She'd intercepted the missive. She'd decoded it. Now she lay in wait for whoever'd sent it. She was not who they'd be expecting. But, to be fair, she didn't know who to expect, either. It was just too important to leave to anyone else.

The note was to her Ravenclaw friend (yes, she had one or two outside Slytherin) from whoever had been leading on her Ravenclaw friend so cavalierly. The friend herself didn't know Cissa had stolen the note. The friend herself was being a terrible doormat. Calling it "casual"—but who was she fooling? Cissa was going to the rendezvous in her stead and telling the cad off. Her friend was never going to end it. But clearly she should. She'd thank Cissa for it eventually.

So Cissa waited, as daintily as possible, behind a shrub; staying motionless with her famous poise, with which she could recite the Black family tree while balancing eight books and Aunt Walburga's cat on her head.

She finally heard movement in the undergrowth and prepared to ambush.

Only to see who it was, and stomp upright, breaking twigs everywhere, and expostulating, "For Merlin's sake!!"