#ana is going to kill him ahah

[overdrugs-mayhem]

[OW Shapeshifter AU] ...Reyes please, watch your language around kids.  Kind of a sequel of [Morning Call] ita translation in formato bello ahah [here]

[nibimatatabi]

Call It What You Want

@hogwarts-junkie

I have time to kill before work so buckle up buttercup I’m taking you on a ride.

A/N :: I love sad headcanons but I like happy endings so I’ma play god for a bit for kicks. This ended up killing like 9 hours of my life by the way and it’s missing giant pieces. Just so we’re all aware. Also yes - Taylor Swift title because it’s *fitting*

Somehow he survived. He wasn’t sure how, gasping and drenched in the middle of an unfamiliar living room, choking on air and the water in his lungs. But he was alive. Kreacher’s voice, the familiar, deep bullfrog sound, carried from above and to his left and he couldn’t figure out where the house elf was, or who he was talking to. He couldn’t even really make out words. His head was swimming and he was certain that he was still drowning - so sure, because now instead of Sirius’s disapproving face there was Cassandra, wide blue eyes and fear but Merlin was she like an angel. He didn’t deserve an angel. Heaven was not for him. The vision swayed and his arms buckled, sending him back down onto the rug, sputtering. It was as though he’d never been pulled from the water - he couldn’t draw breath anyway. Not that it mattered; he was dead anyway.

The jarring sound of something hitting the ground had woken Cassandra, followed shortly after by the sound of Sebastian growling. Low, steady, it was the feline ready to pounce. She shifted up, shoving her comforter away from her body and reaching for the lap beside her bed. “You.” Something croaked at her from the darkness and Cassandra’s entire body froze, attempted desperately hard to shut down against whatever phantom was in her room. Autopilot was all that got the lamp on and her wand in her hand. She slept with it on her nightstand whenever she was home, never knowing if she would find herself the target of an attack. “You can help him. You have to help him. Save Master Regulus, please.” The sight of the house elf in her room drew two or three questions from Cassandra’s mind, but more importantly she felt a different kind of fear settle in her chest. She couldn’t help Regulus, couldn’t save him - she knew that, had known that, he knew that.

“How did you get in my house?” She asked, voice very small as Kreacher came, swiftly, to her bed and grabbed her wrist, impatient. He was shaking, Cassandra noted, and- “What happened?” Kreacher shook his head, pulling her down the stairs and into the living room. Cassandra reached for the light switch as she was pulled past, her fingers just missing. Regulus was on his hands and knees, gasping for air and coughing - drowning, Cassandra thought. Drowning outside of water, dying in her living room for what reason? She dropped to her knees without thinking, her eyes wide as she tried to figure out what to do. She wasn’t a healer or a doctor, she was just a, now very scared, seventeen year old who didn’t know what to do. His arms buckled under him, and as he hit the rug, Cassandra thought he was dead. Even with that thought, she was moving her wand, hand perfectly still. It was eerie to her how she could be panicking inside and it only showed in her eyes. “Please God.” She breathed, trying to remember how to get someone breathing again - the muggle way or with her wand she didn’t care.

It was nothing short of a miracle that, five minutes later, Cassandra had gotten Regulus’s lungs clear. His breathing was shallow, but he was breathing, and while he was unconscious, that was workable. What wasn’t workable was the fact that he would be so easily hunted by the Death Eaters. The mark meant he could be tracked anywhere, and whatever he had just done, Cassandra was certain he was now the lamb for slaughter. “Kreacher-” she started, turning her head to look for the house elf. He was in the kitchen, fumbling in the dark, making tea. Well, to each their own coping mechanisms. “Never mind.”

***

Cassandra was anxious through finals. By anxious, she meant entirely ready to crawl out of her skin. Crouch had grabbed her when she had entered the common room, bewildering no fewer than five other people, and hauled her into the corridors. “He’s dead.” He had hissed, angrily. “The fuck did you do, Delacroix? You got him killed didn’t you? Made him turn his back on everything he believed in you-” Cassandra had been unable to draw breath, had burst into tears before he could finish berating her. That had thrown Crouch off. Cassandra didn’t cry - not around people. She became small, she turned in on herself, or she puffed up and took up as much space as she could, made herself a bigger target. But she didn’t cry. “Hey. No, you stop that. You caused this, you don’t get to- stop crying, Delacroix, dammit.” He had lost someone he considered his best friend. It wasn’t hard to see why he was tearing up too.

That did not make them friends. Cassandra tiptoed around Crouch, because if she slipped up even slightly it wouldn’t end well. Sunshine got a workout for the last part of term, flying back and forth from Hogwarts to - well, the where wasn’t important. Puffett grieved with Cassandra, and kept her close to him. Kept her at his side constantly with his Hufflepuff girls. He was ‘weirdly’ possessive of her. Cassandra counted down the days, once more, until she left Hogwarts.

***

“Be good. Your grandmama is very excited about you coming to live with her.” Her father took her moving back to Paris a lot better than her mother did. Cassandra was thankful for that. She loaded up Sebastian, finished packing her things, and left. She wondered idly on the plane ride how long they could run. Just how long they could survive.

***

“Got any Queens?”

“Go fish.”

Three months already. Three months of Cassandra being careful, pulling strings, walking on eggshells, and learning. Her grandmother helped - a lot. The woman had the connections that Cassandra needed, and Cassandra had the magic to back up the name. Here, so long as she never mentioned much more than her name, Delacroix carried weight. She wasn’t important in her own right, but her family was. Once they had been great - now only half of them were. Cassandra didn’t mind. “So when are you leaving?”

“End of the week.” Cassandra brought her eyes up from her cards. “Got any sevens?” The grumble of annoyance was her answer. She grinned.

“You’ll come back though, right?” Her little cousin looked up with wide eyes.

“I always do.” Cassandra assured her with a little smile.

“But not with him?” She looked past Cassandra, to the man sleeping on the couch, his hand just brushing against Cassandra’s back. The young cousin frowned softly, looking back to Cassandra.

“No, he won’t be back for awhile.” Gently, Cassandra took the seven from her cousin and matched it with her own, laying them down in front of her knees.

“How long is awhile? Abby likes when he flies with her.” The toddler, of course, would enjoy riding on a broom. Cassandra hummed softly.

“We’ll have to see.” The ten year old sighed, putting her elbows on her knees and her fists against her face.

“I hate when grownups say that. It means never.” She sniffled.

“No it does-” she stopped when Regulus’s hand moved, clutching the fabric of the shirt she wore. “Doesn’t. ‘kay we’re going to play another game, Ana. Hide and seek with Abby. I’ll count.”

“We aren’t done-oh.” They played hide and seek whenever Cassandra was thinking on her feet. Ana hopped up, taking the cards and quickly scampering off to get her little sister. Cassandra got up, stretching her legs and sweeping her wand idly around the room. She murmured enchantments to protect the family - and particularly Ana and Abby, who had already lost their biological parents to the war - before she looked at Regulus.

“Faster than last time.” He said after a few moments. Cassandra nodded.

“Yeah, well, they still aren’t catching you, now are they? I might not be able to outsmart your Dark Lord, but I can outsmart Rosier and Snape.” Cassandra opened the balcony door, stepping out and peering around the garden. Dusk, the only thing she could easily see was the family hippogriff - a great watchdog, who was staring at something just beyond the hedges. She heard the crack of apparation behind her and sighed softly - it would take her a month to find him again.

Two figures separated themselves from the horizon. Cassandra leaned idly against the railing, staring at them. She blocked the first attack on the magical beast below, giving him time to get aloft. The second strike, aimed at her, took out the metal rail. “Oi! How rude! Didn’t anyone teach you to leave the architecture intact?” She called down. Why they didn’t send, say, Bellatrix, after Regulus was beyond Cassandra. She couldn’t hold that bitch off - not even slightly.

“Where is he?” Amplified and distorted, Cassandra couldn’t tell what man was calling to her. She peeked through the twisted metal, flicking her wand and dangling one of the two upside down by his ankles.

“Where is who? Father Perrot? He’s at the church.” Ironic, given that Father Perrot was a wizard.”Or his son? Jaime is still at Beauxbaton but, I mean, you probably knew that already.” The one not trying to figure out how to stop dangling twelve feet in the air lifted his wand. Cassandra did as well, raising his friend higher. “Ahah~ careful now, if I have to move to block you, he’s going to go crashing down~” Cassandra trilled. By now, had Regulus been there, he’d have been fighting back. They all knew it. The man still moved to attack, and Cassandra’s wand shot in a zig-zag pattern, deflecting the attack back. Sure enough, the second man took a spill - though he was able to slow himself some.

“Mudblood bitch!”

“Get new insults!” She shot back, throwing a parting hex at the pair as they apparated.

***

Summer rolled slowly into fall, and as the leaves fell off of the trees, so diminished Cassandra’s hope that they could keep this up. The constant running was running Regulus into the ground, and he hardly slept when he was alone. Cassandra did better, knowing and learning every nook and cranny of France and having asylum with the French Ministry as she did. She was safe here - but Regulus wasn’t. If he went forward, they would jail him in a heartbeat.

“Come here you little orange-” she caught Sebastian as he ducked down an alley, the bell on his collar jingling a little louder than should be allowed. Given she had enchanted it to keep up with him, it didn’t startle her too badly. What did startle her was how fluffed up Sebastian was, hissing at someone who was quickly walking away. “Mm, bad choice, Kitty.” Cassandra murmured, snatching the cat up. While she didn’t know the person off hand, she was willing to bet he was a wizard, and probably a Death Eater. Damnable people. But, like her, they were just trying to survive. She was the link to a traitor - she could be good bait, if anyone could get their grimy little paws on her.

***

Things seemed to settle, just a little, in France. Cassandra managed to persuade someone to give Regulus a place to stay, though it was on a week-by-week basis for him. Cassandra stayed with her grandparents, but also with Father Perrot so she could mind Abby and Ana. That was where most of her money was coming from - being a babysitter in a way. “I’ll start Beauxbatons next fall. Do you think you’ll still be here? For Abby, I mean.” Ana said one evening over dinner, looking up at Cassandra and Regulus. He had been hesitant to return to the Perrot estate, but it hadn’t taken much cajoling to get him to tag along.

“Probably. I don’t exactly have too many other places to go.” Cassandra said after a few moments of thought. Ana considered it, and nodded her head.

“Yeah...I guess not.” She looked at Regulus, studying him quietly. He was quiet - always so quiet now - but Ana wasn’t afraid of him, and Abby, who had cried and screamed when she first met Father Perrot, had taken to him like a duck to water. To them, Cassandra and Regulus were more family than the Perrots. “Will you still be here too?” The girls didn’t know his real name, didn’t even know what to call him, and it was better that way. Regulus looked up from his plate, which he had been poking at moodily, and inclined his head slightly toward Cassandra.

“That depends on her.” He said softly. If she was able to keep up, if she was able to continue to outsmart the unmarked lackeys, if she could outsmart whoever Voldemort sent.

“He will be.” Cassandra’s voice was still gentle, but firm. He had nearly died to get the damn locket - she wasn’t letting him die because she couldn’t outmaneuver a few other Slytherins.

***

“Hello?” It was a weird hour for the phone to be ringing, number one, and number two, who was giving her grandparents a ring at this hour?

“Cassie?”

“Wh-Sirius? How did you-”

“I’m an uncle. A godfather.” The line went dead. Cassandra stared at the phone.

“You’re not a damn uncle, my girls aren’t even mine let alone your brother’s.” Cassandra sounded offended. The last of July, seeping into August, a whole year of playing the game. The very, very dangerous game. A whole year of watching papers, of listening, of moving among people she didn’t even like in order to keep up. And Sirius calls her to tell her he’s an uncle - a godfather. James must have had a kid.

***

News travels fast, and fourteen months drag by like molasses. Cassandra was picking up bread when she heard it. The silence that fell across the whole alley like a cloak, followed by soft murmuring, and then an uproarious cheer. “He’s dead!” Someone shouted, and a moment later sparks were filling the air. Cassandra spun around, blue eyes searching the crowd.

“What-”

“You-Know-Who is dead!” Her heart stopped for just a second. An older woman grabbed her and hugged her tightly. “He’s dead, he’s dead! London is safe!” The cheering and dancing and partying lasted well into the night, while Cassandra tracked down Regulus.

She all but burst into the hotel room he was in, in a seedy part of muggle France, and launched herself into him. “He’s dead. He’s dead, Regulus, we can go home.”

Regulus held her against him, quiet, confused. Dead. Voldemort was dead. He was dead, and yet that didn’t ease the worry in Regulus. Even if they went back, he had still been a Death Eater. Traitor or not, he would still end up in Azkaban, and he couldn’t- “We-no, you can, Cassandra, but I-he’s dead but-” he sank back down onto the foot of the bed, releasing Cassandra and looking up at her. Hollow, his expression, his face, he didn’t even feel human any longer. He had been running for over two years.

“Regulus...”

“I can’t. Not, with this mark, Cassandra. They’ll...I’ll end up in Azkaban.” He had been having panic attacks, the longer he was in hiding, the longer he was running from death. He couldn’t breath, and for a moment he was back in that cave, drowning, Kreacher’s hands grasping his ankle while bony fingers grabbed his shoulders, his cloak - and then it was Cassandra grabbing his shoulders, saying his name softly over and over again until he was aware of her.

“Where are we, Reg? How many times have we done this? I will not leave you.” Hotel. France. Not London. Not that damned cave. Too many times. She still hadn’t run. After everything the stupid muggleborn was still sitting there, holding onto him - him! - and looked entirely unflinching. How many Death Eaters had she sneered at, unflappable, unwilling to give him up, unwilling to protect herself if it meant leaving him alone? Too many.

“Please.” He whispered once he could breath again, unsure if he was asking her to leave or asking her to stay.

“We can wait.” She murmured softly.

***

“Here’s an idea, keep your hands off of me.” Cassandra tossed her hair over her shoulder as one Dolores Umbridge tried to haul her into the courtroom. She was watching trials, trials of people she knew and of people she didn’t, and she was also a character witness for Regulus. Like his mother. Who was seething across the room with such rage that it actually made Cassandra warm inside. Ah, to be the one who brought down the house.

“You’re an impertinent little girl.” The woman snipped, sniffing haughtily.

“And you’re a ridiculously overstuffed and overfluffed woman.” Crouch, stepping past them, snorted.

“Excuse me!”

“I’ve got her, Dolores. She’s always been a handful.” Crouch had been beyond furious to discover that Regulus had lied, but Crouch, for his part, considered that water under the bridge. He offered Cassandra his arm, and she tried to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

“I was supposed to lead her in, she’s a witness for Mr. Black!”

“And I thought I was his friend, so I have her, Dolores.” Perfectly level. Cassandra would have thought him being pleasant if not for the way Umbridge colored and lowered her head.

“Glad to see you’re still kind as always.” She muttered as they entered the courtroom. Igor Karkaroff was up first.

“Mm, and you’re bolder. I suppose we’re both growing stupid in our young age.” Crouch gestured for her to sit, and he planted himself beside her. Both looked bored, though Cassandra marginally less so every time she caught Walburga glowering at her. At those moments she looked positively smug.

Karkaroff’s trial was dragging, and ridiculously boring. Cassandra was pleased that Rosier had ended up dead (shame on her), but the surprise came when Crouch rose, excusing himself, and Karkaroff rounded on him. Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up. She tilted her head at the man who was trying to escape, and felt her body go cold at the total disgust in his father’s voice. Growing up with a father like Senior, Cassandra could almost see why the pureblood would go to the dark side (later, when she learned he and the Lestrange’s had been responsible for what happened to the Longbottoms, she would want to put his head on a spike herself).

“Son of a bitch.” She muttered in surprise as he was taken, blue eyes narrowing in disgust. Twenty minutes later, Karkaroff was taken away, and Cassandra’s anxiety shot through the roof. During the brief recess, she paced the hall like a trapped animal, anxious, nervous, terrified. What if they decided he had done everything oh-so willingly? What if they thought he was just running from the Ministry? What-if-what-if-what-if. And to make matters worse, Sirius had been wrongfully imprisoned for the murder of Lily and James. And Peter.

“Mrs. Black, if you could come forward.” Crouch didn’t seem too terribly shaken up about having thrown his son into holding. He was still covering the courtroom perfectly calmly. Walburga rose, elegant, graceful, and sharp, stepping down to stand alongside the cage that her youngest son was bound in. Even unable to see his face, Cassandra could almost guarantee that he was tense, waiting on the outcome he expected and trying not to show it.

Regulus’s nails dug into the palm of his hand, the only indication of how he felt, trapped like an animal. Why had he let Cassandra convince him to do this?! He was going to Azkaban - because of her. Because she thought she could outwit politicians - his mother even. No one could outsmart Walburga Black. “Please state your name and relationship to the Death Eater.” Moody’s voice was bored.

“Walburga Black, I am his mother.” The woman’s head was lifted, proud, defiant, and yet she ignored Regulus beside her, looking only at each person on the panel who spoke. “We are a proud family; my husband is dead, and I am a widow alone. You cannot possibly take my only son from me.” Regulus would have rolled his eyes, but that would have been an expression other than boredom, and that would have cracked his resolve.

“Our records indicate you have an older son, Mrs. Black. One Sirius-”

“I do NOT!” She half shrieked. Cassandra watched the panel, including Dumbledore, exchange glances.

‘Keep it up, lady. You’re about to make me seem less crazy.’ Cassandra thought, taking slow, deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

“I have one son, and you’re ready to falsely imprison-”

“With all respect, Mrs. Black, your son bears the Dark Mark.” Dumbledore spoke mildly, calmly, and Regulus felt a cold chill creep down his spine. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dumbledore had known all along - if he would send Regulus to rot because he knew. From the corner of his eye, he saw his mother struggle, seething, and almost wished she would draw her wand.

‘Do it. Do it, show them what we are.’ He thought viciously. If she struck, then Cassandra wouldn’t even have to consider lying. She could tell them it was Walburga’s fault, Walburga pushed Sirius away, pushed Regulus into the Dark Arts. But Walburga’s expression became calm again, and tears filled her eyes.

“Oh! Oh I can’t- it must have been that cousin of his! Oh, Bellatrix always acted before she thought.” Walburga turned on the waterworks, crying out and bemoaning how Bellatrix had a hand in this outcome, how it was Bellatrix who did this. Regulus felt sick. While it was Bellatrix’s fault he had killed someone, she had never suggested to bring him into the fold at sixteen. “I knew I shouldn’t have let her around him.” Walburga’s pleas were cut short, and Dolores escorted the sobbing mother back to her seat.

“Enlightening.” Crouch muttered, clearly not understanding the affection. “Miss Delacroix.” He gestured, and Cassandra rose, elegant, graceful, and soft. Much as Walburga, she came down the steps with her head up, focus set on Crouch, hands laced before her body. Her posture contrasted with Walburga’s, the difference night and day. Cassandra wasn’t here to defend herself. “Please state your name and relationship to the Death Eater.”

“Cassandra Marie Delacroix; girlfriend.” She heard a quick muttering - she had to be pureblood, or at least halfblood.

“What is your blood status, Miss Delacroix?” Dumbledore spoke mildly, looking down from his glasses. His eyes twinkled, warmth, fatherly affection, something that she couldn’t see in Crouch or Moody’s gaze.

“I am muggleborn.” She felt the heated glare on her back moments before she heard Walburga’s shriek.

“Filthy mudblood whore!” The woman screamed. Crouch shot up straight, staring at the woman.

“Get her out of my courtroom!” Regulus flinched, much as he could, in his restraints and it took him a moment to realize that Walburga wasn’t firing crucio after crucio at him or Cassandra. He had been so sure she would, had been certain that he would be tortured right there, unable to fight back. “Muggleborn, then. Were you unaware of the Death Eater’s status?” Crouch continued once the doors slammed shut, heavy, behind Walburga.

“I was not. Only a fool would put their life at risk in this way.”

“And yet you said ‘girlfriend’ and not ‘ex’ girlfriend. Miss Delacroix, does this not make you a fool?”

“I have never felt fear for my life, the life of my parents, or the lives of any other muggleborns I know when around Mr. Black. Compared to people such as Rosier, Mulciber, and Avery, who have called me ‘mudblood’ since I was eleven, I feel perfectly safe with him.” Cassandra waited. She wanted them to spoon feed her the answers, give her the opening she needed. All they had to do was point her, and she’d go.

“You never noticed anything strange about Mr. Black?” Dumbledore was patient, and Cassandra inclined her head, considering the question. She could almost feel Regulus begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“I-...once, he seemed, a little disoriented one morning, right, right before Easter break our last year of Hogwarts...I-I didn’t think much about it, I mean, it was finals time.” Cassandra bit her lip. “Maybe-maybe I should have mentioned it to Professor Slughorn...” she dropped her eyes. She waited. Regulus was frozen, waiting, hoping.

“Disoriented as if he had been confounded?” Crouch asked slowly. Cassandra, looked up, blinking back tears. Crocodile tears.

“It-not quite. I, I can recognize confounded...I mean, it-it wasn’t unusual for-” she wrung her hands, like she didn’t want to implicate anyone else.

“Less disoriented, or more?” Dumbledore coaxed. Cassandra wasn’t sure if he knew what she was doing, but she didn’t intend to ask.

“More.” Her voice was small. She lowered her eyes, glancing at Crouch through her lashes. His expression had shifted some, thoughtful.

“Miss Delacroix, clearly you stayed in contact with the-Mr. Black.” Crouch paused a moment, collecting himself. “How was that possible?”

“I went back to France, with my grandparents; Grandmama and her family are kneazle breeders, even though Grandmama can only do very, very simple spells.” Cassandra bit her lip. “He sent me owls, and would visit from time to time. He said getting away from work was difficult.”

“Did you ever ask what he was doing?”

“He claimed his father’s business.” Easy - because that’s what he was supposed to be taking over, after all.

“Very well. That’s enough, Miss Delacroix.” Crouch dismissed her, and Cassandra returned to her seat, leaving Regulus alone before his judge and jury once more. He didn’t want to look at any of them, while they whispered and muttered, shaking their heads, muttering more, and then, finally, Crouch exhaled. “Very well. Based on testimony, it has been determined that Regulus Black was placed under the Imperius Curse.” Regulus couldn’t breath. “He will be exonerated.” Now he really couldn’t breath. How?!

Cassandra waited in the hall, and the moment the bewildered man stepped out of the doors, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face against his neck. She beat Walburga by a mile, the older woman ‘restrained’ down the hall to keep from attacking Cassandra. “How?” He murmured against her hair, holding her tightly against him.

“No one gives me enough credit for what I am. Bright, loyal, and cunning as a fox.” Cassandra murmured in return.

***

 She said yes. Regulus hadn’t known how to propose to her, had been terrified, really, that she would come to her senses and walk away. But she didn’t; she hadn’t. She said yes instead. He had anticipated having no one show up for him - given his mother had disowned him with a swiftness and Sirius was in Azkaban. That was pending review, though. But the amount of people Cassandra had made up for it. Her parents, her grandparents, a few people her grandparents knew, Lucile and her husband, Evanna and her family who had adopted Lucile (Evanna’s father had given her away at her wedding, after all). It was small and intimate, and almost made up for the fact that Regulus’s blood family was- well.

“Oh! Hold on a second!” Cassandra’s grandmother clapped her hands. “Eddie, would you go get them? We have a little surprise before the bride.” The woman grinned. One of the friends jumped up and left for a minute, and when he came back it was with a family of three. “Oh I hope you don’t mind, sweetheart. I couldn’t bear-” Grandmama Delacroix had managed to convince the Tonks family to come. It hadn’t been hard, seeing as she was able to tell Andy ‘your little cousin is marrying my granddaughter - muggleborn. We’d love for you to come.’

***

By the time he was 25, Regulus had a wife, a future, a family that turned a blind eye. They pretended they didn’t know, or that they didn’t care. He had turned his back on his parents and their expectations - had gone against everything he had been raised to do. He had gone out of his way to try to take down the Dark Lord, even. In fact, the locket Kreacher kept for him was a reminder of that.

Regulus rolled over, looking at the woman asleep beside him. He didn’t deserve her, but she wouldn’t leave him. Regulus wasn’t certain that he hadn’t died that night in the cave, wasn’t sure that an angel hadn’t come along and finished the job the corpses had started. A grumpy growl from her other side told him he was alive, though - Sebastian still hated that his pillow had become someone else’s, even if it was Regulus. “Cat.” He murmured, wrapping an arm around Cassandra and letting his eyes close again.