musical mood: sugar we're goin down - fall out boy

They returned to Grim Old Place that night - they being the Weasley's and Potter. No one quite knew what to say, and Cass wasn't even sure what to think. All she knew was that Arthur Weasley had been attacked by a snake, and Potter had somehow saved his life by seeing it in a vision. No one quite understood how, or why, but they were grateful nonetheless.

The pleasant mood that Cass and George had been in that night was shattered, with George in a state of complete shock at the news about his father. He'd gone pale, and was trembling from head to toe. Fred was no better, holding back worried tears as they made their way through the halls.

"It's going to be okay." Cass leaned up and kissed George on the cheek as they approached the door to where Fred and George shared a bedroom. "He's alive, he's going to be okay. I promise."

He moved to embrace her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. "Thank you."

"Oi, where's my reassurances?" Fred whined from next to them. Rolling her eyes, Cass let go of George, moving instead to hug his twin brother. Though there was an obvious lack of intimacy between the two, she could tell Fred appreciated it, as his lips curved up into a sad sort of smile.

She broke apart from him, mirroring his smile. "Goodnight, you two."

George frowned as she began to walk away. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To my room..."

He stared at her, his eyes wide, like a wounded animal. "Oh."

She raised her eyebrows. "Unless you want me to stay with you?"

"I'd like that. If you want to."

Cass had figured that, after a month together, he'd likely grown tired of them sharing a bed, and probably wanted to sleep by himself once in a while. But the look on his face was so raw, so sincere, she now thought herself silly to have assumed such a thing.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I do."

George sighed in relief.

"Sleeping only." Fred said, glancing between the two with his eyes narrowed. "I get enough obnoxious sex noises at Hogwarts from Lee and Kenneth, I don't need that here as well."

"Of course, Fred, we'll try to keep our hands to ourselves." George patted his twin on the shoulder, and Cass stifled back a laugh as she followed him into their room. It was clean, quite a contrast from their dorms in the castle, though she imagined Molly had likely straightened up the place while they were gone. The idea of George and Fred voluntarily cleaning anything was laughable. There were two twin beds, on either side of the walls, and Cass curled up into the one George indicated was his. It was smaller than the bed they shared at Hogwarts, but she didn't mind, it just meant she was in a closer proximity to George.

Falling asleep for the second time that night proved to be a much more difficult task, likely because her bed mate was just as wide awake as her. His calm tended to rub off on her, tended to relax her, but now that he was so tense, so unlike himself, she didn't know what to do.

"Can I do anything to help you?" She leaned up and whispered into his ear, not wanting to wake Fred, who was snoring loudly from his bed.

"Just being here is enough." He responded, though his voice was tight.

"I can find a calming drought, help you get to sleep. I know Remus keeps a few in the kitchen, to help him when the full moon is approaching." She offered, and George shook his head.

"No, that's alright." He shifted against her, clearly restless. "I kind of want to leave."

"Leave?"

"Yeah, go for a walk. There's a park nearby, isn't there?"

She blinked. "Well, yes...but George, it's two in the morning."

George shrugged, clearly not miffed by that fact. "Early bird gets the worm."

"You're ridiculous." She laughed as she sat up, escaping the gentle grip George had around her waist.

"Where are you doing?"

"On that walk, of course. I'm not letting you wander about the city alone at night, you'll wind up lost."

"You have so little faith in me, Cassie." He shook his head, laughing. She laughed with him, struggling to keep her voice quiet. Fred stirred in his bed, and she clasped a hand to her mouth. Luckily, Fred simply rolled over, another snore escaping from his open mouth.

The pair crept out of the bedroom, sneaking down the stairs as quiet as they could. The house elf that roamed the halls, apparently called Kreacher, glared at them as they slipped on their shoes and exited through the front door, but luckily, he didn't say anything.

It wasn't that cold out, considering it was an English December, but Cass curled up in George's grip anyways, leaning against the arm he'd thrown around her as they made their way down the streets. She gulped as she looked down the road that she'd nearly gotten killed in just months ago, the road that Barty had saved her in.

Had she known she'd be happy with George, would she have still done it? Would she have still wanted to end her life?

Maybe not, maybe if she knew her sightings of her brother would come to a halt. She'd been so desperate, then, desperate to end her suffering. Even with George at her side, she knew if she started consistently seeing Barty again, she wouldn't be able to take it.

He's dead. She reminded herself firmly, taking a deep breath and clouding the air when she exhaled. You imagined it. It was an episode; they were all just episodes. You're better now.

"Are you alright?" George looked down at her, and she frowned.

"Your father was just attacked by a snake, and you're asking if I'm alright?"

He paused for a moment, the only sound between the two being the soft snow crunching under their feet. "Yeah, basically."

"You're ridiculous."

George tugged her closer to him, and she melted into his warmth. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm grand. Really."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

*

After about half an hour, the two wound up in a 24 hour muggle diner. George had complained their entire walk, first about being cold, then that he was hungry, and eventually, she pulled him inside the first place she saw. Luckily, the coat she had taken with her had some galleons in the pocket, which, when no one was looking, she took out her wand and used the spell to convert it into muggle money.

An elderly woman served the two, eyeing them suspiciously as they ran through the menu, as though she thought they were up to something they shouldn't have been.

"I'll have the waffles, thanks." Cass set down her menu, smiling up at the woman.

"And you, sir?"

George, who clearly didn't recognize a single one of the meals, having grown up with only wizarding dishes, stared at her unsurely. "Uh, same. Waffles."

"And to drink?"

"Coffee. Black. Thanks."

The woman raised her eyebrows, before turning to George, who once again ordered the same as Cass had.

"Grand. I'll have them out for you in a spell." The woman walked away, leaving just the two of them.

"You didn't have to come with me, you know that, right?"

Cass shook her head. "George, honestly, there's nowhere I'd rather be right now than with you."

"Even in a muggle diner at two in the morning?"

"Yes, even at a muggle diner at two in the morning."

He reached over, grabbing her hands and looking deep into her eyes. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. His expression said it all, and Cass hoped hers did too.

What had she done to deserve him?

She suddenly felt the urge to cry.

Luckily, no tears escaped her as the waitress came over with their coffees, setting them down on the table and distracting Cass from the whirlwind of emotions that had just hit her.

She picked up her drink, taking a slow sip and allowing the hot liquid to run down her throat, warming up her body. It was bitter, and strong, just how she liked it. Honestly, she preferred coffee to the customary British tea, preferred the harsh, sharp taste. It was a shame that the beverage was practically non-existent in the wizarding world.

George mimicked her, lifting his cup up to his lips. When he began to drink it, his expression shifted, and he set the cup right back down, clearly trying not to gag. "What the fuck is that?"

"Coffee."

"And you like it?" He stared at her in disbelief.

"It's an acquired taste." She shrugged, taking another sip from her own drink. 'I'll take yours, if you don't want it."

"Please do." He slid the cup across the table, his nose scrunched up.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, there was a chiming sound at the entrance to the diner, where someone stumbled inside. Cass's eyes briefly flickered to the space behind George's head, to the source of the noise, and she went pale as she made eye contact with Connor Moore.

"Shit."

"What is it?" George frowned, but she didn't answer him.

Connor looked straight at her, clearly just as surprised to see her and she was him, but he had a funny look in his eye, like he wasn't all quite there. When he made his way over, nearly tripping over his own feet, she realized he was drunk.

"What are you doing here?" Cass asked him as he arrived at their table. "It's two in the morning."

"I was hungry." He stared at her like she was stupid, before turning to George. "Who's this? Are you Cedric?"

George coughed, eyes bulging in the most intense expression of confusion Cass had ever seen. "What?"

"You're not him, then. Well, Cass fancies a lad called Cedric. Or are you George, her other man? She's a bit of a slag, in case you haven't noticed. Likes too many boys at the same time. Can't stick to just one."

"Connor..." Cass began, and George turned to look at her.

"This is Connor?"

She ignored him, staring into Connor's hazel eyes, trying to keep her expression neutral. "Connor. You're clearly drunk, or something of the sorts. Let's get you back home, yeah?"

"Yeah, so you can just leave me again?"

She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say. She was hit by a flood of guilt - she should've wrote to him, she should've done something, like Saoirse had told her to that day after detention. But she'd been to afraid, too unsure of what to say, and then, too preoccupied with George to even think about anyone else.

Fuck, she was so selfish.

"I'm sorry."

"Was it just me, or do you do that with everyone? Fuck them, promise them a future and then leave?" He turned to face George, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Good luck with her, dude. You'll need it. That bitch sucks the life out of everything."

"Don't talk to her like that." He rose from his seat. He was a head taller than Connor, but that didn't seem to intimidate him one bit, as he lifted his chin to meet his eye.

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?"

Cass stood up this time, swiftly moving in between the two. "Guys, cut it out. Now. George, let's go."

"Four months." Was all Connor said, his face turning red as he did.

"What?"

"I hadn't heard from you for four months. Nothing. Not a peep. You said we were going to run away together, and then you just left."

"I'm sorry."

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you fuck me, if you weren't going to stick around?"

George inhaled sharply.

The way he expressed the intimacy they shared, with such roughness in his tone, with such distain, sent a shiver down her spine. "I was drunk. I was unstable. I wanted someone. I'm sorry."

"You wanted someone. Not me, right? Just someone. Anyone."

She nodded slowly, and his nostrils flared.

"You fucking slag."

"Don't call her that."

"George, it's okay."

"No, it isn't okay!" Connor's voice raised for the first time since he'd approached them, earning the stares of everyone else in the diner. The elderly woman said something about calling the police, but none of them paid her any mind. "You've been messing with me for years! You made me think you love me, just to leave, and come back again, then leave once more."

"I'm sorry. Connor, I do love you, you know that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left, I should've wrote you-"

"No, you don't! You don't love me, you don't love anyone! You just love being loved! You were never loved by Bartemius, so you projected it onto me. Well, you got what you wanted. Are you happy now? This is what you do to people, Cass. You fuck them up!"

"Don't talk to her like that." George said once again, but neither of them paid him any attention.

"You're drunk." She repeated her earlier statement, taking a step towards him, trying to ignore his words, words that stung because of how true they were. "Please, let us just take you home."

"What, you want to fuck me again? Couldn't get enough from the first time, yeah?"

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. She'd never, ever seen Connor like this. She knew his outburst, his lack of filter, was due to the alcohol he must've recently consumed, but she could also tell that wasn't everything. He was letting out months of pent-up anger, months of abandonment from her. She couldn't even be mad at him, for the way he was speaking to her, because she'd left him after leading him on. He had every right to be furious.

"I said, don't talk to her that way." George repeated once more, and Cass shook her head.

"George, it's fine. Leave it be. We should just go."

George pressed his lips together, like he wanted to object, but eventually, he gave in, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. While Cass didn't want to leave Connor at some random diner in the middle of the night while he was very clearly intoxicated, she wasn't sure what else to do. If they tried to get him to come with, he'd just throw more insults their way, and she didn't think she could take much more of it, didn't think George could take much more if it either.

"Yeah, go on, run away with your new dude! Don't get your hopes up, mate. Cass will just let you down, that's all she ever does."

Cass's stomach churned, her face flushed red and tears pricking at her eyes. George's jaw clenched, but he said nothing, continuing to walk away, his hand on Cass's shoulder.

Connor followed them, his footsteps bouncing off the tile floors as he shouted taunts their way. "Mhm, that's right, ginger. Go on. You'll see I'm right soon. Have fun with this bitch! She's a good for nothing cunt."

After that, everything went by in a blur.

George let go of Cass's shoulder, and she turned around just in time to see his clenched fist meet Connor's face square on.

Blood began to seep out of his nose. The elderly waitress screamed. Someone nearby jumped out of their chair. George hit him again, this time sending him stumbling to the ground.

Cass let out something between a scream and a sob, as she stared in horror at the scene in front of her, unable to do anything. Her body was frozen, and while her mind yelled at her to do something, to get George off of the boy he was currently punching over and over, she couldn't move, her body refused to anything except watch. She couldn't move and there was a crushing feeling in her chest like someone was sitting on her and she couldn't breathe and Connor was screaming and she couldn't breathe and she couldn't breathe.

Out of the side of her vision, she could see the elderly waitress on the telephone, likely ringing the police like she had threatened to the moment their voices were raised.

A nearby muggle - a large, middle aged man who had been sitting nearby, watching their fight escalate, was the one to break it up, yanking George off of Connor and sending him flying to the ground opposite him. George's fists were covered in blood, Connor's face was covered in blood, there was blood everywhere, and Cass couldn't breathe, just like that night at the Yule Ball, everything was closing in on her and she couldn't breathe but she could hear moans of pain and yelling and sirens and she could see flashing lights but she couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe.

*

They'd somehow got to the police station. Cass wasn't sure how, everything that had happened after George's fist met Connor's nose was a massive blur. She thought they'd taken a muggle police car, but she wasn't positive. She did know that they'd been patted down like criminals, had their wands confiscated in the process, and George had even been handcuffed.

An officer had given her a blanket and sat her down in the waiting room, while they were taking George's statement in the adjacent room. They'd attempted to take hers as well, but when she tried to speak, nothing came out.

"She's in shock." The only female officer said to the man after he'd asked her name four times in a row, giving her an expression of pity. "Let's just question the ginger kid now, save her for later."

Eventually, she figured out how to breathe, though the air did little to calm her. The moment her lungs regained their ability, she burst into tears. She wasn't sure what she was the most upset over - Connor's cruel words to her, the fight, or the fact that they'd been fucking arrested. But, as she sat in the quiet waiting room, allowing the hours to pass, she held a hand up over her mouth to prevent any loud sobs from escaping her.

"Cass?"

She didn't look up as Connor, who had been sitting in silence next to her, finally spoke. His face, while wiped clean of blood, was black and bruised, and his nose was angled in a way it shouldn't have been. It was certainly broken. Cass wondered why he hadn't gone to the hospital.

"I'm sorry."

Nothing.

"I was drunk." He continued, trying to meet her eye. She simply stared at the floor as another sob wrecked through her. "Reckon that punch sobered me right up. I didn't....I didn't mean everything I said."

Nothing.

"Cass, please talk to me."

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on her shoes. There were drops of crimson blood on them that were sure to stain. Connor's blood. Because George had punched him. Because he had called her a cunt. Because she had hurt him. Because she had slept with him. Because she had gave him hope, then left him.

It all circled back to her. In the end, everything did.

She wanted to be mad at them, both of them, for how they had behaved, and she was. But she was mostly furious with herself.

"I just...I thought you'd abandoned me. And then to see you again, out of nowhere, with a different bloke...shit, that hurt, Cass. After that night, I really thought...well, I shouldn't hold you to anything that happened. You said yourself you weren't doing well. I reckon I took advantage of that."

More silence. Connor stared at her, hopeful she'd respond, and just when he slumped back down in his seat, did she speak, her voice hoarse and shaky from crying. "I took advantage of you too. I knew you loved me, and I used it because I needed someone."

He shrugged, his blonde hair hanging in front of his bruised face.

Eventually, Cass spoke again, though she wasn't sure why.

"I tried to kill myself. Tried to jump into traffic."

"When?"

"That night."

"Damn, was I that bad in bed?"

She let out a mixture of a laugh and a sob.

Connor opened his mouth, like he was about to say something else, but he didn't get the chance. The door to the interrogation room opened, and George walked out. He was no longer in handcuffs, though he had his hands behind his back anyways. Cass refused to look at him, instead continuing to stare at the bloody spot on her shoe.

"Mr. Moore, we're ready to take your statement." The officer said, and Connor stood up. He was shaking slightly, either from nerves or perhaps the pain from George's fist. With one last look at Cass, he went into the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Another officer led George back into a holding cell - he wasn't allowed in the waiting room, apparently, since he'd been the aggressor in the situation.

While she didn't look at him, she could still feel his eyes on her, and she broke into new, fresh sobs before she could stop them.

Another hour passed. Eventually, she stopped crying, instead focusing on her inhaling, exhaling, counting every breath, counting the seconds they lasted. Inhale, hold, exhale, repeat. It was a trick for panic attacks she'd learned during her stay at St. Mungo's - she'd never thought anything from there would come in useful, but there she was.

Eventually, a woman, the woman from the front desk, she thought, approached Cass. "You're free to go."

Her swollen eyes widened. "What?"

"The kid has agreed not to press charges. You and your...friend, can leave."

Only then did she notice George was behind the woman, hunched over like he was trying to hide from her.

"Brilliant. Thanks."

"You two may collect your stuff at my desk." The woman led them to the front of the police station, where she pulled out two bins that contained all of the objects they had on them. For George, it was just his wand, though for Cass it was her wand, her father's ring, and all the muggle money she'd conjured at the diner.

The women held up the wands, staring at them with suspicion. "Are these weapons?"

"Nope, just sticks." Cass answered swiftly.

"Sticks?"

"Yep, we're...er...stick collectors. Isn't that right, George?"

George nodded eagerly from next to her.

The women pressed her lips together, like she didn't quite believe them, but she handed them over anyways "Right, well, enjoy your...sticks."

"We will. Thanks."

It was warmer outside than it had been in the night. The police station hadn't had a clock, but by the shining sun that had come up, Cass estimated it was about 7 in the morning. Late enough that there might be people up already at Grim Old Place, people that would've noticed they were missing.

"Cassie!" George jogged to keep up with her quick pace down the Islington streets. "Are you mad at me?"

"Am I mad at you?" She didn't even look at him, though her expression shone with rage, her cheeks growing more and more red my the second. "Of course I'm mad at you! You punched Connor in the face - you could've gone to jail! That's assault!"

"He insulted you! He was harassing you! Was I just supposed to let him?"

"Yes, you were! I can take care of myself!"

"So you're taking his side then?" His tone was a mixture of anger and hurt, and she increased her walking pace, not wanting to see him, not wanting to hear him.

"Yes, George, I'm totally going to take the side of the person who called me a cunt!" She shook her head in disbelief. "Honestly! You're both infuriating!"

"Cassie, come on..." George's voice went quiet, like he wasn't sure what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to speak, because when they approached Grim Old Place, Molly Weasley was already at the front door, hands on her hips and staring down at the two with an expression of pure fury.