Blood Magic ✤ George Weasley ✓

71 - The Slug Club

musical mood: tally - blackpink

"Cass, wake up! Cass!"

Cass jolted awake, taking in her surroundings through her blurry vision. Her elbows were on a desk. Was she in a classroom? Had she somehow fallen asleep during class? What the hell?

"Where am I?" She turned to Naia, wide eyed.

"History of Magic." Naia sighed, removing her hands from Cass's shoulder. Padma and Ana stood in the corner of the classroom, near the door, staring at the two with unreadable expressions. Cass shrunk under their harsh gaze.

"Sorry. I must've dozed off." Cass murmured, pushing herself onto her feet, and trying not to think about how History of Magic had once been one of her favourite classes.

"It's understandable. Binns will do that to even the most studious of Ravenclaws. Besides, you look like you could use the rest."

She didn't need it, really, she'd slept a solid eleven hours the night before after downing three calming droughts, opting to skip her homework. Cass had taken another one before the day began, so maybe that had contributed to her tiredness. She'd try to remember to save them for days where she didn't have classes, or if it was an emergency only.

How long that would last, she wasn't sure, but she doubted for long.

"So, Cass, I need your opinion on scarves. You know that green one I have? Would that look better with-" Naia began, but Cass held up her hand to cut her off when she spotted Theodore Nott walking by them, head held down.

"Hold that thought, Naia."

Naia frowned, but said nothing more as Cass abandoned her to march up to Theodore instead. "Theodore."

"What do you want?"

If there was one person in worse shape than Cass, it was Theodore, who seemed to be on a strict diet of dragon shots and muggle cigarettes. How he even got ahold of them, she hadn't a clue, but she saw him skipping classes all the time to smoke those things. Theodore had lost even more weight than Cass in the past few months, having become entirely skin and bones, and looked as though a harsh breeze might knock him straight over.

"Don't be so cranky." She said, perhaps the most hypocritical thing she would say in her life, considering how she'd been treating the people around her as of late. "I have a request."

"Make it quick. I'm late for Charms."

"You and I both know you don't give a rats ass about Charms." She rolled her eyes, and the ghost of a smile flickered on his lips. "Come with me to Slughorn's dinner tomorrow."

At the mention of the man he was supposed to assassinate, he paled. His eyes flickered back and forth to make sure no one was listening, before he reached over and grabbed her wrist, hard. "What the fuck, Crouch?"

"Don't call me Crouch."

"Why the hell would you invite me to that?" He hissed.

"You need to get close to him, find his weakness. I need a date. It's a win-win."

He couldn't argue with her logic, so instead, he changed the subject. "Why don't you invite Henry? He is your fiancé, after all."

"Henry and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now."

That was true, she hadn't said a word to him since their conversation behind the leprechaun tapestry, nor had he tried to speak to her. In fact, he refused to so much as look in her direction - leaving the room every time she entered. She couldn't find it in her to care.