Cassiopeia's Tale

The music was loud and the room dim, and all over the venue people were getting steadily drunker and more excited.
Inside the bathroom, Cass bent forward to rest her arms on the rim of the basin, staring at her tired self in the mirror. Her eyeliner was smudged quite badly, and her hair, done up in an elaborate knot by Sian, was starting to escape. It hung in lazy tendrils over her shoulders, making her look strangely vulnerable, like the classic damsel in distress. Her black corset and wide skirt, however, didn't look much different after being drenched in red wine.

So after staring miserably at herself some more, and trying to fix the worst of her eyeliner, Cass decided that there was probably not much more she could do in the bathroom, or at the ball, for that matter. So she snuck out, making sure she could see Claude at the far end of the room, talking to Xandie. Xandie was listening intensely, and nodding ever so often with a grave look on his face. Cass realised she was probably being paranoid, but had the distinct feeling that they were talking about her.

Keeping an eye on them, and making sure that she drew no attention to herself, she moved slowly towards the door. The door seemed painfully far, almost on the other side of the huge ballroom, but it was her only hope, so she kept going. With her back to the wall, and a glass of decoy punch on her hand, so that she doesn't look as if she was about to leave. She also kept an eye out for Sian, who was, by now, completely smashed. This posed a threat as she would shriek with delight, as only a drunk woman can, upon seeing Cass. This in turn would alert Claude, and all her plans of escape would be ruined.

Claude, however, kept talking animatedly to Xandie, and Sian was dancing like a maniac with a old, but rich-looking apothecary. And, as the door slowly became closer, it seemed that she would escape scot-free.

It was while Cass was edging her way towards the door, looking in the other direction, that she bumped hard into another soul lurking in the darkness beyond the pools of light. He gave her such a fright that she immediately spun around and tried to make off in the opposite direction. This didn't work out well, since her feet stayed rooted to the spot, evidently no longer taking orders from her brain. She fell forward, grabbing onto the lurking stranger for support. For a moment or two they struggled in a complicated dance for balance, and then stood, awkwardly to face each other.

"Miss Sommers," he stated plainly.

Cass was still trying, unobtrusively, to ensure that her hair was out of her face and that her corset was still covering all the essential parts. But she stopped to stare when she heard his voice.

"Professor... I mean... Professor," she said lamely, not entirely sure what to call him, since he was no longer her teacher, but using his given name would sound so informal.

She looked longingly over his shoulder toward the door. If she had known he would be there, she would never have let Sian and Xandie talk her into coming. This was a catastrophe.

Surprisingly, he recovered quicker.

"I heard from my friend Macer that you are making progress in your studies. I was pleased to hear that you justified my recommendation."

"Oh, er...yes," Cass said feeling her face burn, and then, throwing caution in the wind, added: "Of course, it would have been easier if my desk didn't keep falling over, and my friends didn't devote all their time to concocting poisonous cosmetics, but still, I have a brain, and shouldn't let it rot."

He seemed shocked for a moment, but then a smile tweaked at the corner of his mouth. A small, crooked smile.

"Why, miss Sommers, I believe I touched a nerve there."

"Well...yes. All my life I've wanted to escape Hogwarts, but the truth is that real life is awful."

"I'm no expert, but I'm told it gets better."

Cass lifted her head to look him in the eyes for the first time after their awkward greeting. They were as black and endless as she remembered. Then she smiled, not because it was him, but because it was, for the moment, wonderful to see someone from a simpler time. She had forgotten how easy life was at Hogwarts. Sometimes tediously so, but looking back, she realised she should have appreciated it more.

"I didn't expect to see you at a ball. This doesn't seem like your sort of thing," Cass said, feeling more comfortable, and consequently, more in the mood for stupid conversation. She thought this would probably make him angry, but he seemed amused.

"Ah, well, blackmail has always been a powerful weapon, and one Macer uses on me to get me to social gatherings such as this one. He thinks he is doing me a favour."

Cass smiled again. And then, suddenly losing all use of her brain, added, " I wrote you a letter."

Snape seemed surprised...or was he mildly alarmed?. "Oh? I never received a letter from you."

"Yes, that would be because I never sent it."

"Oh..."

In the awkward silence that followed, Snape stared into the middle distance looking distressed and Cass drank down her entire glass of punch in one gulp.

It was only when the room began to spin that Cass remembered how Sian and Xandie had spiked the punch. She tried to take a few deep breaths, but her head felt foggy, and the music sounded as if it came from far away. Cass wasn't sure what those miscreants had put in the punch, but she knew that it was affecting her more than everyone else. So far no-one had passed out, unable to cling to consciousness, she felt the darkness closing in on her, so like that day in the dungeon.

"Cassiopeia?"

The word came from afar, as if over a bad phone line or an old recording, the sound crackling in her ears.

Cass turned to Snape, grabbing the front of his robes.

"I need air," she managed to croak, and then began staggering toward the door. He helped her stumble all the way into the street in front, making her stand upright and take deep breaths. It wasn't really working. Then he swore and half carried, half dragged her further away from the dance hall.

"Wha... where are you taking me?" Cass mumbled, trying to free herself form his grip. The cool air had brought some of the feeling back into her limbs, but she still felt numb.

"You're self-appointed boyfriend saw you and is now on his way to try and rescue you. Then in a fit of heroics he will try to kill me, or something to that effect," he said rather malevolently, hissing trough his teeth.

Cass reflected that this was an eventuality that she did not care for, and so allowed herself to be escorted away from the music and drunk alchemists. In an alley some way down the street he made her stand up straight again, but this time her legs just wouldn't hold her.

"What's wrong with you?" he hissed.

"Don't know," she managed. "Doctored punch."

He held her face in his hands, trying to keep her awake, but Cass knew the attempt would be futile. For a moment she stared into the depths of his black eyes, searching for something, anything. He stared back, the look of mild concern on his face replaced by surprise, as he looked into her blue eyes. So blue. Not green, but that hardly mattered. In them, for the first time, he saw something he recognised.

And then the moment was lost, as all light left Cass and she fell forward against him, sagging to the ground. She welcomed the dark, unable to endure the intensity of his stare, unable to care what would become of her.

--o0o--

In the Armand Louis dance hall in Wondurf Alley the alchemists held a ball and danced the night away. Outside, a man was standing forlornly on the sidewalk, looking for his love, unable to assume the truth of what he had just seen. In the dark, away from the music and the laughter, his love was laying, unconscious, in the arms of anther man. For a moment he stood there, a shady figure with the prone figure of a woman against him, teetering on the brink of a decision. Then he turned on the spot and was gone.

Claude heard the faint pop of someone disapperating, and felt his blood boil.