The Big Dipper

Break Ins and Runaways

Ursula couldn't breathe. Her chest tightened — blood roared in her ears, drowning out all sounds but those of her panting breaths — she couldn't —

She gasped for air, bent double inside her bedroom — no, in the hall — no, at the top of the stairs — voices sounded somewhere below, worried and anxious — feet pounded up the stairs — she couldn't breathe —

Visions of last night haunted her — her friends screaming, writhing, in pain, in terrible, terrible pain — her triumph was their failure — their pain was her fault — she couldn't —

"Woah, Ursula, it's okay," said Hadrian's voice, as his hands rubbed firm circles across her back. But it wasn't okay. And it was her fault. "Breathe, Ursula. Just breathe."

Her breaths were slow, shaky, erratic — it was her fault — her chest tightened and she cried out — Hadrian held her steady — pain was inevitable, but she chose to whom it was inflicted — breathe, she just had to breathe —

Cassius's face swam in her vision, and Ursula squeezed her eyes shut — she couldn't breathe — she couldn't face him, for his suffering was her fault — but he murmured words of comfort into her ear — it was pain for the greater good, but pain it still was — she needed to breathe —

"You're okay," whispered Cassius. "You did the right thing."

Ursula drew a shuddering breath, her lungs working rapidly as she gulped down air. She was alright. She could breathe again. She hoped to Merlin she had done the right thing.

Cassius sat on the steps, the steps of the grand staircase in Corvus Manor, and stared across the magnificent hall, as Hadrian helped Ursula back to her bedroom. He doubted she had gotten a minute of sleep all night. She needed rest. She needed a break from the war. She couldn't have that, though Cassius would give it to her in a heartbeat if he could.

His heart was quietly breaking every time he saw her panic, her slender hands gripping the railing like a lifeline, her pale face gaunt with fear. She worked harder than any of them to fight this war, but all of her necessary secrecy meant she was often fighting alone, leading the charge through the fog of battle, with no end in sight. She was exhausted. Cassius was exhausted. The fatigue of war was the hardest foe of all to overcome.

"I've given her a Sleeping Draught, but I can't promise she'll take it," said Hadrian, his voice tired. He rubbed his face in his hands as he came down the stairs. "I'll tell her house elves to check on her at lunchtime, and then we can leave, alright?"

Cassius nodded mutely. The worst part of being punished by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was how Hadrian reacted. How Ursula reacted. He saw the horror shining in their eyes. He couldn't let them know how much he was hurting. He couldn't cause them any more pain.

After it happened — after Hadrian helped him stand, leaving a pool of blood in Ursula's drawing room, after the Dark Lord left, after the injured Death Eaters went home to nurse their wounds — Cassius had gotten an explanation into why not a single muggleborn had been on the train. He saw the heartache in Ursula's eyes, as she explained, hands twisting, that she was hiding them all, as she said where and how and that she was so sorry, Cassius, so so sorry —

Cassius had closed the gap between them with one stride, putting his hands on Ursula's shoulders to tell her how right, how just, she had been to do what she had, how he was proud of her, how he would have done exactly the same thing. The war took its toll on all of them, and more and more sacrifices would have to be made. Cassius would make Ursula's sacrifices, of which she seemed to have so many, worth it.

He and Hadrian Apparated outside the Ministry. Normally, Hadrian would use the Floo, as he, as Thicknesse's assistant, was considered high ranking enough to deserve it, but not today, if only so he could spend a few extra minutes with Cassius. They joined the queue for what appeared to be an ordinary underground public toilet, tiled in grimy black and white. All around them, their fellow wizards regarded them with suspicion and hostility, cowed as they walked past.