Temptation

Potions—she couldn’t find the damn book. And it was her first class, right after breakfast. Maybe it had slipped off her bed, and fallen underneath. She often read when she couldn’t sleep, which had definitely been the case last night. That had to be it. Just as she lowered herself to peek under the bed, a voice made her flinch.

"Looking for something?" The voice wasn’t friendly; it lacked the warmth she was used to from her friend. This one was sharp, dripping with a smugness that made Cassiopeia’s skin prickle. She looked up to find the dorm mate she’d barely seen around—perhaps three times in all the time she’d been at Hogwarts—standing in front of her bed.

Cassiopeia said nothing at first, her eyes narrowing as she met the girl’s gaze, but the silence didn’t seem to discourage her.

"Maybe the time you lost last night, sneaking around trying to go unnoticed?" The girl’s lips curled into a smirk like she had uncovered some grand secret. "Because it was anything but that..."

Cassiopeia had forgotten all about the Potions book now. She got to her feet, her gaze never leaving the raven-haired girl. It was true—she had snuck back into the dorm late last night, and she had thought she’d done so unnoticed. Apparently, she was wrong. That would be a first. Her eyebrow arched as she stepped closer, her posture steady, her face betraying nothing but curiosity.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about." Denial—the first stage of defense. And right now, Cassiopeia hoped it would be the only one she’d have to use.

The girl’s smirk widened, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, don’t play dumb. For a Malfoy, you lie awfully bad."

Cassiopeia disagreed on that. If she could ever rely on anything, it was her ability to lie. But it seemed she’d yet to prove that here.

"I don’t care where you were or what—or who—you were doing," the girl sneered. "I want to know who you’ve got wrapped around your finger so you don’t get caught sneaking around. Which prefect’s turning a blind eye for you?"

There it was. The real reason for this confrontation. Cassiopeia could sense the envy dripping from her words. It made sense—the girl had likely been caught herself. Probably last week, considering she’d spent two days in detention with Professor Sprout. But just for the way this dorm mate chose to approach her, Cassiopeia wouldn’t have given up that information even if there were a prefect in her pocket.

The girl’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. "So, what is it then? You paying them off? Or are you the type to... sleep your way to favors?"

Cassiopeia Malfoy sleeping her way up? The very idea was laughable. If she were ever to use anything other than her intelligence and resourcefulness to climb her way up—even higher than she already was—it certainly wouldn’t be her body. That option wasn’t even on the list.

She tilted her head slightly, her voice dripping with cool condescension. “I think you should visit the infirmary. It can’t be normal to be seeing things like that. You should hurry before class start—wouldn’t want it to get worse and have you imagining things like that again.”

The dorm mate's smug expression faltered, and Cassiopeia resisted the urge to smirk. She wasn’t someone who liked to classify herself as a "mean girl," but moments like these, with people who thought they could intimidate her, called for exceptions.

Jasmine, however, didn’t seem to appreciate being made out to look like a fool. Cassiopeia found it amusing how easily she could make the girl lose her composure. No amount of makeup could cover the flush of red creeping from Jasmine’s neck to her face.

"You think you can get away with things like these us mere mortals can't, just because you're a Malfoy—"

Before Jasmine could finish her sentence, Cassiopeia's eyes drifted down to where the corner of her Potions book was peeking out from beneath her bed. She quickly knelt down, grabbed it, and straightened up again, her cool gaze settling back on her dorm mate.

"You flatter me, Jasmine—really, it’s nice that you have such a high opinion of me," Cassiopeia said, her voice dripping with mock politeness. "But don’t tear yourself down just because you can’t reach that. I’m sure there’s something great about you too."

She smiled sweetly, which only seemed to fuel Jasmine’s anger even more. The flush in the girl’s face deepened, her frustration practically radiating off her in waves.

"You might want to calm down before you burst a blood vessel," Cassiopeia added with a faint smirk, a subtle challenge hidden in her words. "It wouldn’t be a good look."

"Now, if you’ll excuse me." She glanced at the girl once more before pushing past her, fully prepared to leave the ridiculous encounter behind. But just as she moved, Jasmine's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, bringing Cassiopeia to an abrupt halt.

The grip wasn’t painful, but it was enough to make Cassiopeia’s skin prickle. The sudden, bold move sent a rush of anger coursing through her, and her eyes darkened as she turned back to face Jasmine again. Her expression remained composed, but her gaze was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. One she must've gotten from her mother.

"Maybe you should taste some detention," Jasmine sneered, clearly not planning on letting go anytime soon. She was trying to intimidate Cassiopeia, thinking that threats and aggression would make the younger Malfoy back down.

Wrong.

Cassiopeia wasn’t thinking of resorting to harshness, not initially. But the girl was overstepping her boundaries, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back. She glanced down at where Jasmine's hand gripped her arm, then slowly raised her gaze back to meet her dorm mate’s eyes, cold and unyielding.

"Maybe you should take your hand off me," she said, her voice low and controlled, a warning in every syllable.

Jasmine smirked, undeterred. "Or what? Daddy's gonna have me sent to Azkaban?"

Cassiopeia’s lips curled into a smirk of her own, but hers was sharper, more dangerous. She leaned in slightly, her eyes gleaming with a dark promise. "Or you’re gonna wish my daddy came to send you to Azkaban."

There was a flicker of doubt in Jasmine’s eyes, though her grip remained stubbornly tight. Cassiopeia didn’t flinch, didn’t move, her cool expression never wavering. She wasn’t the type to throw empty threats around, and she made sure Jasmine knew it.

"Is that a threat?" Jasmine asked, her voice laced with defiance, though there was a tremor beneath it.

"It’s a promise," Cassiopeia replied, her tone icy, colder than she’d ever heard herself sound before. The shift in her own voice was unsettling, like a stranger had taken over. Her eyes had darkened, and she knew if she looked in a mirror right now, she wouldn’t recognize herself.

Jasmine must have felt it too. Her grip on Cassiopeia’s arm loosened, and after a tense moment, her hand fell by her side. She must've read in between the lines too, because by the look of it, this conversation wasn't going to leave this dormitory.

Cassiopeia glanced down at where the girl had grabbed her, brushing off the spot as if clearing away dust. Her expression remained stone-cold, no trace of her usual politeness. "Enjoy the rest of your day," she said flatly, her voice devoid of warmth.

After that, Cassiopeia wasted no more time. With the book she needed in hand and her wand safely tucked into her pocket, she left the dormitory, her steps swift as she made her way to the Great Hall, leaving Jasmine behind in the silence of her own poor choices. Her friend was waiting for her, as promised, to join her for breakfast.

As she walked, her mind briefly lingered on the encounter. She hadn’t expected her first enemy at Hogwarts to be a fellow Slytherin—her own dorm mate, no less. But jealousy, as she had just witnessed, could make people do reckless, stupid things.

Still, Cassiopeia wasn’t one to dwell on conflicts. She’d made her stance clear, and that was enough. With the confrontation behind her, she allowed herself to relax as she approached the Great Hall, ready to move on with her day.

After a brief breakfast, Cassiopeia and an oblivious Astoria made their way to the dungeons for Potions class. As they descended the cold stone steps, Cassiopeia's thoughts wandered to the strange relationship she had with their Potions professor—her godfather.

The first Potions class she had at Hogwarts had been nothing short of surreal. She had expected it to be, knowing that the man standing at the front of the classroom, robes billowing, was her godfather. But the odd part wasn’t their connection—it was how little she actually knew him. Despite the title, Cassiopeia had barely spoken to him. Respect was there, certainly, but their conversations had been limited. Five brief exchanges in total, and three of those had only occurred in the last year or two. Ones she wouldn't repeat again.

In contrast, Draco seemed closer to him—though "closer" was perhaps a stretch, given Snape’s famously distant demeanor. But the connection between them made sense. Snape had been Draco’s Potions professor for the past six years, and there was something about the unspoken understanding between the two that always intrigued her.

Still, it was strange to think that, despite this lack of closeness, Severus Snape was the man who would be granted guardianship over Draco and herself if anything ever happened to their parents. Merlin forbid, she thought, a slight shudder running through her at the mere idea.

“Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: The Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation,” Professor Snape's low, calm voice announced, cutting through the stillness of the dungeon classroom.

The Draught of Peace—Cassiopeia was quite familiar with it. She had seen it around Malfoy Manor more times than she cared to admit. In fact, she’d used it herself not too long ago. It was effective, to say the least.

"Be warned," Snape continued, his voice carrying an undercurrent of seriousness, like it always did, "if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy, sometimes irreversible sleep. So you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

His warning cut through the class like a sharp wind, and the usual low hum of whispers was absent. It could have been that the students were finally interested enough to listen, or perhaps they were simply too intimidated to look away. After all, Snape was known as the strictest professor in all of Hogwarts—a fact Cassiopeia had known long before stepping foot in the castle.

The ingredients and the exact recipe appeared on the board at the front of the room, neatly written for all to see. Every pair of students had a cauldron, ingredients, and tools in front of them and was expected to brew the potion correctly.

Cassiopeia found herself paired with a Hufflepuff girl whose name she couldn’t recall. It didn’t really matter to her. As long as the girl could follow instructions and didn’t mess up the potion, Cassiopeia didn’t care who she was working with.

She scanned the list of ingredients: powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills, and powdered unicorn horn, the ingredients were to be precisely measured and set to use.

The Hufflepuff girl glanced nervously at Cassiopeia, clearly aware of who she was, but Cassiopeia paid her little attention. Her focus was entirely on the cauldron and the precise steps Snape had outlined. She wasn’t about to let anyone—especially a nervous partner—ruin her potion. This was one of the few things in class she actually took seriously. Maybe it was her father's voice that rang in her head to exceed in her studies, or maybe it was the shame that she would feel knowing she had every predisposition to be outstanding in this class and still failed.

"You start with the moonstone," Cassiopeia said curtly, glancing at the girl. "Just don’t overdo it, read the recipe and ask if you have any questions.“ Her words were firm, but not harsh.

Suddenly, just as she grabbed the next ingredient in her hand, her head started to thump. With a soft inhale and exhale she shook her head off, bringing herself to ignore the ache and focus on the task at hand. She raised her head to find Professor Snape glaring at her, she didn't think anything of it, since he seemed to stare a lot.

The Hufflepuff nodded quickly, her hands shaking slightly as she measured out the powdered moonstone.

Cassiopeia sighed inwardly but remained calm. As long as they stuck to the instructions, the potion would be perfect. Snape would expect no less from a Malfoy, and she wasn’t going to give him a reason to be disappointed.

With five minutes still on the clock, Cassiopeia and her Hufflepuff partner were the first to finish. The potion in their cauldron bubbled softly, a perfect turquoise blue—the exact shade described in the instructions. The Hufflepuff girl looked almost giddy with excitement, as though it was her first time successfully completing a potion.

Though Cassiopeia had taken on the more crucial tasks, ensuring the ingredients were measured and handled with precision, she had made sure to keep her partner involved. After all, a successful brew required teamwork, no matter how much of the heavy lifting Cassiopeia had done herself.

Snape’s sharp gaze caught their finished work, and with his usual long, silent strides, he was by their table in an instant. His black eyes swept over their workspace—every ingredient placed neatly aside, no spills or clutter—before he focused on the cauldron. He stared at the bubbling liquid, his expression inscrutable as he mentally compared it to his own perfect brew.

Cassiopeia stood calmly, her arms crossed, waiting for his judgment. The Hufflepuff beside her, on the other hand, fidgeted slightly, her excitement evident as her eyes darted between the cauldron and their professor.

After a long moment, Snape hummed, a short, neutral sound that could mean anything. He looked up at the pair, his gaze lingering on the bubbling turquoise potion before meeting Cassiopeia’s eyes.

"The color is correct," he said, his voice as cold and emotionless as ever. "The consistency is acceptable. No doubt, the result of precision." His eyes shifted briefly to the Hufflepuff, acknowledging her presence but offering no more than that. "I will inspect the rest of the class. Leave your potion for evaluation."

The Hufflepuff girl beamed, practically glowing with pride. Cassiopeia merely nodded, her expression calm, though she felt a small sense of satisfaction at Snape’s words. Coming from him, anything short of outright criticism was practically high praise.

As Snape moved on to the next pair, Cassiopeia glanced at her partner, who was still brimming with excitement. "Good job," she said, offering a small nod of approval.

The girl smiled widely. "Thanks! You were amazing. I’ve never had a potion turn out this well before." It looked like it.

Cassiopeia shrugged, brushing off the compliment. "Just follow the instructions, and it works out. Simple as that." It wasn't long after that that the class ended and they were free to go.

Just as Cassiopeia gathered her belongings and the classroom began to empty, she felt a presence beside her. She glanced up to see the tall, dark figure of Professor Snape standing close, his gaze fixed on her, unblinking.

"Miss Malfoy, stay for a few moments," Snape said in his familiar low tone, devoid of emotion. There was no hint in his voice as to why he wanted her to stay behind, and Cassiopeia’s mind raced to figure out what this could be about. Had she done something wrong during the lesson? The thought felt unlikely; their potion had been flawless.

Astoria, who had been about to leave, looked over her shoulder at her friend, confusion evident on her face. She gave Cassiopeia a questioning glance, unsure what could have prompted Snape to ask her to stay behind.

Cassiopeia offered her a small, reassuring smile. "You can go, I'll find you after," she said. She didn’t know how long this would take, but whatever it was, she didn’t want her friend waiting around.

Astoria hesitated for a moment but nodded and made her way out of the classroom, leaving Cassiopeia alone with Snape as the door creaked shut behind her.

As her friend slipped out of the classroom, Cassiopeia turned to face Snape, the last student left behind. He was glaring at her, his sharp, dark eyes inspecting her with an intensity that made the silence stretch uncomfortably long. It felt as though he was searching for something in her features, some unspoken truth or secret, though she had no idea what that might be.

Without a word, he turned away from her, his black robes billowing slightly as he walked to the table at the front of the classroom. "Do you know why I asked you to stay, Miss Malfoy?" His voice was low, calm, but with an edge that suggested she should already know the answer.

Cassiopeia blinked, confused. She had no idea why he’d kept her behind, but the way he phrased the question made it seem like she was supposed to. For a brief moment, she wondered again if it had something to do with the potion she’d brewed—but if that were the case, he could have easily addressed it in front of the other students.

No, this was something else. Something more personal. Something meant for her ears alone.

She stood tall, her gaze steady, but her answer was short. "No."

Snape’s back remained turned to her for a moment longer as if he were weighing her response, testing her patience.

He didn’t look at her as he reached for something on his desk. Then, with a quick turn that made his black cloak billow dramatically around him, he walked back up to her. His face was as unreadable as ever—emotionless, cold.

"Your mind is loud," he said, his voice low but pointed.

It took her a moment to piece it together—her headache, the intense staring earlier, his words. He had used Legilimency on her. That bastard.

"You are not working on your Occlumency," he added curtly, his tone carrying a sharp undercurrent of reprimand.

It was true. Occlumency was something she should have been practicing, something Snape had specifically brought up in one of their few conversations last year. Something she had been subjected to before. But between the other things on her mind and things she found more important, she had pushed it aside, prioritizing other tasks. She thought she had more time. Clearly, Snape disagreed.

Instead of focusing on her mounting irritation, she kept her face as neutral as possible. She didn't need him reading more of her thoughts than he already had.

"Instead of trying to prove your importance to your fellow housemates, you should focus on something useful," Snape said, his voice laced with quiet criticism, obviously implying to the memory from earlier in her dorm. With a flick of his wrist, he handed her a book.

Guide to Advanced Occlumency by Maxwell Barnett.

Cassiopeia took the book, staring at its cover with a sinking feeling in her chest. Great, just what she needed—another demanding task to add to her already packed schedule. She had hoped she could put off Occlumency for later in the semester, but it didn’t look like that was an option anymore.

"You are not taking your tasks seriously enough," Snape spat, his voice cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "At this point, you are no different from a first-year who has never even heard of Occlumency. The only thing separating you from them is that your body has learned to recognize when something is going on in your head—even though you don’t."

Cassiopeia bristled at the comparison, her jaw tightening in frustration. Being likened to a first-year was almost insulting, but what stung more was the realization that he was right—she hadn't taken Occlumency as seriously as she should have. And yet, the fact that he had gone through her recent memories, knowing full well she wasn't protecting her mind, left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"By the next time I use Legilimency on you," he continued coldly, "I expect you to be able to direct me to something you either deem unimportant or have fabricated. Do not expect me to be as gentle as I was today."

The threat hung heavily between them. Cassiopeia knew he had his own tasks, that part of his role was to keep an eye on both her and Draco. But it didn’t make his approach any less infuriating. The violation of her mind, even under the guise of training, felt like an overstep. Yet, she couldn’t argue—she knew, deep down, she needed to protect herself better.

Snape’s gaze remained hard and unyielding as he flicked his wand, pressing its tip to the book he had given her. The cover shimmered, transforming into the appearance of a simple Potions textbook. It was a small glamour, but a necessary one. No one is supposed to even suspect she was studying Occlumency.

"You will find," Snape continued, "that allowing your mind to remain so... open is dangerous. Especially for someone in your position." He reminded her. And for a second she felt sick to her stomach at the words 'someone in your position'. Merlin, would it ever stop leaving a bitter taste behind?

"You are free to go," he dismissed her curtly, turning away without waiting for a response. His robes billowed as he strode toward the door, leaving her standing there, no chance given to defend herself or voice her frustrations.

Cassiopeia watched him leave, her mind still spinning from his harsh words. The weight of the book in her hands suddenly felt much heavier than before. Snape’s warning was clear—next time, he wouldn’t hold back. And next time, she had to be ready.

As she stepped out of the empty classroom, her frustration still simmering beneath the surface. She couldn't allow herself a failure like this again. She had been given a warning, and the consequences of ignoring it were far too dangerous to entertain.

Her pace quickened as she made her way through the corridors, the glamour-clad textbook clutched tightly to her chest. Her head was spinning, most likely the lingering effect of Snape’s Legilimency. She could still feel the residual heaviness from his intrusion like her thoughts had been prodded and jumbled.

She realized she should revisit her own knowledge of Legilimency as well. It had been a long time since she’d studied the subject, and slipping it into her Occlumency practice wouldn’t hurt. If Snape was going to test her mind again, she needed to be prepared from all angles.

"Hey! What did Snape want?"

Astoria’s voice suddenly cut through her thoughts, and Cassiopeia nearly jumped. Her friend had appeared beside her, falling into step as they walked down the hall. Cassiopeia had been so deep in her thoughts she had almost forgotten about her friend. Shaking her head to clear it, she pressed her lips together, already preparing the lie that would inevitably follow.

"Oh, nothing important," Cassiopeia replied, her voice calm as if nothing were wrong. "He asked about the potion we brewed today. Thought I might’ve done it before, given how it turned out. He wondered if I had the prior chance to learn about it at Beauxbatons." Cassiopeia smiled, though inwardly she felt a small twinge of guilt at the deception. Would she ever get to tell some truth? Likely not. But did it really matter?

No, it didn’t. Not right now.

 "Did you?" Astoria asked almost immediately, her curiosity piqued. Cassiopeia hesitated for a moment, quickly realizing she needed to respond.

"Um, no," she replied smoothly. "The class schedule is pretty much the same at both schools. I would've learned it around this time there too." It wasn’t a complete lie—just a carefully constructed half-truth. The schedules were indeed similar, but she had brewed the potion before. Still, a half-truth was better than a whole lie.

Astoria seemed satisfied with the answer and didn’t press further. Cassiopeia breathed a silent sigh of relief, grateful the conversation had shifted. But then she noticed Astoria’s gaze shift, falling on a figure leaning casually against one of the stone pillars by the window.

Mattheo Riddle.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, a casual smirk on his face as he stood with two girls flanking him, both vying for his attention. The scene was almost typical for him, but what really caught Cassiopeia's attention was the way Astoria looked at him—an unmistakable glint of interest in her eyes.

A smile tugged at Cassiopeia’s lips. A distraction. A useful one, at that.

"You know he’s an arsehole, right?" Cassiopeia asked as they walked past him, whose smug presence still lingered at the pillar, flanked by admirers. She had noticed the way Astoria's eyes had softened for him, and while she found it endearing, she also knew her friend could do much better.

"What?" Astoria winced, as if Cassiopeia had just uncovered her deepest, most well-guarded secret.

"Riddle," Cassiopeia clarified, her tone more teasing than accusatory.

"Oh, no—no, that’s not—I’m not into him," Astoria stammered, struggling to find the right words, her cheeks flushing as she tried to deflect.

Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow, amused by her friend's flustered reaction. "I’m just saying, he’s an arse, and you’re Astoria." It wasn’t the clearest explanation, but they had somehow gotten to know each other well enough to understand what was being said.

Astoria blinked, processing the words, then finally sighed. "You think so?"

"Anyone who's friends with my brother is an arse, trust me on that," Cassiopeia said, the words slipping out naturally. She almost added Draco to the list, but somehow, it went without saying. A part of her wished things weren't that way, that she didn’t hold such an opinion about her brother and his friends, but growing up around them, hearing the things she heard, had left her with little doubt. They were boys, like any other, and blood or bond didn’t change that fact.

Astoria looked at her, clutching her books tightly to her chest. "Blaise isn’t—" she protested gently, her voice carrying a hint of defense for their mutual acquaintance. It wasn't as much defensiveness as it was hope.

He is, Cassiopeia thought to herself but kept it silent. Blaise was different, in a way—polished, smooth, the closest thing to a man in Draco's circle. But underneath it all, he was still part of that group, still prone to the same arrogance and detachment. He just knew how to mask it better.

Cassiopeia offered her friend a small smile, one that didn’t fully disagree but didn’t quite concede either. "Perhaps."

Astoria nodded as if understanding what wasn’t said aloud. They continued walking in comfortable silence, the unsaid truth lingering between them. Cassiopeia knew that, despite her friend's protests, Astoria saw the same flaws in her sister's circle that she did—she just wanted to believe that there is someone that was different.

But Cassiopeia had learned long ago that hoping for people to be different from who they truly were often led to disappointment. And though she didn’t wish that for Astoria, she knew her friend would have to see it for herself.