musical mood: perfect world - twice

Eventually, the two got some rest, sleeping in through all of the day and into the next night. Well, Cass did, at least, the physical and emotional exhaustion overwhelming her. Quirrell, on the other hand, spent his time pouring over the map, as if Mopsus would pop out of the thing and tell him where to find him.

The following day, the two packed up their things, and walked several miles to the nearest train station. The burning heat was nearly unbearable, and their entire water stash was gone by the time they'd bought their train tickets and boarded their compartment.

Luckily, they didn't need to use the translation books Quirrell had packed, as Cass knew fluent French, but even then, the locals gave them odd looks. Maybe it was because they hadn't washed in days, and looked overall horrible and sweaty, or just because they were obvious foreigners.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Cass asked once she shut the door to their compartment, isolating them from the rest of the train, and leaving their conversation to themselves. "About the Bond, or my brother, or your life?"

"Let me think." He paused, closing his eyes as he pondered this. "Would you like to know how Barty ended up how he did?"

Her brow furrowed together in confusion. "Was he not always mad?"

A laugh escaped his lips. "You think I fell in love with a madman? No, he was wonderful, as a young man. Smart, popular, funny. I loved him for a reason, Cass."

"Why did he go mad, then, if he wasn't always like that?"

"Barty had always wanted his father's love, his attention. He'd have done anything for it. Until his late teen years. Then, he grew resentful, and would do anything to rebel against him. When Regulus Black and Evan Rosier joined the Death Eaters, he considered joining. Then, when Evan Rosier, who Bartemius knew was friends with Barty, was caught and killed, Barty was taken into custody. He was tortured for information, under Bartemius's orders, even though he knew nothing."

"No..." She stared at him, eyes wide in horror. Barty hadn't been lying, Bartemius had tortured him, had hurt him. His own fucking son.

Quirrell nodded gravely, biting down on his lip. "It was horrible. Something in him snapped. Not many people can withstand that amount of torture, and from one's own father...he was never the same. He joined the Death Eaters shortly after. I thought about joining with him, but I just couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm a halfblood, my mother a muggleborn, my father a muggle, and my older sister a squib. I couldn't betray my family, not like that. So, I went into hiding. Only after the war did I return, and by that point, Barty had been assumed dead, after being arrested. I was heartbroken. I lived the next ten years of my life in a state of pure misery. I blamed the Dark Lord for what had happened to my beloved Barty. I didn't blame Barty, not at the time. So when I heard the rumour that the Dark Lord was in Albania, I went to find him, to kill him. But he offered me the deal, that he would bring Barty back from the dead, if I helped him. I accepted."

"You really loved him."

"I did. He was my everything. I couldn't go on without him. I'm sure you've felt the same way, about some people."

"George, and Henry."

"You loved them both?"

Cass stiffened. "Yes. If you'd truly been watching me for so long, you'd know that."

"You make it sound like I was some sort of stalker."

"No offence, but it is a bit creepy, that you've had your eye on me for so long, while I thought you were dead."

"None taken." He wore a genuine smile, oddly reminding Cass of Remus Lupin. The two were similar, in a way. Both gentle, both slightly broken by the deaths of someone they loved. Both a tad vengeful. Both headstrong. Assuming Quirrell didn't have an ulterior motive, for what it was he was doing. Cass still wasn't sure what exactly they were doing, and if she could fully trust the man who had poisoned her, the man who was in love with her psycho brother.

As if he could read her mind, he spoke. "I know you don't trust me. That's fine. I wouldn't trust me either. But I am on your side, Cass. I want to help. I want to make up for the things I've done. Poisoning you. Helping the Dark Lord into the school. Strengthening him, with unicorn blood. It's partially my fault, how strong he is today. I hate myself for it."

Cass didn't say anything. She didn't have to. She understood what it was like, to hate yourself for something you did, for empowering someone and getting people hurt. She knew Quirrell knew she had the same feelings as him. Neither of them needed to air their similarities out loud, it hung silently between them, painfully obvious.

"What is Mopsus doesn't want to help us?" Cass eventually broke the silence between them.

"I doubt that will happen. He has no reason not to-" Quirrell was cut off, by the train coming to a stop, so sudden that Cass nearly flew out of her seat and into him.

"What the hell?" She frowned, staring out the window, trying to get a good look at what might've happened. When she couldn't see anything, she turned back to Quirrell, who's eyes were wide with panic. "What's happening? Do you See something?"

"It's the Death Eaters."

"Fuck!" She jumped up from her seat, as did Quirrell. Though, before she could get to the compartment door to leave, he grabbed her wrist.

"Don't leave. We can't leave, they'll catch us, if we go in the halls."

"Do you reckon they were looking for us?"

"I don't know." He admitted, his breath shaky. "They could just as well be committing terrorism in France for the sake of it. There have been other attacks by them in France and Germany, not just Great Britain."

"Shit! How do we get out?"

Before Quirrell could answer, there was a loud booming sound, followed by screaming. The wails of men, women and children filled Cass's ears, just as the smell of smoke clouded her nose.

"They've set the place on fire." Quirrell said, stating the obvious. She would've snapped at him with something like duh, had she not been too busy panicking.

"We can't apparate." She whispered, her breath growing heavy as the smell of smoke grew more and more intense. "The trace is on us internationally, if we do. We're trapped."

"It's going to be okay. Don't worry, it's going to be okay." Quirrell looked around, his eyes settling on the window. His voice was an eerie calm as he spoke, giving her a gentle command. "Cass, find the heaviest thing you can in the bag."

"Alright." She pulled out Quirrell's extended bag, reaching inside and feeling around for something, anything, that could break the window. Eventually, her fingers grazed a hammer, the hammer they'd used to pitch the tent, and she pulled it out, handing it to him.

He didn't hesitate to smash the thing against the window, over and over and over until cracks began to form in the thick glass. After several moments, the glass shattered entirely, sending shards all across the compartment. Several left cuts in Quirrell and Cass's skin, but they paid no mind to it as they brushed the remaining bits of glass off the window, and climbed through it.

Quirrell went first, grabbing onto the light fixture with one hand, his bag in the other, and sliding feet first through the window. When he let go of the fixture, his body disappeared through the window, and Cass heard a gentle thump from below.

She was too short to grab onto the light fixture as Quirrell had, so she'd have to go head first. This could result in a broken neck, a concussion, so many things that could go wrong, but she'd take that over burning alive in a fire.

Smoke began to fill the compartment, making it impossible to breathe, as the air grew warmer and warmer around her.

"Hurry up!" She heard Quirrell call out to her as she began to slide through the window. She felt a sharp shard of glass that they'd been unable to break off pierce her leg as she plummeted towards the ground, but she hardly winced, too preoccupied finding a way to protect her head. Somehow, she managed to do a half sort of somersault, and landed on her back.

She was alive. They were alive.

Quirrell reached down, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto her feet. "We have to go. Now!"

She nodded, and the two began to sprint away from the train. They were about a hundred yards away from it when they finally looked back, just in time to see the train blow up into a massive ball of flames.

Cass's heart plummeted to the floor. There had been so many muggles inside, so many children. They'd only been able to save themselves. Just looking at the wreck, she knew there would be no survivors.

"Good thing we had that hammer, yeah?" Quirrell breathed, his chest rising and falling as they continued to walk away, their pace fast, but not enough to be considered running. They were surrounded by forest, so it would be easy to hide from the Death Eaters, if they did come looking for them.

Quirrell was limping, having injured his leg in his jump, but if he was in pain, he didn't say so.

"There were kids inside..." She said, more to herself than to Quirrell. "Babies, I saw some mothers with infants. They're all dead."

Quirrell placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, though it lacked the desired effect. "That's why we need to do this, Cass. That's why we need to break our Bonds, so the Dark Lord is mortal. Or, at least half mortal. Harry Potter will take care of the rest."

"Harry Potter?"

"He's about to start hunting the horcruxes, according to what I've Seen. We just need to break our Bonds. Then we'll have done our part, in taking down the Dark Lord."

"Why do you call him that?"

"What?"

"The Dark Lord. Why do you call him that? It's so...honorary."

"It's what I'm used to. That's what I had to call him when he was attached to me. It's a habit. But you're right, I should probably just stick to calling him You-Know-Who. He doesn't deserve to be honoured with such a phrase."

She gave him a small smile.

They walked for several hours, before eventually growing too tired to continue. The sun had gone down ages ago, leaving them to pitch their tent in the dark. A significantly more difficult task than it had been the night prior, given that the moon and stars were hardly visible through the thick trees, leaving little light for them to work in.

"So, what's the plan, then?" Cass asked as she curled up in her sleeping bag. She absentmindedly played with the necklace Ana had given her, twirling the chain between her fingers and smiling at the sensation. "We can't take a train, in case Death Eaters find us again."

"We don't know that it was a targeted attack. It could've been coincidental." Quirrell pointed out.

"But do we want to risk it? Quirrell, if it was because of us, hundreds of muggles just died."

"You're right. I don't want to risk anyone's lives. Not helpless muggles, not children." He pressed his lips together. "I suppose we walk, then."

*

Walking across Europe is the dream of many hippie university students, hoping to experience the world and all it has to offer, but to Cass, it was hell on earth. Being cut off entirely from magic, from the people she loved, instead being stuck with what was essentially a stranger, walking day after day without a clue where they were going, it was hell. Several weeks went by, and they still hadn't even made it out of France.

Quirrell's leg injury was only inflamed by the constant walking, meaning they had to slow their pace to only a few miles a day, with only the occasional stops at muggle convenience stores to fill up on water and food being their connection to the outside world.

"We should get disguises." Quirrell said one day, his breath heavy. "Or, you should, at least."

"Disguises?" She frowned.

"You know, dye your hair or something. So no one recognises you. I doubt anyone would notice me, since I have hair now, but you...just to be safe."

So they did. They went to yet another muggle store, bought some bleach, and dyed her hair blonde in the bathroom of a petrol station. She looked ridiculous, like a cross breed between a Crouch and a Malfoy, but Quirrell insisted it looked okay. It didn't matter, at the end of the day, what they looked like, as long as their missions were complete.

Crossing the borders were surprisingly easy. Apparently, some countries didn't have so much as a fence separating them from their neighbours, meaning they could simply walk from France to Belgium to Germany without anyone stopping them.

"Tell me something interesting." Cass said one day as they pitched their tent up. They were somewhere in western Germany, in early September. She should be at Hogwarts right now, but instead, she was camping out with the same Professor who had once tried to kill her. Weird how those sorts of things end up. "Something about you that I don't know."

Quirrell raised his eyebrows. "I'm not very interesting, Cass."

"I don't care. I want to know something new."

"My first ever vision was about your brother."

"What was the vision?"

"I saw him, older than we were at the time, hovering over an infant, wand in hand. I thought it was just a dream, for so many years. Until you were born, then I thought, maybe it was you in the vision. I remember his reaction - he was ecstatic, to have a sister. I thought it was because he was excited to be a big brother, but now I understand where it came from. He had someone to use against his father."

"Strange..."

When they finished erecting the tent, they clambered inside, eager to escape the harsh autumn winds. "Your turn. Tell me something about you, that I don't know."

"Don't you know everything about me? I mean, you watched me for over two years." She rolled her eyes, a teasing tone in her voice.

"I wasn't watching you constantly, for Merlin's sake, you make me sound like a stalker." He laughed. "I just...checked in, when I could. Using my crystal ball."

"You have a crystal ball?" Cass snorted. "That's so...Addams Family."

"It is, isn't it?" His lips curled up into a crafty smirk. "How do you even know about the Addams Family? You were raised by a wizard."

"In a muggle neighbourhood. My best friend is a muggle. Was a muggle. We'd watch the telly all the time, at his house. It was my favourite thing to do."

"Was?"

She gulped, staring down at the ground. "He's dead. Barty killed him. I'm surprised you didn't know that, if you've been stalking me."

"Was that the Connor boy you'd always talk about?"

She nodded. "Yeah, him."

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's okay. We're getting revenge, now. I'll get back at him. Make him pay for every little thing he took from me."

Quirrell reached over, placing his hand over hers with a kind smile. His touch was soft, comforting, like an older brother, and she couldn't help but smile back. "We will make him pay, Cass. We."

*

It was early October, and the progress that had been made on their journey was next to nothing. They'd lost track of the days long ago, and as Quirrell's leg injury grew worse, the slower they got. They were somewhere in southern Germany, according to the enchanted map.

"We need to stop entirely." Cass said one night as they ate a fish they'd managed to catch in the nearby river, after warming it over a fire they'd lit. Both of them had lost so much weight in their journey, eating one meal a day, if they were lucky. Cass was at the worst, lowest weight she'd ever been, even in her severe post-Connor depression. "You're just making your injury worse. We need to take a week off."

"We can't." He shook his head. "We can't afford to rest. We need to get to Albania as soon as possible. Before winter hits."

"We won't get there ever if you end up fucking up your leg so badly you can't walk at all." She insisted, a hand on top of his. "We can rest, maybe splurge on a muggle hotel. Stock up on food. Collect ourselves."

"I don't want to hold us back, Cass."

"You'll hold us back more if you overwork yourself. Please, Quirrell. Let us rest. I'm exhausted, and I know you are too. There's a muggle motel nearby, I saw it on a sign. Just a couple miles south. We can stay there, and get a bloody shower."

He let out a soft laugh. "River water baths not cutting it for you, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sorry, but I prefer to clean myself without fish swimming between my legs. I know, it's so pretentious of me."

"Fine." Quirrell conceded with a sigh. "But just a week. No more. We can't waste time."

"A week." Cass agreed with a smile.

*

The motel was perhaps one of the most disgusting places Cass had ever had the displeasure of sleeping in, and she'd been chained to the ground in an attic by her brother for four days. There was mold coating the walls, which was surely some sort of health code violation, there were cockroaches in the bathtub, and the putrid green carpet with stained - with what, she didn't want to know.

But, even then, they slept like babies in their beds, getting the best night of rest they'd got in months. Cass slept all through the night, the next day, bleeding into six in the evening the day after. Quirrell was the same, snoring softly from his bed when she woke up.

She tried her best to be quiet when she stood up, but it didn't work, as he stirred, sitting up. "Going somewhere?" He murmured, rubbing his eyes.

"There's a bar, just across the street. I want a drink. Fancy coming?"

"I could more than certainly use a drink." A lazy smile slid onto his lips, and he stood up from his bed. The two left the motel, Quirrell hobbling behind her as they crossed the gravel road to the bar.

When they opened the door, they were overwhelmed with a horrible smell, one to rival that of the motel. It was a mixture of booze and body odour, and it took everything in Cass not to plug her nose shut. Though, she imagined after months camping in the woods and walking, her and Quirrell didn't smell much better, so she probably shouldn't judge.

Music blared overhead, some awful German rock music, as they took their seats at the bar.

With the help of Quirrell's English to German translation book that he had brought, they were able to order their drinks without any issue, though they did get funny looks from those around them.

"You are English, yes?" A man next to Cass said, his accent thick but understandable. He was young, not as young as her, but maybe nineteen or twenty, with thick blonde hair and a pinched up nose. Oddly, he reminded Cass of Draco Malfoy.

Draco, she wondered what he was up to. At Hogwarts, most likely. What had Hogwarts become, while she was gone? Who was headmaster? McGonagall? Or had Death Eaters taken over? How were her other friends? Were they okay? Chances were, they thought she was dead, given that Lavender saw her hit by the killing curse.

"Yes, we're English." Cass eventually answered him, taking a sip from her beer. "Are you from around here?"

Quirrell eyed the man up and down, but said nothing, allowing the two to chat.

He shook his head. "I'm from Berlin. I'm only down here visiting family. Though they began to give me a headache, hence the drinking."

"Your English is good."

"Thank you. My father was an Englishman, so I know the language well. What is your name?"

"Catherine." Cass answered. Her and Quirrell had agreed, if they did encounter people, they ought to come up with fake names, just in case. So, she'd chose Connor's mother's name, as it was basic, plain, unrecognisable. "And this is William."

Quirrell gave him a gentle wave.

"My name is Jan." The man - Jan, reached out, shaking her hand. His hands were soft to the touch, his skin smooth. "You are very beautiful, Catherine."

She raised her eyebrows, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. A handsome guy was shamelessly flirting with her - and Merlin, could she do with some flirting. Being alone in the woods with a gay man old enough to be her father was driving her mad. "Thank you."

"I'm going to use the loo." Quirrell stood up suddenly, and Cass let out a laugh as he swiftly walked away, leaving the two alone.

Thank you. She mouthed to him as he left, which he returned with a smile.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, no, he's my brother."

"I see." Jan tilted his head. "What brings a beautiful English girl like you out to Germany?"

"Family stuff. Same as you." It wasn't a lie. She was there to find a way to kill her family. While she doubted he was in the same boat, it made her feel a bit better, that there was one thing she could be semi-truthful about.

Jan opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, a song came over the overhead speaker. Cass recognised it immediately - The Safety Dance.

"I love this song!" Jan exclaimed as he stood up, his hand outstretched. "Dance with me, Catherine."

Cass stood up, entwining her hands with his, and allowing him to drag her into the middle of the bar. People stared at them, but she didn't mind one bit, in fact, she quite liked how they looked at her.

We can dance if we want to

We can leave your friends behind

Cause your friends don't dance

And if they don't dance

Well, they're no friends of mine

Jan twirled her around, the music growing louder as the bartender turned it up. Cass leaned into his touch, his minty breath blowing against her as she pressed her body against his.

Say, we can go where we want to go

A place where they will never find

And we can act like we come

From out of this world

Leave the real ones far behind

And we can dance

Jan's fingers trailed against the back of her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, like George always had. Fuck, George, she missed George so much. She missed humans so much. She missed people, she missed her friends, she missed everyone and everything before her life had been consumed by her and Quirrell's mission.

We can go when we want to

Night is young and so am I

And we can dress real neat

From our hats to our feet

And surprise 'em with the victory cry

"May I kiss you, Catherine?" He whispered into her ear, and she responded by pressing her lips against his, as rough as she possibly could. He melted into her kiss, his hands gripping her bleach blonde hair and keeping her against him.

Say, we can act if we want to

If we don't nobody will

And you can act real rude and totally removed

And I can act like an imbecile

His lips were soft, just like George's, just like Henry's. His hair was thick, just like theirs had been. His eyes were the same shade of brown as theirs. It was like she was with George, or Henry, or a mixture of the two.

We can dance if we want to

We've got all your life and mine

As long as we abuse it, never gonna lose it

Everything'll work out right

"I've missed you so much." Cass murmured against his lips before she could stop herself. She could feel Jan frown against her, but he said nothing as he continued to snog her.

We can dance if we want to

We can leave your friends behind

Cause your friends don't dance

And if they don't dance

Well, they're no friends of mine

He eventually broke apart from her, breathless. "Come back to my motel room."

"My brother..." She glanced around, looking for Quirrell, but he was either still in the restroom, or had left all together.

"Forget him. Come with me."

Had she not been drunk, she likely would've said no, would've known it was a bad idea, but she was completely wasted, she was touch starved, she needed someone and Jan was right there, offering himself to her.

"Okay."

*

The motel room he resided in was the one right next to the one she had been sharing with Quirrell, apparently. The two were so busy snogging each other's brains out, they practically fell into his bed, tripping over their feet as they moved about.

"God, I've missed this." Cass muttered as Jan kissed her neck, his lips trailing down, down, down. She could feel his lips curl up in a smile against her.

He murmured something in German against her, which she hoped was a good thing. By the tone of his voice, it certainly sounded like it. He continued to kiss her, in all the right places, just how George and Henry once had. When she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was one of them, their lips against her skin, and not some random muggle from a bar.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

*

When they were done, she curled up in his arms, resting her head against his bare chest.

"You are good, Catherine." Jan whispered into her ear, his breath heavy from effort. He had done most of the work, insisting Cass, or Catherine, simply lay back and enjoy it. She didn't mind it, in fact, it was quite nice, not having to put in much work to experience the pleasure she craved.

"You are lovely." She responded, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Do you need to go back to your brother?"

The answer to that was probably yes, she shouldn't have ditched Quirrell alone, in a muggle bar, but she didn't want to move. Her body still ached from what had perhaps been the best sex of her life, and she was so, so warm in Jan's arms.

"I want to stay here." She said eventually, nuzzling herself in his chest. She could feel his heart beating fast from where she lay her head on his chest. "Can I stay here forever?"

"I would love that." He reached down, running a hand through her blonde hair. "You're so beautiful, Catherine."

She closed her eyes, inhaling his scent. He wore a cologne, not like any of the previous boys she'd loved, but it was reminiscent enough that she could imagine it was one of them she was laying on.

George. George came to her mind first, his fiery orange hair, his soft brown eyes, his delicate skin with freckles like the stars. It hurt less, thinking about George, because he was still alive. As far as she knew, anyways. Who knew how the world was right now? Maybe You-Know-Who had taken over entirely. Maybe Potter was dead.

Cass found that, as much as she disliked the boy for what he had done to Malfoy, she hoped Potter wasn't dead. That Alastor hadn't died in vain.

She felt Jan absentmindedly playing with her hair, and smiled at the sensation. George would do that so often, when they'd slept together every night in her fifth year. It was a common occurrence, for her to wake up due to George's messing about with her brown locks. Though, now they were a horrible Malfoy blonde, with just hints of brown peeking out at the roots.

Fuck, she missed George, so fucking much. Her heart ached from how much she missed him. Cass had been able to put off so many emotions while on her journey with Quirrell, simply because it had been so physically taxing, but now that she was indulging in pleasurable things, it made room for emotions to swim back in.

George. Henry. Alastor. Ana. Connor. Bartemius. Cedric.

She missed them all so much, and in so many different ways.

You'll see George soon. She told herself firmly, closing her eyes shut tight. Once you break the Bond, kill Barty, you'll be with him. Then, if you decide to die at your own hand, you'll see the others.

"Are you okay, Catherine?" She felt Jan's hand brushing against her cheek, moving her head so his eyes could meet hers.

She nodded, forcing a tight smile. "Yeah. I'm okay."

*

It was harder than Cass thought it would be, saying goodbye to Jan.

They spent the rest of the week together, drinking at the bar with Quirrell (who had met a lad of his own), dancing to old songs, and of course, sleeping together.

He'd become something of a coping mechanism, something she used to distract herself since she didn't have her calming droughts. Every time a bad memory came flooding back, she'd simply lean over and kiss Jan, and it would go away. Or at least be nullified for the time being.

On their last night together, Jan got on his knees and begged her to stay. He said he had no one in his life, who he could count on, and meeting her had been something of a miracle. He said she was the one true thing in his life, and he couldn't bear to let her go.

Ironic, considering she'd lied to him about just about everything since they'd met. Hell, he didn't even know her real name.

"We've lost too much time." Quirrell said as they walked away from the motel. His foot had healed significantly - Cass having been right about needing the rest. "We need to get to Austria, at least. Before it starts to snow."

"Doing this much walking in the winter sounds like hell." Cass agreed. "Plus, without using magic to keep us warm, we could get hypothermia."

"Precisely. So, we'll need to pick up the speed."

And that they did, making significant progress throughout the next few weeks. They'd lost track of the days ages ago, but Cass knew it was around the time November would've started, when they reached Austria. To avoid the highest points of the mountain range, they'd be going to the eastern-most point of the country, before travelling south towards Slovenia. They knew they couldn't avoid mountains forever, given that Albania and other countries they'd have to pass through were an incredibly mountainous, but they could at least go around the highest points.

"Fuck, I wish we could just bloody apparate." Cass muttered after a particularly gruelling day as they finished setting up the tent. Sweat poured down her face from the endless hours of walking, and her body ached from head to toe.

"Tell me about it." Quirrell sighed, sliding into his sleeping bag. The tent was cramped, their backs brushed against each other as they closed their eyes and drifted off into the realms of sleep.

Their first encounter with snow was in Slovenia, on the peaks of the mountains they had to climb through. At first, it wasn't too bad, but as the time went by, the snow went from a mild brush against their skin to a harsh, bone chilling cold that never seemed to leave, no matter how much clothes they bundled themselves in at night.

"Is it worth it?" Cass asked one night, teeth chattering as she wrapped her blanket tight around herself.

Quirrell rolled around to face her, his skin rosy from the cold as blood rushed to heat his body. "Is what worth it?"

"This. This journey. We've been isolated for so long, with no people, no outside contact, and so much bloody walking, I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"What's kept you going, then? If you're so miserable, why haven't you given up, and stayed with that man in Germany?"

The answer was simple, and rolled off her tongue before she could stop it. "Revenge."

"That is the answer to many things, isn't it? Tell me, Cass, how do you plan on killing Barty? With a killing curse? Or will you draw it out longer?"

"I don't know." She admitted. She hadn't thought about it that much, the logistics of killing her brother. Only that she would. "I don't think I could stomach torturing him, even after everything he's put me through. But I do know, I'll look him in the eye when I do it. Make him look at me, make him look at the person whose life he destroyed and watch as the life leaves his eyes."

Neither of them said anything, for a long moment, as she struggled to comprehend what she had just said out loud. The horrible, horrible thoughts she'd confessed, ones she hadn't ever allowed herself to so much as fantasize about.

"Why would you ask me that?" Cass eventually asked. "Why would you ask me how I'll kill the man you once loved? Wouldn't my answer just upset you?"

Quirrell shook his head. "Loved is past tense."

"Am I a bad person? For wanting him dead?"

"He killed so many people you loved, Cass, both directly and indirectly. You'd be foolish to not want him dead."