GAMES OF FATES (H.P/T.M.R)

the connection

After the heated disagreement with her friends, Cassopiea found solace in what she had declared in true British fashion to be her rooms. She stepped inside, taking a moment to absorb the grandeur that surrounded her. The room was nothing short of opulent—a grand four-poster bed dominated the space, its frame made of rich, dark mahogany, intricately carved with serpentine patterns and adorned with emerald green silk curtains that shimmered in the dim light. The bedspread was a luxurious blend of green and silver, a clear nod to the Slytherin heritage, and a collection of velvet pillows in various shades of green and gold were meticulously arranged at the head of the bed.

 
Heavy velvet drapes framed the tall windows, their deep green hue complementing the dark wooden floors that gleamed under the soft glow of enchanted candelabras. An ornate fireplace stood against one wall, its mantel adorned with various silver trinkets and a large, antique mirror above it. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with ancient tomes and relics that spoke of the Black family’s long history and their penchant for the dark arts. A plush armchair and a small, intricately designed table sat near the window, offering a cozy nook for reading or contemplation.

 

As she took in the surroundings, she was startled by the sudden appearance of a house-elf who popped into the room with a food tray in his hands. The elf’s large, bat-like ears twitched with every movement, and his bulging eyes glinted with a mixture of disdain and grudging respect.

 

“Filthy blood-traitor master asked to bring this to you!” the house-elf proclaimed grumpily, placing the tray on the table with a huff.

 

“Thank you,” Cassopiea responded, her tone polite and measured. She crouched down to be at eye level with the house-elf. “What is your name?”

 

“Kreacher!” the house-elf declared with a touch of pride. “I has been serving House Black for generations!”

 

Cassopiea nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Kreacher, could you find me a comb?” she asked gently.

 

Kreacher looked puzzled, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why’s?” he questioned.

Cassopiea’s hand instinctively moved to her slightly swollen belly. “You see, it is the full moon, and I must imbue my hair with magic to protect me and my child,” she explained, her voice soft and soothing.

 

Kreacher’s eyes widened with a glimmer of hope. “Youes be following tradition?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

 

“Yes, I do,” Cassopiea confirmed.

 

At her words, Kreacher burst into tears, his small frame shaking with emotion. “House Black is saved! Blood-traitor’s child is a true witch!” He quickly composed himself, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “Is Mistress be needing something more?” he asked, his tone shifting from rudeness to one of reverent adoration.

 

Cassopiea smiled warmly. “Maybe a few hairpins and a change of outfit for the night. My clothes aren’t here yet.”

 

Kreacher glowed with happiness. “Of course, Mistress!” he said eagerly, and with a snap of his fingers, he disappeared to fulfill her request.