Chapter 48: 31
Year 3: Chapter 8
Severus and Calista sat in the small study that was part of Severus' quarters, three days before classes were set to resume following Christmas. Their armchairs were set facing each other, a short distance apart.
"I'm going to enter your mind," Severus said, "And show you what to look for. Normally, I'd caution you to ensure your barriers are still intact while practising legilimency - a precaution that many neglect to take - but I don't expect you'll be able to do this properly without focusing all your energy on it, so just this once it is acceptable to let your defences fall if you must."
Calista nodded, but still when Severus sent a seeking tendril of his mind into hers, he encountered her usual barriers. It struck him, not for the first time, that it shouldn't have been possible, under normal circumstances, for any legilimens to have gotten far enough past Calista's barriers from such a vast physical distance. He didn't think even he could have done it, shared blood or not - he had long since ascertained that his ability to connect to her mind was enhanced by it, and thus Bellatrix's had to be, also, but Calista's barriers were fairly strong by this point, and distance was always a hindrance to legilimency.
Of course, there was a slight chance that Calista's latest cluster of dreams had been only dreams, and not an indication of a breach by Bellatrix, but Severus didn't think so. Certainly, they sounded as if Bellatrix was actually in her mind in some capacity, and Calista thought it felt that way as well, and she usually had a fairly good sense for when Bellatrix was actually trying to reach her and when she wasn't. Particularly troubling was the fact that Calista had felt pain in the dream; always before, when that had happened, Bellatrix had been inside her mind, attacking her.
Severus' suspicions regarding the nature of the dream were confirmed almost immediately; between her first and second set of barriers, Severus felt a knot of something alien to his daughter's mind. It was a gnarled, dark tangle of a thought, and it had been wound haphazardly into the tapestry of Calista's mind.
"Do you remember how to direct your thoughts outward?" he asked, because it had been a long time since he'd had her try. In response, he felt the brush of her consciousness against the thread of his own thoughts that he'd sent into her mind.
"You're looking for something that feels out of place," he said, "Something with a psychic signature that you don't recognise as your own."
He could sense her looking, turning pieces of her own thoughts over, and examining them. She paused, several times, on memories that concerned Bellatrix, but couldn't seem to find the thread of her mother's influence within her mind.
"Don't concentrate on looking for her specifically," he said, "You're being misled by your own memories. Ignore the contents, and look for something that's outwardly different."
She prodded around a little more, but he didn't think she understood precisely what she was looking for. He let her look a little longer, and then he guided her to the spot where the incriminating bit of thought had been anchored. He felt her recoil when she hit upon it.
"Now," he said, "You want to separate it from your own thoughts, but carefully. If you're too sudden, you might damage the piece of your mind that she's attached it to; it's like untying a knot."
She reached for the offending psychic thread, but recoiled again when she touched against it; in front of him, in the physical realm of his study, Calista winced.
"It's her… I can't… It's like she's here, like I'm trapped in a dream with her," she managed to say. Her voice came out thin.
"That's because she is here," he said, "And you will be trapped in a dream with her again, if you allow her influence to deepen. I don't think I need to remind you what happens if she manages to perform legilimency on you inside of a dream, do I?"
"No," she said, quietly, and she reached hesitantly for the small coil of Bellatrix's influence. He could feel her own mind become tenser, more alert; her hands clenched into fists on her lap. She pulled at the offending thread, gingerly.
"I just want to rip it out," she said, anguished.
"Don't," he said, "Pull it slowly apart from your own thoughts; I never said it would be easy for you to do this yourself, only that it would be possible."
"I hate this." She kept pausing, pulling the thread out partway, and then gathering her resolve before tackling it again.
"This would not be necessary at all, if you'd come to me before the dreams escalated again," he reminded her.
"I said I was sorry."
"And yet, 'sorry' doesn't prevent your mind from being compromised," he said. "You're almost there; keep at it."
Finally, she managed to unwind the snakelike thread from the rest of her thoughts. "Now what do I do?" she asked. "How do I get rid of it?"
"Try to create a vessel to contain it," he said, "There are likely to be other places where she's attempted to anchor herself in your mind; it will be less exhausting to push them all out of your mind at once."
She created a thin bubble of thought, a finer, more delicate version of the one that he had created in her mind, years ago, to cushion her from her darkest memories, and wrapped it around the dark fiber of Bellatrix's thread; immediately, the thread began to try to worm its way out of the thin walls; Calista exhaled, and funnelled more strength into the bubble, making it thicker, which seemed to suffice.
"See if you can find any other indications of her presence," he said, "Remember, it's acceptable in this instance to draw some the energy you need from your barriers, if you must."
She scanned carefully over the surface of her thoughts, trying to follow his advice, and look only for something that felt out of place. Now that she had touched on one of the anchors, it was easier to find the next one, because she knew what she was looking for. She brushed against another one, and felt herself wincing again.
Calista untangled this second dark knot as well; again, she had to keep pausing, and bracing herself for the contact with the sinister-feeling thread. When she had done it, she had to contain it. She reached for the bubble she'd created, and noticed its walls were thinner again; she didn't know if her own strength had faded, or if Bellatrix's thought had damaged it from the inside, but she thought she ought to do the same thing, either way. She forced the second thread inside the bubble, and reinforced its walls.
She found a third anchor point, and went through the same process again, and she had to reinforce the bubble two more times. When she scanned the surface of her mind again, she couldn't find any other places that felt like Bellatrix.
"I think I found them all," she said. Severus could hear exhaustion in her voice.
"I'm going to make certain," he said, "Concentrate on keeping the ones you've already found contained."
She fed a little more strength into the bubble, while Severus explored the surface of her mind, doing as he had instructed her to do, and ignoring the contents of thoughts and memories, and focusing only on the psychic signature they carried. There were no fragments of Bellatrix in the layer between her first two barriers anymore, so he approached her second barrier to search beyond it.
Her barriers all appeared to be fully intact, still. He broke through the second one, and continued to search. He found nothing untoward in the second layer, and pushed through her final barrier. There was nothing in the innermost part of her mind, either, that shouldn't have been, which was something of a relief, anyway.
"It does not appear," he told her, "That Bellatrix managed to extend her influence any further than the outermost layer of your mind."
"That's… that's good, right?"
"Well, it's not ideal," he said, "Keeping her out entirely would be best -"
"No kidding," she muttered. Severus decided to let her comment slide, provided it was the only one.
"But it's a good sign. It means that a complete infiltration, like she accomplished several years ago, would prove exceedingly difficult to replicate; certainly, it would take her much longer than it did before. However," he cautioned, a bit sternly, because he didn't quite like the spark of relief he saw in her eyes, "It would likely still be possible, particularly after allowing her to create numerous anchoring memories in your mind, as you did by neglecting to address her appearances in your dreams as soon as they occurred."
"Now how do I get rid of them?" she asked, sounding strained. He softened, marginally.
"Gather your mental strength," he said, "Use it to enclose the contained pieces of her influence, and you will need to force it out, through any barriers that stand in the way. It is going to be difficult, because she is likely trying to maintain the connection to you. It's… I wish there was a nuanced way to accomplish this, but there isn't. It's a matter of sheer force, you against her. Luckily, you are dealing with only a very tiny fraction of her presence, so you should be able to do it, even with a lack of formal training in legilimency."
He retained a narrow connection with her mind as well, so he could see how she did, ensure that she was able to push the offending tendrils of Bellatrix's psyche out. She made a weak push at the bubble containing them, but it wasn't nearly enough to expel its contents beyond the limits of her mind, particularly since she would need to bypass her own outermost mental barrier.
"Drop your barriers," he said, a bit impatiently, because he had already advised her to do this several times. "The first one, at least. You'll likely need strength from the others to push her out."
She let part of her first barrier drain away, funnelled that strength into pushing the bubble out; but as soon as she had done so, her resources returned to the barrier, instinctively, reinforcing it.
"I can't," she said, and she sounded nervous, "I… it feels too strange, to let it down, after all this time."
"As much as I generally approve of that principle," Severus said, "I don't think you'll have the necessary strength to remove her influence otherwise."
She tried again, but had the same reaction, and immediately scrambled to reinforce the barrier. "No," she said, stubbornly, with a small shudder. "I don't… I hate the way that feels, even for a second. There has to be another way, I can find the strength somewhere else…"
She closed her eyes, and he could feel her reaching deep within the recesses of her mind, trying to find energy that she could spare. After a few minutes, she made another push at the bubble; but it wouldn't go through the barrier, not when she still had it maintained at her full strength.
Severus didn't like to repeat himself; he waited for her to come to the obvious conclusion, and lower her defences long enough to force Bellatrix's influence out.
Except, she didn't. She pulled from within herself again; and he didn't think she had any more to give, but she must have found more strength somewhere inside herself, because he felt more and more slowly trickle into the wave of energy that she was trying to force Bellatrix out with.
She pushed again, and his predictions regarding Bellatrix's inclinations were proven to be correct - the strands of thought pushed at the walls of the bubble, drawn to the fabric of Calista's mind like magnets.
"Calista…" Severus sighed.
"I can do it," she insisted, snarling. "I'm not lowering my barriers."
She mentally pushed at the bubble of unwelcome psychic strands, using every bit of force she could muster, and when that ran out, she reached deep into her core, gathering every ounce of strength she possibly could.
It was true, what she'd told him, that it felt frightening and unnatural to her now to lower her defences, but it was more complicated than that. She was unnerved by the fact that Bellatrix had reached her again, and she was haunted by what she had said.
You're stronger than you were before.
She wasn't strong enough, evidently, if she couldn't keep Bellatrix from slipping, snakelike, into her dreams, even now. But she wanted to be strong enough; wanted it more than she thought she had ever wanted anything. She wanted to push Bellatrix out, with so much force that her mother would be reeling when the tendrils of her mind were forced back into her, and she wanted to do it while she was still guarded from further attack. She wanted to be as impenetrable as Azkaban, only instead of holding her mother in, she wanted to lock her out.
In short, she wanted to tell Bellatrix to fuck off as forcefully as she could.
So she gathered every ounce of ability for the mental arts as she could muster, without depleting her barriers, and then she kept pulling, kept searching for more, and she pushed back against Bellatrix's sinister anchor points as hard as she could; and she realised she didn't have to push through her own barriers, she could manipulate them.
She shifted the arrangement of threads in her outermost barrier, and altered it, so that she could send her own thoughts through it easily, and only her own thoughts; that way, Bellatrix or anyone else couldn't push through while she was distracted. She reinforced the walls around the bubble that contained her mother's unwelcome essence, and then, with every bit of energy that she had been able to find, she forced it out; it slid neatly through her altered barrier, and then she kept pushing, until she felt it disappear somewhere beyond the confines of her own mind; she pulled the threads of her own mind, the reserves she'd used to create the bubble, and brought them back into herself.
Severus withdrew gently from her mind once he could feel that Bellatrix's anchoring threads were gone. He studied his daughter carefully; she looked as exhausted as he'd seen her in years, wan and pale - there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her shoulders sagged. Even her eyes looked tired, as she flicked them upwards to his face.
"I told you I could do it," she said, exhaling.
Severus looked at her face a moment longer; there was a stirring of conflicting emotions and thoughts in his own mind, and he knew he should say something to her, but he couldn't quite wrench the proper words out.
"You did," he managed, and that was all he wanted to say, just now. He rose, and held his hand out to her.
"You should rest," he said quietly, "You can sleep in your old room. I'll wake you in a little while, for dinner."
She hesitated, and put her hands on the arms of the chair briefly. Severus thought she would pull herself out of the chair, and for some reason he didn't want her to, he wanted her to take his offered hand instead. When she did reach out and accept his help, he felt a keen relief that seemed oddly out of proportion to the situation. He guided her down the small corridor that ran through the center of his quarters, and pushed open the door to the room that he had never quite been motivated to return to its former usage as a sitting room.
He half-expected to see the dim, cool light of the nightlight he had gotten her, years ago, for Christmas, but then he remembered that it had died quite some time ago, as had her need for it.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
When classes resumed after the break, they picked up in pace. Calista wouldn't have thought it possible, but Professor Vector began assigning them even more homework for Arithmancy. As a direct result, she was spending more and more time with Amelia, because they still did the homework together. Of course, spending time with Amelia often meant spending time with Penelope and Percy as well, and if it had not been obvious to Calista's housemates before that her closest friends were in other houses, it certainly was clear now.
A few of the second years that were Olivia's cronies hissed remarks about it, here or there, and so did Portia and Olivia, but no one else did. Calista suspected Kim Avery had something to do with that, because it never seemed to happen when she was in the common room.
Marcus kept showing up at the end of her Flying class, whether he had Quidditch practise beforehand or not. He always brought his broomstick, and she always put up a fuss about practising before she gave in, and headed towards the Quidditch pitch with him. Partly, she really didn't like flying, even now that she was slowly getting a bit better at it, and partly she was afraid that the more time she spent with him, the more likely he'd be to notice the fact that she'd begun to turn blushing and twirling her hair around her finger into a national sport. It got to the point that she started pulling her hair back into a ponytail on Fridays, just so she'd be less likely to reach for it when she got that odd, fluttery feeling in her stomach around Marcus.
A couple of weeks into February, something that Calista saw as spectacular happened. Fifteen minutes into her Flying class, Madam Hooch waved her down from her slow, uneasy flight on the school broom that she still didn't trust.
"Very well, Miss Snape. I'm nearly convinced you won't fall and break your neck the next time you're on a broomstick," she said, "And I suppose that's the best we can hope for. I'll let the Headmaster know your lessons are finished.
"What?" Calista said, "I really don't have to come to any more lessons?"
"You've met my minimum expectations - barely - for operating a broomstick. I would recommend you continue to practise, of course, but you're excused from lessons."
Calista had a sneaking suspicion that Madam Hooch had been about to add "finally" to the end of her sentence, but she didn't care. She tossed the hated broomstick carelessly to the grass, and tore off before the instructor could change her mind.
On her way back to the castle, she ran into Marcus, who was wearing his regular school robes, and had his broomstick over his shoulder.
"Marcus," she said, with a measure of excitement, "Guess what? I'm done with Flying lessons, I don't have to go anymore."
"Yeah?" He mirrored her smile. "That's brilliant. I told you you were getting better. Now maybe you can come to Quidditch practises on Fridays, watch the team, and get a feel for some of the moves we use. I bet in a few more weeks, we can have you trying some of them."
Calista blinked. "Are you mental? I'm done with lessons, I'm not going to fly anymore."
"What? Why not? You were - I thought you were starting to really get into it. You were going to go out for the Quidditch team next year, remember?"
"I never said I was going to do that, you and Conor did. I'm still rubbish, and I know it. You'd be better off putting a grindylow on the team."
Marcus furrowed his brow, perplexed. "Huh? Grindylows can't breathe above water, they wouldn't be able to fly… unless you could play underwater, but… I don't think that would work."
"Yeah," Calista said slowly, "That's the point."
"But you're loads better than a grindylow would be," Marcus insisted, sincerely.
"Erm," Calista said, "It… it was a joke, Marcus."
"Oh." He paused, and considered this, switching his broomstick to his other shoulder, before he chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I get it now. So… you really don't want to practise flying now, then?"
"Not particularly," she admitted, and Marcus frowned.
"All right," he said, "I think I'm going to go down to the pitch anyway, try out a few things Conor was showing us last practise. D'you want to come?"
"That depends," she said suspiciously, "Are you going to try and trick me into flying again, after all?"
Marcus grinned boyishly. "Maybe."
Calista felt the now-familiar flutter in her stomach again. Olivia liked to comment snidely on the fact that some of Marcus' teeth were a bit crooked, but Calista didn't think it mattered; there was something about his grin that she'd always liked. It used to put her at ease, when she was younger, and had only thought of him as her friend. Now, it gave her insides a funny flip-flopping feeling…
"Fine," she said, and realised that his grin also made her say stupid things, "I'll go, but I'm only going to watch."
"Right," Marcus said, looping his arm effortlessly through hers in motion that had become habit, "Whatever you say."
She realised, after several steps, that she hadn't flinched or started when he'd touched her, not at all. She wondered what it would be like if they were holding hands, instead of walking with their elbows linked. Or… what if he put his arm around her, or…?
She was blushing, again, and she realised that Marcus was talking, and she had no idea what he'd been saying.
"What?" she said, "Sorry, I… er, I was thinking about something."
"Yeah?" he asked, glancing sidelong at her. "What were you thinking about?"
"Uhm," she said, scrounging for a word, anything, that had absolutely nothing to do with what she'd actually been thinking, "Transfiguration."
"Oh." He was quiet for a few paces. "How're you doing with it? We haven't really studied together in a while. I saw you got the beetle buttons to come out right."
"I'm doing okay, I guess," she said, "A bit better, anyway. I'm supposed to start learning badgering on Tuesday."
"It took me ages to get that," Marcus said, "I hope you get it faster than I did."
"Yeah," She shrugged. "I hope it's not too bad. So what were you saying, before?"
"I was just saying, we have another Hogsmeade weekend coming up. D'you…" he trailed off, and Calista glanced at him. He met her gaze, shook his head slightly, and flashed his grin again. "D'you think Kim'll get drunk again?"
"I doubt it," Calista said, "You should've seen how sick she got."
He shrugged, as they approached the Quidditch pitch. "Yeah, you're probably right. Still, it was pretty funny. I didn't think Madam Rosmerta was going to serve her, but she did. Four times."
"Four? I guess that explains a lot."
"Yeah." Marcus let go of Calista, and swung his broom over his shoulder. He gestured towards it, inviting her to climb on, but she shook her head stubbornly.
"I told you, I'm just going to watch."
Marcus smiled crookedly. "Yeah, well, it was worth a try, right?" He threw his own leg over the broomstick, and took off, leaning forward. He climbed up, higher and higher into the air.
Calista watched, and it seemed that he was trying out some new manoeuvres, because he was looping, and diving, and generally doing things that looked to Calista as though they were likely to send him flying off the broomstick, but he remained firmly seated on it. After perhaps ten minutes, he glided easily back to the ground, stopping the broomstick right beside her.
"Didn't that look fun?"
"It looked suicidal."
"Maybe a bit," he grinned again, "But fun. Come on, I'll show you."
"No way," she said, firmly. "I have this thing, I can only have fun when both feet are on the ground."
He chuckled. "That sounds like a boring 'thing'. It wasn't so bad before, when I took you flying, was it? I didn't let you fall."
"Yes, well, you weren't going upside down then, either."
"I won't go upside down if you don't want me to," Marcus said. He slid backwards on the broom, making room, and gestured to the spot in front of him.
She was still uneasy in the air, even if she had managed to overcome it just enough to satisfy Madam Hooch, and if it were anyone besides Marcus, she would have still refused. But it was Marcus, and she sort of believed that he wouldn't let her fall. More importantly, there was a part of herself, which she was finding increasingly annoying, that liked the idea of sitting so close to him again… oh gods, she was blushing again. Her hand started to go up, and she grabbed her ponytail for a second, before realising what she was doing and dropping it quickly.
"Promise you won't go upside down?" she asked, feeling like this blushing, hair-fiddling girl inside her was taking her over, infiltrating her mind - only instead of wanting to sacrifice her, or entice her to serve the Dark Lord, this girl within wanted her to fly on broomsticks and try to make her hair look pretty, all so she could be close to a boy… a very nice boy with an enticing grin, but a boy nonetheless.
"I promise," he said, "Unless you change your mind."
"I won't," she said, but she stepped up to the broomstick, and eased herself onto it. She sat a little too far forward, because she felt awkward about pressing herself so close to him, but he didn't seem to feel awkward about it, because he put his hands at the sides of her torso, and pulled her gently back, until she was sitting in the right place. She was so glad he couldn't see her face, and she hoped her ears weren't turning red too, because he might be able to see those.
Marcus leaned forward, bringing his arms around her and placing them on the broom handle in front of her. Then he lifted off into the air, climbing just as high as he had moments ago, when he was flying alone.
She felt an uncomfortable lightness in her belly that, for once, had nothing to do with Marcus, and everything to do with the height the broomstick reached, before he banked it into a turn and started to turn and zigzag through the air.
She felt herself tense, and shiver, and she wasn't sure if it was from nerves or the chill winter air, but at least Marcus seemed to be keeping his word, and he wasn't flying upside down.
She felt warmth by her ear, and then she caught Marcus' voice briefly, before the wind snatched it away.
"Hang on," she thought he'd said, and then she understood why, when he took the broomstick into a spectacular dive. She hung on, all right; she gripped the broomstick as if her life depended on it, and she felt a bit like it might. They hurtled toward the ground, too fast, impossibly fast… and then, Marcus pulled the broom up again, beginning a slower, calmer rise back into the air.
"All right? he asked, near her ear again, and she could hear him better now that they were flying more slowly.
"That was-" she exhaled, shaking her head, trying to dispel some of her nerves.
"Brilliant fun?" He supplied.
"Scary," she said, turning her head so he could hear her. "Maybe… maybe a tiny bit fun, too."
"Good," he said, and Calista swore she could hear his grin in his voice, "'Cause we're going to do it again."
"Wait, I don't know-" she started, but he was zooming up faster now, and her words were lost in the rising wind.
He made a wide, fast loop around the pitch, and then went into another dive; this time, she knew what to expect, and it was a bit less scary, a bit more fun.
They flew around a little longer, until it was time to return to the castle for dinner. When Marcus brought his broomstick down, and Calista's feet touched ground, she found herself hesitating, just a couple of seconds, before she made to climb off - but then it was awkward, again, because Marcus still had his hands on the broomstick in front of her, and his arms were still blocking her in.
"Sorry," Marcus said, moving his arms to his sides, and sliding back a bit so she could dismount. He climbed off after she did, and picked up his broomstick. He looked at her, expectantly.
"Well?" he said, "Still giving up on flying?"
"It's not the same," she said, "Flying by myself, and flying with y- erm, with someone else. It… it seems harder to fall off, you know?"
"I still think it's weird that you're scared of flying," Marcus said, glancing in the direction of the castle, but not making any moves to get back to it. "I didn't think you were scared of much of anything."
She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was poking fun at her; but he looked sincere enough.
"That's…" She shook her head. "I'm scared of things."
"Like what? Besides flying by yourself."
I'm scared of the way I'm starting to feel around you, Calista thought to herself, but of course she would never say that.
"Vampires," she said, "Werewolves." My mother.
He laughed. "Is that it? That's the whole list?"
Well, it was half of it. "Pretty much," she said.
"My list is longer than that," Marcus admitted, easily.
"I don't think you seem like you're scared of much," Calista said. "You're definitely not afraid of flying, that's one less than me."
"I'm scared of a normal amount of things," Marcus said, "I mean, I'm not a chicken, or anything. But, you know… vampires and werewolves, too, I guess, although I've never met one, so I'm not sure. The Giant Squid. Failing my exams and getting kicked off the Quidditch team."
Calista realised they still weren't heading for the castle; they were probably going to be too late for dinner if they didn't go soon.
"We should head back," she said, and Marcus nodded, putting his broomstick over his shoulder. They started walking back towards the castle.
"So, is that it?" Calista asked, looking over at him, "Just four things?"
"One more thing," Marcus said, and he glanced at her sheepishly. "I'm… I'm scared of your dad."
She laughed. "Why? You're getting better at Potions, aren't you?"
"Yeah, a bit. I mean, I don't melt cauldrons as much anymore."
"What do you mean by 'as much'?"
"Maybe once or twice, this year."
"Well, that's fewer than Oliver Wood," she said, encouragingly.
"Yeah," Marcus said, "It's not just that, though. It's… I dunno."
"No, go on," she said, "I won't be cross with you, loads of people are afraid of my dad. He's really not that bad, though."
"Well, yeah," Marcus said, "Not to you. I mean, he's your dad. I bet… I bet he's like, really protective of you, right?"
Calista rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you could say that. Nearly every time I've gotten in trouble with him, it's because he thinks I've done something dangerous."
"Like what?" he asked, curiously.
Like forget to tell him my psychotic mother is trying to possess me, she thought.
"I got in trouble when I was eight or nine for sneaking into the Owlery," she said, "I almost got clawed by an owl - he was so angry - I had to copy lines a thousand times. And, oh, I used to always ask to go into the Forbidden Forest, or to go swimming in the lake, with the Giant Squid. That usually made him pretty cross."
"You wanted to swim with the Giant Squid?" Marcus asked, horrified, and Calista remembered that he'd said he was afraid of it.
"Well, not really," she said, "It was just kind of fun to pretend I wanted to, just to see the look on my dad's face."
"Wow," Marcus said, almost reverently, as they approached the castle. "You made him cross on purpose? You are brave."
They stepped into the entrance hall, and then nearly collided with Severus, of all people, as they joined the crowd of students and staff funnelling into the Great Hall.
"Dad," Calista said, and she fervently hoped that any trace of heightened colour had left her cheeks. She glanced at Marcus, and saw that his face looked a little red, too. Maybe it was from the wind, when they were flying, but she didn't think it had looked that way before.
"Calista," he greeted her, and then he nodded to Marcus. "Mr. Flint."
"H-hello, sir," Marcus stammered. Calista couldn't think why he sounded so nervous, and then she realised that he must have been afraid her father had overheard the end of their conversation.
Severus flicked his glance over the two of them again, and Calista thought she saw one corner of his mouth pull downwards in a concerned frown, but the expression was gone as quickly as she thought she saw it, so perhaps she had imagined it.
"Marcus has been helping me learn to fly," she said, as they entered the Great Hall. "And guess what? Madam Hooch says I'm done with lessons, now."
"Is that so?" Severus half-turned, and cast his gaze over Calista, and Marcus in turn, again. "I expect you're pleased with that news."
"Ecstatic," Calista said, as Marcus pulled back from them. Calista glanced at him questioningly.
"I… er, I'm just going to go drop my broom off," he said, and he disappeared before Calista could reply. She shrugged, and continued walking. She separated from her father when she reached the Slytherin table, and he continued on to the high table.
She considered an empty seat near Kim and the other seventh years, but she remembered what had happened last time she sat near them after coming in with Marcus, and she hastily sat down with Sofia and Eva instead.
"Hi, Calista," Sofia greeted her cheerfully, and Eva waved with her fingers. She chatted with them for a few minutes, but she kept glancing towards the door.
When Marcus returned, he slid into a seat among the other fourth years. Calista noted with a small bit of satisfaction that there was another student separating him from Endria Folland.
"So," Sofia said, leaning over and talking quietly but cheerfully. "Is he your boyfriend?"
Calista nearly choked on the piece of chicken she was eating.
"What? No! I don't have a -" she wrinkled her nose, and lowered her voice, "I don't have a boyfriend."
"Oh." Sofia looked casually down the table, in Marcus' direction, and then spoke softly to Calista again. "I was only asking," she said, "Because I thought you two looked kind of cute together, and I was going to tell you so."
"Well, we don't," Calista said, stubbornly, "I mean, we're not. It's not… it's not like that. We're friends."
Sofia raised her eyebrows. "Okay." She didn't sound convinced.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Calista huddled under her winter cloak as twilight advanced, watching her breath make fog in front of her face. Everyone in their little cluster of spectators in the Quidditch stands was cold, and everyone had the same thing on their minds.
"I can't wait for some hot chocolate," Amelia whined, next to her. "How long are they going to keep playing?"
The Gryffindor team was playing a mock game, and they were determined to keep playing until Charlie Weasley found the Snitch. Unfortunately for all of the chilly students waiting anxiously for a warm, sweet treat, this had not been Charlie's best day. They'd been practising for more than three hours already, and a lot of spectators had given up and gone back into the castle, including Penny and Percy, who had disappeared to study Arithmancy.
Amelia had stayed, and so had Nymphadora Tonks, but most of the other students that Calista was friendly with had already gone inside. She wanted to go back to the castle herself, but Amelia had begged her to stay out, citing hot chocolate as a reason.
"I bet we could get some hot chocolate inside," Calista pointed out, "From the kitchens. I know how to get in."
"Then I'd feel like I wasted all this time already," Amelia said.
Tonks smiled at Calista. "It was the greatest day of my life when I figured that out," she said, "Dessert whenever I want, it's brilliant. Did someone tell you, or did you just guess how to get in?"
"Marcus showed me," Calista said, "A few months ago."
"I'm surprised you didn't know before he did," Amelia commented, "Seeing as you spent all that time at Hogwarts when you were small."
"Yeah," Tonks said, with a grin, "But boys always know where to find food. Well, boys and me. I'm always hungry."
If it were true, Calista wondered where all the food Tonks was taking from the kitchens was going. The older girl was thin and lanky, and didn't really look like she'd ever eaten a Cauldron Cake in her life. Calista wondered if being a metamorphmagus meant you could make yourself stay thin, no matter what you ate.
"I like your hair today," she commented, looking at Tonks. She tried to see any genetic resemblance to herself, any sign that they shared blood, but how could she even know if the face she was looking at was Tonks' normal face?
Her hair was really cool; today it was in short, hot-pink spikes, and she had on dangly earrings that were little skulls in precisely the same shade.
"Thanks," she said, "I had a detention today, so I was trying to look the part, you know?"
"What was your detention for?" Amelia asked. Calista snuck another look at Tonks; she thought she might have similar cheekbones, high and sharp, although Tonks' were set in a wider face.
"I'm not supposed to say," Tonks admitted, "Professor Sprout was afraid other students would copy me if they heard about it."
"Oh, come on," Amelia said, "Now you have to tell us."
"Can't," Tonks said, regretfully, "I'll lose twenty house points if I tell anyone. My housemates would kill me."
"How would she know, though?" Calista asked. "It's not like she put some kind of spell on you, or anything, to know when you said it. Teachers aren't allowed to cast magic against students."
"Beats me," Tonks said, "However they found out I did it in the first place, I guess. I'm not saying, so you'll just have to take my word for it that it was fun."
Amelia grumbled a bit, but then Charlie went into a beautifully executed dive. When he pulled out of it, just inches from the ground, he was holding something up in the air; it was too dark to see what it was from the stands, but everyone assumed it was the Snitch, and scrambled down from the stands onto the edge of the field.
It was the Snitch, and soon enough, the spectators were rewarded with their hot chocolate. Calista sipped at hers, and thought that it was probably worth the wait. It tasted even more delicious than normal, because it was so cold outside, and they'd been anticipating the treat for so long.
A few people went over to the Quidditch team members, and started discussing their tactics, but Calista, Amelia, and Tonks huddled off to the side, content with just the hot chocolate.
A pretty Gryffindor girl that had been watching approached Charlie as he emerged from the locker room, back in his regular robes; she caught him up in a hug, and then the two of them kissed. Calista averted her eyes, not sure if she was supposed to have seen that, and trying her hardest not to think of Marcus, not to imagine meeting him when the Slytherin team was finishing their practise…
"I used to fancy him in the worst way, you know," Tonks mused quietly. Calista and Amelia looked at her in surprise.
"You did?" Amelia asked.
"Yeah," Tonks admitted, "Since my first day of my first year. I tripped, getting off the train, and he helped me up - I was so embarrassed, but he was so nice about it, even helped me pick up all these Chocolate Frogs that fell out of my pockets - I was saving them for later, you know, I wasn't sure if there would be dessert after the feast or not. And then, don't ask me how, but I managed to get separated from the rest of my housemates on the way to the Hufflepuff common room that first night, and I stumbled into the Gryffindors on the way to theirs. Charlie already knew a bit about the castle from his brother, so he helped me."
"That's really nice," Amelia said, "So then you got back to your common room okay?"
"Nah," Tonks said, grinning, "I mean, yeah, eventually, but when we were on the way to it, Charlie asked me if I still had those Chocolate Frogs in my pocket. We wound up eating them in an empty classroom, when everyone else was getting their 'Don't wander into the forest and die' speech from the Prefects. We've been friends ever since then."
Calista snickered. She recalled that speech with perfect clarity, mostly because she had already heard it from her father a dozen times before she even started school.
"Did you ever tell him you liked him?" Amelia pressed.
"No," Tonks said, "I was too scared to. I liked being friends with him, you know? I thought everything was fine the way it was, I wasn't in a hurry to try and make it more complicated."
"And then he started liking her," Calista muttered, but she wasn't thinking of the pretty Gryffindor girl that had kissed Charlie Weasley; she was thinking of Endria Folland, and the fact that she'd seen her hanging around Marcus more often than she was comfortable with. But it was stupid to even think of him in that way, wasn't it? If he had a shot with Endria, who was his own age and extremely pretty and popular, there was no way he was going to look at someone like Calista twice.
"It gets worse than that," Tonks said, taking a big gulp of hot chocolate, and then wincing. "Ow, hot."
She glanced at Charlie, who was a short distance away, talking to his girlfriend.
"He asked me out, last year," she said, quietly enough that her voice wouldn't carry beyond their little group of three. "Asked me to sneak out of the castle with him one night to go try and get a drink at the Hog's Head pub. But I was freaked out, I didn't expect him to actually like me, too, and I was afraid that if we went on a date and it didn't work out, we wouldn't be friends anymore… so I said, let's go to Zonko's instead."
"So what happened?" Calista asked.
"We went to Zonko's," she said, "And I got a bunch of Dungbombs instead of a boyfriend. And now he's moved on to Jane Ridley, and that ship's sailed."
"And you're just okay with that?" Calista wondered.
"I accepted it."
"Wow," Amelia said, "That's sad. Did you at least get to use the Dungbombs?"
"Oh, yeah, of course," Tonks said, "I hid them in Jane's schoolbag, all the time, whenever I got the chance. I said I accepted that he was dating her I didn't say I liked it."
Calista smirked. She wondered if Dungbombs would keep Marcus away from Endria…
"I guess what I'm saying is," Tonks added, "If the boy you've had a crush on for five years suddenly decides to ask you out, don't go to a joke shop instead."
"I don't think I'll ever have to worry about that," Calista said.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Calista still hadn't decided what to do with the letter she'd found in Olivia's things, but she hadn't wanted to let on to Olivia that she knew about it, so she'd copied the relevant parts onto another sheet of parchment that she hid in her old room in her father's quarters, and snuck the original back to where she'd found it.
She'd given her father's words a lot of thought, and she knew he was probably right, that the only way she could stop being a little bit afraid of Olivia, the only way she could stop losing sleep over what would happen if her friends found out who her mother was, would be if she got it over with and told them herself. But it was easier to realise this than it was to actually follow through on it, so she'd been procrastinating, telling herself she would come up with a plan soon enough.
She had mostly decided that she would go to Narcissa with the contents of the letter, but she was afraid that doing so might lead to a situation where the identity of Calista's mother came out, somehow, particularly if Olivia found out what Calista was up to, and decided to tell everyone to get revenge.
She had initially meant to be studying Transfiguration, but the swirl of thoughts in her mind was proving too distracting. Instead, she was sitting in front of a blank sheet of parchment in the common room, trying to figure out whether she should write anything about the whole situation to her aunt, or just write to her about inconsequential things, instead, when the Quidditch team came through the common room, with a lot of noise.
Distracted, Calista glanced up. Marcus was grinning again… she turned back to the parchment, trying to fight the blush she could feel rising to her cheeks. How was it that she could make the contents of her mind inaccessible to Lucius Malfoy, but she couldn't keep her increasing feelings for Marcus off her face?
Dear Aunt Narcissa,
she wrote, but she had no notion of what she should write next. 'My house mate is a spoiled cow and I think she wants to ruin my life by revealing that my mother is a psychopathic murderer' did not quite seem appropriate, especially given that Narcissa did not quite seem to view her sister this way. She toyed with another idea: 'I think I like a boy, but he fancies a girl that's a million times prettier than I'll ever be, and besides, my father says I'm not allowed to have a boyfriend until I'm thirty'
Well, she certainly wasn't going to write either of those things. She set her quill down in frustration, just as Marcus walked by her study table.
"Hey, Calista," he said, glancing at the table, where she had her Transfiguration book, as well as the sheet of parchment she'd written only a salutation on. She shoved the parchment to her other side, where he couldn't see it, as if she'd actually written the bit about thinking she liked him, even though she'd only jokingly thought about it. "Studying again?"
"Yeah," she said, quickly. "Transfiguration. Uhm, badgering."
"Maybe we could study together again," he suggested, "Tomorrow, or something?"
Well, she did still need to practise the spell, and it would be an opportunity to spend time with Marcus on solid ground, instead of far above the Quidditch pitch.
"Okay," she said, "I have time after Arithmancy, I think. You could meet me outside of the classroom at four o'clock."
He nodded. "I should be out of Care of Magical Creatures by then," he said. "Seventh floor, right?"
"Yeah. I'll bring my Transfiguration stuff with me, so I'll have it when I get out of class."
One of his teammates called to him then, and he flashed Calista a quick smile before bounding back over to the team to nail down the next practise session. She looked at him for a minute, as long as she trusted herself to without blushing. She remembered thinking he reminded her of a troll her first year, recalled the fact that she had thought he was too thick to be interesting.
Part of her almost wished she could still see him that way. It would be easier, and far less embarrassing… but the more time she had spent with him, the further and further away she got from that initial impression of him. She knew that there were plenty of other boys in the school that girls had crushes on… there was Colin Greengrass, whom even she had noticed was nice to look at, but she couldn't fancy anyone who would kiss Olivia, not even if he was under the influence of a love potion when he did it.
Besides, she didn't know Colin, or Charlie Weasley, or Derek Logan, or any of the other boys that she knew other girls fancied. She knew a lot of girls thought Conor Quinn was cute, and she supposed she could see it, objectively, and she knew that Kim was mad about Ethan Briggs, but even though she was friendly with both of them, she just didn't think about them in that way.
She wished she wouldn't think about anyone in a romantic way at all, but the hair-twirling, blushing, broomstick-riding girl inside of her was evidently in charge in that regard… and that girl had decidedly firmly that she liked Marcus, with his crooked, infectious grin, and sincere kindness. And then, there were his eyes, which, though they were grey, were nothing like her mother's, were warm and friendly...and he was tall, and he looked really nice in his Quidditch robes...
She wondered if her face was on fire, it felt so warm. She gathered her book and her parchment and quill, intent on retreating to her dormitory room before anyone realised what was going on in her head; she thought wildly that anyone looking a her might be able to figure it out, and anyway, hadn't they already started to? Kim had teased her about it, and now Eva and Sofia were, too.
She glanced around, to see if any of them were in the common room, and were paying any attention to her and her traitorous cheeks. She couldn't help but shoot one more glance at Marcus… and then she scowled. He was talking to Endria again, and she was laughing at something he'd said, and nodding her head. Oh gods, what if he'd just asked her out? And she was saying yes, and what if they were going to start dating, and then whenever Calista spent time with Marcus, he would just want to talk about Endria and how much he liked her… Calista didn't think she could stand it, if that happened.
She clutched her book and her parchment to her chest, and retreated as quickly as she could, practically flying into her dormitory room, and slamming the door closed behind her.
It wasn't fair. Endria was so pretty, with her coffee-coloured skin and shining black hair, and a body that was already starting to curve in place Calista didn't think hers ever would, stupid training bra or no. Worse, Endria was quite popular, with students and teachers alike, and everyone said she was going to be chosen as a Prefect next year.
So why, then, did Endria have to decide to like Marcus, too? She could probably choose any boy she wanted for her boyfriend, any of the other Quidditch players, even. She could go out with Derek Logan, the boy that Olivia was always mooning over, or even Colin Greengrass. Weren't pretty girls like Endria and Olivia only supposed to care about dating popular boys?
Marcus wasn't really popular, and Olivia didn't seem to think he was very cute, so why did Endria have to like him? Why couldn't she leave him for Calista, who didn't think any boy in the whole school would ever fancy her? At least if Endria ignored Marcus, Calista could convince herself that perhaps someday, she'd somehow become prettier, and Marcus would decide that maybe going out with her wouldn't be so bad…
But then, she was being foolish, she told herself, and not only because it didn't look like she'd ever have a chance with Endria around. She tried, sternly, to tell the hair-twirling imbecile in her head that she didn't want to date a boy who only cared whether she was pretty or not. If she was ever going to go out with someone, it should be someone who liked her for being clever, or funny, or any other of the limited positive qualities that she knew she possessed instead of beauty.
Kind of like how I mostly like Marcus because he's so nice, and honest all the time, she thought, but she pushed it out of her head. And he defends me, and he helped me learn how to fly, and he always offers to study with me…
Stop it, she told herself firmly, It's not going to happen. Get over it, and do your bloody homework.
She set her unfinished letter to Narcissa aside, and pulled her Transfiguration book onto her lap, dutifully opening to the section on badgering.
Weekly Power Status
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