𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦

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—A FEW DAYS LATER, THE SLYTHERIN AND GRYFFINDOR FIFTH YEARS HAD A POTIONS CLASS TOGETHER. Cassandra, as usual, was partners with Theodore. When she got all the ingredients for the potion they were making, they started to make it.

She kept her eyes on the cauldron, while he glanced at her every few minutes.

When he couldn't take the silence anymore, he asked, "What's wrong?"

She finally looked at him, but seemed confused. "What?"

"Something is obviously bothering you," commented Theodore as he stirred the potion, "what is it?"

Cassandra swallowed and looked away. "Nothing."

She couldn't tell him about the fact that the Turpin son was still not found. She couldn't tell him how he was probably after her— especially since she killed his sisters.

She couldn't tell him about the dreams she had the few times she did fall asleep. She couldn't tell him how in those dreams the Turpin son was killing her and her family.

She couldn't tell him about the stress she felt every day. And she couldn't tell him how much she hated the fact that she did kill.

She couldn't tell him how much the killings destroyed her— heck, she couldn't tell anyone that.

She was alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

"Her being so—" "—helpless and—" "—alone."

"So—" "—damn—" "—alone."

Cassandra flinched at the memory, making Theodore even more concerned.

"Cassandra—"

"I'm fine, Theodore." She insisted with a hard voice. She immediately regretted it when hurt passed through his eyes.

She didn't apologize or anything. She merely tried to take the next ingredient at the same time Theodore did, both of their hands brushing.

They both pulled away immediately and avoided each other's eyes.

"You take it," said Theodore in a small voice, looking like he didn't care about the ingredient anymore, his mind on something else.

She took it without saying anything and poured it into the cauldron, hoping that he couldn't see the flush across her cheeks.

Within a few minutes, their potion was ready. Theodore was taking something out of his bag, while Cassandra was staring at her potions book.

The professor came over to look at their potion and said, "Excellent potion! 20 points to Slytherin." then walked away.

"We have a Dark Arts exam tomorrow," said Theodore a minute later. "Since you missed last class, you missed professor Rabastan telling us that."

And he was right. Cassandra had skipped the last Dark Arts class they had. She had skipped the whole day of classes, in fact. She didn't have any energy nor motivation to do anything that day.

She nodded. "What was the last class about?"

"Nothing new. Just revision."

"Thanks for telling me." She said as she packed her bag and waited for him to pack his.

When he did, they both walked out of the classroom together when the bell rang.



That night, Cassandra was in her room, her Dark Arts book and notebook in front of her on the desk.

She let out a sigh, not wanting to study.

But then she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion when she noticed something in her notebook.

That handwriting wasn't hers.

And she looked at the date— she could've sworn she had fallen asleep in class that day.

She flipped to the next few pages on the notebook and it was all the same. Different handwriting on days she fell asleep in class.

She felt her heart melt and her lips turn into a smile.

This was no ordinary handwriting. This was Theodore's.

He had wrote the notes for her, while she had gotten some desperately-needed sleep. He had ignored writing for himself just so he could write for her.

He helped her. And because of him, Cassandra wouldn't fail the exam.

Because of him again, Cassandra smiled genuinely.

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