughorn continued. "I was only thinking that the only Cassandra I know of, never having met the young lady, but having recalled the name and heard description of her as well as seen some images that I recall in The Prophet. That it might be, and the more I think about it the more unlikely it is... after all, why would they marry her to him?"
"Please, Horace, spit it out!" Minerva demanded, stifling a sigh.
"Abraxus' granddaughter."
The three listeners looked back at him, the truth of what he was suggesting sinking in.
"You mean... this Cassandra is a Malfoy?" Pomona asked at last.
"Yes, if it is indeed her," Slughorn nodded. "And not just any Malfoy, but Lucius' and Narcissa's daughter."
"Draco's sister."
"I didn't even know he had one," Filius interjected.
"I did," Pomona replied. "In his fourth year he asked me if he could buy some clippings of my giant Strelitzia for his sister. Said she was fond of birds. I actually thought it was rather touching, first time I had seen him without his sneer... Poor, stupid boy."
"It can't be though," Slughorn mused. "Severus is a half-blood, they wouldn't let their daughter marry one."
"You forget who we are talking about," Minerva responded, her tone dripping with venom. "He must be a hero to them all now - what with what he has done. They probably would consider it an honour… the traitorous bast-." She stopped herself, fastening her mouth, as if allowing him even a slur was more than he deserved.
A silence fell in the staffroom, the memory of the murder of their friend and colleague hanging over them as if the ghost of Albus himself had appeared in their midst.
"Spoken like a true Gryffindor, My dear..." Slughorn replied, the forced jollity in his voice breaking through the shared melancholy of those gathered. "But it isn't the done thing - not for such an old family. They might allow their sons to marry a half-blood heiress but not their daughters – never!"
"Horace is right," Flitwick added in response to Minerva's snort of doubt.
"You're an expert on this now as well, Fillius?" she asked turning to him.
"You forget, Minerva, that the daughters of such families pass through mine and Horace's houses far more often than yours or Pomona's. We know what is expected of them, we've seen the demands and limitations of their birthrights."
Minerva looked between the two men as Slughorn nodded sagely.
"Perhaps you are right, but she has to be a somebody, doesn't she? He would have wanted a somebody, what with all his unrelenting ambition and scheming! But, then, if this girl is a Miss Malfoy or another of her standing," she said addressing Slughorn. "Why isn't she one of yours? Why wasn't she at Hogwarts? And why, apart from the obvious, was a girl of such a background looking so utterly terrified of the very bricks of the corridor?"
Up in the Headmaster's office, Severus marched through the door, seething.
Bloody Amycus Carrow, damn him! He thought.
It was bad enough that he and Cassandra had run into the git – lurking about, no doubt waiting for the newlyweds to arrive so he could pepper his congratulations with salacious innuendos, but then to have Minerva appear…The utter embarrassment of it all, the humiliation, the look of abject disgust on Minerva's face as she had heard the news and the look of pity that she had thrown Cassandra - as if Severus had wanted any of it!
"You have a bird?"
The unexpected voice broke him from his painful reminiscing.
He looked back in surprise at the young woman who had trailed in behind him and who was now gazing at the large brass perch that still stood beside the desk that dominated the room.
"No," he replied curtly, cursing himself for not removing it when he had returned to Hogwarts to face his former colleagues and make ready the office.
"Oh…" Cassie murmured; the disappointment evident in her tone.
Severus observed her, feeling another twinge of pity for her. "Do you like birds?" he offered in way of making conversation and apology for his bluntness.
"Yes… Yes, I like them very much."
"Why?"
Cassie blinked, no one had ever asked her that and it was not really a question she had ever considered. "I don't really know… I suppose I grew up with them - with the peacocks, and it was something to share with my father. A common interest." She offered.
"I see," Severus replied, his mind pulling back to memories of his own childhood – What interest could he have shared with his father? Drinking? Womanizing? Beating the shit out of those who couldn't defend themselves?
"I like them as well," Cassie continued, warming to her favourite subject, "because… they are so different from us,,, For one, they can fly… or at least most can."
"We can fly," Severus intoned.
"Yes… but they don't use brooms. It's just part of them… they don't need wands or potions… their powers are just there, and not just flight… other powers too. Like Caladrius," Cassie said, gesturing to the augurey who had fluttered over to land on the perch. "He knows when the weather will change. He just knows it."
"An amazing talent," Severus replied drily, watching the bird with distaste. "Wasn't the Caladrius bird supposed to have healing properties?"
"You know of the Caladrius?"
"Of course," Severus muttered still eying the augurey, "a lofty name for what is essentially a weathervane."
"Yes... I suppose, but then Severus is somewhat a lofty name for a man who is essentially just a supervisor of children."
He spun around, taking in the look on her face.
She looked as shocked by her scathing reply as he felt.
"I'm sorry…" she offered. "I- I… Caladrius is… I'm sorry. I should not have said that. Please excuse me."
What was she thinking? Did she want to anger him? Her only hope was to keep him sweet!
Severus looked down at her stonily. "You are excused. You are obviously very fond of the creature."
"He's my only friend."
Severus expression softened. Was that true? He supposed it might be… The girl had never been to school. Perhaps she might have been allowed playdates when she was younger with suitable companions, but her teenagerhood alone in that great house when all her contemporaries were at Hogwarts, or its ilk, must have led to endless days of loneliness. Severus knew about loneliness. He knew what it was to have but one friend…
"I apologise too," he offered at last. "I did not mean to insult the bird."
He did, however, wish it would get off that bloody perch. There was something so off-putting about it… and then it struck him. It was like it was the shadow of the bird that had sat there once - a dark feathered mirror of the burning plumage of the phoenix… that companion of the man that Severus had mercy killed.
His eyes were pulled magnetically across to the wall where the portrait of Albus Dumbledore slept, or pretended to.
A new surge of fury went through Severus, and with it a sudden desire to be out of the office.
Marching across to the wall, he wrenched open a panel, revealing an archway and the chamber beyond.
Cassie watched him in confusion, concerned by his anger.
He was impossible to read.
He'd seemed to genuinely forgive her for her contemptuous remark, but now he was seemingly enraged again about something.
"In here!"
She jumped at the command, and quickly crossed the office and through the archway, coming up short as she discovered the room they were now in.
It was not that much bigger than her bedroom had been at the manor, and was in some ways more sparsely decorated.
A walnut armoire, intricately carved with fruits of the four seasons stood to one side, a writing desk and chair to the other, and on the walls were embroidered tapestries of the four founders of Hogwarts, but it was the bed that held Cassie's attention.
She had been expecting something vast to rival her mother's four poster… that type of bed where you could avoid intimacy, where husband and wife could have their own divide without risk of touching.
Unfortunately, it was not proportioned this way in the slightest.
It was grand enough looking despite its narrowness, but the decorations were nothing like she had seen before...
The curtains that hung down around it were jade toile de jouy – with courting couples, in various stages of undress, chasing each other across a silken landscape. The bed itself was carved walnut to match the other furnishings, and fruit was also featured across the headboard which was dominated by a polished wood cut of a split open pomegranate - revealing its interior which appeared almost scandalously lush to the eyes of the viewer.
Cassie shifted on the spot, confused by the feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Severus too was frozen, his eyes also on the bed… It had not looked like that before. He was sure of it. Yes, he'd only given a cursory glance before escaping back to Spinner's End but he was sure he would have noticed if it had looked as it did now - he would have torn down the awful curtains for a start.
He glanced across at Cassandra, taking in the look of trepidation as she gazed at the bed.
"If you summon your trunks from the office you can unpack. I have left most of the drawers empty for you."
She startled slightly, dragging her eyes from the bed too look at him. "Summon?"
"Yes, summon," he muttered, wondering to himself if he could transfigure the bed into something less offensively obvious when she was busy unpacking.
"I-erm… I'm not supposed to exert myself."
Lip curling, he looked back at her, and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if he should summon her a fainting couch, but he bit the jibe back in the face of her seeming discomfort.
He'd read about it of course, but even by the standards of her society it was considered passe by several decades to have such a 'delicate' wife.
Without a word he drew his wand, ignoring how Cassandra cowered slightly, and then with a wave her trunks flew through the door to land with a bang beside the wardrobe.
"I assume you can unpack."
"I- yes, I-"
With a loud sigh, Severus waved his wand again and the trunks snapped open. The contents lifted and the drawers slid to receive them. With another bang the now empty trunks stacked themselves in a corner.
"Thank you," whispered Cassie, her face flushed with embarrassment as she kept her eyes on the ground.
Severus made no reply, but again he felt that irritating stab of pity. It wasn't the girl's fault. None of it was… It wasn't her fault she had been raised to be so pampered. It wasn't her fault that his nerves were stretched so tight that he had no head-space for indulgence, and he had never been one for cosseting others – it was not in his nature.
He wondered what Lucius and Narcissa had been thinking? The age of the helpless witch whose sole duty was to look attractively ill was long past, and yet they had seemingly brought up their daughter as a throwback. His mind wandered over the girls of other 'great' families who he had known during his time as head of Slytherin house. Some had been very clever, though they could never amount to anything more than hostesses of the manors and mansions they were destined to be mistress of.
He thought of that one particular girl, so gifted at potions, he'd wanted more for her and yet she had dutifully married that Flint. He'd sat at their table just three years ago. A minor guest at a large dinner party, and when the puddings had been brought out accompanied by a jug of a potion of his hostesses own invention - which tasted of whatever flavour the drinker most desired - his eyes had locked with his former pupils, as her other guests whooped and clapped, and they had both known what a talent she had and how much it was being wasted on party tricks… But still it was something! Not like his new wife who seemed to think it impossibly beneath her to perform the most basic of tasks!
He felt the need to escape again, to get away from that chamber and the ridiculous bed, to get away from memories of the past, to get away from Cassandra Malfoy. He couldn't do this. It was a part too far to play - the indulgent husband - on top of the other roles that had been forced on him.
Without a word he left, walking past her and out into the office, past that damnable bird and out to the moving staircase, before he lent back against the wall breathing heavily – resisting the urge to smack is head against it in despairing frustration.
Back in the bedroom, Cassie looked with bewilderment at the space where he had vanished from.
What was she to do? Should she follow him? She didn't want to. The walk through the castle had been harrowing enough and she felt a false sense of security to be hidden away in a bedroom again… But why did he have to be so difficult to read?
Moving to a small arched window in the outer wall, she looked down across the grounds and out to the highlands beyond and shivered.
It was so different from Wiltshire. So much more wild and rugged... and forbidding.
Darkness was drawing in, and with it would come more obstacles to overcome and more dissembling to be done - for with night's veil her weakness would be exposed.
She had but one hope, one chance. He did not seem to have noticed yet, despite his strange moods. For if he had, he would surely have confronted her by now.
Turning, she looked at the emerald tapestry where the woven Salazar Slytherin caressed the snake he held. Slytherin – her parents' house and her brother's - where, but for providence's cruel whims, she might herself have been placed in.
With resolve she crossed the room to the armoire and pulled open a drawer.
Within it the nightdress lay, neatly folded. The pearl buttons winking at her in the dying light from the window.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled it out and let the silk unfold between her fingers.
Approaching the bed, she let it fall upon the cover, and then with shaking fingers she began to strip herself…