musical mood: in the end - linkin park

The words rang over and over in Cass's mind.

Marry Henry. She was to marry Henry.

"Why?" She mustered, her voice shaking for the first time since she had arrived at Malfoy manor. There was no use trying to hide her panic, not anymore, not when the concept of getting married at sixteen years old had been presented to her.

George. Cass assumed that she'd marry George someday. He'd even told her that he planned on proposing after they graduated. She'd been silly to believe him. Silly to believe everything could work out. The world had let her down enough, she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up.

"You dare question the Dark Lord?" Bellatrix Lestrange hissed from her seat.

"Silence, Bella." You-Know-Who held up a hand, and her mouth closed, though she seemed reluctant. "Henry betrayed me for you. It's only acceptable, that the Nott family line go down a peg, by him marrying a halfblood."

Cass glanced over at John Nott, who's face was red with fury, his eyes focused directly on his eldest son.

"Alright." She gulped, conceding. There were worse people to marry, she figured. At least Henry was her friend. She'd rather die than marry someone like Draco Malfoy. There was no point in fighting her fate, not anymore.

"Theodore, I believe you are still engaged to Bethany Burke, is that correct?"

"Yes, my lord." Theodore nodded.

"That will still commence. From what I hear, Cuthred, your daughter has been fraternizing with a mudblood by the name of Colin Creevey." He glanced over at Bethany's father, who shrunk under You-Know-Who's intense gaze.

"She has disappointed me beyond measure, my Lord."

"And Theodore, you have been involved with Anastasia Vasiliev, correct?"

He slowly nodded, his eyes wide and full of terror.

"Disgraceful. Oh, how far the Nott's have fallen...no matter. Your engagement to Bethany should serve its purpose."

Cass turned to stare at Malfoy, this time, waiting for You-Know-Who to bring up what was most likely a relationship with Saoirse, yet another mudblood, but he didn't, meaning either he didn't know about it, or there was something else entirely going on between the two...

For Saoirse's sake, Cass prayed it was the second. Because when You-Know-Who found out, and he wouldfind out, it wasn't going to be pretty.

*

The Dark Mark ceremony was uninteresting. Cass had figured it would've involved some sort of blood ritual, maybe even human sacrifice, but it was nothing of the sorts.

You-Know-Who had the four teenagers, being Cass, Malfoy, Theodore and Henry, stand in a line, left arms outstretched, as he made them vow to follow him no matter what, do whatever he says, support and uphold the death eater values, as he held a wand to their wrist and allowed the serpent tattoo to sink into their skin.

Judging by the sound Henry made when it burned into his forearm, it hurt. But Cass didn't feel a thing. She doubted she'd feel ever again.

*

MISSING MUGGLE BODY DISCOVERED, CROUCH HEIR STILL MISSING

Rita Skeeter

The body of a muggle boy named Connor Moore, aged sixteen, has been found washed up on the shore of La Rochelle, France, after a two week long search for him and his friend, sixteen year old witch Cassiopeia Crouch. The theory that the French and English authorities had was that the two had committed suicide together, in a pact. This theory has been supported by Cassiopeia's suicidal tendencies in the past, and Connor's erratic behaviour, especially in recent years. It is noted that where Connor's body was discovered was nearby where Cassiopeia's grandparents lived, whom were found dead in their home last week. The two are not thought to be connected, but it is interesting.

Connor's cause of death is yet to be discovered, but it is likely drowning. Connor's younger sister, Saoirse Moore, is a witch attending Hogwarts, going into her 4th year, so it can be assumed that Connor knew Cassiopeia was a witch when choosing to run away with her.

While Cassiopeia's body has yet to be found, it is assumed that she has also passed away, as insiders report her mental health had taken a serious decline in the previous months.

Cassiopeia's guardian, Alastor Moody and Connor's mother, Catherine Moore, refuse to comment.

There will be a memorial service for the two on July 29th at Cherish Gardens, in Islington, London from 3-5pm.

*

"They think I'm dead, Barty." Cass said as she set down the newspaper, staring at her brother from across the table that they sat on, trying not to think about Connor, about his body...

Barty was chewing on a piece of toast that the Malfoy house elf had prepared. Cass's remained untouched on her plate. "How am I supposed to explain it to them that I'm not? I'm to go back to Hogwarts, that was made clear to me. Am I supposed to just show up, alive and well and with no story about what happened?"

"Don't worry, sister, we have it all planned out." He waved a dismissive hand, setting his toast down. "You and Connor fought, and separated. He killed himself over it, by poisoning himself and then jumping off a cliff. You stayed off the grid in Paris, for a while, until you heard the news of Connor's death, and that they think you're dead, and come back home. It's fool proof."

"Moody will never buy it." She shook her head, her bad hand absentmindedly scratching at her dark mark. She kept her sleeves down at all times, even though everyone at Malfoy manor knew of her newfound loyalties (however forced they may be), simply because looking at it made her feel sick.

It made her remember, there was no turning back, not anymore.

"For your sake, he better. Now eat." He slid her plate towards him.

She glanced down at the toast, her stomach churning. She suddenly felt nauseous, just looking at the food. "I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?"

Cass shrugged. She had lost track of the days long ago. "Yesterday, I think. Why do you care?"

"Because if you're weak, I'm weak. Now eat."

"You've yet to give me a reason to eat. I don't care if you're weak, you know that."

"How about, put that fucking piece of toast in your mouth or I will torture you until you can't walk for a day?"

Do it. She was tempted to say. The deep, dark part of her actually craved it, actually desired the pain that would come from the cruciatus curse. But, that wouldn't be good for anyone, not in the long run. So, she pressed the piece of bread to her lips and forced it down her throat, doing her best not to gag with every bite.

She stood up from the table when she'd finished, ignoring the calls of Barty demanding what she was doing, and began to walk towards the stairs that led to the room she had been sleeping in. The room she spent nearly all her time in - Bellatrix had tried to convince her to join the boys for training, but she had refused, and, while Bellatrix may have been insane, she must not have had it in her to torture a fellow death eater into compliance, no matter how much she threatened Cass with it.

When she reached her room, she noticed the door was already open, and when she stepped inside, Henry was sat on her bed, staring down at his feet awkwardly. At her arrival, he shot up.

"What are you doing in here?" She raised an eyebrow, the expression her face otherwise remaining neutral.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"About?" She knew what he wanted to talk about, but she certainly didn't share the same desire. All she wanted to do was collapse into her bed and sleep.

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "The bloody weather! What do you think I wanted to talk to you about, Cass?"

She lifted her shoulders up and down. "I don't see the point in discussing our engagement. What is there to say?"

"I mean...you know how I feel about you, Cass. This isn't a punishment for me. I don't give a damn about blood status. But, I take it that it is for you. And...if you don't want to marry me, that's what's punishing to me."

"I don't want to marry you." She confirmed, sitting down on the bed next to him, her brown eyes meeting his without an ounce of feeling in them. "You were my friend. That's all."

"Were? Are we not friends anymore?"

"No. We're fiancés."

"Right." He bit down on his lip. "Cass, I'm sorry about Connor."

"Don't talk about him." She snapped, the first emotion she'd shown in days breaking through the threshold. She winced just at the feeling, at the sensation of being dragged away from numbness at the mention of her dead best friend.

"Sorry." He looked down at the ground again. "I'm sorry you're stuck marrying me, too."

"I'd rather marry you than most people." Cass answered honestly. "It isn't your fault."

"It is. Maybe if I hadn't told you, you wouldn't have run away, Connor wouldn't have gotten killed..."

"I said don't talk about him."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

Once again, she was telling the truth. It was her fault, everything that had transpired had been her fault. She was the one to get Connor involved with her escape, if anyone deserved an eternity of misery for his downfall, it was Cass. She deserved to marry someone much worse than Henry - she deserved to be stuck wed to You-Know-Who himself. Henry was the one who didn't deserve her, didn't do anything that should've resulted in what would inevitably fuck up his life. That's what Cass did, after all, she fucked everyone up.

If only Connor had listened to his own advice, that night in the diner, when he'd said she fucked people up. If only he'd heeded the warnings that he'd spouted to George, maybe he'd still be alive. Alive and hating Cass, too, which she would willingly accept. She'd be happy for it, knowing that his hatred had kept him living and breathing and out of harms way.

"The wedding is going to happen next summer, right after you turn seventeen. Ours, and Theodore's and Bethany's, they're going to be joint, apparently. My dad won't even look at me. He thinks I've disgraced the entire family. Disgraced my mother. Well, I suppose I have."

"Sorry." She wasn't sure what to say, how to comfort people. How could you comfort someone when you'd fallen off the edge yourself?

"It is what it is." He shrugged. "It isn't much of a punishment for me, like I've said."

"It isn't for me either. It could be worse, I reckon."

"I just...I think the Dark Lord has plans. Plans with our marriage. I don't see why he'd make us wed simply because I betrayed him, it doesn't make much sense."

"So?"

"So?" Henry repeated her, frowning.

"So what if he has plans? I genuinely couldn't care less."

"Cass..."

"What?"

"You don't seem well."

She nearly laughed at this. Nearly. "I'm not. But it doesn't matter. The world has bigger issues, right now, than whatever it is that's going through my head."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." She said simply. "Can you leave now? I want to sleep."

"It's three in the afternoon..."

"Yes, and I've been awake for far too long. Now go."

"Right..." He gave her a long stare, eyes muddled with so many emotions, had she cared enough to attempt to decipher she likely would've failed. "See you later, Cass."

And with that, she was alone again.

She made her way across the room, finding her small, extended bag and reaching into it, feeling around. She hated Barty more than anyone, but at least he had grabbed her stuff in the process of poisoning her and killing her best friend. Eventually, her fingers landed on one of the few calming droughts she had packed - she was a chronic over packer, and figured they may come in useful. She had been correct.

Cass downed the thing in one gulp, setting the vial on her dresser, before leaning back on her bed, head on the pillow and blankets pulled over her chest.

She closed her eyes and breathed.

And breathed.

And breathed.

Nothing.

*

Cass was late to her own memorial. She'd wanted to go back to Grimmauld Place before the memorial was held, so they'd know she was alive, but she'd been asleep during the ceremony, having downed two calming droughts in one go, while the boys trained outside with Bellatrix.

It was nearing dusk when Barty finally apparated her into a nearby alleyway, his hand on her shoulder. Cass glanced out into the road when they'd arrived, into the road Barty had saved her in. He seemed to notice this too, as he pressed his lips together. "No funny business, sister. No trying to get yourself killed, or it won't be pretty for you or your friends."

She didn't respond, instead simply stared back at him.

"Do you remember the story?"

"Yes."

"Good." He gave her a sinister smile, before disapparating, leaving her alone in the dim, damp alley. It smelled like shit - literal shit, and she saw a rat crawl by her feet as she stepped out, and began walking down the streets of Islington, making her way to Grim Old Place.

She should've been nervous. She should've been freaking out, wrecking her mind for how to explain her false story, how to make them believe her. The old Cass certainly would've been losing her mind. But she wasn't.

It took several seconds for the door to open when she knocked, and found herself face to face with Remus Lupin.

He blinked, like he didn't believe what he was seeing, and Cass took the opportunity to shove past him, holding her bag in her good hand.

"Hold up..." Lupin called after her, practically stumbling as he followed her. "What the hell? Cass?"

She'd honestly had hopes that she could go into her bedroom, down a bunch of potions, and sleep the night away, but she'd been silly to even conceptualize such a thing.

"Did someone say Cass?" She heard Moody's voice waft from the kitchen, and she sighed. His footsteps echoed down the hall as he approached her, his mad eye widening at the sight of her.

"You're alive." He breathed.

"Did you miss me?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Did I...how...what the fuck?" He sputtered out, the most flustered Cass had ever seen her guardian. She couldn't find it in her to feel bad. "Explain. Now."

So, she repeated the story she'd had to talk over with Barty day by day, until she'd perfected it. She'd had an episode and ran away, asking Connor to come with her. Connor and her had a fight in Paris, he'd walked out on the hotel they'd shared. She didn't follow. After several days, she saw the article that he had been found dead, and that they thought she was dead as well, and decided to return back to Islington.

Half of her didn't expect to be believed - she hadn't really tried to be convincing, after all, but by the end of her story, all Moody said was, "We're glad to have you back, Cassiopeia."

And that was that.

"We'll have to write to the Prophet, explain you're still alive." Lupin said, running a hand through his hair. He looked like absolute hell, Cass observed, and she wondered how much it had to do with Sirius's death. She imagined she looked similar to him, though it had been ages since she'd last glanced into a mirror. "Of course, someone should inform George, as well. Merlin, Cass, he's been absolutely distraught."

At the mention of her ex boyfriend, she stiffened, and stood up. "Right. Well, I'm going to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

Moody eyed her up and down, like he didn't quite believe her. Like he didn't believe a word she'd said.

Oh well, that was his problem, not hers.

Before anyone could object, Cass dashed up to her room, shutting the door behind her. With shaking hands, she found the last of her calming droughts, downed it in one sip, and collapsed into her bed. She'd have to brew more, she thought as she closed her eyes. She didn't think she could manage without them.

Cass didn't dream that night. It was perfect.

*

George had written to her fifty six times, she counted as she opened their shared journal for the first time in months. She didn't know why she chose to read it, she knew it would only hurt, after all, but something inside her told her she needed to.

Cassie, I know you're reading this.

Why did you leave?

I'm sorry.

I believe you, about your brother. I'll believe you if that's what you need.

Please come back.

We're all so worried.

Even Moody is losing his shit.

Cassie please.

I love you.

I need you.

Come back.

Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassiopeia please.

There was a knock at the door, and she swiftly slammed the book shut, before hiding it under her pillow.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

It was George. Shit.

"No."

"Cassie, please." She could hear the desperation in his voice, bringing cracks in the walls she'd so easily built up since Connor's death. Leave it to George to ruin her.

"Fine." She sighed, stiffening her posture and running her fingers through her hair. It came back oily - she couldn't remember when she'd last washed it. She probably looked disgusting. Maybe that was a good thing, maybe it would turn George off of her.

The door swung open, and there stood George. He had dark circles under his eyes, and when they met hers, he burst into tears.

Her heart seized in her chest.

Stop. She told herself firmly. Stop feeling.

It didn't work, and she mentally kicked herself.

"We thought you were dead." He choked, standing in the doorway. "I held out hope, but when they found Connor's body..."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He sniffed, though she could tell he didn't mean it. Deep down, underneath the relief and terror, he was furious. She would be too. It was for the best, though, that he was angry. That he hated her. "I'm just...I'm so happy you're alive."

She noticed the way he said alive, and not okay. He could tell she wasn't okay, he knew her too well to assume otherwise.

When Cass didn't say anything, he continued, speaking as he made his way over to her bed, and sat down next to her. "I'm sorry about Connor, for what it's worth."

"Me too."

"Moody said you two had a fight, what was it about?"

She shook her head, taking a shallow, shaky breath. "I don't want to talk about it. About him."

"Alright. I'm sorry." He had stopped crying, and wiped his eyes, letting out a small laugh. "Sorry for crying. I just...I thought I'd never see you again."

"Don't apologize for crying. That's silly."

"Maybe." He shrugged, staring at her through red tinted eyes. Her eyes were focused on her shoes. The two sat in silence like that for several minutes, though it wasn't awkward. Nothing ever was awkward with George, Cass realized. Eventually, he spoke. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes." She lied. These days, she could hardly choke anything down without getting nauseous, even drinking water was a struggle. Maybe it was a side effect of all the potions she consumed, but she wasn't sure. Even if it was, she couldn't stop, not when calming droughts were the only thing that helped her get her mind off of Connor.

"Are you sure? You look a bit...thin."

She nodded.

"Well, that's good." He paused for a moment. "Moody really cares about you, you know?"

"What?" She frowned. What did that have to do with anything they had been talking about?

"I just figured you ought to know. He cried, when the newspaper came, saying they thought you were dead. Bloody cried. I think he views you as his daughter. So, in the future, you should remember that."

No. No. Don't feel. Please, don't feel.

"I felt bad. Leaving him." She admitted, when she realised shoving her emotions away would be futile. "I didn't want to. I just didn't see another choice, at the time."

"Cassie, do you want to talk about it? About your brother?"

She shook her head rapidly. "No. I was being crazy, George. I'm fine now. Connor helped me see reason, before we fought."

"I see." He nodded, though it was clear he didn't believe her. That was fine, she didn't mind. In the end, it didn't matter. Nothing did.