James sat down in the grass, after school, dressed like himself, no robes. He tugged Cassie's hand so she'd sit next to him at the foot of the rose bushes to discuss their plans to travel to London to offer Cassie herself as the donor of the magic energy needed to fix her mother's memory. Cassie had already decided it would help her parents to accept her offering if they were able to see her living well without much magic.
That's why she and James would be traveling by Muggle trains, and staying in a Muggle home in London, her Granger grandparents' house in Heathgate. They had already agreed to pick Cassie up at King's Cross in the morning, before the surgery opened, unaware that her parents wouldn't be expecting her in London for another day. James arriving with her would be a surprise for everyone, but Cassie was confident not even her Gran would be stern enough to send him away. Especially if no one told her James had a home of his own in town.
Before leaving, there was more to arrange. James produced a blank parchment and a quill, writing a message to send by owl. "Unless we want to be picked off the train by an annoyed and disappointed famous Auror before we even make it out of Scotland, we'll need to let my dad know we're going," he explained.
Cassie hummed. "What in the world are you going to say to him?"
James snorted. "I dunno. Probably not, Hey, Harry Potter, remember Draco Malfoy? I'm missing a few days of school right before my OWLs to head off uninvited to his birthday with his cute daughter by Muggle train so we can transform her into a squib..."
"...But she's rubbish at magic so it's no great loss," Cassie finished, lying back on the grass.
James set the parchment aside and lay on his side next to her. "Yes, it is -- a terrible loss."
She turned to look at him, blinking. "Don't come with me if it's going to make trouble for you. I mean it. You can stay here and study. I'm better suited to survive in the Muggle world than you might think. I'll be fine. If I'm not, then you can come find me."
He smiled, but sadly. "No, my parents aren't all that worried about marks. And I hate it here alone."
"When have you ever been alone?"
"What I mean is, the best way to find Castora Malfoy wherever she goes is to not lose sight of her in the first place." He leaned across the turf between them and kissed her cheek.
"I like when you do that," she said, smiling up at the sky. "That's all I know about kissing: just what I like. But I have questions about it, you know, and no one I can ask."
"What about Griselda? She writes those long snogging stories about Veelas. She must have some, er, expertise when it comes to..."
Cassie exaggerated a shudder. "No. I had to cancel my subscription to her note-fics after she started snogging Pollux in real life."
James twitched. "Right. Rose then? Wait -- no. Definitely don't ask Rose. She'll blab everything to my mum."
"See? It's hopeless."
"Just ask me," James volunteered. "I've -- had more practice, sorry to say."
She narrowed her eyes. "Alright then," she said, scooting closer to him, "if I put my mouth on your face, like this, but I don't make the kissing sound, have I actually kissed you? If I just keep talking against your cheek, my lips touch you over and over again but does it count?"
James turned to catch her chattering mouth with his. She was quiet for a moment as he kissed her before she was talking again, still pressed against his mouth. "That counts, obviously. Though..."
Speaking the "th" sound thrust her tongue against his lips and James sat up quickly, blowing out his breath.
"What? What is it? I'm sorry," she said, sitting up herself.
"No, it's fine. It's -- way too fine," he said. "Cassie, I'm trying to figure out how to convince my dad and your brother and eventually your parents and grandparents that I'm a trustworthy traveling companion for you -- "
"Oh, no one cares about that."
"They do, you daft thing," he said. "I'm trying to prove I can be a complete gentleman. But you're so -- it's just that if anyone thinks they've spotted us rolling around snogging in the grass -- "
"We're not."
"Right," he smirked. "Anyways, we've got to be careful. So try not to lick me, or no one's going to trust me. And they'd be right not to, frankly."
"I did not lick you."
He hushed her. "You might have. Unintentionally. But still..."
"See, these are the kinds of questions I need answered," she said.
He pressed his right cheek against her left one and spoke into her ear. "I'll tell you everything I know when we get back from London."
"What does that even mean?'
He leaned closer to her ear, as if he was about to whisper something more to her, but then he flicked the tip of his tongue against her earlobe instead. Cassie yelped and sat back, laughing and pushing at him, telling him to finish writing to his father.
It was a difficult letter to write, only ever half true. Harry already knew about Hermione's injury and clearly wanted to help however he could. James knew that and made it the basis of his appeal to support Cassie. If she was happy, it was more likely that Hermione would be happy as well. From there, the truth got complicated.
James was sure to mention that Paul was going back to London for the same family gathering, but he did not add that Paul would be apparating there with Griselda rather than making the long trip by train with his sister. James mentioned staying with the Grangers so it would sound like everything had been legitimately organized with the adults of the family, but he didn't say that no one in Cassie's family expected him to be coming along.
Finally, he added a cryptic note at the end, remarking on how well his wandless charms were coming along. He didn't mean it boastfully, but reassuringly. Underaged wizards with the trace on them, like himself and Cassie, would only trip an alarm for using magic out of school if they used a wand to do it. This had been why Harry had started training his own children in wandless magic so young, and it was why he could trust that James could travel without having to choose between either making himself magically helpless or risking punishment.
"I don't think it's persuasive enough that he would have given us permission," James said as he rolled the parchment in the owlery. "But it might be a good enough explanation for him to tolerate me leaving once I've already gone and done it. At least he knows there's no emergency, everyone's safe, at any rate. That's the best we can hope for."
He tossed his owl out the tower window and watched it glide and swoop into the sunset, toward home. Cassie closed her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, looking out over the grounds of the school.
He jostled her, disturbing her view. "It's not the last time you'll see it like this," he said. "We will be back."
__________________________
The rest of the evening was spent watching the third floor corridor on James's grandfather's map, waiting for the area around the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor to clear out so they could open the passageway from there to Hogsmeade. If they didn't make it out of Hogwarts by eight o'clock that night, they would miss the last train from Hogsmeade station to Newcastle and the Muggle world.
James had known about the One-eyed Witch passageway for some time but had never used it. Even in the summertime, it was cold and gloomy, earthy and wet. Already he was cross with himself for bringing Cassie somewhere like this. She held his hand in both of hers as she followed him for close to an hour through the dark tunnel.
On their way, James tried to think of something inspirational to say. "I reckon our parents came through here, during the war. It was the path they took when they came out of hiding to face the dark lord. Of course, my mum was already inside the castle, waiting to get started."
"Not my dad," Cassie said.
James had forgotten and silently scolded himself.
Cassie went on. "Dad apparated into the castle during the battle, once everything was weakened and chaotic."
"It was weakened, yes, but still -- how exactly did he do that?"
"I don't know. Maybe it had something to do with anti-apparation charms being practiced in our family for so long, though that never does me any good. I'm not sure. Paul read about it, in the library. Dad never talks about those times himself."
James squeezed her hand, mostly to make sure she was still there, still real. She truly was a Malfoy. It wasn't just a name, a label. At times, their fathers had the power to let each other die, but each time, they had resisted it, rejected it. James hoped that was the real connection between their families: not enmity for each other but defiance of higher powers that had it all wrong.
"I'm glad we both made it here," Cassie said, as if she could hear him thinking.
"Me too."
At last, they were coming out the cellar door of a shop in Hogsmeade, into the fresh air of a summer night. James stretched, only then realizing he'd been walking with his shoulders tense, pulled up toward his ears. Cassie's light hair was still visible in the moonlight. They'd been side-by-side the entire length of the tunnel, but it was good to see her again.
The attendant at the train station was hesitant to sell them any tickets. The Daily Prophet was in the midst of publishing a series on the debauchery of today's young people, including a piece on the perils of truancy. But Cassie was able to produce a note from Hermione, addressed to Professor Longbottom, giving her permission to make a trip home this week, and the attendant released the tickets.
It would take about two hours for the train to get from Hogsmeade to Newcastle. From there, they would spend the rest of the night on a Muggle train to London. Once the wheels lurched them forward, James opened his book bag and made as if to study for his potions OWL.
Cassie laughed at him.
"What? I have to be boring so you'll fall asleep," he said. "You need rest. It's going to be a long night."
"I'm not sleepy. I'm lit up, like the mobile -- all electrified."
"Magical?" he tried.
"No, non-magical, and powerful anyway. Look out there," she waved a hand at the window. "There's nothing out there. And we brought ourselves to it. We got away from everything." She held his arm and perched her chin on his shoulder, speaking up into his face. "Don't study. Don't sleep. Be here with me."
For the second time that day, James kissed her. She didn't talk through it this time, but the kiss deepened on its own as dark hills and lakes passed unseen outside the window. He didn't dare touch her with his hands, leaving them clenched around his potions book in his lap. Cassie touched his face, his neck, his coarse, dark hair. It grew in tufts and ridges, "Like mine," she said, breaking away. "Your hair between my fingers feels like mine."
James let the back of his head fall against the headrest of the train seat. "Please go to sleep, Cassie. For the love of Operation Trustworthy Traveling Companion, go to sleep."
She slid her fingers out of his hair. "Go on then, let's read your potions book together."
Soon, she did fall asleep. He stopped reading and watched her though he knew it was sappy, maybe creepy. He smiled down at her, sleeping against his shoulder, and pushed her hair out of her face. What was he doing? This family crisis of hers had nothing to do with him and still he was risking all kinds of trouble to be here, with her. Did she make him feel heroic? Was he as much like his dad as everyone said and only truly happy when he had someone to save? Or maybe -- no, it was too soon. She was only fifteen, for stars' sake. But he couldn't help wondering what love felt like, and he pressed his closed lips to her forehead just as a light flashed on, and then off in the carriage.