Chapter 111: The Confession
Cassandra had just finished her usual hours at the library, buried in her books and homework. The Slytherin dorm was never a good place to study — her dorm mates were a constant buzz of gossip, chattering as if their words could never run out. That's why she always escaped to the quiet corners of the castle, where she could focus.
As she stepped into the Slytherin common room, a familiar voice cut through the murmur.
"Cass, can you spare a moment?"
She froze and turned sharply. That name — Cass — was reserved only for her parents, and maybe Cael. No one else was allowed to say it.
There he stood: Fischer Frey. Dressed as if for a fancy ball, with a thick cloud of perfume trailing him and a red rose clutched in one hand. Cassandra raised an eyebrow, barely hiding her annoyance.
"Don't call me Cass, Mr. Frey. We're not close enough for nicknames. Now, speak quickly—I don't have time for this."
His confident smile faltered for a moment but didn't vanish. "Don't worry, we will be," he said smoothly. "I've convinced my father to arrange a marriage between our families. You'll be my fiancé."
A circle of curious Slytherin students gathered, eyes fixed on the scene. Anticipating to what will be the answer of this untouchable Flower of the Vole family,as she is famous for her beauty amongst men in the Pure blood families, Cassandra could feel their anticipation; the Vole family was famous for their beauty and power. Anyone who married into that family was destined to become the next heir since the family didn't had a male heir so anyone who married this flower they would be sitting on the throne of the Vole family .
Cassandra looked at Fischer and then, suddenly, burst out laughing.
The crowd gasped. This was the first time they had ever seen her laugh—usually she wore an arrogant, unreadable expression or a cold, mocking smile.
When her laughter died down, she looked at him with a smirk. "Sorry, that was just… funny. What were you saying again?"
Fischer's jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. Laugh all you want, he thought. But when you're in my hands, you'll laugh and cry both.
Since I can't be heir to the Frey family anymore, the Vole family will be mine. And you will be mine too.
He held out the rose. "I've liked you since the first time I saw you, six years ago at the Ministry Ball. I fell in love instantly. I hope you'll accept my feelings—and agree with your parents. I can give you a life no other man can even dream of. So, what's your answer?"
Behind him, a few girls sighed dreamily, whispering things like, "Wow, how romantic," or "If I were her, I'd say yes right away," and "I wish he'd propose to me."
Watching this little drama unfold made Cassandra's patience run thin. "I don't agree to your proposal," she said firmly. "I will choose my own future partner. No one can force me , that is even if they are my parents ."
She stepped past him and walked back toward her dorm.
Fischer stood frozen, the rose still raised in the air. Did I just get rejected? The thought hit him like a blow. Me, Fischer Frey?
He clenched his fist, repeating in his mind like a chant: You're mine. Your family is mine. Everything about you is mine. Mine, mine, mine.
Glancing around at the crowd, he growled, "What are you looking at? Go on—scram!"
The students quickly scattered, leaving Fischer alone with his fury.
At the edge of the crowd stood Draco Malfoy, watching quietly. Without hesitation, he turned and made his way to his room. Pulling out a quill, he began writing to his parents. He, too, had feelings for Cassandra, and his family had promised that she would be his future wife.
Meanwhile, Cassandra returned to her dorm and collapsed onto her bed, the whole encounter already slipping from her mind. She trusted her parents completely and had no intention of taking Fischer's proposal seriously.
Simon Travers pushed through the dispersing crowd with a cocky smile plastered on his face. Standing just a few feet from Fischer, he folded his arms and said loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, "Well, well, well… looks like the great Fischer Frey finally lost something important — his first love. That must sting."
He took a slow step closer, eyes glinting with mockery . "Tell me, Frey, should I fetch you a handkerchief? Or are you going to drown in those tears all by yourself?"
The students who were dispersed gathered again snickered, feeding off the tension. Simon's tone was light but cutting, like he was enjoying poking at a sleeping dragon.
Fischer's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. His jaw clenched tightly, but he remained silent for a moment, letting Simon's words hang heavily in the air. Then, his voice low and edged with barely hidden irritation, he said, "Keep talking, Travers. You might enjoy the sound of your own voice now—but remember, a Frey always gets what they want. And if they don't… well, you already know what happens."
A sudden chill ran through the crowd, whispers spreading like wildfire as the tension thickened around them.