Temptation

Post-class, in the comfortable silence of her dormitory, Cassiopeia pulled the canopies around her bed and flicked a silencing charm for good measure. The glamoured Occlumency book sat in front of her, its appearance still that of a simple Potions textbook, but within its pages lay the key to mastering her own mind. She flipped through the pages, skimming through the dense text, eager to reach the practical sections.

"Calm yourselves," the instructions began, and Cassiopeia inhaled deeply, letting her hands rest on her knees as she closed her eyes. "Clear your mind of any thoughts," the book instructed.

With a few more steady breaths, she began to push her thoughts aside, one by one, each fading into the background. "Blank." Her mind emptied, and soon she found herself in a vast nothingness, the blackness of her subconscious surrounding her like a shroud. She could almost feel the void solidifying, her thoughts silenced. Another breath in. Exhale.

Cassiopeia prepared herself for the imagined presence of someone attempting to breach her mind, her instincts sharpening, defenses rising. But she knew no one was coming. She was alone in this mental fortress, and without an actual opponent, it felt… futile. Her eyes fluttered open with a frustrated sigh.

The practice seemed absurd. Without someone to actively challenge her defenses, how could she know if she was truly succeeding in her attempt to Occlude? It was easy to block out nothingness, to clear her mind when there was no pressure. But when it came to Snape, or worse, someone who truly sought to pry into her thoughts, would she be able to keep them out?

The doubt gnawed at her. Without a real test, it all felt too simple, too easy. She could read the theory and practice alone in her dorm, but none of that would prove she was capable of protecting her mind when it mattered.

There was no one who could help her—not really. It wasn't as though she could simply approach someone and ask them to force their way into her mind. That kind of request would raise more than a few eyebrows. For now, all she could do was wait for Snape’s next attempt. She knew it was coming; he had made that much clear.

Perhaps she could try to Occlude during the day, practice shutting off her emotions as a form of training. Devoid herself of feeling, bit by bit, until it became second nature. But even that had its risks. Her friends would notice if she suddenly started acting cold and detached, and she wasn’t keen on drawing attention. It was a delicate balance she had to maintain, and until she found a better way, she would have to continue practicing in isolation.

In the meantime, though, she could revisit her Legilimency. That, at least, could be practiced in the open without raising suspicion. Few people knew about it, and even fewer would notice its subtle effects if she didn’t go too deep. She could start small—simple observations, gentle nudges into the minds of others, nothing too invasive. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something.

“Cassiopeia?” Astoria’s voice cut through the canopies, pulling her out of her thoughts. With a simple flick of her wand, Cassiopeia disabled the silencing charm and parted the material.

"Oh good, you're awake. I thought you were sleeping," Astoria said with an awkward smile.

"I was studying," Cassiopeia replied, another small lie, though not far from the truth.

Astoria didn’t linger on the comment, instead handing over a letter sealed with the unmistakable deep green Malfoy wax. The familiar emblem gleamed under the candlelight. Her mother.

"Professor McGonagall was handing out letters in the Great Hall," Astoria explained. "She asked me to bring you this."

Cassiopeia glanced up, offering her friend a small, appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

Astoria smiled back, her expression soft. "After you're done with that, would you care to go down to the common room with me?"

Cassiopeia's gaze lingered on the sealed letter in her hand, her finger tracing over the familiar green wax of the Malfoy crest. She could open it now, let her mother’s carefully worded expectations wash over her like they always did, but a part of her hesitated. Her mother likely hadn’t written anything new or particularly interesting—just the usual reminders of duty and responsibility.

Maybe if she didn’t open it right now, she could avoid that familiar knot of inadequacy tightening in her chest, the feeling that no matter how hard she tried, it was never enough. She could put it off, at least for a little while. Perhaps, for just a short time, she could be a normal teenager—like her friends.

Cassiopeia glanced back at Astoria, who was waiting patiently, and allowed a smile to slip onto her lips as she set the letter on the mattress behind her. "We can go right away," she said with a lightness she didn’t quite feel. "I'll read the letter later."

Without another word, Astoria grinned, grabbing Cassiopeia’s hand and practically dragging her down the stairs with her usual enthusiasm. The sudden burst of energy was a welcome distraction, and Cassiopeia found herself momentarily free from the weight of the unopened letter.

Just before they reached the bottom of the stairs, Astoria stopped abruptly, letting go of Cassiopeia’s hand to smooth down her hair, fussing over every stray strand. Presentability, as always, came first.

Cassiopeia chuckled softly, watching her friend’s small but habitual ritual, the same one she reckognised by herself. "You look fine, Astoria." She looked more than fine, she was beautiful, but she was always beautiful.

Astoria shot her a playful look. "Says the girl who always looks like she stepped out of a portrait." It was compliment, Cassiopeia knew, but she couldn't not think about how she never learned any different, never in her life would she allow herself to be seen as anything different. She said nothing back, instead giving her a grateful smile as the two moved.

As soon as Cassiopeia stepped into the common room, her eyes landed on Daphne, the blonde lounging casually on the couch. Just below her, Blaise and Enzo were engrossed in a game of wizarding chess, their attention so fixed on the board that they seemed oblivious to everything else happening around them. The common room was lively, filled with students chattering and unwinding, and it was still early enough that the younger years hadn’t yet been chased off to their dorms.

Despite the usual buzz, the group’s usual spot was only half-occupied. Daphne sprawled comfortably on one side of the couch, while Blaise and Enzo took up the other. The remaining half of the space—normally occupied by the rest of the group—was empty, waiting for the others.

Astoria, always comfortable sliding into the familiar scene, headed straight for the empty armchair positioned above her sister. She gracefully perched herself there, a soft smile lighting her face. Cassiopeia followed more leisurely, opting not to sit, but rather to lean against the side of the armchair, her gaze sweeping the room with a sense of detached calm.

“Oh, new company,” Daphne said lazily, her eyes drifting over the two girls. Her gaze lingered on Astoria, as if casually inspecting her to see if her younger sister had ‘borrowed’ anything from her wardrobe. Cassiopeia always found it strange that Daphne didn’t seem to mind Astoria hanging out with her friends. She wasn’t sure if this laid-back attitude was normal or if Draco’s more possessive ways were the standard for siblings.

Blaise hadn’t so much as lifted his gaze from the chessboard, entirely absorbed in figuring out his next move. Judging by the pieces accumulating on his side of the board, victory was within his grasp. Enzo, on the other hand, had glanced up at their arrival, his smile brief but warm, though he remained quiet, clearly deep in thought over his next move in the game.

Cassiopeia gave a small nod in response to Enzo’s silent greeting before shifting her weight slightly against the armchair. The relaxed yet charged atmosphere of the common room felt oddly comforting after the day’s events, a welcome change from the usual tension that often seemed to cling to her.

Daphne’s gaze lingered on her sister for another moment before she turned back to Cassiopeia. “Haven't seen you around lately,” she said casually, her tone curious but still light.

Cassiopeia smiled faintly. “Studying. Can’t let Draco get all the praise around here,” she quipped, hoping the joke would steer Daphne away from asking too many questions about the kind of studying she'd really been doing. It wasn’t a complete lie, but Occlumency wasn't exactly a topic she wanted to share freely.

Daphne raised an eyebrow, her expression mildly impressed. “You’ve got more discipline than the rest of us, didn't take you as such.” she teased, settling back into the couch. "You two got some competition going on? Who can impress the Malfoy parents more?"

Cassiopeia smirked at the suggestion. In truth, there probably was a silent competition between her and Draco, but it wasn’t something either of them ever openly acknowledged. Instead, it was this unspoken pressure, always lingering in the background, pushing them both toward some undefined standard that never seemed quite within reach.

Before Cassiopeia had a chance to respond, Blaise moved a figurine forward, knocking down one of Enzo's pieces with a smooth, deliberate motion. His eyes stayed fixed on Enzo, a barely-there smirk tugging at his lips. “Checkmate.”

Enzo rolled his eyes, flicking the fallen piece away and leaning back in his seat, defeated but not particularly bothered.

Blaise turned his attention to Cassiopeia, his smirk still lingering. "I'd bet on Draco—sorry, little Malfoy," he said, clearly having been listening to the conversation all along.

Cassiopeia smiled. She didn’t mind the playful jab. "I didn’t think you’d choose any differently," she replied, matching his tone.

Blaise chuckled, leaning back in satisfaction, while Daphne straightened up on the couch, turning her focus back to Cassiopeia. “No, but really—I thought you’d be more, how do I put it, ungraceful?”

Cassiopeia laughed at the unexpected comment, her head tilting slightly as she regarded Daphne.

“When I saw you at that party the first night, I didn’t believe them when they told me you’re a Malfoy,” Daphne continued, her tone more reflective now. “I can’t seem to pinpoint you anywhere.”

Cassiopeia’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. There was truth to what Daphne said. Sometimes she felt like there were two versions of herself—the one who didn’t care about anything, carefree and aloof, and the one who cared far too much, burdened by expectations and the weight of her family’s name. That first night at Hogwarts had been a test, a moment where she wasn’t sure which version of herself she wanted to present.

„What can I say? I am full of surprises!“ Cassiopeia joked.

„I can confirm-“ Astoria added, though Cassiopeia didn't figure out if she was talking about something specifically or if it was just her observation, but she pushed the thoughts aside.

And in that moment the familiar voices came through the hallway, coming closer with every second. Everyone's attention turned to them. Theo, Draco and Mattheo valtzed in, they were talking about something before they came close to the group, instantly stopping to greet the ones already there.

„Didn't know we were on babysitting duty-“ Mattheo's voice rung out as he launched himself next to Enzo, his eyes trained at the two younger girls. Astoria looked at the older Slytherin for a moment, seemingly not amused by the comment. She had that look on her face as if she wasn't taken seriously. And Cassiopeia understood her. But Mattheo wasn't to be taken seriously, his mental maturity hasn't yet reached the two-digit numbers.

Cassiopeia, of course, wasn't gonna let it slide, and was already opening her mouth to witty out a response.

"Must be a change for you—it’s usually you that people are babysitting," Cassiopeia said with a smile, her tone light but sharp.

The comment sailed right over Mattheo’s head for a moment, but the reaction from the rest of the group was instant. A few scattered “OHHH” and “Not bad” echoed from around the room. Even Blaise smirked slightly, though he stayed quiet, ever the observer.

Mattheo, to his credit, didn’t take offense—if anything, he looked amused. He let out a laugh, shaking his head. Cassiopeia’s eyes flickered toward her brother, who sat with his usual straight posture, his expression completely unreadable. Draco, unsurprisingly, did not seem entertained by her presence here. His stiff demeanor spoke volumes, though he kept his silence.

Theo, on the other hand, had a completely different reaction. He let out a short, nonchalant laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange, and patted Mattheo on the shoulder as if to console him.

"Alright, alright, my bad, little Malfoy," Mattheo said, raising his hands in surrender, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Daphne, either ignoring the exchange or simply uninterested in the banter, turned to the three boys who had just arrived. "Where were you lot?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Theo, still looking amused, leaned back against the couch while Mattheo answered. "Theo and I were catching a smoke outside, and Draco was in the library."

Cassiopeia’s gaze instinctively drifted to her brother at that. It didn’t surprise her to hear that Draco had been in the library, not with his grades. What did surprise her, though, was that he needed to be there at all. He had always been effortlessly good at nearly everything—while Cassiopeia, no matter how hard she tried, always had to push herself just to keep up with the expectations set before her.

It was a small, almost insignificant thing. But it had always bothered her. That quiet difference between them: how easy things seemed for Draco, and how much she had to fight for even the smallest recognition.

Her eyes lingered on Draco’s face, tracing the subtle details that most wouldn’t catch. The way he looked older somehow, as if the weight on his shoulders had only grown heavier. The thin, stretched lines beneath his eyes. Even through his usual mask of indifference, Cassiopeia swore she saw something—something fleeting. Sadness? Worry? She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but for a brief second, it was there.

And then his eyes met hers.

She didn’t look away. Instead, she held his gaze, trying to catch whatever had surfaced just moments ago, to prove to herself that she wasn’t imagining it. But the second had passed, and all that remained was his usual guarded expression.

He didn’t like that she was staring at him—she could tell. His posture stiffened slightly, his jaw setting, but he said nothing. Neither did she. The air between them grew heavy, and when the conversation around them lulled, Cassiopeia finally turned away, unwilling to make things more awkward than they already were.

Exactly 20 minutes later, at 8:30 PM, Cassiopeia excused herself from the group.

She pushed herself up from where she had been perched, stretching slightly before smoothing her robes. With casual ease, she glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if anyone was paying attention. They weren’t. Or at least, they were good at pretending not to.

Satisfied, she slipped toward the exit, the familiar chill of the dungeon’s corridors grazing against her legs as she stepped into the empty hall. The cool air was a welcome contrast to the warmth of the common room, and as she silently made her way toward the stairs, she let out a slow breath.