Chapter 51: 34
Year 3, Chapter 11
At breakfast the next morning, Calista still sat with Sofia and Eva, and Marcus sat with the Quidditch team, both of them trying not to behave as if anything had changed. Of course, plenty of people had seen them return to the common room together, but no one knew what they had discussed, or the fact that they had kissed - at least, Calista hadn't told anyone, and she supposed that Marcus hadn't told the Quidditch team either. If he had, she was certain that Kim, at least, would be teasing her.
There was precisely one reason why they were trying to keep a low profile, and it was sitting at the high table, eating bacon and (Calista imagined) watching the Slytherin table with suspicion. Calista would deal with her father's ire when she had to; she just hoped to prolong the inevitable as long as possible, for her own sake as well as Marcus'.
In truth, she didn't know precisely how her father would react to her having kissed a boy - or been kissed by one, but the distinction didn't seem to matter, since she'd definitely been a willing party - or to the idea of Calista possibly being in a relationship with Marcus… but then, she didn't even know if she was in one, really, didn't know what being in one really entailed.
She was reasonably sure, however, that whatever his reaction was, it would not be favourable. Perhaps he would give both of them detention… or perhaps he would declare that they were not allowed to spend time near each other, but she didn't see how he could enforce that when they shared a common room. She was afraid that he would be unkind to Marcus, would even manage to scare him off, and she definitely didn't want that to happen.
Calista was pondering the logistics of keeping this secret from Severus when Severus' owl flew into the Great Hall, and dropped a letter next to Calista's plate. It was from Narcissa; as soon as she realised that, she grabbed the letter, and left the rest of her breakfast unfinished. She didn't want to risk opening it anywhere near Olivia, who was staring murderously at her eggs across the table and a few seats down, as if they were the reason that Marcus had rejected her advances the previous night.
Calista brought the letter back to her dormitory room, even though she had Potions class in fifteen minutes. At least her room wasn't very far from the classroom. She opened the letter, and read it quickly.
Dear Calista,
I'm very sorry to hear that your classmate is causing you trouble. I know you are a clever girl, and you'll find a way to set her straight. Remember that it is quite likely she is jealous of you. Even if it does turn out that her mother is pure-blooded (which, frankly, I doubt, since I would know of her if she was), her father is not; naturally, she resents your rich heritage. I am telling you this not so you will pity her, but rather so you will feel righteous in addressing her mistreatment of you. You are undoubtedly part of a more privileged class than she, and perhaps she would be well-served to be reminded of that.
I will look into the identity of her mother, if it will set your mind at ease, but I'm nearly certain she can't be anything like as important as your classmate would have you believe. If she were, she wouldn't need to resort to attempting to ingratiate her teenage daughter with your family.
I'm very sorry as well that you've had your feelings hurt by the boy that you admire. I know it won't seem like much of a consolation now, but the truth of the matter is that if he would choose this Avril girl over you, then he is probably not worthy of your affection, anyway. No one ever wants to hear this, darling, but there will be more boys. If no one from an acceptable family at Hogwarts appeals to you, I would be happy to introduce you to some young men from suitable families who attend Durmstrang Academy, when you're a little older.
You needn't worry about trusting me with your secrets, Calista. As long as they do not place you in danger, I will keep them. You can always come to me, with anything you wish to share, and I give you my word I will not betray your confidence, not even to your father.
Your Loving Aunt,
Narcissa
Calista glossed uneasily over the parts of the letter she didn't like; she was uncomfortable with Narcissa's insinuation that Calista was somehow special because of a heritage she didn't even want. She ignored, too, Narcissa's comments about finding a boy from a 'suitable' family. She had no idea of her aunt would deem Marcus suitable or not, because she had never asked him about his blood status, because Calista didn't care about it.
There was a book that listed all of the pure-blood families in Wizarding Britain, she knew. She had seen it on the shelf in the Malfoy's library, and her mother used to have a copy of it, too, but Calista had never opened it. She felt that even doing so, even comparing which of her friends and classmates came from pure-blood families would be an indication that she was buying into her mother's ideology, and she refused.
The fact that her mother's ideology was also her Aunt Narcissa's ideology was a bit of a prickly point for Calista, who actually did like her aunt very much. She tended to simply ignore Narcissa's opinions on blood purity, because Narcissa was kind to her, and she seemed far too proper and delicate to ever do something as base as attacking anyone.
Of course, Lucius on the other hand… she was far more cautious of him, because she suspected that he would act on his derision for Muggles and Muggle-borns. In fact, she suspected that he already had… and besides, he was not nearly as pleasant as Narcissa, even though he did seem to have warmed up to Calista quite a bit since he had first met her.
Calista checked the time on the clock that hung between Olivia and Portia's beds; she had exactly two minutes to get to Potions. She folded Narcissa's letter and stuck it in her Potions book, because she didn't trust Olivia not to go snooping. When a small voice in her head observed how hypocritical this thought was, she suppressed it.
She slipped into the classroom precisely as the bell rang; it was the first time in her life that she had nearly been late to Potions class. She went quickly to her usual place, among the Gryffindors, next to Percy. They were brewing a Confusing Concoction, which was not particularly difficult, as long as the instructions were followed carefully.
Calista was grateful for the relatively easy assignment, because it meant she could focus on keeping any and all thoughts of Marcus from approaching the surface of her mind, where he might be able to pick up on them. Even so, Calista had the uncomfortable feeling that he somehow knew something, anyway, because he kept walking by her cauldron, and pausing there, as if she would burst out with whatever it was he wanted to know as long as he remained in her vicinity.
How's this for guarding my thoughts while occupied? she thought snappishly, while she blanched her scurvy grass in a bath of icy water. It was yet another instruction that was not in the book, but which her father had imparted to her; it increased the effectiveness, which allowed the brewer to either use less, or make a more potent concoction. Calista elected to use less, because it wouldn't need to simmer quite as long that way, and this was one day when she was loathe to remain after class.
"What's that you're doing with your scurvy grass?" Percy wondered, and Calista explained it to him. He asked her where she'd learned the trick from, and she said that her father had told her.
It occurred to her, in that moment, that really the only reason that she was an exceptional student in Potions was because of things her father had taught her, and he was always generous with his knowledge, with her. True, she could follow a recipe very well, but it wasn't a subject area that she explored on her own, particularly not since her father had stopped giving her private lessons.
She remembered taking an avid interest in Potions when she was younger, and she still liked it well enough now, because it wasn't difficult for her, but the truth was that she had ceased researching ingredients and reactions and such on her own as soon as she'd discovered she actually did have real magic.
She remembered telling Marcus that she wasn't certain if her favourite class was Potions or Charms, but she supposed that if she willingly spent upwards of three or four hours per week doing extra homework she didn't need to for Flitwick, and not for her father, then she had her answer. She wondered if her father was disappointed, or if he even noticed that she was never innovative in his class, only precise. Would she even do half as well in Potions if her father wasn't the professor?
Towards the end of class, when she went to the front of the room to turn her potion in, her father leaned over his desk to speak to her quietly.
"I want you to remain after class for a minute," he said.
"I have Ancient Runes right after lunch…"
"Ah, perfect. We'll eat lunch together, then. That will give us more than a minute."
Well, that had backfired. "Am I in trouble?" she whispered. It was better to be prepared, if she was.
"That remains to be seen," Severus said, ominously.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Lunch with her father hadn't actually gone disastrously. He was suspicious, that was for certain, but she wasn't positive if he was even suspicious of the proper thing. He didn't ask her anything about Marcus, or say anything about boys at all.
He wanted to know who she'd been using his owl to write to; Calista was pleased that she could truthfully give him an answer he wouldn't mind.
"I was writing to Aunt Narcissa," she said, "About that Olivia thing."
"Are you certain that's the only person you've been writing to?"
"Yes," she said, and she could afford to be indignant, because it was the truth. "Ask her if you want."
She hoped he wouldn't, though. Narcissa had said she'd keep her secret, but Calista didn't particularly want to put that promise to the test.
"Have you had any further dreams about Bellatrix?"
"No."
"How are your classes going?"
"Fine."
He frowned. It was clear to Calista that he felt something was afoot that he needed to get to the bottom of. She wasn't going to help him figure it out.
"And badgering? You've gotten that now?"
"I feel like I'm getting it right now," she shot back. "I haven't done anything, so stop acting like I have, will you?"
"I never said you did. Guilty conscience, perhaps?"
"Hardly. And you don't have to say it, you're making it pretty clear that you think I've done something, with all your questions."
After that, she'd successfully managed to transition him into talking about the Occlumency book he'd lent her, but he made one more attempt to uncover something as she was leaving his office to go to her next class.
"Calista, are you absolutely certain there's nothing you want to tell me?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's not fair," she shot back.
"What are you talking about? What's not fair?"
"Nothing," she said, "I just thought we were saying useless things to each other, that's all. If I wanted to tell you something, I would. I have to go to class now - are you sure you don't want to follow me?"
Perhaps she had gone a little too far; he almost looked like he would follow her, but he waved her out of his quarters, a frown set in his face.
It occurred to her, too late, that it probably would have been wiser to be a bit friendlier to him. If he hadn't suspected she was hiding something before, she was nearly certain that he would suspect it now.
She was nearly late to Ancient Runes, too, although she decided to blame that on her father and all of his questions.
Guarding her thoughts about Marcus from her father during Potions class turned out to be a helpful thing for another reason, though; she found that she wasn't distracted by them like she otherwise might have been in class. She even managed to jot down a few ideas during the lecture of things she'd like to research further, later on, another crossover idea between Ancient Runes and Charms.
At dinner, Calista sat with Sofia and Eva again. They were asking her questions about the year-end exams, and what sorts of questions to expect in which classes, but Calista wasn't entirely focused on the conversation; she kept thinking about what would happen at seven o'clock. She wondered if Marcus still wanted to meet her in the owlery, hoped that he hadn't changed his mind about liking her… she wondered if he was going to kiss her again…
"Calista?" She blinked, and realised that Sofia was staring at her. "Is there something we should know about the Charms exam?" she wondered, "I asked you what was on it, and you started blushing."
"I… uhm, I'm not feeling very good. Too much studying, I guess. Sorry."
Eva smirked. "Studying what, I wonder? Or should I say, who?" She raised her eyebrows knowingly, and then she and Sofia both giggled.
Calista scowled. "Shut up."
"Everyone's saying he fancies you, you know," Sofia said, "I mean, he told that prissy blonde girl Olivia that he liked someone else, and…"
"Everyone reckons it's you," Eva finished, "Because of that Quidditch thing, with the Gryffindors, a while back."
"What? What Quidditch thing are you talking about?" Calista had been about to tell Eva to shut up again, until she'd said that, and Sofia had started nodding, like she knew exactly what Eva was talking about.
"Oh… no one told you?" Eva seemed surprised.
"Told me what?"
"A few months ago, that other girl, the blonde's friend, Portia, was trying to make trouble for you. She was in the common room, and she started telling everyone that you were at the Quidditch pitch, for the Gryffindor practise. She said you went there all the time, that you were probably spying for their Quidditch team, telling them all our plays, a whole bunch of stuff like that -"
"I was not spying," Calista said.
"Well, listen, will you?" Sofia said, good-naturedly, "Marcus was there, and he told Portia she didn't know what she was talking about. He said he asked you to go there, that you were actually spying for Slytherin."
"He… he did?"
"Yeah," Eva chimed in, "And people seemed to buy it, although we know you don't understand enough of the rules of Quidditch to be particularly good at spying."
"And you have friends in Gryffindor," Sofia added, "So we knew it wasn't true, but we didn't say anything, obviously. Anyway, he came to your defence very quickly, so now everyone's saying that you must be the one he fancies."
"I wish everyone would mind their own business and shut up," Calista muttered.
"Well, Eva prodded, leaning across the table, and smiling slyly at Calista, "You fancy him too, don't you?"
"Will you two drop it?"
"Not a chance," Sofia grinned, "Not until you tell him you like him. You'd be so cute together!"
"Shut up," Calista hissed, "He knows, okay? We… we already talked about it."
Sofia and Eva both lit up.
"But you can't say anything else about it!" Calista said quickly, before they could bombard her with more questions. "I don't… I don't want anyone else to know. My dad… I don't think he'd be happy…"
"Oooh," Eva said, raising her eyebrows again. "You're right. That's going to be a problem, isn't it?"
The two of them exchanged a look, and then Sofia smiled reassuringly at Calista. "Well, he won't find out from us," she said, "We can keep a secret for you. We didn't tell anyone about the Quidditch thing."
Calista really hoped they were telling the truth. "Please," she said, "Don't say anything. I… I'll bring you back whatever you want from Hogsmeade, next time I go."
"Calista," Eva said, rolling her eyes. "We won't say anything. You don't have to bribe us, we're your friends." She considered a moment, and then added, "But I'll take some dungbombs, as long as you don't ask me what they're for."
"Eva!" Sofia admonished, but Calista nodded. "Deal," she said, quickly.
After dinner, Calista went back to the common room, and wrote another letter to her aunt.
Dear Aunt Narcissa,
Olivia might not have ruined everything after all, even though she tried. I talked to him last night, and he told me he likes me, too.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now, though. I really like him a lot, and I'm afraid I'm going to mess this all up by saying or doing the wrong thing - what did you do, when you realised that Uncle Lucius liked you, too?
I'm worried that my dad will be angry… he doesn't want me going out with anyone until I'm thirty, but I can't wait that long, not when there's a boy I like that actually likes me, too.
Please, give me any advice you can, before I manage to ruin this.
Sincerely,
Calista
She sealed it up, and checked the time. Six-thirty. She took out her Ancient Runes book, and flipped through it, meaning to look into the idea she'd had in class a bit more, but she was too distracted, knowing it was almost time to go meet Marcus. She waited until she judged it was time, and looked at the clock again. Six forty-one. How had only six minutes gone by?
She closed her book, and put it on her nightstand. It was no use, she was only getting more and more nervous while she sat in her room, waiting. She decided to go to the owlery early, and just wait.
On the way out of her room, she realised that she hadn't looked in a mirror in days, had no idea what her hair was like, or if her robes were on crooked. She had ripped the mirror off the inside of her wardrobe door in her first year, when she got tired of looking at her big nose whenever she opened it, so she had to go to the washroom off the common room whenever she wanted to check her reflection, which admittedly wasn't often.
She grabbed her hairbrush, a green hairband, and her snake earrings, and went quickly to the girls' washroom. She brushed her hair for the second time that day, put her hairband in, and then put the earrings on. She looked at her reflection, hoping she looked okay.
You're still not pretty, Olivia had said, and Calista frowned, because she knew it was true, when she looked at herself. She didn't have wide blue eyes, a delicate nose, thick blond hair, or the suggestion of curves that Olivia did.
She was too skinny, too pale, her nose was too long, her hair was nothing special, and her eyes were so dark they barely had a colour. With the haircut, and the robes, and the hairband, and the earrings, she supposed that she might possibly be described as "average-looking", but certainly no better than that. She should just forget this whole plan, go back to her room, maybe start researching that essay she wanted to write…
"No," she told her reflection, quietly. She wanted her Aunt Narcissa to tell her how not to ruin this? Well, one way she could ruin it would be to throw it away before it even began. Marcus had already said that he liked her, even though he could have had Olivia. He'd pushed Olivia away to pursue Calista, instead. She wasn't quite certain why he liked her, but he did.
She gathered her things, put them back in her room, and checked the clock again. Ten of seven. She made herself pick up the sealed letter, and leave her dormitory room.
The entire way to the owlery, she seemed determined to talk herself out of going, again. What if he wasn't there? What if it had somehow been a dream, or a joke, or what if he had changed his mind? By the time she got there, she had already nearly convinced herself that he wouldn't be there. If he wasn't, she would… she didn't know.
She stepped into the owlery, and looked around; there was someone else there… it wasn't Marcus though, it was a seventh-year Hufflepuff girl. She would have just left again, but the girl looked up with a friendly smile when she entered, so she decided to just send her letter, rather than look foolish by entering and then going right back out. While she was tying her letter to Nox's leg, the Hufflepuff waved good-bye and left.
She released the owl out the window, and then she paced near it for a couple of minutes. It had to be seven by now, but there was no sign of him. She decided to wait until the count of one hundred, and then just leave.
No sooner had she decided that, he came running in, wearing his Quidditch robes, and carrying his broomstick.
"Hey," he said, breathlessly, "Sorry, I had practise… I thought I'd be done sooner, I ran all the way here."
"That's okay," Calista said, relieved. "I… I thought you might have changed your mind."
Marcus laughed, and came over to the window where she was standing. "Nah, that wouldn't happen."
She felt her cheeks getting warm again - would that ever stop? She wished it was dark already, but the days were getting longer, and there was still a dim, rosy glow in the owlery.
He leaned his broom against the wall, and stepped closer to her. She felt her heart speed up again, felt the anticipatory tingle spread from her stomach outwards.
"Are we… are we going to kiss again?" she asked. Oh no, had she actually asked that? What was wrong with her?
"I hope so," Marcus said, "I mean, if you want to."
She nodded, and then she stepped closer to him, too, so they were only inches apart. She felt like she should do something… but she didn't know what, and she was afraid he would laugh at her, if she did the wrong thing.
"Sorry about the Quidditch robes," Marcus said, "I thought I'd have time to change."
"I don't care," Calista said. Sorry about my nose, she almost said back.
"So…" Marcus said, just as Calista said, "Yeah…"
They both laughed, and then both of them leaned towards each other, awkwardly. Their lips came together, tentatively, for a few seconds; they separated briefly, and Calista exhaled nervously, and then both of them tried again, still cautious.
Marcus put his hand on the side of her neck, and she could feel that he was trembling a little, again. For some reason, his being nervous too made her feel just a tiny bit less self-conscious; she put her hands on his shoulders, and allowed herself to lean into him a little.
When they pulled apart again a minute later, Marcus' cheeks were as red as hers felt. Their eyes met again, and without meaning to, she picked up on his stream of thoughts, a tangled, confusing thread -
- flying, want to fly with her again, big dark eyes, kissing her -
She saw a quick succession of flashing images; and they were of her, her face, close-up in the owlery, her hair flying back with the Quidditch pitch far below, her hunched over a book in the common room.
She lowered her eyes quickly, and stepped back, dropping her hands from his shoulders. His hand came off her neck, too.
"Calista?" he wondered, "Did I… did I do something wrong?"
"N-no," she said, trying to shake away what she had seen, not because it was bad, but because she knew it wasn't really meant for her to see.
Had she practised legilimency on him? She hadn't meant to… but then she remembered that her father had told her a long time ago that heightened emotional states make a person easier to read, and that it was particularly easy for a legilimens to read thoughts that were about themselves. But she didn't really want to see what his thoughts about her were, because what if they weren't all kind? What if he agreed with Olivia that she wasn't pretty? Suspecting it was one thing, but she didn't want to know. Could she shut this legilimency thing off, then?
"I'm sorry," Marcus said, "I shouldn't've kept kissing you like that… I guess I… got carried away."
"No, it's not…" she chanced another glance up at him, and was relieved that it didn't happen again. His face looked calmer now, and his grey eyes were fixed on her with a mildly concerned expression. "It's not that."
He furrowed his brow. "Well, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. I mean…" she couldn't tell him she had accidentally read his mind, for Merlin's sake… it would probably freak him out, and besides, she didn't think she was really supposed to be telling people she was learning occlumency and legilimency, anyway. "It's just… I was thinking about something… for a class."
His expression cleared, and he chuckled. "Of course you were," he said. "You know, you think about school a lot."
"Not really," she protested. "A normal amount."
"No way," he said, shaking his head. "You definitely think about school more than a normal amount. You missed the first time I tried to ask you out because you were thinking about school, and now you're thinking about it again - I must be really boring."
He said it good-naturedly, but Calista could tell his feelings were a little hurt, by the expression on his face; oh no, was she actually seeing that on his face, or was she reading his mind again? It was on his face, right? Of course it was, she was being paranoid now…
"Oh, well, that." Calista said sheepishly. "I kind of lied, that time when I said I was thinking about Transfiguration. I was thinking about… well, I was thinking about how I like you, and I was afraid you were going to figure it out."
"Well, I kept thinking I had it figured out," Marcus said, "But then the next minute, I was sure I was wrong. You're… you're really hard to read, you know that?"
"No, I'm not," Calista said, "Half of my friends figured out that I like you."
"Well," Marcus said, matter-of-factly, "They're all cleverer than I am, then. Why didn't you want me to figure it out, anyway?"
"Well, because it's embarrassing," Calista said, and then she noticed the way his face fell, and she continued in a rush. "Not - not because of you, or anything, but… well, I never… well, I never really… you know, liked anyone, and then I was sure that you didn't like me that way…"
"Really?" Marcus asked, "I thought I was being pretty obvious. Maybe I should have just done the flowers thing…"
Calista looked at him blankly. "What would I have done with them? Unless it was asphodel or something, maybe I could make a potion."
Marcus grinned, and Calista felt her stomach flip-flop again. "Yeah," Marcus said, and for some reason he sounded pleased. "I knew you'd say something like that."
"Seriously," she wondered, "What do people do with flowers?"
"Erm," Marcus said, "I think they just look at them… I dunno, I'm not a girl."
Calista half-smiled. "Well, I guess I'm not a girl, either, then, because I don't know either."
Marcus' grin widened, and his eyes swept over her, from her feet up to her face. "Oh, yeah, you're a girl," he said, "You're just a different kind of girl, that's all."
She felt self-conscious. What had that look meant? And what did he mean, a different kind of girl? Did he mean that she wasn't pretty? Well, she knew that, already, she didn't need him telling her… Her smile faltered, and she unconsciously took a half-step back.
"Hey," he said, cocking his head, "Did I say something wrong again?"
"No…"
He seemed to think he had, though. He frowned, and glanced around the owlery. This wasn't going the way Calista had thought it would… maybe she was the one who had said something wrong.
"So," Marcus said, quickly. "What about today? Were you really thinking about school?"
"Yeah," she said, because she still couldn't tell him about legilimency.
"Well," he asked, "which class?"
"Uhm…" and then she remembered that she actually had spent a good part of today thinking about something for school, so she decided to tell him about that.
"Well, in Ancient Runes today, I noticed something... There's an old Gaelic rune for 'secret' that looks very similar to the wand movements for Colloportus, and I remembered from an essay I did a couple of years ago that ancient rituals, you know, from before wands were invented… they used to involve these complicated dances that were based loosely on rune shapes… so I thought, maybe you can still get certain spells like that to work by trying to recreate some kind of ritual… I mean, it wouldn't be very practical now, but maybe if you were disarmed it could help… I mean, I don't even know if it's possible, but that's what I want to try and find out."
Marcus looked bewildered. "Er… you thought of all that today?"
"Well, mostly," she said, "Some of it's from an essay I did before."
"Wow," he said, admiringly, "You really are brilliant, aren't you? I'd never think of any of that."
She blushed, which was just starting to seem inevitable around him. "It's not… It's not really… I mean, I don't even know if it will work, yet."
"Is there more?"
"Huh? More about… about that? Not yet. I mean, I've written loads of essays about stuff kind of like that, but not that exactly. Why? Do you… are you interested in wandless magic?"
"I dunno," he said, "I might be now."
But now she rather thought he might be making fun of her, so she shrugged. "It's stupid. Never mind."
"Huh?" Marcus stepped closer to her again, and reached for her hand. "I've known you for almost three years, and I've never heard you say anything stupid. It's… I dunno if you could, I mean, you're… you know."
"I'm what?" She asked, knowing her voice was bordering on defensive.
"You're… well, you're brilliant, like I said. I don't even understand half the stuff you say sometimes, but I pretend I do just so you'll keep talking to me about it. You get this look… I dunno… it's like whatever you're talking about is really important, and it makes me want to care about whatever it is, too."
Calista reacted internally to this in much the same way that she supposed a girl would normally react to being told she was beautiful; she felt a warm glow inside, a burst of confidence that made her feel special, and she forgot to care that she wasn't beautiful at all, because Marcus hadn't just called her clever, or a good student, he had called her brilliant, and he'd said it twice.
"I don't think this is how flirting is supposed to work," she said, "But I like it, anyway."
"I dunno about that," Marcus teased, "You're blushing again. I'm pretty sure this is how flirting is supposed to work."
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Dear Calista,
I'm so pleased that things are looking better for you. My heart was aching for you when I got your previous letter. I'm very pleased as well that you feel comfortable confiding in me.
Don't fret too much about ruining things with this boy - you're a lovely, clever young lady from a good family, and he obviously already realises this. Besides, darling, I can nearly guarantee you that he shares the same fear as you do. Perhaps even now he is asking his friends or family for advice on how not to "ruin this".
I know that your first relationship can seem very intense and important, Calista, and if it feels this way to you already, remember that it is perfectly appropriate for you to take things more slowly than may feel natural. You are still quite young, although I'm sure you don't feel as if you are, and I promise you things will work out better in the long run if you and this boy take the time to get to know each other, to talk and to be friends.
I think you will find it easier, as well, to sway your father into approving of your relationship with this boy, if you let things blossom slowly between you. He is very protective of you, darling, and I know you will find it frustrating, but try to remember that he loves you, as we all do, and will only try to do what he believes is best for you. I gave you my word, and I will not tell your father about your new relationship, unless I have reason to believe it may become harmful to you, but consider telling him yourself, sooner rather than later. I'm certain you know as well as I do that he doesn't particularly care for surprises.
Your exams must be quite soon; I hope you are still studying diligently, and wish you the best of luck on them. I'm looking forward to having you and your father come for another visit this summer, and I expect you'll tell me all about this boy then.
Your Loving Aunt,
Narcissa
Calista read her aunt's letter, and though she appreciated Narcissa's advice and kind words, she thought her aunt was mistaken as far as informing her father of her new relationship - if that was even what it was - with Marcus.
He would not be pleased, whether she told him or whether he found out some other way, and she was of the opinion that the wisest plan was to delay the inevitable as long as possible, and hope that by the time he realised she had been kissing Marcus, with any luck, she would have either found a way to explain it that wouldn't make him cross, or she would turn thirty. She suspected the latter was more likely.
She was slightly offended, as well, that her aunt had thought to remind her to study for her exams; of course she was going to study for her exams, she had spent the entire school year working hard, and she wouldn't throw it away for anything.
Besides, one of the upshots of studying Occlumency for three hours a week was that Calista was quite good at compartmentalising her mind when she needed to. When she was with Marcus, she could think of him, and let that blushing, hair-fiddling girl that had moved into her head out to breathe; but the rest of the time, she was still the Calista Snape that wrote extra essays for her own enjoyment, and had read all of her textbooks cover-to-cover before Christmas break.
She supposed she was still that girl with Marcus, too, most of the time. She occasionally had to share the spotlight with hair-fiddling-girl, but he didn't seem to mind, so perhaps it wasn't so awful after all.
A week before exams started, Olivia snuck up behind her while she was studying in the common room. She didn't even realise the other girl was in the common room at all, until she heard a derisive hiss behind her ear, felt a warm breath on her neck that made the little hairs on it stand up.
"Enjoy your time with Marcus while you can," Olivia hissed behind her, and Calista only managed not to visibly start with a fair measure of deliberate self-control. "Because as soon as he passes Potions, he won't need to bother with you anymore."
"You're ridiculous," Calista said, evenly, though the rage that Olivia always seemed to be able to induce was lurking threateningly somewhere inside her, "Go away, will you?"
"Reckon that's what he'll say, as soon as exams are over?" Olivia whispered gleefully. "You can't seriously think there's any other reason he'd want to spend any time with you."
Calista opened her mouth, to retort that there obviously were other reasons, since he'd spent plenty of time with her before, when they were just friends… except, when she thought about it, they actually had spent most of their time together studying.
But Marcus really liked her, didn't he? It certainly seemed like he did. Besides, Emily was a very good student across many subject areas, too, was in fact much better at Transfiguration in particular than Calista was, and Emily, with her waist-length brown hair and long-lashed, light-brown eyes, was quite pretty in her own right, so if Marcus were going to choose a Slytherin girl to use to improve his academic standing, he could have easily chosen Emily, instead.
"How convenient that you're so easy to fool and you happen to be a professor's brat," Olivia said, as if she had read Calista's mind.
"Sod off!" Calista growled, and Olivia obliged, but not without a smirk that said she knew full well she'd accomplished what she'd set out to.
It can't be true, Calista thought, when Olivia had gone, Can it?
But the logical part of her brain kicked in, then. Of course it isn't true, that part of her said, Marcus knows I'd help him study, anyway. We're friends, we've been friends for ages.
Besides, there was that confusing tangle of thoughts and images she'd inadvertently picked up from him, the last time they were in the owlery together. She wasn't quite certain how to interpret all of that, but it definitely had felt like he enjoyed kissing her.
And that last thought alone was enough for her to feel her face heat up, and for her fingers to go to her hair, and start fiddling. No, logical-Calista told hair-twirling Calista firmly, We are so not doing this right now.
She wrote another letter to Narcissa that night, a short one that she scrawled quickly, because she was half-touched by Narcissa's well-meaning advice, and half-annoyed that her aunt seemed to think she wasn't already following some of it.
Dear Aunt Narcissa,
I've been friends with him practically since I started at Hogwarts. I know him better than I know almost anyone else here.
Of course I'm still studying for exams, I know how important they are.
I'll try to follow what you said about taking things slowly, but I would rather fight a dragon with nothing but a sugar quill at my disposal than tell my father that I'm involved with a boy.
Love,
Calista
PS: Tell Draco hello from me. Don't tell him about the boy though, or it will probably come out at the dinner table.
She was very aware of the fact that it was the first time she had ever signed a letter to her aunt with 'love'; was the first time, in fact, that she had ever used the word for anyone besides her father.
She had written it reflexively, and then as soon as she'd seen the letters on the page, she'd wanted to cross them out. She'd stared at the closing of her letter no less than five minutes, debating whether she should cross it out; but no, that would be even worse, wouldn't it? Should she start over on a fresh sheet of parchment, then?
She knew she had also inserted more of her personality into this letter to Narcissa than she ever had before, but she was beginning to feel comfortable enough to be herself; writing back and forth to Narcissa all year, but especially lately, had had that effect.
Besides, she told herself reasonably, family members always signed their letters with 'love'; Olivia's mother had, and she knew Emily signed letters to her mother that way, and anyway, Narcissa always signed her letters that way.
Before she could think about it anymore, she sealed the letter, and brought it up to the owlery. She was half-hoping Marcus would happen to be there, but of course he wasn't, since they hadn't made any plans to meet there. She really did have a lot of studying to do, though, so perhaps it was just as well.
She watched Nox fly off towards the horizon, carrying what felt like a whole lot more than just a snarky letter to her aunt.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
She stands in the middle of a round room, with frosted glass windows set all around. The floor is unfinished, bland-coloured planks of wood, the sort that would leave slivers of wood in her skin for certain if she walked across them with bare feet.
There's nothing and no one inside the room, except for herself. To be certain of this, she turns a slow circle, watching sharply for any sign that she is not alone. Her ears are perked, too, and she hears nothing except the rhythm of her own breathing.
Something is wrong, though, and it's a few moments before she can place precisely what it is is.
She knows this room; she has been in it before, on several occasions. But this time, it is different. This time, there is no door. She turns around in a circle again, to make sure she hasn't simply missed it, but it isn't there, there are only windows, and a plant stand, with a small potted plant on it...
But she knows the plant stand wasn't here a moment ago, even though she does recognise it as something she has seen before. It gives her a feeling of foreboding for some reason, if only she could recall precisely why.
She steps closer to the plant, and inspects it. Something tells her not to touch the leaves, so she doesn't, she just leans close and studies it.
It's aconite, and this sends a nervous tension running through her veins, along her skin. She knows there's more to it than the mere fact that this plant is highly venomous, there's something else too, some other danger it poses.
When she remembers the glint of cold grey eyes, the patrician features curled into a maniacal expression, the precise shape of long, fine fingers curled around a wand, she does the first thing that occurs to her to do.
She picks up the plant by its pot, careful to avoid any of the leaves, and hurls it across the room as hard as she can. It crashes through one of the windows, shattering the frosted glass on impact.
The plant is gone, now, at least. She notices that the plant stand has disappeared, too, but in this house things seem to appear and reappear inexplicably, so she isn't too concerned by it. She crosses the room to the window, and looks out -
- but she can't see anything, not even enough to judge how high up she is. It's not even the black of night outside, but… nothing. It's the strangest thing she can remember ever seeing, as if the world simply ends beyond the walls of this house.
A bitter wind whips through the empty window suddenly, and causes her to shiver. Whatever is or isn't outside, it's freezing out there. Now she regrets breaking the window, because the room is quickly becoming unbearably cold. The wind seems to howl and shriek, suddenly, outside. It's almost as if it's calling her name, somehow, but that can't be; she's just so cold that she can't think straight. She clutches her cloak around herself, and then she remembers something very important.
She remembers that this is a dream, and that she can wake up, if she concentrates very hard on it; so she does, she concentrates on opening her eyes, on wrenching her mind out of the chill room in the deserted house, the room with no door and a missing window. She pulls herself out of the dream.
Calista woke with a start, sitting upright in bed. She was quite cold, and for a panicked instant, she thought that she had not really managed to wake up. But then, slowly, more information filtered into her brain.
She registered the soft snores of Portia across the room, the murky green light filtering through their bedroom window, and the fact that she had managed to throw her covers off onto the floor; no wonder she was cold.
She slipped out of bed, and gathered her covers, piling them back on top of her bed. Now that she knew she was safe, she wanted to climb right back under them, and try to find a dreamless sleep…
But Bellatrix had been in her dream, hadn't she? She hadn't manifested, like that last terrifying time, but there had been the image of her, and that plant… that plant had been the precursor to Bellatrix's invasion, last time.
She cast a wistful look at her bed, and went to her wardrobe instead, reaching for her cloak and putting it on over her nightdress. She slipped into her trainers, too, even though they were much too tight these days, because they disguised her footfalls a lot easier than the flats Narcissa bought her did.
She snuck out of her room, easing the door shut behind her; as soon as she entered the common room, she was possessed by a sudden and irrational fear that Marcus would be in there, would see her in her pyjamas and her ugly old trainers, and would decide instantly that he didn't like her anymore… but of course, it was sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and no one was there.
She started and gasped when she stepped out into the hallway; the Bloody Baron was gliding by, and he paused to eye her as suspiciously as a ghost can, when he saw her. He moaned, and rattled his chains at her threateningly, and motioned towards the hidden door she had just come through.
"I'm just going to see my - I'm going to the Head of House's office," she said, because she wasn't certain if the Baron had recognised who she was or not.
"Young lady, I hardly think this is the appropriate time to disturb a professor," he said; Calista winced, just because she hated his voice. It was grating and mournful at the same time, and it also managed to convey a vague distaste for everything and everyone.
"Trust me, he won't mind," Calista said, and the Baron hovered closer, and peered at her; he was carrying a lantern, and when he lifted it, ghostly silver light bathed her face.
"Ah, the Snape girl," he observed, without much enthusiasm. "I suppose you think you're entitled to special privileges; let me make this simple for you, then. You're not."
He waved his arms in the direction of the common room entrance rattling his chains again.
"I'm going to go see my dad," Calista told him again, trying not to sound as unnerved as she felt. "It's important."
"I highly doubt anything a girl of your age has to say is truly important," the Baron said, and Calista had to remind herself that she couldn't actually hex a ghost, "But I suppose if you insist, I can accompany you to the office of your Head of House."
"Uh, no, that's okay," Calista said quickly, "I can go there myself."
"Noooooo," he moaned, and clanked his chains around again. "Now that I've seen you, I must finish this."
"What?! Finish - what's that supposed to mean?"
"I've seen a student out of bed," the Baron said, in a voice that managed to sound threatening and melancholy at the same time, "Now, you must return to bed, or I must see you safely to your Head of House. Some of us actually do take our charges seriously, you know."
"Er," Calista said, trying to suppress a shiver. "Fine, I guess. You can… you can see me there."
It was possibly the oddest experience she'd had at Hogwarts to date, being escorted to her father's office by a ghost. He followed a few paces behind her, moaning and shaking his chains every now and then, like punctuation. When they reached the entrance to her father's office, the Baron hovered in the corridor, watching her expectantly until she opened the door and slipped inside.
"What a bloody creep," she muttered to herself.
A great clanking sounded right by her ears, and she started, scrambling back from the sound; the Baron's head and arms had followed her, and were sticking through the heavy wooden door. He wore a sinister snarl on his ghostly features.
"I'm dead, young lady, not deaf," he admonished.
This time, she waited until she was sure he had really gone, and then she exhaled, and went through her father's office to his quarters, magically unlocking the door, and then letting it close behind her. She already knew that the particular spells he had in place on the door would cause it to lock again behind her.
She stood, uncertainly, in the dark main corridor of his quarters. It was black and silent within; he was evidently still sleeping. That meant that she had not managed to wake him, with her nightmare; but then, it hadn't been nearly as bad as some of her others, so perhaps that was why it hadn't triggered an alarm in his mind the way her nightmares always used to.
She wondered if she should wake him, or just wait until morning to tell him about her dream; she'd never had to face this dilemma before, never had a nightmare that she wanted to talk to him about that hadn't woken him up.
But then, now that she thought about it, he hadn't known about the other dreams she'd had this year, preceding the one that had allowed Bellatrix to manifest inside of it. She wondered if he was alerted only to dreams in which she actually saw Bellatrix materialise, spoke with her.
In the end, what decided her was the welcoming darkness beyond the door of her old bedroom. She was still tired, and there was something about that room, still, that made her feel safe. She slipped inside, kicked off her trainers, removed her cloak, and curled up under the covers. She remembered that this room used to fill with a cool, silvery light, from the witchfire night light her father had given her for their first Christmas together. She'd never tell anyone, but she'd have been happy to have it, still. It wasn't only the dark that it chased away, the imaginary horrors it dispelled; to Calista, it was also a symbolic reminder of rescue.
But she was fourteen years old, and she was stronger and wiser now than she had been then; it was silly to wish for something so childish, when she knew better by now than to fear the dark. She knew enough now to know that the light was only a symbol. If darkness came for her again, it would come from inside, from the pain of her own memories, from the blood she shared with Bellatrix, and the brightest night light in the world wouldn't help her, then.
She rolled over to face the wall, and reminded herself that her father slept in the next room, that she would talk to him in the morning, and that she had her History of Magic exam in the morning, so she'd better get some sleep.
In the morning, the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed coffee woke Calista. She scrambled out of bed, thinking to tell her father she was here, and ask him to make some extra for her. She needn't have bothered, though; when she went into the kitchen, she saw that he had already set two steaming mugs on the table. She should have realised, of course he would know she was here, he knew everything.
"Morning," she said cautiously, watching him take his customary seat. The last time she'd spoken to him, they'd been sort-of arguing.
He gestured to the empty chair at the table. "Sit. I can have breakfast sent up in a little while, if you wish, but I had a feeling coffee would take priority."
She took the same chair she'd taken every time they'd ever sat at this table together; reflexively, she tried to curl her legs up underneath her, but now it was awkward and uncomfortable, because her legs were suddenly too long to fit. She frowned, and sat normally instead. reaching for the hot mug of coffee to console her.
"Are you here because you missed me, or because you want something?" he asked, in a tone that indicated he suspected the latter.
"Neither," she said, surprised. "I thought you'd know… I had another dream, last night."
He leaned forward slightly. "You did? You should have woken me."
"It wasn't really that bad," she said, blowing across the top if her mug to cool it down somewhat. "I didn't even see her, really. I meant… I mean, I would have told you, but you were asleep, and I thought it could wait until the morning. I thought… I thought you'd be awake when I got here, actually. You used to always wake up, when I had a nightmare."
Severus reached for his coffee, and took a long sip, even though it must have been quite hot still. "It appears that you no longer broadcast your alarm to me," he said, "I have not been alerted to the last several of your nightmares. I actually assumed you were blocking me intentionally."
"What?" Calista said, "I don't even know how to block you from knowing about it, since I don't know how I alerted you to it in the first place. Besides, you knew about the one I had at the Malfoys'…"
"You were screaming, that time," he reminded her, and frowned when she looked embarrassed, adding, "A fact which I am grateful for, considering the circumstances of that particular dream. Perhaps you never would have told me, otherwise."
"So… so you didn't feel that I was afraid, that time?"
"Not until I was nearly to your room," he said, "And I had no indication of the preceding dreams, nor of the one you had last night."
"But… why would it change? Could it be… just because I didn't actually see her in any of the other dreams? But no, because I did see her in the one I had at the Malfoys', and you didn't feel that one, either…"
"Let me ask you something," he said, "In any of your dreams, beginning with the ones where Bellatrix was trying to break through the door, and ending with the one you had last night, did you attempt to call out for help at all?"
"No," she said, "I didn't think I needed to, I thought I had everything under control… except, the really bad one. At the end, I did try to call out to you."
"Which I suspect is when I was already on my way to you, and felt your alarm as I approached your room," he said. "The conclusion I'm inclined to draw is that your barriers have become strong enough to prevent your fear from seeping through them unconsciously, which is frankly something I hoped would happen, eventually."
"Why?" she asked, puzzled, "Don't you want to know if I'm having another dream about her?"
"Of course I want to know," Severus said, "But the indiscriminate broadcasting of your alarm has always been a double-edged sword, Calista. I'm nearly certain that you were alerting Bellatrix to your vulnerable state as well; this way, if it only happens when you purposefully direct your anguish towards me, then it stands to reason that she won't receive the same information."
"I wonder if that's why…" she wound her fingers through the handle of her coffee mug as she mulled something over. After a moment of thought, she related the entire dream to him, finishing with, "I wonder if that's why there was no door in the room, this time."
"It seems quite likely," Severus said, "But I'm more concerned with that window, the one that you said was shattered when you threw the plant through it. Did it repair itself?"
"No," she said, "There was this cold wind coming through it, and then I woke up, and I had thrown the covers on the floor."
"Did you try to fix it, in your dream?"
"No," she said again, "I guess it never occurred to me to try it."
"I have a hunch," he said, "One I don't particularly like. Check the structure of your barriers, see if there's a gap in them that wasn't there before."
"I don't think there will be one," she said, "I didn't feel her breaking through…" she frowned, because when she focused on her first barrier, she did find a spot that was unguarded. "Wait, there is…"
She concentrated on the spot, mentally pulled on the threads around the gap, and wove them back into place to seal it off; she closed her eyes, concentrating on repairing it, making the barrier solid once more.
"There was a gap," she said, opening her eyes. "I fixed it, I think."
In answer, she felt him brush against her outer barrier, checking along it. He did not attempt to push through, and after a minute, he withdrew.
"How did she… how did she break through, without my realising it?" Calista asked, apprehensively.
"She didn't," Severus answered, "I believe you did that, without meaning to. The logical interpretation of your dream, as I see it, is that you sensed Bellatrix's attempted infiltration, with the plant, and you used legilimency to force her out of your mind, through the window. In itself, that's excellent news, but you left yourself vulnerable to future attacks by not repairing the window."
"But I had no idea that's what I was doing," she said, "How was I supposed to know I even could fix the window, let alone that I should have?"
"Calista," he said, slightly exasperated, "You wouldn't know, that's the point. That's the entire reason you're supposed to come to me."
"I did," she said defensively, "And by the way, I'm pretty sure the Bloody Baron hates me now. He insisted on following me here, and he heard me call him a creep."
"Well," Severus said wryly, "That's true in the most literal sense, isn't it? Don't concern yourself with it, though, he tends to dislike most of the female students particularly; I've never known why."
"So… what about the plant?" Calista wondered, "Why did she choose to try and reach me with a plant?"
"I don't believe she did, actually. It seems far more likely that the plant - the one in this dream and those in the prior one - were supplied by your own mind, to symbolise the attack Bellatrix was attempting to execute."
"What? But why plants?"
"Well," he said, "What was your reaction, when you realised you were looking at aconite?"
"That it was venomous," she said, instantly, "That I should get rid of it."
"And the other one, forget-me-nots?" he pressed, "What do they mean, to you?"
"Well, remembering something, of course," she said.
"The mind is quite clever," Severus said, "It knows which things you will interpret correctly in a dream. I believe that some part of your mind sensed that Bellatrix was trying to infiltrate it, like a poison, and that she wanted to force her way in through shared memories. Your mind manifested those plants as symbols, to warn you. And it does appear that it worked; you eliminated the threat, you only failed to ensure it wouldn't return easily."
"Something tells me I know exactly what my next Occlumency lesson will be about," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Have you figured it out?" Severus asked, with feigned admiration. "You see? The mind is quite clever."
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Thankfully, Calista was not plagued by any more dreams during her exams, though the exams themselves were a lot more demanding this year than they had been in her first two years, largely because she had more classes this year.
Her father had given her an Occlumency exam of sorts, too, by putting her through a particularly grueling set of intrusions to fight against; she wasn't certain quite how well she did, but he wasn't in a foul temper at the end of the lesson, which meant that she had at least done well enough to keep him from seeing any of her thoughts regarding Marcus.
Overall, Calista was pleased with the results of her exams. She had done exceptionally well in Potions and Charms, again, and in Ancient Runes this year, as well.
She had done quite well in Arithmancy and Defence Against the Dark Arts, although perhaps not quite as well as she'd hoped; but then, she had hoped to earn a perfect score, so perhaps this was not surprising.
She had done only slightly above average in History of Magic and Herbology, but she had more or less expected this, because her mind had been full of other things the day she took the History of Magic exam, and besides, it wasn't her fault that it was so difficult to follow Professor Binns' droning monotone.
Herbology had been difficult because of the practical portion of the exam; she knew she'd done well at the essay, which had been about the nuances of the Severing Charm - the crossover into Charms, and the discussion she'd had with it earlier in the year with her father had ensured she'd excel at that portion of the exam - but what had undoubtedly hurt her score was the damn puffapods.
They had been required to treat a blight on a puffapod plant, but as the hour ticked away, she still hadn't managed to trim all the dark spots away, because the fragile pods kept getting in the way and bursting when she accidentally touched them. She'd gotten so frustrated that she'd burned the whole plant to ashes with Incendio. When Professor Sprout had chastised her for it during marking, she'd moodily retorted that at least the blight was gone; it was true, wasn't it?
She had scored precisely average at Care of Magical Creatures, which surprised her, because knew an awful lot about all of the creatures they had studied, what dangers they posed and how to fight them if she encountered a hostile one; but then, she realised, too late, the entire point of the class was to care for them, not fight them.
She had not done very well at all in Transfiguration, much to her chagrin. She'd hoped to finally catch up to the rest of her class this year, but her progress was still slow, even though there at least was some this year.
Professor McGonagall had called Calista to her office again, and had offered Calista the option to move on to fourth year lessons, if she continued to attend remedial classes, and agreed to study with Percy twice a week. The caveat was that this was the final year McGonagall could give her this option, because she could not in good conscience, allow Calista to take her O.W.L. in Transfiguration when she was a year behind.
Being held back a year was one of the most embarrassing scenarios Calista could envision, so she'd promised to work hard over the summer to catch up as much as she could; because of the O.W.L. exams looming the year after next, Professor McGonagall had advised her to catch up to her own year by the Christmas holidays, if she wanted to avoid being held back to the fourth year again the following year. It seemed easier said than done, but Calista promised, again, to try.
She decided something, when she stared at the page that contained her exam results. She was in her father's office, because was tasked with distributing the results of exams to the students in his house.
"I think… I think I want to drop Care of Magical Creatures next year," Calista said, looking up at him over the top of the score sheet.
"You do?" Severus asked, surprised, "You made such a fuss about being allowed to take it."
"Yeah," she said, "I know. But… I mean, I pretty much just wanted to see a unicorn, and I don't want to have to take care of puffskeins for two more years just for that. Especially when I can just talk you into taking me into the forest to see one…" she said hopefully.
"We'll see about that," he said, in a tone that made her think it was still a long way off. "I doubt you'll find one, though. They're quite hard to see if they don't wish to be seen."
"Well, still," she said, "It's enough work feeding Yellow all the time. Besides, there's… there's something I'd rather do, with that slot in my timetable," she confessed.
"Ah, of course there is," Severus said, "I should have known there would be; but you do realise that Hogwarts does not offer 'Forbidden Forest Field Trip' as a class, correct?"
"No?" Calista countered, "What about 'Swimming with the Giant Squid'?"
"I'm afraid not. No 'Sneaking off to the Owlery', either."
She did a double-take then, forcing herself not to show fear on her face; how could he possibly know about the Owlery, about meeting Marcus there…
"Is there something I should know about the Owlery?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
He didn't know; of course he didn't know, he couldn't know, Calista reminded herself, he had to be referencing her trip there, when she was younger, the time she'd almost gotten her face clawed up by an owl when she was supposed to be safe in his quarters.
"You were so cross with me that day," she recalled, to have something to say that might explain whatever expression he'd caught on her face.
"Yes, I was," Severus agreed, "But as I recall, you were a miserable brat that day, so I can hardly be blamed for wanting to lock you in the dungeon for five or ten years. Now… pray tell, if you aren't planning on trying to get yourself killed in place of feeding puffskeins next year, what is it that you wish to do instead?"
"Professor Flitwick asked me earlier this year if I wanted to be a peer tutor for remedial Charms students," she said, "I didn't have time this year, but… if I drop a class, then I could see if he still wants me to do it next year."
"Ah, yes, peer tutors," Severus said, "An option which I have never thought to use; why would I, when detentions are so much more effective?"
"Yeah, see, that's why nobody likes you," Calista teased.
"They don't need to like me," he said, not for the first time, "They need to perform well on their exams."
"So do you think it's a good idea?" she asked, "Tutoring other students in Charms?"
"If you believe it's something you would enjoy doing," he said, "I don't suppose it will do any harm. Though, as I understand it, most students volunteer to be peer tutors so they can get a recommendation letter from their professors for whichever career they pursue after Hogwarts. In your case, I almost wonder if Filius - if Professor Flitwick - has one already written up for you, just waiting for the day you graduate."
"Do professors usually write them so early?" she wondered.
"No," he said, "But professors usually don't admit to having a favourite student, either."
"Really? He said that? He said I was his favourite student?"
"Not in so many words," Severus said, "But he certainly sings your praises to me often enough in the staff room. I think he may like you even more than I do."
"Oh, well, that's hardly saying much," Calista teased, but she was quite pleased at this news. "You just said you wanted to lock me in a dungeon for five years."
"Or ten," he amended, with a smirk.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
On one of the final afternoons of term, a week after the students had received their exam scores, Calista was one of the only ones in the common room, and she was the only one still hunched over a book.
A couple of first years were playing Exploding Snap across the room from her, which she was finding just distracting enough to annoy her. She riffled the pages in her Transfiguration book, wondering if she'd ever catch up. At least she had finally moved on to third year spells, nearly on the last day of her third year. She stared glumly at the teapot that sat on the table behind her book, looking very much like it would rather be a teapot for the rest of its days than change into a tortoise for even an instant.
She sighed, trying to block out the twin distractions of the Exploding Snap game, and the welcoming sunlight that managed to filter into the common room, even through the murky-green of the lake above it.
And then, suddenly, there was someone standing over her, and her book snapped shut. A familiar male hand held the cover down, and when she looked up, it was straight into Marcus' face. He was looking at her with mingled friendliness and disbelief. And something else too, some hint of the same warmth he always had for her.
"Exams are over," he said firmly, "No more studying."
"I'm still trying to catch up in Transfiguration," she protested. "Do you… do you want to study with me?"
"No," he said, "I don't."
She started to frown, but hadn't even managed to pull the corners of her mouth down before he leaned over and planted a quick, soft kiss on it.
"I want to fly with you," he said, "Come on, put all that rubbish away and come down to the Quidditch pitch with me."
She felt herself blushing again, and glanced around the room, knowing her eyes were widening with alarm.
"No one's paying attention to us," he said, exasperated. "Look, they're playing Exploding Snap over there, and everyone else is outside, like we should be. And anyway, I don't care, I'm not the one that thinks it has to be a big secret that we like each other."
She did frown now, and narrow her eyes as she whispered frantically back to him.
"I told you, my dad would probably murder us both if he found out…"
"Nah," he said, "Just me. And I'm not worried about it - that much - so you shouldn't be. Now come on, put that junk away and let's go outside."
She hesitated, but she'd known since he'd come over to her that she was going to go outside with him. "All right," she said, standing and gathering her book, several sheets of parchment she'd laid out for notes, and the blasted teapot. "But… no going upside down, right?"
He made a face. "Fine, I guess. Soon, though."
"Never."
"Soon," he countered again. She rolled her eyes, and went into her dormitory room, throwing all her study materials haphazardly on top of her bed.
When she returned, pulling her hair into a ponytail so she wouldn't be tempted to keep twirling it like an imbecile, she stepped right up to him, looked into his face, the kind, grey eyes that were the first ones she'd seen of that colour not to frighten her. "Never." she repeated, stubbornly.
"Okay," Marcus said, easily, suddenly looking at her intently, although his tone was still light. "Never, if that's what you want."
She smirked, triumphantly. "I knew you'd see it my way," she said, dropping her hands from her hair now that her ponytail was fastened. "Ready, then?"
"Yeah…" his eyes were still fixed on her face. "I like… I like your hair like that," he said, suddenly, awkwardly.
"Oh," she said, feeling self-conscious at once. "It's just… uhm, you know… to keep it out of my face."
"Yeah," Marcus agreed, "I like your -" he stopped, and swallowed, and for some reason, his cheeks flushed slightly. "Er, I mean, it's good, for flying," he said, lamely. "I'd better… I'm gonna go get my broomstick."
When he came back, broomstick over his shoulder, he reached for her hand easily, as if they had done this hundreds of times. When they got to the Quidditch pitch, Calista was surprised that they were the only ones there; she'd thought for sure other students would be out flying, in the warm, early June weather.
"Oh, yeah," Marcus said grinning, when he caught her looking all around. "I told everyone I saw a mermaid this morning, they're all at the lake."
"Did you see a mermaid?" she asked.
"'Course not," Marcus said, letting his broomstick hover next to them, "But I was pretty sure you'd refuse to go flying with me if everyone was watching, so I made them go away." He motioned her onto the broomstick, and she obliged.
"You were probably right," she said.
He climbed on behind her, and adjusted her hands, as if he were still teaching her how to fly, in the days before she'd realised that he liked her too, perhaps even as much as she liked him. There was something that was markedly different about flying with him this time, though, as opposed to when he'd been teaching her.
This time, before he put his arms around her sides, bringing his hands to rest in front of hers on the broomstick, he wrapped them around her midsection first, and she was startled and pleasantly surprised to feel his mouth come down gently on the back of her neck, and then behind her right ear.
"I'm gonna miss you this summer," he said quietly, right by her ear.
She could feel her skin heating up, turning pink, as he settled his arms around her the proper way, so they could fly. As they lifted off into the warm afternoon air, Calista felt the familiar flutter of fear in her stomach; but it only lasted a minute, and then it settled, and finally she could admit to herself how much she liked having his arms around her, this way. It felt warm, and safe, and she knew by now that he was never going to let her fall.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone