❝𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁 𝗺𝗲?❞
❝𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗵, 𝗶 𝗱𝗼❞
Cassiopeia Narcissa Malfoy, twin sister to Draco Lucius Malfoy, was born on the fifth day of June 1980, just under thirty minutes before her brother. Being from two strong pure-bl...
Ups! Ten obraz nie jest zgodny z naszymi wytycznymi. Aby kontynuować, spróbuj go usunąć lub użyć innego.
— 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 —
' *•.¸.•** . **•.¸.•*'
THAT FOLLOWING EVENING, CASSIOPEIA WAITED in the common room patiently. It was well past midnight, and the common room was empty. She kept herself company with her book, reading by the fireplace until she heard the portrait open.
"Took you long enough," she said as she stood up, walking over to Harry, who looked at her with confusion.
"What are you still doing up?" he asked, his eyes darting around.
"Waiting for you," she answered shortly. "How was detention?"
The two sat down before Harry responded. "Fine," he said in a grumble.
"Fine? What did she make you do?" she asked further.
Harry looked as if he was trying to avoid the question, and Cassie raised a brow at him. "Just lines."
"For seven hours?" she said incredulously. "She's mad, Umbridge is. Surprised you don't have a hand cramp."
She had outstretched her hand, attempting to look at his but he quickly retracted it. Cassiopeia sent him a bewildered look, though he tried to play it off. "Yeah, er, it hurts. Y'know, from writing too long..."
"Yeah..."
Cassie stared into the fire for a short moment. Even if he had a hand cramp it was still odd that he reacted so quickly to her trying to touch his hand. She supposed there could have been many reasons for it, yet she couldn't help overthink it.
Umbridge made him do lines. Something very simple for the type of woman Cassiopeia knew her to be. Cassie glanced at her right hand where her scar was, gradually fading away but the words still prominent, which she still concealed with her sleeves. Her lips parted slightly — Umbridge was horrible, but she wouldn't have...
"Harry," she spoke very suddenly. He hummed in response. "Did— did Umbridge hurt you?"
He looked very taken aback by the question. "W-what do you mean?" he stammered quickly.
"The quill she used. It wasn't normal, was it?"
"Of course it was, why wouldn't it be?" he asked, very obviously lying.
Cassiopeia frowned at him, not convinced at all. She breathed hard, just imagining Umbridge smiling at Harry as she watched him carve into his own skin. It made her sick.
She stood up, storming towards the portrait. Harry quickly followed — "Where are you going?"
"To Dumbledore," she answered sharply. Harry grabbed her hand to prevent her from going any further.
