Chapter 40: 23
Summer Break
Calista hadn't wanted Severus to enter her mind to try and fix the connection problem she was having with Transfiguration right away. She was still somewhat shaken by the realisation that he had modified her memory without her knowing it, and she asked him to wait until she'd had time to get used to the idea.
Once she had explained, he supposed he understood. That she seemed more or less okay with him routinely slipping into her mind to test her barriers and train her to make them stronger had begun to feel normal to him, but he had to remember that for her, it took an extraordinary amount of trust. He prided himself on maintaining that trust, never tried to read memories that he didn't think she wanted him to, and never lingered in her mind longer than he needed to to help or protect her, but he was always upfront about when he was entering her mind. That, just once, he had not thought to be, had - temporarily, he hoped - weakened her trust in him.
He didn't like it, didn't necessarily agree with it, but he understood her feelings, and so he agreed to put Occlumency lessons on hold as well, though he had set a limit of a month on the agreement, for her own protection. She was getting stronger, that was true, but Bellatrix could be, too.
Still, they were getting back to normal. Their typical back-and-forth banter had returned, at any rate.
They'd been eating dinner one night when he brought up her planned course load for the next year. Students typically chose their electives at the end of their second year, through the deadline wasn't until two weeks into the summer. The revelation about her difficulties in Transfiguration, coupled with the fact that she already had extra lessons, had complicated things a bit, and he hadn't submitted her requests yet.
"So," he said, watching her chase several peas around with a fork, "I know you were considering taking up the Study of Ancient Runes next year, but I thought I'd let you know that the Headmaster is willing to allow you to count your additional Potions lessons as well as your Occlumency lessons towards your elective requirements, so you don't have to."
"Huh?" She stopped, her fork halfway to her mouth, and the peas promptly rolled off it. Some of them landed back on her plate, but a few rolled across the table, and at least one landed on the floor. "You're joking, right?"
"Yes, the subject of timetables is positively rife with comedy," he said, drily.
"Did you even read my form?" she asked, "I put down Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures."
"Well, the only one you've really spoken to me about before is Ancient Runes, so I assumed you'd only put the others down because you thought you had to."
"No," she said, bringing her fork to her plate again. She gave up on the peas and speared a piece of chicken instead. "I want to take all three of them."
Severus sighed, and set his own fork down. "Calista, I'm not certain that will be possible. Your lessons with me give you two lessons more than anyone else already, as I said, and Professor McGonagall wants you in remedial Transfiguration again, and you need to take flying lessons besides."
She winced, swallowed her mouthful of food. "You haven't forgotten about that?"
"I'm afraid not; and, for your information, in an attempt to make up for upsetting you at the end of term, I did try to have you permanently excused from them, but it's evidently 'an essential skill for any witch or wizard'."
"What if I just skive off?" she asked, spiritedly, waving her fork around, "And they'll refer me to you for detention, right? And you can just let me off, since you agree with me that flying lessons are rubbish, anyway?"
"I could do that," he said, "If you wanted me to be accused of favoritism, and have my Head of House position revoked."
"They can't do that," she said rationally, "You're the only Professor that was in Slytherin, right? Who else are they going to choose?"
"I feel insulted, for some reason."
"No, Dad, seriously," she said, and her eyes had gone wide, "I can't take Flying this year, I just can't."
"I'm waiting with bated breath for the reason."
"It's a bunch of first years," she said, "I can't be in a class with a bunch of first years!"
"You could have taken it in your first year, but you preferred to wait."
"No," she said, "I preferred to have you forget all about it, actually."
Severus rose, and gathered his plate and flatware, setting them down in the sink. He turned around, leaning casually against the worktop to look at her.
"Ah, I see. Frankly, I think you should have known better than that. When have I ever forgotten to make you do something you don't like to do? Ruining your day is my favorite thing, remember?"
"You're not funny."
"A pity, I thought I was doing so well. Perhaps I should go back to telling timetable jokes?"
She rolled her eyes, and gathered her own dishes, brushing past him to set them in the sink as well.
"Don't forget to pick up all those peas," he said. "We're not at Hogwarts; we don't have any house elves."
She brushed them off the table with one hand into the other, bent down to retrieve a couple off the floor. "I'd rather be a house elf than take flying lessons," she grumbled, disposing of the stray peas.
"At least it's not for the entire year," he pointed out, reasonably, "The lessons only go six weeks."
"That's plenty of time for me to fall off and break my neck," she said, "Or crash into a building, or have a bunch of stupid first years make fun of me, or something else horrible like that."
He pretended to wince. "Oh, do you think that's a possibility? I wasn't at all concerned about a deadly injury, but if you think someone might laugh at you? Perhaps it is too dangerous."
"You're still not funny," she said, but he could see her working not to smile.
"At any rate," he said, "The maximum number of slots in your timetable is eleven. With your form the way it is, and the other lessons you have to take, you'd be at fourteen. Even if you can drop remedial Transfiguration and Flying partway through the year, that's still twelve."
"You could let me off extra Potions."
He narrowed his eyes. "You should have considered that before you decided to brew illegal potions in your wardrobe."
"I was kind of hoping you'd forgotten about that, too." She grinned at him, pushing her chair in and leaning against the back of it. Without realising it, she was mimicking his posture. "Nah, I'm not serious. I actually like the extra lessons."
"Is there one of those classes you could do without? Perhaps we can work something out if both of your extra lessons with me are at the weekends."
"I really want to take all of them," she said, "Arithmancy and Ancient Runes will help me understand magical theory, which will help me with all my other classes, really," she said, "And I like animals. Kim Avery told me that you get to see a unicorn in fifth year."
Severus frowned. "Even if you can make time for all of those classes, it's quite a workload. I'm not certain it's wise."
"I can handle it. Besides, I won't be studying for Transfiguration nearly as often if it starts actually working for me, right?"
"You have an extraordinary amount of catching up to do," he reminded her, and was rewarded with a scowl.
"It's not fair," she said, which was a tactic she hadn't tried in quite some time. "Everyone else gets to take whichever electives they want. I don't see why I have to be any different. You saw the rest of my exam scores; it's not like I'm struggling with anything besides Transfiguration. I can handle it."
He regarded her for a moment, weighing her words.
"There is one possible solution," he said, "You could apply for a Time Turner, but there are an extraordinary amount of restrictions and laws you'd need to be conscious of."
"Students can get Time Turners?" she was immediately intrigued, "I thought those were only for really important Ministry officials, or something."
"Well, it's not common, but it has been known to happen. There's an application process, and the Ministry will want to review your academic record. In all honesty, I think your remedial class may present a problem. I've never known of a student who was approved that was in remedial lessons."
"But I can try," she said, "Maybe they can give me a condition, like I have to be caught up by Christmas break, or something. I really want to take all of those classes."
Severus stepped forward, shifting his weight off the edge of the worktop. He put one hand on her shoulder, and used the other to tip her chin up, so she looked right into his face.
"It is imperative that you understand that if you are granted a Time Turner, you absolutely must follow all the rules governing its use exactly. You'll not even be allowed to tell your friends you have it, and certainly not allowed to let one of them talk you into abusing it. You wouldn't only be in trouble at school if you did; you could be in trouble with the law, as well."
"I know, Dad."
"There will be all sorts of forms to sign," he said, "And they'll want you to log each and every time you use it, if they even let you have one in the first place."
"I understand. I won't do anything I'm not supposed to, I promise. I just want to be able to take all my classes."
He nodded, reluctantly. "All right; I'll send your timetable request in, along with a request for a Time Turner, but I can't promise they'll approve it while you're still in remedial lessons."
She groaned. "Will you stop saying that r-word? I hate it."
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Dear Calista,
How is your summer so far? Mum says you can come over and stay again, if you want. We could play Gobstones again, or anything else you want to do. I'm sad we couldn't spend more time together this year at school. Maybe when term starts again, you and Olivia can make friends again, so it can be like it was before, with all four of us.
I know she wants to be your friend again, because your cat left a dead mouse at the door to our room, and Portia wanted to put it in your bed, but Olivia told her to throw it out instead. I was going to tell you, but you haven't been around much, except when we were studying.
Anyway, I miss you, and I would really like to see you this summer, so let me know if you want to come over. Mum is going to write to your dad, to make sure it's all right with him again.
Your friend,
Emily
Dear Calista,
Have you chosen your electives yet? I'm going to take Study of Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, and Divination. I've considered it carefully, and I believe those are the options that will best set me up for success after Hogwarts.
I must admit I'm concerned for this year, not only because of how much more important my academic record will be now that the later years of my education are approaching, but also because my younger brothers Fred and George are starting at Hogwarts this year, as well.
They're twins, and they are constantly getting into trouble, with no regard whatsoever for how it reflects on the rest of the family. I only hope that they won't negatively affect my chances at becoming a Prefect; I shall have to try my best to keep them in line. You're lucky you haven't any siblings to prejudice people one way or another about you; sometimes I think it would be easier if I were an only child. Of course I love my family, but there are so many of us it's hard to stand out.
I've been reading a fantastic book this summer that I think you might enjoy. It's called 'Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century' and some of them are simply fascinating. I'll let you borrow my copy if you like, although I think it's at the Hogwarts library as well.
Have a happy summer, and do tell me if you read any interesting books!
Sincerely,
Percy I. Weasley
Calista received owls from Emily and Percy the same day, and after she had read them, she set them both aside on her bed, and went through the small flat in search of her father. She found him in the small sitting room, reading a very thick book. She squinted, but couldn't quite make out the title. She thought she saw the word Curses on it.
"Dad?"
He looked up at her over the top of the book.
"Yes?"
"Emily's mother is going to write to you to ask if I can stay with them again this summer. I don't want to."
"Why not? I thought you had fun last year."
"I did, but… uhm, I think Olivia might be there, too, so I'd rather just stay here."
In fact, Calista was certain Olivia wouldn't be there, because she knew Emily was afraid to invite her or Portia, because Emily lived in a poor neighbourhood and didn't want the other girls to ridicule her for it.
"Perhaps you can go a different week than Olivia?"
"I don't want to go," she repeated, "So maybe if you just told Emily's mother that I'm not allowed to, or something?"
He lowered the book to his lap, holding his page with his index finger. "It's your choice whether you go or not," he said, "But you should at least do your friend the courtesy of telling her the reason you don't want to."
Well, that wasn't going to happen. Aside from the fact that she was still wounded by Emily's declaration that they could only be friendly at school as long as Olivia approved, she had been mortified during her visit last year, first when Emily's mother had noticed that she hadn't washed her hair, and then… she shivered, even thinking about it, and decided to trust her father with part of the reason.
"I had a nightmare when I was there last year," she said, studiously focusing on the bookshelf behind him. It made it easier to keep her expression neutral. "It was… really embarrassing. I don't want it to happen again."
"You haven't had them as often recently," he pointed out.
"I know, but… still. I'd just… rather not."
"Well," he said, and he seemed a bit softened, "Why don't you just tell your friend you'd like to go, but you're too busy. You do have schoolwork to catch up on, after all, and we've been invited to visit the Malfoys as well."
She nodded, and turned to leave, but then she stopped, glancing back at him.
"I think I'm ready to start Occlumency lessons again," she said, "And for you to try and fix the other thing."
He nodded. "After dinner, then?"
"Okay."
It was the idea of seeing Lucius Malfoy again that had decided her. She recalled the way he had tried to read her thoughts when they'd stayed with them for Christmas break, and she wanted to be certain she could still deflect him well enough, if he were to try it again.
Calista went back to her room, and sat on the edge of her bed, using a textbook as a writing-desk. With her cat sitting beside her, she picked up a quill and wrote back to both of her friends.
Dear Emily,
Thank you for inviting me over. I do miss spending time with you, but I have a lot going on this summer, and I don't think I'll have time. I'm visiting some family, and I have to study to catch up in Transfiguration.
I still don't understand why you want to be friends with Olivia and Portia so badly, they're both awful. I haven't had one detention since I stopped trying to be friendly with them, and no one's asked me to let them cheat off my exams. Imagine how much free time you'd have if you stopped doing their homework for them.
Have a good summer. I'll see you when term starts.
Calista
PS: Tell Portia if she puts a mouse in my bed, I'll let Yellow use hers as a litter box.
Precisely as she had finished writing that, Yellow had started purring next to her, as if agreeing. Calista grinned, and leaned over to stroke the cat affectionately. "Make sure to get her pillow, too," she said quietly, scratching between the cat's ears.
She rolled the letter to Emily up, and tied a string around it, then took a new piece of parchment.
Dear Percy,
I'm taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes too, and also Care of Magical Creatures. I'm still taking extra Potions lessons with my dad as well.
I don't think your brothers will harm your chances at becoming a Prefect. They're different people, no one can possibly expect you to be in control of them all the time. Anyway, if you do something you shouldn't, you can always blame it on the twins, and if they're as bad as you say no one will question it.
I heard Professor Quirrell is brilliant, so I'm not sure what he's teaching Muggle Studies for. It sounds a bit dull to me, I would think the class would be really boring. Maybe you can switch to Care of Magical Creatures instead, I heard Slytherins and Gryffindors take it together.
I'll see if my dad has that book you mentioned, he has loads. I haven't really read any new books, but I haven't gone to Diagon Alley yet. I can't wait to get my hands on the books for Ancient Runes.
See you at the start of term.
Calista
She rolled and tied that letter too, and was about to put her quill and parchment away, when she decided to send off one more.
Dear Marcus,
I hope your summer's going well. Are you in extra Transfigurations lessons again this year? I'm going to be stuck in them, so it will at least be nice to have someone I know in the class with me.
The other thing they're making me take is Flying. I got out of it my first year, but now they're saying I have to take it. It's going to be so boring, I don't like flying. I don't even understand why we have to learn to fly, anyway, I'm obviously just going to Apparate everywhere once I'm of age, anyway.
Calista
She wanted to write to Kim too, but she didn't really have anything to say. She couldn't talk about classes, because Kim was going to be taking N.E.W.T.s this year; she wouldn't care about Calista's third-year classes. She shrugged, and put away her things, then she went to ask her father to borrow Nox, his sooty owl, so she could send her letters.
When that was finished, she pulled out her Transfiguration book from last year. It couldn't hurt to study in preparation of possibly having her ability to transfigure things fixed, could it?
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Severus stood in front of Calista in the study, wand lifted. He recalled, for some reason, a flashback of a memory from when she was small. She was at the orphanage, and the staff had wanted to perform a paternity test before sending her home with him. He recalled how she had become terrified, wild, as soon as a wand was pointed at her, that it had taken several of them to try and restrain her, before he'd told them to just let her go.
Now, she didn't even flinch, at least not from him. He wished he could have shown himself, back then, what he'd eventually be able to accomplish with her. There had been quite a stretch of time where it had seemed hopeless, where he'd wondered if she'd ever be able to trust anyone enough to simply stop expecting they were about to curse her at any moment.
"Legilimens," he said, looking into her eyes.
His wand boosted his power, so it was a little easier to breach her barriers than it normally would have been. Even so, the barriers she had were not the gossamer cobwebs of a few years ago, and passing through them required a deliberate effort, even if it was not much, for him. He could tell, though, that she wasn't putting much into resisting him, since she was allowing him to enter to try and find the faulty connection that was causing her problems with Transfiguration.
He ignored the surface thoughts in the first layer of her mind, and slipped through the next barrier. He had a feeling that the problem would be somewhere on the inside of her mind, near her psychic core. The second layer of her mind was where the majority of her day-to-day thoughts, memories, and emotions were housed, but he ignored these too, and approached the third and final barrier.
This one, he was pleased to note, was just as sturdy as the first two; once, she had had trouble keeping a consistent strength between barriers. He slipped through, and examined the landscape of her mind beyond it.
It was reassuring to be in her mind and to know at once that everything felt precisely the way it should have. It had been harrowing to enter her mind, years ago, and feel the dark, malign presence of Bellatrix Lestrange, methodically tearing the child's mind apart.
With the exception of shadowy memories flitting here and there, there was no sign of Bellatrix, now. Instead, Calista's mind was a strong, tightly woven tapestry of emotions, thoughts, knowledge, and words, and each thread resonated with something that felt completely her, at its core.
He picked through them, feeling and following some of the threads, trying to find a place where the tapestry seemed somehow different. He was feeling along a thread that connected to her magical potential, when he came across a snag. He examined it more closely, and found that there was a spot where it should have threaded neatly between another group of strands. Instead, it twisted and knotted about itself before bypassing that group of strands. Further ahead, it wove itself back into the pattern, but not quite where it should have.
He examined the group of threads that this one should have passed through, and saw that there was something in that part of the pattern, that it wasn't woven as tightly as the rest of her mind was. Carefully, he untangled the thread of her magic - it was purple - passing it back through itself until it was straight and unfettered, ready to be woven back into place.
He was startled to find, when he reached the end of the thread, that it was jagged, as if it had been torn forcefully from another thread, or a memory. He called a tendril of his own mind forth to examine it more closely.
There was a shadow, a spark of something foreboding, at the end of the thread where it had been severed. When he surrounded the thread with the stuff of his own mind, he found that it flashed an image at him -
- white lines, marking a crude design on pale flesh, connect, find me, child come home -
Startled, he realised that this thread connected in some way to the scars on her back, that it contained a faint link to Bellatrix, one he could have perhaps followed to find her, with great effort, if he chose.
Did she have a similar thread that connected to him? But no, this didn't seem to be a direct link to Bellatrix, but one that was routed through the cuts that marred Calista's skin. Experimentally, he tried to draw the memory, the image, out of the thread, like sucking venom out of a wound.
For a moment it worked, but then the thread forcefully drew the darkness back into it. It puzzled and concerned Severus; he was quite certain he had removed everything that referred back to the memory of how Calista had gotten those scars.
Was this how Bellatrix was still trying to reach Calista in nightmares? Was she latching on to this tiny fragment of memory? Severus examined it again and again, but he could not find the actual memory of that night, couldn't find even a ghost of the memory itself, only an image of the scars it had left.
There was something else about this thread, though… he concentrated on it, analysed it. Something familiar, powerful, but not precisely Dark.
And then he realised what it was. It was the Trace, the way the Ministry tracked the location of underage witches and wizards. It could not be removed by any means other than the person it was attached to reaching legal age, so that was why Severus couldn't remove it. He realised with a mix of revulsion and grudging admiration that what he had once theorised was correct: Bellatrix had managed to tap into the Trace on Calista, and twist it into something that alerted her to Calista's whereabouts, too. However she had done it, she had done it the night that she had put those scars on Calista.
His initial panic at realising that this bond was indeed unbreakable for him, that he could never truly sever whatever magical ties Bellatrix had placed between herself and her child, subsided slightly when the opposite side of the coin revealed itself to him.
Of course, he could not break the link, but Calista would do it herself one day, by turning seventeen. He did not know if there were still other spells that Bellatrix had attached to her that he had been unable to find, but this one, at least, was one with an expiration date. As long as he kept Calista safe until she was of age, this spell, at least, would be broken then, and one weakness Calista had would cease to be exploitable by her mother.
He couldn't remove or alter the thread any more than he already had by removing the memory that Bellatrix had once attached to it by setting a knife to the child's skin, so the only option that remained was to weave it back into the pattern as properly as he could.
He guided it carefully between the multicoloured threads near it, the ones that had gaps in their pattern. When he was finished, he found that it wasn't quite as thick as the rest of the threads in the pattern around it.
All of the threads in her mind were thicker, stronger, than they had been years ago, as they had grown along with Calista. The older she got, the more resilient her minds and the threads within it would continue to become, but this particular one had suffered for its disconnection, and was fine and weak in comparison to the rest.
Well; it was back in place, which was all that he could do for her. He couldn't modify it, not with the Trace attached to it, not unless he was willing to use whatever sort of twisted Dark magic Bellatrix had, and he would not, not on his own child, not even if it might benefit her. Even if he had been willing to try, he had already seen what unintended consequences there could be to altering the mind. Instead, he eased his way out of her mind and back through her barriers.
As the last of his influence withdrew from her mind, he lowered his wand, and stepped back a pace.
"Did you find what was wrong?" she asked, face pinched in concern. Perhaps she had read something of his expression.
"I did," he said, "I've repaired it as best I can. You'll have a lot of catching up to do, but I believe you will be able to perform transfigurations properly, in time."
"I wish I could practise over the summer," she said, "So I can show Professor McGonagall it's fixed. I'll die if she puts me back in a first year class."
"Somehow, I doubt the consequences would be quite that dire," he said, "But there's no reason that you can't practise this summer, as long as you're practising with me."
"Won't I get in trouble with the Ministry?"
"If you were to go off casting spells left and right as you pleased, yes, you would be in an extraordinary amount of trouble," he said, mainly because he knew she'd do precisely that if he didn't say so, "But if you are practising simple spells in my presence, and we are not near any Muggles, no one would take issue with it."
"Can we try now?" she asked eagerly, "I can go get my wand from my room."
He nodded, and called after her, "You should get in the habit of carrying your wand everywhere with you, even if you can't use it yet outside of school. You don't want to be caught without it in a dangerous situation."
He went out into the kitchen while she fetched her wand, and rummaged through the cupboards and drawers, looking for a box of matches the Muggles they leased the house from might have left behind. By the time he found one, she had joined him the kitchen, with her wand and her Transfiguration book.
He took a single match, and placed it in the middle of the kitchen table.
"We'll start with turning this into a needle," he said, and catching sight of her expression, he added, "You have to get the foundations correct, or you'll keep having the same trouble you've been having, regardless."
She set her book down on the table, aimed her wand at the match, and cast the spell. He could see the eager expectation in her eyes.
The match lifted off the table, wiggled around a bit, and slowly changed colour, becoming silver. It landed back on the table with a small metallic clatter, and both of them stepped closer, peering at it.
It wasn't precisely a match anymore, but it wasn't a needle, either; it was a stainless-steel object that was still shaped like a match, and was utterly useless.
Calista looked at it with angsty disbelief. "But that's exactly what happened before!" she said.
"What were you thinking about, when you cast?" he asked her, trying to sound gentle because he knew she was discouraged.
"About finally getting out of stupid remedial classes!" she said, "But I don't see how that's going to happen."
"Don't think about anything but the match," he said, waving his own wand over the match to change it back to its original state. "Try to picture it changing into a needle in your mind, and let go of everything else you're thinking of. Go on, try again."
She squared her shoulders, exhaled purposefully, and pointed her wand again. This time, after the match had turned silver and clattered metallically down on the table, she held her breath when she leaned over to look at it.
It was still just a silver match.
Seeing her eyebrows knit together in frustration, Severus stepped around the table, and took hold of her shoulder.
"It's going to be difficult," he said, "You're essentially starting over from scratch. Try to forget about everything you've already learned the theory of it, everything you've written in any of your essays. Pretend it's your first day at Hogwarts, and you've never transfigured anything in your life, and keep trying. Hardly anyone ever gets it right on their first day, right?"
Well, he had, when he was eleven, but he wisely kept that to himself.
She nodded, and closed her eyes for several seconds. When she opened them again, he had already changed the match back, and was standing beside her. He released her shoulder, watched her attempt the spell again.
She tried, half a dozen more times, and still got the same result.
"Are you certain you fixed the problem?" she asked, "This is just as difficult as it was before."
He nodded. "It's not a quick fix, Calista. You're still going to need to work at it, like everyone else."
"Everyone else can already do this stupid spell," she snarled, "I'm the only one who can't. I hate Transfiguration. Can't you ask them to let me drop it?"
"I can't, and I wouldn't if I could. You know perfectly well you have to learn at least five years of it to graduate from Hogwarts. It's not impossible, I promise you it's not. You just have to keep emptying your mind, keep trying."
She tried it three more times, each with visibly increasing frustration.
"Anger only helps with curses," he reminded her, and she scowled at him.
"I want to curse the bloody thing," she said darkly. "I want to set it on fire."
"Well," he couldn't resist saying, the corners of his mouth quirking up, "You'll have to change it back to a normal match first."
She glared fiercely at him, and opened her mouth, but he interrupted her before she could speak.
"Whatever you're about to say, do make sure to address me respectfully, or you'll be too busy copying lines to practise any further."
She rolled her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then she said, sourly, "Nevermind, then."
"A wise decision," was all he said, and then, "We'll revisit this another day, I think. That's enough practise for today."
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
They'd gone to visit the Malfoys, just for a day, and it hadn't gone as badly as Calista was afraid it might have, even though her father did make her wear one of her ridiculous dresses again. She drew the line at the tights, though, and so she went to visit them with a green dress that fell to her pale, knobby knees. It was shorter on her than it had been during the winter.
Lucius didn't try to pry into her mind, and Draco was funny. She'd asked her father if they could stop on the way so she could use some of her allowance to buy him a pack of Chocolate Frogs, and he'd seemed pleased that she'd thought of it, and brought her to the store.
She'd given them to Draco, who'd eaten the first frog with a guilty sort of grin. "Mum already told me no more sweets today," he'd confessed to Calista slyly, and she'd laughed. "You should definitely eat another one, then," she'd said, and he had.
He'd rolled his eyes at the first card, which was yet another Albus Dumbledore, but he'd grinned widely when he looked at the second. "Falco Aesalon," he'd said, "Brilliant, I haven't got him yet. Vincent's going to be so jealous."
He'd wanted to use his KidCauldron again, so she'd spent most of their visit in his room with him, watching while he mixed a potion to turn his hair green. He had clearly been using it since Christmas, because he seemed to know more or less what he was doing, and Calista had to offer him very little guidance. Mostly, he peppered her with questions about Hogwarts, and he kept wanting to know about curses. She supposed she probably shouldn't have been telling him, but she liked the way that he seemed to look up to her, and anyway, it didn't sound as if Lucius, at least, would be too upset, from the way he talked about the Hogwarts curriculum.
Before they'd left, Narcissa had given her a hug, and kissed her cheek. "I'll be sending an owl soon," she told Calista, "Before the summer's over, I'd like to spend a day with you, just the two of us. I'd like to get to know my niece; and you should have some new robes, too, something stylish. You've grown a lot taller since Christmas."
"I like my own robes just fine," Calista had told her awkwardly, and Narcissa had smiled gently. "Well, they're serviceable, of course, but we'll find something modern, something all the other girls will be jealous of."
Only a desire to be polite to Narcissa restrained her from laughing in her face. She couldn't imagine that anything she could possibly wear to school would make Olivia Avril jealous, for example. Olivia always wore elaborately tailored robes, usually with designs stitched into them and jewelry to match.
When they'd gotten home, Calista had gone to her room immediately to change into trousers and a comfortable top. "I hate dresses," she announced loudly, hearing it echo through their flat. She wanted to make sure he understood. He didn't reply, even though she knew he must have heard her.
She looked down at her legs, realised the trousers were a few inches too short, now. Narcissa was right, she must have gotten taller. Well, that still didn't mean she needed any fancy new robes. She told herself that she didn't care what she looked like, anyway, she just wanted to do well in school.
Except that wasn't entirely true, or she wouldn't have been so happy to get her ears pierced, wouldn't have started wearing the hair clips her father had gotten her before their last trip to the visit the Malfoys. She wished she was just like Olivia or Endria Folland, a very pretty, dark-skinned girl in Marcus' year that half the boys in Slytherin seemed to fancy. Even Kim and Emily were pretty compared to Calista. The only one she could think of who maybe wasn't was Portia, and that was mostly just because of Portia's constant bogies. So it wasn't true that Calista didn't care what she looked like, it was just that she didn't see much hope, so she didn't try very hard.
She scowled, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. She went out into the kitchen, brandishing her wand.
"I want to practise that spell more," she said, and her father went for the box of matches again, placing one on the table.
She tried to clear her mind, waved her wand.
The match clattered to the table, still very much a match, although a metallic one. Severus returned it to its original state, nodded at her to try it again.
She tried it three more times, frowning with a combination of concentration and discouragement. How could she still be so useless at this?
She stared at the match, mentally willing it to turn into a needle, as if it would heed her thoughts.
Come on, you stupid thing, she thought at it, as she waved her wand, cast the incantation, Just turn into a needle. Get thinner, have an eye, all that nonsense.
She readied herself to cast again as it clattered to the table, making the same metallic sound it had been doing every time she tried, trying not to let her frustration take over.
"Wait," Severus said, holding his hand up. He stepped closer to the table, looked down, and picked up the match, holding it out between his thumb and forefinger.
Except, it wasn't a match anymore, not even a steel one. It was a perfect sewing needle, shiny and new-looking.
"You see? You've got it. What did you do differently?"
"I…" she was looking at the needle he held aloft in disbelief. "I called it stupid in my head, and told it what to look like."
"Well, then," he said, "I guess you will be insulting your assignments from now on."
She smiled, a little at first, and then it turned into a wide grin.
"Ha!" She crowed, "Wait 'til I tell Marcus! He kept telling me I had to stop being so angry at things."
Severus smirked. "I imagine your success has more to do with thinking of the way you wanted it to look," he said, "But you can do as you wish, I suppose. Here, now see if you can change it back."
He put the needle back on the table, and she readied her wand.
Right then, she thought, casting, Turn back to wood, you prat, and get that little knobby bit back that burns.
She leaned over to look. It was a match again.
"Brilliant," she said, "I think I can do it, now!"
She practised the spell over and over, for another hour. She didn't get a perfect transformation every time, but she got it often enough to feel encouraged. A few times, she still wound up with a strange hybrid between the two, but it was progress, and it was more than she had ever made before.
She practised nearly every day, and by a week later, she was getting the transformation right nine times out of ten, and Severus judged she was nearly ready to move on to another spell. It was hard not to force herself to practise all day, every day, but when she got tired and frustrated, her results tended to get worse again, so she began to limit herself to an hour every other day or so.
Perhaps two weeks after she'd written him, she got a reply from Marcus:
Hey Calista,
You'll love flying, it's brilliant, trust me. I can show you some tricks, once you've got the hang of it. I can't believe you've never done it, it's amazing.
I have ramie (crossed out) ramedy (crossed out) extra Transfig too. We'll do okay, we'll practise together.
See ya,
Marcus F.
She chuckled a little to herself when she saw his crossouts. She'd written 'extra' in her letter too, but that was because she hated looking at the word 'remedial'. It was just as well that he hadn't known how to spell it - she still didn't want to look at it.
She got another owl that summer two, fairly late into it. She and her father had been sitting at the breakfast table when a large, pure-white owl swooped in through the open kitchen window, and dropped a roll of parchment on the table in front of her.
"You've been getting a lot of owls this summer," Severus commented, eyeing this new one curiously.
The owl was beautiful. It stood in the center of their table, holding its leg out. There was something somehow imperius in its posture. Calista scowled at it as she removed its letter.
When she had removed it, the owl fluttered over to the worktop, and began preening itself.
"Evidently, it's waiting for a reply," Severus observed, "Who is the letter from?"
Calista unrolled it, and her scowl deepened. "It's from stupid Olivia. What does she want?"
Her eyes roved across the parchment.
Dear Calista,
I trust your summer is going well. Mother and I have just returned from Switzerland, which was absolutely lovely. We stayed at a posh resort, and we did loads of shopping. I've got some new perfume, I'm certain you'll love the scent - I'll let you try some.
I know we don't always get along, but we must remember we are both in Slytherin, and it's best for us to stick together. I've seen you consorting with that Weasley boy, and you should know, his family is infamous for associating with the lower sorts. I mentioned it to Mother, and she is particularly concerned on your behalf.
Speaking of my mother, she's very eager to meet you. She insists that you come to our townhouse for a visit. We'll be away again at the very end of the summer, but Mother says next week or the week after would be ideal. Please let us know when you'll be coming.
Sincerely,
Olivia C. Avril
"That must have been quite a letter," Severus said, "You rolled your eyes no less than six times while you were reading it."
"It's rubbish," she said, crumpling it up with a fierce expression on her face. She stood up and crossed the room, tossing the letter into the bin. Then she glared at the owl.
"Sod off," she told it, "I'm not writing back to her."
The owl hooted indignantly, and then ruffled its feathers and took off through the window.
Severus frowned. "What did she write, Calista?"
"Nothing," she said, shaking her head, "Nothing that matters. She's just being a prissy, miserable prat like always. I'm going to go read in my room, I'm not hungry anymore."
She cleared her breakfast dishes, and then swept into her room. He heard, distantly, a sigh and a thump as she flopped onto the bed.
Severus couldn't help his curiosity; what if the Avril girl was insulting his daughter, or trying to convince her to break school rules again? He rose from his chair, went to the rubbish bin, and plucked the crumpled letter from the top of it.
Very quietly, he flattened the letter out, so he could read it. He read it twice, but couldn't see what had upset her so much. He supposed it was precisely as she had said, though: Olivia Avril was being a prissy, miserable prat. He tossed the letter back into the bin.
Perhaps it was only the way she had referred to Percy Weasley, whom Severus knew Calista was becoming quite friendly with. He supposed that might have upset her, especially since he knew the Weasley boy was one of the friends she'd been writing to this summer.
Or perhaps she was upset because the Miss Avril made it so clear that her family had money, a lot more money than he had. He didn't think Calista cared for expensive clothes and perfume, but maybe he was wrong. Perhaps she wanted to go to Switzerland, but then, she didn't even seem to want to take the train to go to Miss Yaxley's house.
He frowned again, and shrugged. Perhaps it was best if he just stopped trying to understand the dynamics between teenage girls. It was beginning to give him a headache.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
A week before term started, Calista had moved on to practising the spell that she now considered her arch nemesis, after Olivia. She frowned at a pencil that sat in the middle of the table. She thought she could feel it taunting her. She'd tried the spell a dozen times already, had hadn't managed it, even though she'd been mentally telling it what to do, and had even silently called it words she'd have gotten into trouble for saying out loud.
Come on, you arse, she thought furiously at it, Just flatten out, grow longer. Become a ruler. Don't forget the little hatch marks.
It clattered down on the table, and she looked at it. It closely resembled a ruler, actually, was probably her best attempt that day, but it still had a rubber on it. She sighed, and prepared to try again.
Severus strode into the kitchen, fully dressed, with his shoes in. "Are you nearly ready to go?" he asked.
They were going to Diagon Alley, to get her textbooks and school supplies, and after that would come the part Calista was nervous about.
"Yeah," she said, "I'm ready, I guess." She was dressed in green trousers and a yellow top, with her school robes over them. She was wearing her new shoes, too, the ones that she'd worn to visit the Malfoys at Christmas, because her trainers were getting too tight. She was also wearing the necklace that her aunt had given her for Christmas.
"It should only take us until perhaps ten o'clock to get everything you need for school," he reminded her, "And then Narcissa will meet us at Madam Malkin's. I'll bring everything else home, and you and she can spend the rest of the day together."
"Yeah," Calista said, and he could hear her apprehension, read it on her face.
"She cares about you, Calista, and she's a very nice woman. You'll be fine."
"I know," Calista said, "It's just… I dunno. What if she starts talking about her? I don't want to talk about that."
"I don't think she will," Severus said, "But if she does, you can tell her you don't wish to discuss it; I think she'll understand."
"You could just stay with us," she said hopefully, even though she'd already tried this tactic the last time they'd spoken about it.
"It'll be good for you to have another adult you can talk to. Some day, I imagine there will be - ah, certain topics - that you won't want to discuss with me. And besides, I detest shopping."
"So do I," she pointed out, "And if you're talking about boys, I don't even like them like that, so I don't need to talk about it with anyone."
"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that," he said, "Nevertheless, I think it's a good idea for you to try to get to know her. Give her a fair chance, Calista. She's not like her sister."
"I'll try," she said dubiously, and reached for his hand, so he could Apparate them both to the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron.
As soon as they had entered Diagon Alley proper, Calista dragged him to Flourish and Blott's, and she raced for the Magical Theory section, where, for once, she would actually be purchasing textbooks, for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. She grabbed her textbooks first, and set them aside, before hunting through the rest of the titles eagerly.
She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder that wasn't the same familiar weight as her father's, and turned quickly around. She found herself looking at Emily's mother, Ferada, who was smiling warmly. She was wearing a nametag. Of course. Calista had forgotten that Mrs. Yaxley worked here.
"Hello, Calista. It's good to see you. I'm sorry you couldn't come and stay with us again this summer."
"Oh," Calista said, "Er, it's nice to see you too, Mrs. Yaxley. Yeah, it's just been… busy, you know?"
"Yes, Emily said you had family to visit, and that you were studying a lot. I just hope you found time to have a little fun too, right?"
"Yeah," she said, "Some. Er… say hello to Emily for me."
"Oh, I will, dear. Is your father around? I'd like to say hello to him before I have to get back to work."
Calista glanced around, and saw the top of his head above a bookshelf in the Potions section. "He's over there," she said, and Mrs. Yaxley smiled at her again before heading over to where Severus was reading the inside jacket of a thick tome.
All too soon, they were exiting the bookstore with her new books, and one that Severus had bought for himself, and the rest of the morning passed just as quickly. They visited the apothecary last, and Severus lingered there the way that she had in the Magical Theory section of the bookstore.
When it was nearly ten, they walked to Madam Malkin's, and Narcissa was waiting there, her tall form regal, somehow aloof-looking; but that changed, as soon as she caught sight of Severus and Calista.
"Severus," she said, smiling warmly, and clasping his hand in both of her own. "It's good to see you again." She turned her smile to Calista, and pulled the girl into a gentle hug. Calista noted that she smelled very pretty, some sort of posh perfume that Olivia would probably covet.
"Calista, darling, how are you? Did you get everything you needed for school?"
"Hi Aunt Narcissa," she said, and the words still felt awkward on her tongue, "Yes, I did, thanks."
"Draco's been asking after you," Narcissa told her, "He likes you quite a bit, you know."
Calista smiled, put slightly at ease. "I like him too," she said, "He's funny."
"We'll have to have you both over for Christmas again, of course," Narcissa said, glancing back at Severus with a fond smile. Then she tilted her head, touched Severus' arm. "Do you want to meet us back here, or shall I bring her to your home?"
"I'll come back," Severus said, for he told the Malfoys that he wasn't quite living at his old address. He stopped in from time to time, and owls sent there still reached him, but he didn't feel like explaining the whole situation, especially in front of Calista, who had never even been there. "What time do you think you'll be finished?"
Narcissa glanced at Calista. "A few hours," she said, "Perhaps four o'clock?"
Severus nodded. "I'll meet you back here, then. Calista…"
He looked at her, not quite certain what he was about to say. Calista supplied his words for him.
"I know, I'll behave."
He chuckled. "See that you do."
She watched him leave, feeling wistful. She actually liked her Aunt Narcissa all right, or what she knew of her, but it was a strange feeling to see him walking away, here.
"We shall have fun today, darling," Narcissa said, turning to face Calista again, "I have a few things planned. First things first though, you need new robes, stylish ones that will flatter you."
"I like regular robes," Calista said, uncertainly. Why was Narcissa bringing her here, instead of her father, as he had last year?
"Wait until you see yourself in what I'm thinking of," Narcissa said, and she put her hand to Calista's back, and guided her into the store.
As soon as they were inside, there was a flurry of activity. Before she knew what was happening, Calista was standing on the stool, and no less than three people were draping her with fabrics, pinning them, murmuring to Narcissa about seams and shirring and other things Calista had little notion of.
There were other students waiting to be fitted too, but Calista had somehow bypassed the line. She looked at the, and then at Narcissa, quizzically. Narcissa gave her a small, sly smile, but offered no explanation. She spoke to one of the women working on Calista, and the woman left and returned with several bolts of very pretty fabric, in different shades of green.
She proceeded to hold them up next to Calista, and she and Narcissa judged each in turn, nodded approval at some, and only made a small, dainty expression of distaste at others. Calista wished she could make her face do that; she only seemed to be able to scowl.
Then she was draped in black again, for her school robes, and Calista felt a sense of relief. This, at least, was a process she was familiar with.
Except, it wasn't quite the same as last time, either. Where before, they'd only trimmed and measured her robes, now the ladies were pinning and tucking, making them tight in some places, making incisions in others. She frowned, looked over their heads and out the windows. There were a lot of people close to her own age walking back and forth outside, most of them dragging parents along. Nearly everyone was in Diagon Alley this week, it seemed.
Narcissa began asking her questions, while the women worked, as if they weren't even there, and it was just the two of them in the sitting room at Malfoy Manor.
"Which electives have you chosen, Calista?"
"Uhm, Arithmancy," Calista said, "And Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures."
"Ah." Narcissa made her dainty play at disdain again, turning her delicate nose up slightly. "I never did care much for the outdoors."
"I want to see a unicorn," she offered, by way of explanation, "Kim Avery - she's going into seventh year - she told me you get to see one in fifth year."
Narcissa nodded approvingly, though it didn't seem as if the mention of unicorns had anything to do with it. "The Averys are a good family," Narcissa told her, "I knew Kimberly when she was quite small, though it's been quite a long time and I'm not certain if she'd remember."
"I like her," Calista said, "Even though she calls me 'Snapelet' sometimes, which is really annoying."
The corner of Narcissa's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. "Yes, well, I don't think anyone will call you that anymore, when we're finished. You're going to be lovely, you'll see."
Calista tried hard to suppress the rude expression that she could feel coming to her face, because she knew Narcissa was being kind and she shouldn't appear ungrateful. It was just that 'lovely' was not a word she associated with herself, and she didn't see how a few tight, uncomfortable sets of new robes would change that.
"Which colours do you favour, Calista?" Narcissa asked her thoughtfully.
"Oh. Er, I like green just fine," she said, because she was draped in it currently, "My favourite is yellow… I actually named my cat after it."
Narcissa gestured to a woman that was holding a length of shiny green material up to Calista's cheek, and the woman disappeared, only to re-emerge from the back with a bolt of silky yellow fabric.
"It… it's funny, my dad teases me, because my cat's grey, but I called him Yellow anyway. I was small, I just picked something I liked."
"How do you like your hair?" Narcissa asked her, "Long, or short?"
Olivia had cut it slightly longer than her chin last year, but it had grown quickly, was nearly to the middle of her back again. Calista mostly just left it alone, although some days, like today, she had put a clip in it, one of the ones her father had gotten her when they'd gone to Malfoy Manor for Christmas.
"Uhm," Calista said, "I don't know. Just… normal, I guess. Like this."
"I see." The assistants stepped away from Calista, and Narcissa surveyed the results with a small frown. Then, she nodded, and her expression warmed some. "Step down, darling, and take a look. Be careful."
Narcissa held her hand out, and after a brief hesitation, Calista took it. Her fingers were cold and small, delicate. She allowed Narcissa to help her off the stool, stepping over the swaths of fabric that still littered the ground around her, and followed Narcissa over to a full-length mirror.
She was wearing her school robes again - or was she? She tilted her head, looking at her reflection, but not wanting to look at her face. The robes were… well, they looked a bit like a dress, actually. Like something Olivia would wear. They were taken in from her shoulders to her hips, and she could see little coloured dots where pins marked seams that contoured along the sides of her body. The bottom part was more like a skirt, that flowed from her hips down to the floor, and there were places in between the folds where a pretty, dark green fabric peeked out. The sleeves were tight at the top too, but tapered outwards beginning at her elbows, and the green fabric peeked out between those folds, too, so that by the time the sleeves reached the ends of her wrists, they were full, and mixed green and black. The only thing that differentiated these new robes from an actual dress was the fact that it was open in the front.
"We'll have them make a pretty green blouse to wear underneath," Narcissa said, "and a skirt. Black, I think. But what do you think? Stylish, yes?"
Calista blinked, looked up at Narcissa. "These are… really different. Uhm, nice-looking. But.. don't they have to be plain, for school?"
Narcissa arched her eyebrows delicately. "These are plain. Enough. Don't other girls in your class wear things like this?"
Well, Olivia did, but Olivia always did whatever she wanted.
"I guess so," she answered, and Narcissa nodded, satisfied. "I never wore plain robes," she said, "And the only time I was reprimanded was when I wore a set that was silver, and - "
She smiles slyly, motioned to her breastbone. "Cut down to here. It was in my sixth year; I was trying to get Lucius' attention. Little did I know, I already had it. He told me, much later, that he'd noticed me since fourth year."
Calista wasn't sure how to respond, but she was spared having to, when one of the women from the shop came over, and held up a silvery button against the front of the robes. Narcissa considered, asked if there were any others to choose from. When the woman came back, she opened a small wooden box. Narcissa looked through, and picked two different ones. She held them out, one in each palm, and looked at Calista.
"What do we think, darling? These ones are very classic, but I'm partial to the ones with the snakes, too."
Calista peered at the small silver buttons that Narcissa held. One was tiny, a plain silver ball-shape that looked like it would be very difficult for clumsy fingers to fasten. The other was in the shape of a tiny snake, coiled up into a tight spiral. Only the head stuck out, a delicate diamond-shape. They were interesting-looking; more importantly, they looked easier to button.
"I like the snakes," she said, and Narcissa nodded, cutting an impatient look at the woman holding the button-box.
"Three sets of these, then, with the snake buttons. These ones, and another set with the lighter green fabric we liked in place of this," she fingered a fold of the dark green material at Calista's wrist. "Make the third set all black."
They returned Calista to the stool, eased her out of the robes, and took them away. She thought with relief that she was done, and started to reach for her old cloak, but then the women were back, with the yellow fabric, and more of the same green ones they'd had before, and even some swatches of blues, in all sorts of shades.
While they pinned and tucked and folded and fussed, Calista looked over them uncomfortably, wondering when they'd finally be done. At least she had Narcissa to talk to; she answered more questions, everything from what her favourite things to study in school were to what she wanted to do after Hogwarts - she wasn't certain, yet - to who her friends were at school, and what they liked to do in between classes.
She knew instinctively not to mention Percy Weasley to Narcissa, so she'd told her about Emily and Marcus Flint, and more about Kim Avery and her friends.
"There's another girl I met too," Calista ventured, "Dad said she was… uhm, my cousin. Her name's Tonks."
Narcissa's nose went up again, and Calista knew she'd said the wrong thing. She looked, suddenly, as if a very unpleasant smell had filled the store, but Calista sniffed experimentally, and didn't smell anything.
"Nymphadora," Narcissa said, "My sister Andromeda's child. A Black in name only, trust me on that. You'd do well to steer clear of her, Calista. She's not like you or I. Surely your father told you that?"
Calista suppressed a flash of annoyance; what had she expected? Her father had told her as much, that the Malfoys didn't approve of that branch of their family.
"Er, yeah he did say," was all she said to Narcissa. She was glad she hadn't mentioned Percy. "She seemed okay, that's all."
"Well, you don't need to be friends with people who are only 'okay', do you? You're a Black, and you should be proud of your lineage."
"I'm proud of being a Snape," she said, a bit crossly.
"Well, of course you are, darling. Your father is a good man. I'm only advising you to remember that you come from an old family, yes? You'll want to keep that in mind when a boy catches your eye, too."
"I don't care about boys," she said, knowing she was scowling and not quite willing to stop.
Narcissa must have attributed her sour expression to the topic of boys alone, because she smiled loftily. "Soon enough, you will," she said knowingly.
Calista was measured for three more sets of robes, one in the same dark green that accented her new school robes, one in a lighter, spring-like green, and one in a midnight blue shade that had a little bit of a sheen to it. They were all cut similarly to her school robes, but each one was slightly unique. The light green ones only had elbow-length sleeves, and the dark blue robes had a higher neckline, and were trimmed with delicate black lace. Calista wasn't sure how she felt about them. They looked nice, she guessed, objectively, but she wasn't used to them. And anyway, what was the point, when she still had all that stringy hair and a big nose?
Finally, Calista was guided off the stool and brought to the mirror a final time. Like before, she made a point of not looking closely at her face.
Narcissa stood behind her shoulder, eyeing this final set of robes up and down. They were a pretty, bright yellow, and the material felt like silk - and knowing Narcissa, Calista thought, it probably was. Like the others, they fit snugly at the torso, but these had a lower, more open neckline with scalloped edges, and because the material was so much lighter than all the others, the skirt was quite flowy and delicate-looking. Even Calista had to admit, they were very pretty robes, or they would be, once they were all sewn together.
They were also, she knew, very expensive. Narcissa was saying something now about gold thread and pearl buttons to the women that worked at the store.
Calista shifted, trying to catch Narcissa's eye. In the process, she caught the reflection of her own face, scowled at it.
"Aunt Narcissa," Calists said quietly, "This is really nice, but I don't think I need fancy robes like this." The button box had come back, and Calista didn't even want to think about how expensive the ones Narcissa was eyeing had to be.
"We're almost finished, Calista. We'll talk afterwards, all right?"
Calista frowned, while Narcissa made the final button selections, and proceeded to the cashier to pay. The total made the blood drain from Calista's face. She had never heard of anyone spending so much money on clothes.
She turned back to Calista, ushering her out of the shop. "We'll come back later to pick everything up," she said, "I can't wait to see how you look, especially in those yellow dress robes. It is a nice colour on you, although I think I prefer green."
"Aunt Narcissa," Calista tried again, "I really don't need all that…"
"No, you don't need it," Narcissa said, "But I want you to have it. You're my only niece," and here Calista was reminded, darkly, of Narcissa's comments about the girl Tonks, "And I don't have a daughter, you know."
"Uhm. Well, thank you, then," Calista said, because she knew she was supposed to. She still wasn't sure how she felt about the robes. They were all very fancy, in her opinion, and she was afraid she'd feel foolish in them.
If Calista had thought that the robe shop was awkward, however, then she was ill-prepared for the next place Narcissa brought her. It was all the way at the end of Diagon Alley, a tiny shop with gauzy pink and white curtains in the windows, and gold trim all around. The window showed a mannequin sitting in a brass chair, wearing an elegant dressing-gown.
More clothes? Calista thought incredulously, but once she had gone inside, and seen what was really in the store, she wished it had been another robe shop. The store was full of ladies' underthings, in all sorts of pretty, feminine colours. Calista felt herself blush. Why were they here? It couldn't be for her, she had regular things that worked just fine…
Except, to her horror, they were here for her. Narcissa matter-of-factly picked out several brightly coloured panties that were definitely too small for Narcissa to wear. At least, thankfully, they were more or less normal-looking, except for the colours; there were all sorts of things in here that were too lacy, too shiny, and too tiny for Calista to even look at without wanting to faint.
The worst, however, came when Narcissa had the salesgirl measure Calista around the chest for what she called a training bra. It was like a much smaller version of what Calista knew women wore underneath their tops, and just standing in the section where they were all displayed while she was measured was making her uncomfortable.
When the salesgirl disappeared to try and find something in the correct size, Narcissa put her hand to the side of Calista's face, and stroked her cheek lightly with her thumb. "You look positively mortified," she said, with a soft chuckle. "It's all right, darling. It's very normal to shop in a place like this, you know. You're a young lady, now."
"I don't need a… a bra thing," Calista managed, wishing she could run outside, down the street, and hide in the bookstore again.
"Maybe not quite yet," Narcissa said, "But it's best to get used to wearing one a little while before you need it, you see?"
She might have said more, but then the salesgirl was back, holding several hangers that each contained one of the miniature-looking bras in the correct size, and in several different colours. Narcissa picked out a white one and a yellow one, and then several pairs of tights in various colours, too.
She held a pair of yellow tights out to Calista. "Look, these are soft - they should be comfortable."
Calista fingered the material; it was quite soft. She wondered if Narcissa had caught her scratching at her legs at Christmas, in the tights her father had bought. She nodded, because in this store, it was all she could manage. This was a million times worse than reading the embarrassing books her father had bought her a couple of summers ago, about how her body was going to change, and all of that. At least she'd been alone when she read those.
All of the things Narcissa bought were wrapped in delicate tissue, and placed in a white bag with a heart on it. Calista was glad that Narcissa carried it, because she would have rather died than walk around Diagon Alley with it.
They went to buy shoes, next, and Narcissa helped her pick out - which was a kind way of saying that Narcissa picked and Calista nodded wordlessly - two pairs of pretty leather flats, one white and one black. The leather was soft, so at least they were comfortable. Narcissa had asked her if she'd wanted to try on another pair, one that had a slight high heel to them, but Calista had shaken her head rapidly.
When they were finished with shoes, Narcissa checked her wristwatch. "We only have two hours before your father's coming to meet us - hasn't the day flown by?"
"Well… except for that underwear store," Calista said, and Narcissa laughed.
"There's something else I'd like to do… I think we may have just enough time, but it's quite a distance from here. Are you comfortable being Apparated?"
"Yeah," Calista said, "But really Aunt Narcissa, you don't have to buy me anything else. I think I have more clothes now than the rest of the girls in my House put together."
Narcissa smiled, and there was something secretive about it. "It's not clothes; it's not even a store. Come, take my hand."
Calista reached for the small, cool, fingers again. She was surprised that they were starting to feel familiar already.
They Apparated in a small, dark alley; Narcissa ushered her out hurriedly, and they emerged onto a busy city street. Calista supposed they were still in London somewhere, but it was not a street she recognised. They walked along it for perhaps a block and a half, before Narcissa stopped in front of a small, white building with pink curtains in the windows.
For a minute, Calista was afraid they were at another underwear store, but when Narcissa guided her inside, she saw that it was a salon. There was one young woman having her hair cut, and another girl not much older than Calista having paint - Calista supposed it was makeup - put on her face. Three other women were waiting, paging through old issues of Siren Sorceress.
The women in the salon must have known Narcissa too, because she called for one of the hairdressers, and Calista was settled into a chair right away. But then perhaps they didn't know her that well, because the woman was asking how Narcissa wanted her daughter's hair cut.
"Calista, darling, what do we think? Short, or long?"
"Er. I dunno."
Narcissa considered for a moment, and then the hairstylist spoke up again.
"What if we give her layers?" she suggested, and Calista caught a faint accent; was it French? "Some long, and some short." She gestured to Calista's chin, and then to her shoulders. "It will give her more volume, yes?"
"Yes, I think that will work," Narcissa said, and the woman drew her wand, reached for a comb. Evidently, this was a salon for witches only then, Calista realised, if there weren't any scissors. She couldn't help but tense her shoulders, a little, when the woman pointed the wand at the back of her head, but then she met Narcissa's eyes in the mirror, and her aunt smiled encouragingly, and Calista knew that Narcissa meant well, had been very generous and kind to her all day, even if Calista didn't really want all those new clothes, so she smiled back, and let the woman cut her hair.
Halfway through, Narcissa tilted her head, eyeing Calista thoughtfully. "Have you ever considered wearing your hair curly?" she asked, "Like your mother's?"
The woman cutting her hair glanced up, but Narcissa didn't notice. Evidently, she really had thought Calista was Narcissa's daughter. Narcissa hadn't bothered to correct her, though Calista suspected it was because Narcissa didn't think the hairstylist was important enough to matter.
"No," Calista said quickly, "I don't… I don't want to look like her." She felt her heart racing at the mere mention of her; imagine if she had to look at herself in the mirror and see hair like her mother's, too. It was bad enough that she was beginning to see, after all the mirrors she'd been forced in front of today, that Narcissa was right, that she did have the forehead, the cheekbones, of her mother. It was easier to think of them as being like Narcissa's, though, so that's what she tried to do.
"I think it would suit you," Narcissa said, "But it's all right if you don't want to." She seemed to realise that she had upset Calista somehow.
"Why don't we try some cosmetics on you?" she suggested, perhaps thinking this would be a peace offering. "You're a bit too young to wear them all the time, but today is a special occasion, a girls' day, hm?"
She glanced over at the woman who had first checked them in, and sure enough, she sent for another stylist, a woman who was about to call one of the women from the waiting area. She flushed slightly, and came over to Calista and Narcissa instead. She studied the young girl's face for a moment, which made Calista highly uncomfortable. Then she returned, with a box full of the sorts of things that Olivia kept on the shelf in her wardrobe, lipsticks and eye paints, and things Calista didn't even know the name of.
She didn't like having two strange women so close to her, one of them fussing with her hair, and the other one putting strange-smelling stuff on her face, but at least her view of the mirror was blocked now, and she didn't have to look at herself anymore.
"Goodness, what's wrong with you?" Narcissa snapped at one of them, "Not red; she's thirteen. Give her some of that soft pink, there."
She must have been talking about lipstick, because that was what the woman came at her with, now. It smelled funny, although she couldn't be sure it wasn't the woman, she supposed.
"So, who are some of the other girls in your class?" Narcissa asked her, as if she hadn't just been cross with one of the women working on Calista, "You mentioned Emily Yaxley. Who else is there?"
"Portia MacNair," Calista said, "And Olivia Avril. And me. There's just four of us in Slytherin from our year. There's seven in the year behind me, though."
"And what do you think of them?" There was something expectant in her tone; Calista suspected Narcissa was familiar with their families, as well.
"Portia's… I dunno, she's… I don't talk to her much, I guess. She's allergic, or something, she's always sniffling. And I used to be friends with Olivia, but…"
She trailed off, not certain how much she should tell Narcissa.
"MacNair… her father's an executioner, you know, for magical creatures that have gone out of control. Lucius is somewhat friendly with him, but I don't like to have him in my house, to tell you the truth. He curses a lot, and he's always so sweaty."
Calista chuckled at that. She could imagine him.
"What did you say the other girl's surname was?"
"Avril," Calista said, "She's always going on and on about how well-connected her family is, and how she and her mother go to all these posh stores and things…"
Narcissa laughed, and it was distinctly derisive. "Oh, is she now? I don't know who her mother is, but I know of Thomas Avril. He works on the Floo Network, did you know? He's always putting on airs, trying to get on good terms with Lucius at work, but Lucius says he's a bore. He was on trial a few years ago for taking bribes to set up unauthorised access points. If his family has any money, it's either the wife's or it's leftover from what he managed to hide from the Ministry from taking bribes. Well-connected, indeed. Do you know her mother's name?"
"No, I don't," said Calista, who felt as if she'd just won the lottery. "But she keeps asking Olivia to invite me over for a visit. I don't want to go, because Olivia's so smarmy. Besides, she's always trying to get me in trouble - you know last year, she convinced me to brew Amortentia for her, and then she used it on a fifth-year boy?"
She could hear Narcissa's indrawn breath behind her. She winced as the woman doing her makeup nearly poked her in the eye.
"Oh, Calista. You're far too young to meddle in any of that. Did your father find out? I imagine he must have been absolutely livid."
"Yeah," she said, "I told him, when I realised what she'd done. She told me it was for her parents, but obviously that turned out not to be true. I had to tell him, so he could give Colin - that's the boy - the antidote. That's the reason I have to take extra potions lessons now."
"Well, at least it was him and not the Headmaster who found out first. I can only imagine what that foolish old man would have done - used it as an excuse to try and expel you, perhaps. He's prejudiced against the old families. Don't worry, though, Lucius is on the Board of Governors, he'd never get away with it."
"He is?" She would have to remember that, perhaps she could appeal to him if she ever managed to get herself into trouble again - not that she was planning on it, but trouble seemed to find her, sometimes.
"Oh, yes. He's been trying to get them to appoint your father to the Dark Arts position for ages, but that miserable old coot Dumbledore keeps refusing, out of spite, I'd say."
This was very interesting news to Calista, but she didn't have a chance to ask more about it, because the stylists were finished. She looked down at her lap. She didn't want to see what she looked like, now. She was afraid she'd look even worse, with all this silly paint on her, and it felt like they'd cut off a lot of her hair. It felt so light that she reached up to make sure it was still there. The longest parts of it she could feel seemed to be a bit shorter than shoulder-length.
Narcissa was at her side, her hands on Calista's shoulders. "Oh, darling, you look lovely, just as I said you would. Go on, look, don't be nervous."
She braced herself, prepared to try and hide her scowl, since Narcissa had undoubtedly spent a lot of money on this. She looked up, and blinked at herself in surprise, waiting for the illusion to fade.
She looked… well, she wasn't as pretty as Olivia or Endria, but she looked a lot better, she had to admit. Her hair did have a lot more volume; it bounced when she turned her head. There was a longer layer, that just grazed her shoulders, and a shorter layer that hit at her chin, though shorter pieces made up a sort of choppy fringe at one side of her face. The top layer was parted over to the side, and one of the women, the one that had done her hair, came over and fastened a small jeweled clip into it.
Her face, though. There was soft green shadow around her eyes, and they were outlined in a darker green. Her cheeks had a bit of colour on them, too, and her thin lips were a pearly, delicate pink. She didn't think she looked like herself at all. She blinked again. There was something she didn't like… something that was bothering her. She liked the green around her eyes, actually - she thought it made her nose look a bit smaller, although that may have been only wishful thinking, but… and then she had it. The paint on her cheeks made her cheekbones look even higher, made her look older. It made her look like Bellatrix.
"I think… I don't know about all this," she said quietly, waving her hand in front of her face.
"I know, you're a bit too young for all that, but I just wanted to show you, you are a lovely girl if you want to be. Perhaps in a year or two, we can find some better colours for you. What do you think of your hair, now?"
Calista turned her head to one side, and then the other. Her hair moved gently along with her, shiny and thick-looking. She could barely believe it was still her same hair; it was even nicer than the time Olivia had styled it for her.
"It's really nice," she admitted. "Thank you, Aunt Narcissa."
Narcissa smiled, and then checked her watch. "It's time to go back and pick up your robes. Perhaps… hm, perhaps we should smudge some of those cosmetics off before we see your father, hm? I'm not certain he'd want to see his little girl looking so grown-up all of a sudden."
"I'm not little," Calista said automatically, but she was uncomfortable in the makeup anyway, so she allowed Narcissa to wipe most of it off with a cloth one of the stylists handed her. Besides, she had a feeling that her aunt was right; she'd never asked, but somehow she doubted that she'd be allowed to wear makeup to school.
When all of it was gone, except for a bit of the green around her eyes, Narcissa settled the bill for another total that made Calista uncomfortable, and then she took the girl's hand, and led her back to the same place they'd Apparated to. She took Narcissa's hand again, and they returned to Diagon Alley. Somehow, when they walked down the street, they were still holding hands. By the time Calista realised it, she thought it would have been awkward to pull hers back, so she let it stay.
By the time they arrived to pick up Calista's new robes, Severus was already standing outside of Madam Malkin's waiting for them. He looked at Calista, and she was worried he might say something about the little bit of eye makeup she still had on, but all he said was, "Did you have a nice day?"
"I think we did," Narcissa said, and looked down at Calista for confirmation, releasing her hand as she did so. "Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yeah," Calista said, and she found that, despite her embarrassment over the one store and all the money Narcissa had spent on her, she had actually enjoyed talking to her aunt all day. "Yeah, we did."
Severus looked pleased at this; Calista would have sworn his smile was one of relief, but she didn't have time to study it long, because Narcissa was ushering her back inside to look at all of her new things.
The robes were all finished, and they were quite lovely. The black ones all had the silver snake buttons, which even Calista had to admit looked really cool. There were several blouses, too, and a couple of pairs of dressy-looking trousers, and skirts of varying length. She hadn't expected all that.
Neither had Severus, apparently. "Narcissa, that's too-," he'd started to say, but she'd stopped him with a look.
"Calista is my only niece," she repeated, "I must insist that I be allowed to dress her up if I choose to." She shifted her gaze, and smiled slyly at Calista, as if they were sharing a secret. "Besides, she needs to have pretty new robes to go with her lovely new hair, yes?"
Severus merely looked bewildered, as he wordlessly took the hangers Narcissa handed him. Each garment was wrapped in its own bag, on a wooden hanger with M.M. engraved on the top. Calista supposed they must have been heavy, all that many things. She breathed a sigh of relief when Narcissa handled the white bag, the one with all the brightly coloured underthings in it, directly to her.
She followed her father and her aunt out of the store, and she noticed that Narcissa put her hand on Severus' arm affectionately. He turned his head, and said something softly to her; Calista could read the form of the words 'thank you' on his lips. She wondered if this day had really been all Narcissa's idea, after all.
Narcissa gave them each another hug, and Calista another kiss on the cheek, ran an affectionate hand through her hair.
"Enjoy the last few days of summer. I hope your classes go well - do write me, and let me know what all the other girls think of your new robes, hm, darling? We shall see you at Christmas, if not sooner. Wear the blue robes - I want to see them on you now that they're finished."
"Er, okay," Calista said, agreeing to both parts of her well-meant demands at once. "I… thank you again."
Narcissa waved, and then Disapparated.
Calista looked up at her father; she couldn't read his expression.
"I never want to set foot in another clothing store again," she said.
He smirked, and reached for her hand. "Don't tell your aunt that. I think she's found a new hobby."
"You're not funny," she told him, for the third time that summer.
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