Is there no girl at Hogwarts prettier than Fleur?
If you said that next year, maybe it would still hold true.
After all, Veratia and Cassandra have both graduated by then, leaving Fleur in a "when the tiger's away, the monkey claims the throne" phase.
But the problem is, Cassandra hasn't graduated yet this year.
"She's just too beautiful…"
Viktor's date stared at Cassandra, utterly enchanted as she spoke.
From the start, she'd been deeply unhappy with Fleur's remark.
What, you really think so highly of yourself that Hogwarts has no one prettier than you?
But lacking the strength herself, she couldn't step up and slap Fleur in the face.
Now, Cassandra's arrival perfectly filled that void.
Hmph.
Who says Hogwarts has no beautiful girls?
There, you're seeing one today.
Cassandra walked with ladylike grace, gliding elegantly to Harry's side.
She looked with great satisfaction at Harry's slightly dazed gaze, reached out, and pinched his cheek.
"I'm not too late, am I, Potter?"
"Not late." Harry said, pulling out a chair from beside him. "Sit. You must be starving after not eating all day. What do you want? Just tap the table and say it, like this…"
He demonstrated, summoning a cup of pumpkin juice.
"I've eaten." Cassandra said with a faint smile.
As a lady, eating in such a setting was somewhat improper, so before setting out, she'd had a light bite to tide over her stomach.
She held her head high, sweeping a very queenly glance over Fleur, who was staring at her, and curled a smile brimming with aggression.
Viktor's date, witnessing this, had already turned into a squealing groundhog in her mind.
Yes! Just like that! Your Majesty!
I've never loved Slytherin as much as I do today!
The banquet on the sidelines continued. Once Cassandra sat down, most students could no longer see her, so they lowered their heads and resumed battling the food before them.
Harry glanced around. When his eyes landed on Viktor, he saw the other boy give a big thumbs-up.
The meaning was clear: man-to-man praise.
Nice one, bro, landing a girl this gorgeous…
Harry smiled back, lifting his pumpkin juice from the table.
"Where's Veratia?" Harry asked casually, sipping his pumpkin juice between bites. "Didn't they say they'd all come to the ball together?"
"What?" Cassandra huffed lightly. "One dance partner isn't enough for you? Are you really planning to invite three partners to Hogwarts' Christmas Ball?"
This explosive gossip left even Fleur struggling to feel jealous.
Three partners?
Holy cat…
Roger Davies took a deep breath.
You've got a stunning Malfoy miss as your date and you still want more? Three of them!
Some guys die of drought, others drown in flood…
Comparisons between people are odious, goods thrown out when outclassed…
It's just too much!
"Oh." Harry waved dismissively. "Nothing, just wondering about them."
He muttered, "This pumpkin juice is a bit sweet."
Soon, the food was finished. Dumbledore stood, calling the students to rise as well.
With a wave of his wand, he sent the tables zooming to the walls, clearing a space in the center. He conjured a raised stage against the right wall, equipped with a drum kit, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and a few organs.
Then, the Weird Sisters surged onto the stage, met with thunderous applause from the crowd.
Their hair was wildly thick, and they wore deliberately tattered black robes.
They picked up their instruments, presumably tuning them, producing a shrill, grating screech.
Suddenly, all the lanterns on the tables went out. At the same moment, Viktor and Fleur rose with their respective partners.
"Dancing's starting, Potter." Viktor reminded in a grave voice.
Only then did Harry set down his pumpkin juice, stand, and extend a hand to Cassandra.
"Beautiful miss," Harry said in an exaggerated tone, "might I have the honor of inviting you to a dance?"
In answer, Cassandra offered her small hand.
Even through the white lace glove, Harry could feel its softness.
At this point, Harry suddenly grew nervous.
Cassandra noticed her partner's tension and whispered in his ear, "Relax, Potter—just like before. Remember how I taught you to dance?"
Well, yes, there was that, though it was a hundred years ago.
Just then, the Weird Sisters struck up a slow, melancholic tune.
Harry and Cassandra stepped into the brightly lit dance floor. Cassandra took one of his hands in hers, placing his other on her waist.
"No Grindelwald slimness, right?"
When she said this, Harry could clearly hear the reluctance in her voice.
Ha…
That Grindelwald woman…
Why?
Why was her waist so unreasonably tiny?
But she'd overlooked one thing: Veratia wasn't just slimmer in the waist; her cup size was four sizes larger, too.
"You didn't get me a gift. A Christmas gift."
Harry changed the subject, speaking softly.
They swayed together to the music in the middle of the dance floor.
"Oh, really?" Cassandra huffed. "Don't worry, Potter—I've prepared a gift for you."
"What is it?" Harry asked in a low voice.
"You should be more composed, not so impatient." Cassandra said softly. "Look, your steps are getting messy… Ah, you little rascal!"
She cried out because Harry had stepped on her little leather shoe.
"Sorry, sorry." Harry apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to—"
"Fine, you've always been clumsy, Potter." Cassandra said softly. "Just like when I first met you—clumsy, unable to do anything right, weren't you?"
"How do you know I'm still clumsy?" Harry countered.
"I just…"
Halfway through, Cassandra suddenly stopped.
A suspicious blush flared across her face.
Hmm…
As everyone knew, Harry was quite accomplished in magic.
But he'd always been a bit unfocused. Now, he'd actually used magic to slip his hand inside Cassandra's clothes, pressing it directly against the bare skin of her lower back.
"Really?" he asked softly. "Am I that clumsy?"
"A-a little." Cassandra said, face red.
Harry didn't push further; he simply savored the brief intimacy.
It had to be admitted: Cassandra's skin felt better than the world's finest silk.
Warm, supple, unimaginably smooth.
Harry gently stroked it while peering over Cassandra's shoulder at the surroundings.
Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby—Harry could see Ginny frowning and dodging frequently because Neville kept stepping on her feet. Dumbledore was waltzing with an unfamiliar old woman; or rather, Harry felt the woman looked strikingly familiar but couldn't place where he'd seen her.
Mad-Eye Moody was clumsily two-stepping with Professor Sinistra, who nervously avoided his wooden leg.
Hagrid, meanwhile, danced with Madame Maxime, nestling bird-like in her arms, gazing up at her with adoring eyes while his other hand stealthily slid downward.
Who knew you had it in you, Hagrid!
Suddenly, Harry felt a certain image of Hagrid shatter in his mind.
So…
Should I follow Hagrid's example?
It was definitely worth learning.
Thinking this, Harry slid the hand inside her clothes lower.
The trouble was, he forgot to pull it out first.
Cassandra's neck could no longer support her head; it slumped onto Harry's shoulder, skin against skin. Harry could even feel the heat radiating from her cheek.
"A-are you trying to kill me?" Cassandra whimpered threateningly. "This… with so many people… move your hand up, now!"
"Huh?" Harry pretended not to understand. "You mean, if it were just us two, it'd be okay?"
"You…" Cassandra opened her mouth and bit his neck.
"Really?" Harry persisted, knowing full well the bite was mostly flirtatious.
"Stop…" Cassandra's breathing grew rapid.
"So, if we're alone, I can do this?" Harry asked.
"Mmm…" Cassandra hummed through her nose. "Yes… yes…"
Only then did Harry return his hand to her waist, grinning as they continued dancing.
"So," Harry said again, "I think we should change how we address each other—'Potter' really doesn't fit our relationship…"
Cassandra didn't reply; she was still flustered and annoyed, itching to bite his shoulder hard.
"Hey, you're not saying anything." Harry said helplessly. "Keep this up and believe me, I'll—"
"Potter!" Cassandra suddenly lifted her head, glaring at him with thin anger. "Are you proud of yourself?"
Harry was indeed proud; these were rare moments he could tease Cassandra.
Well, not entirely rare.
Ever since the maid incident, Harry had held a special edge over Cassandra in certain areas.
One push, and she'd surrender completely.
"Not bad." Harry seized her weak spot again.
Cassandra's slender waist straightened instantly, then she melted bonelessly against his shoulder once more.
"Let's sit, okay?" she asked, almost pleading; she truly couldn't stand much longer.
"Oh—but this song is so nice!" Harry said, just as the Weird Sisters launched into a new, much faster piece.
"I can't stand anymore, Potter…" Cassandra pleaded in a mosquito-like whisper.
"Hold on!" Harry withdrew his hand and gave her slender waist a pat.
Seeing Harry refuse, Cassandra had no choice. She slumped into his arms, relying entirely on his support to stay upright.
"Just dance a bit," Harry continued. "You won't get me a Christmas gift, won't dance with me—this makes me pretty mad, you know…"
"I did prepare one!" Cassandra whimpered hysterically, voice trembling.
"Really?" Harry said skeptically. "Where is it? Where's your sincerity? I don't see it."
"I-I didn't bring it…" Cassandra whispered. "But tonight you'll know… know what the gift is… Can we rest on the side now? I'm really tired…"
"Tired after one dance…" Harry pretended to be upset. "Looks like you don't want to dance with me. Guess I'll call Veratia instead…"
At this point, Harry knew pushing further would be too much; if Cassandra pushed back, it'd ruin things.
So he shifted gears.
"Of course, if you agree to change the nickname and stop calling me 'Potter,' we can rest on the side for a bit."
"Ch-change… to what?" Cassandra's dazed eyes suddenly focused.
She really couldn't stand anymore. Damn this Potter… he really knew how to mischief…
How did I… how did I ever fall for such a little rascal?
But…
He was pretty endearing.
"That's up to you." Harry whispered. "What do you think I'd like to be called?"
Cassandra forced her overloaded brain into overdrive. After a long pause, she asked, nearly short-circuiting, "How about… Daddy?"
"Huh?" Harry asked, stunned.
The boy froze upright.
Shh, I'm thinking…
No, sis…
Daddy, what the heck?!
Cassandra realized what she'd just said and quickly backtracked: "No, I misspoke… I mean… how about just Harry… like Grindelwald and the others…"
"That's fine, but doesn't it feel repetitive?" Harry whispered in her ear. "You can call me that normally, but when we're alone, what should you call me?"
Cassandra's brain overloaded again.
"Call… call you Master?" she asked coyly. "Like… um, like that day, okay…"
"Y-yeah, that works." Harry really did love that title, especially the role-reversal it brought.
After all, a century ago, he and Cassandra had been master and servant—of course, Cassandra was the master, and he the servant…
--
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