September 1, 1996

Cass stood on the train platform alone.

It was by choice. She'd insisted on her mother staying behind, in fact. But there was still the smallest twinge of something forlorn in her chest standing there surrounded by parents fussing over their children.

It was better this way. If Narcissa Malfoy were here, it would all be stares and sneers. Not that Cass hadn't already gotten her share of those in the three minutes she'd been here.

She didn't linger on the platform, quickly climbing into the Hogwarts Express and heading to her usual compartment.

Her feet almost betrayed her a few times on the way. She didn't want to see her friends. Not because of anything they'd done but because she would be forced to act like her regular self around them, or they'd notice something was up. And that was the last thing she wanted.

It seemed so impossible though. That no one would notice this new version of Cass.

She could just see it now. She'd act weird and Pansy would pester her about what's wrong and Cass would snap at her and say something stupid like, 'Oh, I don't know, maybe my real father who no one knows is my father is dead and my sister is dying and she will die if I don't somehow fucking kill the most powerful wizard in the fucking world. That's what's fucking wrong, Pansy.'

Not that Cass hadn't thought about telling some of this (in slightly nicer words) to one of her friends before. But she knew full well that it wasn't a good idea. This was her burden to bear.

Cass's hands shook as she opened the door to her compartment.

"Cass! I'm so happy to see you!"

It was Daphne who'd stood up first and enveloped Cass in a hug.

Delia squeezed her next.

Cass knew exactly why they were acting like this. Lucius was in prison. They thought she must've been heartbroken over it.

Not that she didn't care. She did, she couldn't help it. But honestly, Lucius being in prison was nowhere near the top of her priority list at the exact moment.

But if it at least partly explained any of Cass's behaviour, she would milk the shit out of that excuse.

Cass sat across from Daphne and Delia. Pansy wasn't here yet. Probably due to her chronically late nature.

Daphne's soft brown eyes examined Cass's face. "Are you okay?"

Cass tried her best to give her friend a reassuring look. "I'm okay. Really."

Daphne let her be.

It took a second, but Daphne and Delia stopped looking at Cass like she was a ticking time bomb and started chatting about their usual subjects—clothes, boys, gossip.

Pansy made it just as the train started to pull out of the platform. She hugged Cass but didn't ask after her well-being, which Cass appreciated.

Everyone treated her like normal. As if her life wasn't completely spiralling.

But sitting there with Pansy and the rest of her fair-weather friends, Cass just... could not do it. She couldn't pretend like everything was fine. Not even an hour passed before she excused herself to go to the bathroom and then... didn't return to the compartment.

She sat in a spare compartment by herself, reading a book, and trying her best not to wallow. At least until Zabini found her.

"Your friends sent me. They're worried you never came back to your compartment," he said.

Cass tried to keep herself from scowling too deeply. "Tell them I'm fine. I had to take care of some things."

Zabini looked at her. He didn't believe her.

He walked inside and sat across from her. "I heard... some rumblings about a very secretive meeting he took with you."

Cass finally looked up at him. Of course he'd heard. Zabini always knew things he shouldn't. "That is none of your business, Zabini."

He wasn't fazed by her tone. "Well, thank you for confirming, Cass."

Cass huffed in annoyance, rolled her eyes. "I don't know what you mean."

"Come on. I know this little attitude, ditching your friends, isn't just because of your father. I know you, Cass."

"You clearly don't because this is my usual attitude," Cass quipped back. She took a breath. "I just wanted some peace and quiet, okay? There's nothing going on."

Zabini took a second to respond. "You know, Malfoy, I am sorry about your dad."

Cass's eyes widened a fraction. What did he know—

Then it dawned on her. He meant Lucius. His whole being imprisoned thing. Right.

She nodded curtly. "Thank you."

After a few seconds of silence, Zabini's hand crept onto Cass's thigh, way too high. "You know... if there's anything I can do for you, I'd be happy to help."

His hand was crawling towards the inside of her thigh and the only reason it was still there was because Cass was too shocked to react for a brief moment. When exactly had Zabini turned into this? She'd completely missed it, which worried her. She slammed her book shut. "Get your hand off my thigh before you lose it, Zabini."

He complied, albeit slowly. "Hardly my fault you're such a tease, Malfoy. Any witch wearing robes that short... well it's not exactly man-repelling."

Cass scowled. She wasn't technically wearing wizard's robes. She was wearing a Pino Lancetti long jacket that kind of looked like a wizard's robes. Cass liked shopping in the Muggle world, it meant no one else had her clothes, and she made a lot of fairly unintentional fashion statements. Like this loose geometrical patterned black and white jacket. Cass was absolutely sure within a day, every witch in school would have taken scissors to their robes to get the mini-skirt effect of Cass's outfit today. But for now... well, this is what she had to deal with.

Cass had the sudden urge to pull down the hem of her jacket-dress, just to keep Zabini's eyes off her thighs. But she kept her hands where they were.

"Fuck off, Zabini."

"I'll see you, then," Zabini said, completely unbothered, strolling out of the compartment in no hurry.

Cass thought she saw a glimmer in the air after Zabini closed the door but she ignored it. She hadn't enough headspace to be dwelling on other things at the moment.

She took a deep breath and forced her mind away from Zabini's untoward advances. The quicker she could erase that from her mind, the better.

Zabini's reminder about Lucius only made Cass feel worse. She had already spent a lot of time building resentment towards Narcissa, but at that moment it felt tripled. How could she do this to her? How could a woman who claimed to love Cass all her life do something so... horrible, deranged, twisted?

Cass felt a tear fall from her eye.

She never cried as a child. Her parents always said it was a sign of weakness.

But they're not actually your parents, so who cares?

She'd cried enough in the past few months to make up for it anyway.

Big, fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she tried to bite into her knuckles to keep herself from being too loud.

Then she heard a screech that sounded like the compartment door opening and she jumped to her feet, wand in hand. There was no one in the hallway.

"Petrificus totalus!" She shrieked into the nothingness.

Then she heard a thud, and she confirmed her suspicions.

Harry Potter.

The little shit.

She pulled his cloak away to reveal his dumb face. Wide green eyes stared up at her.

She'd always hated those eyes. The bright green against his olive skin only made them stand out garishly on his face. They felt... piercing whenever they were on Cass. Like he could see right through her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Potter? Have you seriously still not learned your lesson?"

His facial muscles remained unmoving.

Cass considered him for a second. She could not believe he'd seen her crying like that. That he's seen Zabini... She had half a mind to leave him there, frozen. But her pent-up feelings were screaming for a fight.

She removed the spell.

Potter rose from the ground slowly, as if he was afraid to spook her. He rubbed the back of his head, where he'd probably hit the ground. "Are you..." he trailed off. "I didn't mean to..."

Cass crossed her arms over her chest. "You didn't mean to what? Fucking spy on me? Seems to me like you did mean to, you little fucking pervert."

His cheeks went slightly red. "That's not—"

"Shut up!" She snapped. She shouldn't have let him up. She was not in the mood for his shitty excuses. "If I catch you creeping on me again, I won't be so nice, Scarface."

Harry said nothing, only stared at her. Then, "Has Zabini ever done—"

Cass cut him off. "I swear to fucking Salazar, if you finish that sentence, Potter..."

"I just thought maybe you should tell—"

Again, Cass didn't let him finish. "Do not presume to tell me what to do, Potter. You're so fucking lucky I'm not cursing you eight ways to hell right now. You do not want to test me."

Potter looked like he wanted to say something else but he refrained. Wise choice, for once.

Cass made to leave, but changed her mind and turned back before opening the door. "Oh, and I almost forgot." She took a step towards him. "This is for my father."

And then she punched him in the face.

Hard.

Then, she left.

Cass's friends were only a little upset at her disappearing act on the train. But not enough to make a thing of it.

The feast must've been halfway through when the doors to the Great Hall opened and Potter walked in, blood on his face.

Cass had been kind of hoping he'd get stuck on the train back to London in the time it took him to get his bearings.

He must've stopped at the Hospital Wing to get his nose fixed. Cass had felt it crack under her fist.

Cass expected the satisfaction to fill her senses at the thought of breaking Potter's nose, but it never came. And if she was being really honest with herself, she had a feeling at the pit of her stomach that was more like... guilt.

And she knew exactly why.

She thought of the letters tucked away in the inner pocket of her robes. She hated to part with them, so she'd taken to carrying them around, inside an enchanted sealed pouch.

Every letter her father had ever written her. Her real father.

I really think you and Harry would get along if you gave each other a chance, Sugar.

She hated how much of them she had memorised. Because it led to moments like this.

If Cass really thought about it, everything wrong and fucked up in her life could be traced back to one Narcissa Malfoy. Maybe that sounded like a whiney thing to say. But it was at least somewhat true.

Narcissa was the reason why Cass had subconsciously only filled half her plate when the food arrived, why Cass had been sorted into this goddamn House where everyone either respected or feared her but very few liked her, why Cass never knew her real mother and father, why she had to commit a heinous crime if she wanted to live.

Lucius shared some of the blame for sure. But he wasn't the one who'd made the decision that would dictate what Cass's whole life would look like. No. That had been all Narcissa. Narcissa who had decided to take a baby that wasn't hers so she could replace the one she lost. Narcissa who decided to lie to Cass for the first fifteen years of her life.

Cass had already spent a lot of last year turning it over in her head. Why would someone do such a fucked up thing? But Cass knew Narcissa, and honestly, it wasn't that far-fetched for the woman.

To a point, Cass could even understand Narcissa's logic. Cass's birth mother was a prisoner in Narcissa's own house. A prisoner who gave birth to a baby with a perfect head of white blonde hair, and most importantly, one with Black blood running through her veins. The same week Narcissa had been meant to give birth to the child she'd lost. It was a miracle. It was perfect.

When Cass finally pulled the whole story from Narcissa, bit by bit, Narcissa said Cass's mother had died giving birth. But to this day, Cass just wasn't sure she believed it.

It was fucked up how much of a perfect crime it was. Not even Lucius knew it happened.

It'd taken Cass a while to come to terms with everything. And honestly, she still hadn't fully come to terms with it.

She was thankful she'd at least gotten to know her biological father, even if she had little time with him. Cass had come to love him, to... let herself hope for a future where he took care of her.

Since he'd died, she found the secret of him too big. It was a weight on her heart. She wished she could say she was his daughter with pride. She wished she could share him with the ones that mattered. She wished she could do more to keep his memory alive. It was crushing.

She found comfort in telling herself someday. Even if she wasn't sure.

Sometimes she wrote it down on pieces of parchment that she burned.

I am Sirius Black's daughter. My father was a great man and I'm proud to be his daughter.