Chapter 52: 35
Summer Break III
Calista was scowling at a teapot in the middle of the kitchen table in the flat that she lived in during the summers when her father gave her the unexpected news.
Go on, you idiot teapot, she fumed at it internally, Become a tortoise, grow a hard shell and a weird lizard-neck. Do it, already!
It sat, stubbornly a teapot. "You sodding piece of rubbish," she muttered, stabbing her wand at it angrily, just as her father strode into the kitchen.
"I see we are in a lovely mood today," Severus observed.
Well, it wasn't just the teapot, but she wasn't about to tell him that she'd been waiting nearly two weeks to receive a reply to the letter she'd sent Marcus a few days after term ended. She hadn't really said anything important in it, because she was afraid, irrationally, that it would somehow fall into her father's hands, but still, she would have liked a response.
"I hate this stupid spell," Calista said, instead of saying anything about letters.
"Why don't we try another, then?" he suggested. "Put the teapot away for now."
"But that's not what you said before," Calista protested. "You said I should work on one spell until I got it right, and then go on to the next one. And Professor McGonagall said so, too, and Percy."
He raised his eyebrows. "Well, what if I'm not referring to Transfiguration?"
She lowered her wand, and eyed him questioningly.
"What are you referring to, then?" she asked, "What other spells do I need to practise?"
"Put the teapot away, like I asked you to, and then I'll tell you."
She obliged, but predictably not without slamming the cupboard door closed behind it rather harder than was necessary. She turned to face him, expectantly, wand still in hand. "What do I need to practise?" she asked again.
He studied her face a moment, before answering.
"I think it's time for you to begin learning curses," he said, and Calista felt her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, and her eyes widen considerably.
"Really?" she asked.
"I've told you, I believe it's imperative that you understand the spells you're going to be facing, if you hope to counter them successfully. You've demonstrated an understanding of the theoretical materials I've given you, so I think you should move on to more - practical studies."
"So what do I get to learn first?" she asked, eagerly. "Levicorpus? The Fiendfyre curse?"
"I think we'll start a little more basic than that," Severus said, with mild amusement. "Although I'm pleased that you're eager to learn. I think we'll begin with the Charms that are in the book I gave you for Christmas, and work our way up from there."
"So," she said, listing them on her fingers, "Knee-reversal Hex, Slug-Vomiting Charm, Pimple Jinx, Stinging Jinx, Leg-Locker Curse, and Jellylegs Jinx. And then I can learn the Fiendfyre Curse?"
"We'll see," Severus said, in a tone that suggested it would be quite a long time before he taught her that particular spell. "But before I teach you any of these spells, I need to be sure you understand -"
"Not to use them at school," Calista said, "I know. I haven't hexed anyone since Portia in first year."
"The hexes and jinxes you'll learn in the beginning, correct, are not to used at school," he said, "And violating that condition will likely land you in the most unpleasant detentions I can devise. However…"
Severus stepped closer to her, and looked at her quite sternly. "There are spells you will learn, once you have mastered the lesser jinxes and hexes, that you must never use unless you are in mortal danger. Not only would you be in trouble for using them, but I could get into very serious trouble for teaching them to an underaged witch."
"I won't use them unless I have to," she said, "I promise."
"You can't tell anyone at school you are learning these spells, either," Severus warned, "Not even your friends."
Well, there went the letter she was already writing in her head, to Amelia.
"None of them?" Calista asked, just to be sure.
"None."
"Fine," she said, reluctantly. "I won't tell anyone."
Writing them into the book Kim had bequeathed to her wasn't really the same as telling anyone, after all.
"One exception," Severus amended, "You may tell your aunt and uncle, if you wish. In fact, I would not be surprised if they wanted to see a demonstration at some point."
"Can I tell Draco?"
"I'm not certain that would be wise."
"So… so how am I going to practise?" Calista wondered. "I'm not going to cast them on you, am I?"
"You could cast them on that wretched cat of yours," Severus teased hopefully, but Calista scowled.
"I'm not cursing my cat!" she said, "And I don't particularly want to curse you either, or at least I didn't before you said that."
"I assure you, I will be able to reverse whatever you do," he said.
"Don't you have to be angry with someone in order to hex them properly?"
"Oh, yes, and that presents you with a dilemma," he replied sarcastically. "If only you were ever cross with me."
"Dad, seriously," Calista protested, "I don't want to curse you. Can't I practise on mice, or something?"
"Oh, certainly," Severus said, "If you believe that Bellatrix will transfigure herself into a mouse before she comes for you. Dark magic is not to be taken lightly, Calista. If you wish to learn it, you will learn it properly, and that means practising on another human. If you can't handle that, then we will revisit this when you are older."
Calista swallowed, and squared her shoulders. "No," she said, "I can handle it."
"Good," Severus said, and nodded to her. "Raise your wand."
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Calista received more owls from her friends that summer than she ever had before, but there was still nothing from Marcus three weeks into the summer. Had something happened to the owl she sent him? It didn't seem likely, and besides, if it were her, if she had gone this long without hearing from him, she would have sent something. Had he changed his mind about liking her, already?
She had heard from all of her other friends; she'd been invited to Emily's, again, and in light of the risk Emily had taken in arranging the conversation with Marcus in the owlery, Calista felt she owed it to her housemate to give their friendship another chance, so she took the train to Emily's house, and spent just one night there.
Emily had wanted to know how things were going with her and Marcus, but Emily was still Olivia's friend, so Calista didn't want to trust her with anything, and she evaded Emily's questions. They'd played Gobstones a bit, but Calista grew bored with it quickly; Sofia and Eva were right, it was for babies.
Emily had wanted to play that book game again, the one that was supposed to tell you whom you were going to marry, but Calista didn't want to play that again, either. She told Emily that it was a stupid game, but the truth was that she still remembered getting the initials "M.F." two summers ago, and some superstitious part of her was somehow afraid that playing the game again, and getting different results, might ensure that Marcus never wrote her back.
They decided to play wizard chess, with a battered old set that Emily's mother had found packed in a dusty box way on top of a bookcase. Emily hadn't played in a few years, though, and Calista had been practising with Percy, Penelope, and Amelia, so she beat Emily easily. What had surprised Calista, however, was playing a round with Emily's mother. She hadn't expected much, but Ferada beat her soundly; she was easily as skilled as Penelope, whom Calista also couldn't best.
When all was said and done, Calista had a nice time at Emily's, and it seemed that their tentative friendship had been rekindled. She tried not to wonder how long it would be until Olivia managed to ruin it, again.
One pleasant discovery of the summer was that Calista and Amelia actually did not live very far from one another; it took only a fifteen minute bus ride to Amelia's house, the first time that Calista had been invited over. The downside was that Calista was fairly certain that Amelia's family thought she was hopelessly weird, and she was afraid to go back after the first time.
She had never been to a Muggle house before, and there were a great number of things about it that confused her. There was some sort of large wood and glass box in their living room, for instance, and when they pointed a wide, flat sort of wand at it, it showed talking pictures, a bit like the paintings at Hogwarts, but much grainier. Calista thought it seemed boring, but Amelia's parents seemed glued to it; they liked to watch something they called news, but Calista had never heard of news that wasn't from a paper.
She had stayed for dinner, and she and Amelia had been tasked with boiling potatoes, but Calista didn't know how to heat the pot without her wand; she did know that she wasn't allowed to use her wand in front of Muggles, so she'd supposed the cooktop must operate with some sort of wandless magic. Amelia had had to come and tell her, with barely contained laughter, that it wouldn't turn itself on, no matter how much she yelled at it.
And then, of course, there had been the lights. Amelia's mother had asked her to switch the dining room light on, since she was closest to it, but Calista had been bewildered; she wasn't closest to the light at all, couldn't Amelia's mother see that? The light was hanging from the ceiling, Amelia's father was closest; and anyway, the only ways Calista knew to turn on a light were with a wand, which she had been instructed not to draw unless Bellatrix somehow mysteriously showed up, and with a button at the light's base, like the one that Calista had in her room in Severus' quarters. She didn't see such a button on the Slaters' dining room light, however, and even if it had been there, she wouldn't have been able to reach it. Amelia's father had raised his eyebrows like Calista was an idiot, and strode over to where she stood, pressing a switch on the wall that Calista hadn't noticed.
After that disastrous visit, she hadn't wanted to go back, so she'd made Amelia come to her house to visit, instead. Amelia's parents were slightly wary of their daughter going to a magical household, until Amelia reminded them that Calista's father was a professor. The problem with Amelia visiting at Calista's house was that Calista's father was their professor, so they didn't quite feel free to be themselves. For one thing, Calista was bursting to fill Amelia in on her worries regarding Marcus' failure to write back to her, but she was afraid her father would overhear.
She and Amelia were in her room one day, looking through the Charms book for next year, to see if any of the spells looked interesting, when her father's owl, Nox, flew up to her bedroom window. She leapt up to throw the window open and let the owl in, and practically tore the letter off its leg. Nox hooted with evident irritation, and headed for the kitchen, where he liked to try and find scraps of food in the rubbish bin before anyone realised he was not in his cage.
Calista unrolled the letter, her heart racing. It had to be Marcus, by now…
It wasn't. It was from Kim Avery, which made a whole lot of sense, actually, considering that the last letter she'd sent was to Kim. She felt stupid, once she realised who it was from. Of course it wasn't from Marcus, how would he have gotten her father's owl?
Hey Snapelet -
You'll never guess where they've given me an internship - Gringotts, of all places. I'm shadowing their curse breakers, and they think I'll be able to try breaking a few myself, soon. I'm pretty sure it's thanks to the letter of recommendation your dad wrote that I got accepted, so tell him thanks for me.
I heard that you and Marcus are finally snogging - good for you, Snapelet, I knew it would happen eventually, you should have heard how much he talked about you when we were all in the lockers. I nearly told you myself just so he'd stop nattering on, but all's well that ends well, right?
Don't forget to keep putting stuff in that book - it's a tradition, you have to pass it on, and it's got to be a Slytherin, because at least our Prefects aren't smarmy little suck-ups who will run blubbering to a professor if they come across it.
I like my internship so far but I miss Hogwarts already, so be sure and give me news if anything good happens. I'll write you if I learn anything else I can corrupt your little brain with.
-Kim
"So, is it from him?" Amelia wondered, watching Calista read.
"Shhh!" Calista looked pointedly at her half-open bedroom door. "No, it's not. It's from Kim."
Amelia grinned. "That seventh-year that got drunk at the Three Broomsticks?"
"Yeah, that's her."
"I kind of liked her," Amelia said. "She's like… kind of the way I want to be, when I'm in seventh year."
"So, you want to get drunk?" Calista laughed.
"Hey, shh yourself, if your dad hears that out of context, we're both in trouble…"
As if on cue, Severus pushed open Calista's bedroom door the rest of the way; he was facing towards the kitchen, and had pushed her door open sideways, so he must have been walking by.
"If I hear what out of context?" he asked, silkily.
"Er...n-nothing, sir," Amelia stammered, going pale.
Calista rolled her eyes. "Nothing, Dad. Don't you have boring professor things to do?"
"As it happens, I'm on summer break too," Severus reminded her, "And besides, you've interrupted me from my 'boring professor things' by letting my owl loose in the kitchen."
His eyes moved suspiciously around the room, lingering on each of them before stopping on the letter.
"Ah," Severus said, "I should have known it was a letter for you. Who else in this house forgets to put my owl back in his cage, on a regular basis?"
"Sorry."
"Not nearly as sorry as you'll be when you're picking up the rubbish he's knocked all over the floor," Severus said wryly, "Who is the letter from, anyway?"
"Kim Avery," Calista said, "She says thanks for writing her a recommendation letter. She's interning as a curse breaker at Gringotts."
"Is she? I expected she'd go into something with Potions, antidotes perhaps. But then, I suppose it's not nearly as exciting as curse breaking, for someone like Miss Avery. Did she say anything else about it?"
"Just, uhm, that she likes it," Calista said, folding the letter quickly. What if he asked to read it? I heard that you and Marcus are finally snogging. Yeah, that would go over really well… Calista concentrated on keeping her face impassive. Please don't ask to read it, she begged internally.
Severus frowned slightly, and looked at Calista for a moment longer, while Calista trained her expression to be as neutral as she could manage. She hoped she wasn't blushing.
"Well," Severus said, "I have a few quick errands to run downtown. You two be sure to stay out of trouble, regardless of context. I'll put Nox in his cage, but I expect you to clean up the mess in the kitchen, Calista."
"Do I have to do it now, while Amelia's here?"
"You have to do it now. You can send Miss Slater home first, though, if you wish…"
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll do it in a minute."
"Perhaps next time you'll remember why we generally keep owls in cages."
Severus went out then, and Calista and Amelia went into the kitchen; Nox had gotten into the rubbish bin, and spilled its contents all over the floor, but at least it didn't look like he'd left any droppings around. Calista made a face, and started picking up the rubbish.
"We should just go to my house next time," Amelia said, nudging a crust of bread with the toe of her trainer. "My parents are always watching television, they hardly pay attention to what I'm doing."
"Yeah," Calista said, "But they think I'm weird, now. How was I supposed to know your cooktop was rubbish?"
Amelia snorted. "It's not rubbish, Calista, it's electric. You just have to turn the knob… And anyway, my parents don't think you're that weird."
"Yes they do," Calista said, "Your dad even said so, when I was leaving, he told your mum 'Amelia's picked up the oddest friends at that school'."
"Well," Amelia said, trying not to laugh. "In their defence… you did start yelling 'Incendio' at our oven."
"It would have worked," Calista said moodily, dumping a handful of rubbish into the bin, "If I was allowed to use my wand."
"It would have worked?" Amelia was laughing now. "Calista, you would have burned my house down!"
"Yeah, well," Calista said, "It'd be lit, wouldn't it?"
"You're ridiculous," Amelia said breathlessly between laughs. "I'm so glad we're friends."
Calista finished cleaning up the kitchen, and then washed her hands at the sink.
"Me too," she said over her shoulder, "Even though you have a weird house."
When she turned around, Amelia was sitting at the kitchen table.
"So," Amelia said, "Have you heard much from Marcus, then?"
"No." Calista slumped into the chair opposite Amelia. "How does everyone know about that, anyway?"
Calista had admitted the truth, including the secret meetings in the owlery, to Amelia, but only after Amelia had pressed, insisting that she knew something was going on between them. She hadn't told anyone else, except for Sofia and Eva, sort of.
"Not everyone knows," Amelia said, "Just… me and Penny and Percy - well, I assume Percy knows, I never actually told him, but Penny probably did. And whoever you've told, in Slytherin."
"I haven't really told anyone," Calista said, "They all just sort of… figured it out."
"Yeah," Amelia said, "It is kind of obvious, I suppose. I mean, I wasn't sure if you liked him or not, but I could tell he liked you as soon as he came up to you in the corridor outside Arithmancy… he looked like a great big puppy, remember? And then he got all prickly with Percy, he must've thought Percy fancied you too, but of course he's only got eyes for -"
"For who?" Calista wondered, because she had no idea what Amelia was talking about, "And Marcus doesn't look like a puppy, that's ridiculous."
"Well, he did that day. And come on, you can't tell me you don't know about Percy?"
"I don't," Calista repeated. "Who has he got eyes for?"
Amelia rolled her eyes. "Penny, of course. Haven't you noticed? Talk about a puppy, he practically follows at her heel."
"I had no idea," Calista said. "Is he… is he really that obvious?"
Amelia chuckled. "You're joking, right? It's the most obvious thing I've ever seen…"
Well, if Percy fancied Penny and it really was so obvious, then it was no wonder Calista had had no idea that Marcus liked her. Apparently, she was blind to other peoples' crushes. She wished everyone else would be as blind to hers.
"So how often have you heard from Marcus, then?" Amelia wondered, curiously.
"Not at all," Calista said, and she scowled.
"Well, have you tried writing him?"
"I did, practically the first day of summer," Calista said, "He never wrote anything back. I guess he doesn't like me anymore. Maybe he's decided to go for Endria after all… or Olivia, ugh, I don't know if i could stand that."
"Ick," Amelia agreed, "I hate that girl, her and her snot-nosed little sidekick -"
"Portia," Calista replied.
"Yeah, her. I don't think that's what's happened, Calista. There's no way Marcus could like you and then go and like someone like her, you're completely different sorts of people. What did you write, in the letter you sent him? Maybe it was just… maybe it was too mushy, boys hate that."
"It wasn't mushy at all," Calista retorted. "I wouldn't ever write rubbish like that. It was just… just regular stuff, I asked if he was still in remedial Transfiguration, I told him I decided to drop Care of Magical Creatures. Stuff like that."
Amelia blinked. "Okay, well, what else?"
"Nothing else," Calista said impatiently, "I was afraid somehow - what if my dad saw it, you know?"
"Calista," Amelia said, sounding exasperated. "No wonder he hasn't written you back! He probably thinks you don't like him anymore, you can't go from snogging in the owlery to writing about… about your timetable!"
"Well, why not?" Calista wondered, defensively. "I would've told him about that in person, if I saw him, so why can't I write it?"
"Well, I guess you can, but you have to write other stuff too! 'I can't wait to snog you in the owlery again' or 'You look real fit in your Quidditch robes', something like that! You can't just… wow, even I know better than that, and I haven't had a boyfriend since primary school."
Calista sputtered, bewildered. "I can't write anything like that," she said, "I'd sound like some simpering idiot, and besides, what if my dad saw it somehow, or Marcus' parents? And besides, he's not… I don't think he's my boyfriend, we never said… and what the hell is 'primary school', anyway?"
"Come on, you know," Amelia said, "It's where you learn to read and write, and maths and all that stuff. The school I went to before Hogwarts, before I found out I was a witch."
"Yeah, we don't have anything like that," Calista said, shaking her head. "You had a boyfriend when you were just small, then?"
"Well, we used chase each other around at recess and kiss under the playground equipment after school… I think that's the requirement for a boyfriend, Calista," she said with a grin, "Hiding around school and kissing. I'm pretty sure he is your boyfriend, unless you keep writing him about your timetable."
Calista folded her arms and scowled stonily.
"Anyway," Amelia said, curiously. "If you don't have primary school, how do you… how do wizarding children learn to read and write?"
"Well, our parents teach us, I guess," Calista said unfolding her arms and leaning forward thoughtfully. "I don't… I don't really remember learning to read, I guess my… I guess my mother must have taught me. My dad bought me maths books, so I'd know about measurements and things for Potions."
Amelia was looking at her carefully, now. "Your… your mother… you sounded funny when you said that, and I've never asked… is she… did she die, Calista?"
Amelia's voice was gentle, prepared to offer pity or solace, whichever it seemed as though Calista was after. For a second, Calista thought about telling her. It might be a relief, to let someone know, and not be worried that she would find out from Olivia.
But she looked at Amelia's round face, her grey-blue eyes, and kind, understanding expression, and knew she couldn't tell her friend. How could she, when Amelia was Muggle-born, and Calista's mother had been sentenced to life in Azkaban for torturing Muggles and Muggle-borns?
"I… yeah, something like that. I don't want to talk about it. So… so what should I say to Marcus, besides all that nonsense you just said that I'll never write?"
"Nothing else," Amelia said, "Just all that nonsense. Trust me. Do it now, before your dad gets back, and I'll help you figure out what to write."
"No," Calista said quickly, "I'd die of embarrassment, I'll just… I'll write something later. You're sure I'm supposed to say all that junk?"
"Pretty sure," Amelia said, "I mean, it can't hurt. You have to say something to let him know you still fancy him, right?"
"I dunno, if you say so."
Amelia laughed and rolled her eyes, just as Calista noticed Severus coming back up the walk.
"Timetables," she said, shaking her head. "Honestly, Calista…"
"Shut it," Calista said, as Severus tapped his wand to the lock, and entered the kitchen. She greeted her father, trying to look as innocent and boyfriend-less as possible.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
By the fourth week of summer, when Calista had still not heard from Marcus, she decided to take Amelia's advice, as well as she could. She wasn't going to write him a bunch of sappy junk, but maybe he was afraid she had lost interest in him, although she didn't see how he could think that.
What if Calista had been right, though, and he really didn't like her anymore? Then she would come across like a desperate idiot, writing him twice without hearing back. Still, there came a point where Calista decided it was better to know and be let down than to keep driving herself mad wondering all summer, so she wrote him another letter.
Dear Marcus,
I guess you're probably having a busy summer. Mine's been okay, I've been hanging around with Amelia mostly, but I went to Emily's house, too. Next week I'm going to visit my aunt and uncle, and my little cousin, Draco. He's pretty fun, he likes collecting Wizard Cards.
I don't know what kinds of things I'm supposed to write to you now. Amelia said all the things I put in my last letter were wrong, but I'm not writing any of the rubbish she told me to, so I guess I'll just write that I miss you, and I wish we could go flying again. I guess it's not really all that bad, as long as I don't fall. I still don't want to go upside-down, though.
- Calista
She almost didn't send it, afraid that even that much would sound too much like she was sitting around all summer waiting for him to write her back, but… well, she was pretty much doing that, wasn't she? She wondered if he would bother writing back this time. Maybe he was on holiday, or something, and Nox couldn't find him.
That evening, while she and her father were eating dinner, there was a tapping on the window. Her father rose to let Nox in. Well, there was that, anyway, she knew he had gotten her letter, if Nox had come back.
Except, her father was pulling a letter off Nox's leg, now. Had the owl been unable to locate Marcus? She better grab her letter back, before he decided to open it…
"That's probably mine," she said, hopping up quickly. "I, uhm… I wrote to Emily earlier."
He handed the parchment to her without a second glance at it; really, had it been that easy?
"You can open it after dinner," he said, "Put it away for now."
She nodded, and hurried to put the rolled-up parchment away in her room. She stuffed it down the side of her school trunk, and threw some clothes on top of it, just in case. She didn't really think her father would start going through her trunk, but it made her feel better to hide it.
"You could have set it aside on the table," her father said, when he returned, eyebrows raised. "You and Miss Yaxley are not planning anything I should be aware of, are you?"
"No," she said, "We're not planning anything, it's just… uhm, about clothes, and uhm… hairstyles."
Those were the sort of things girls generally wrote letters to their friends about, weren't they? She'd bet anything it was what Olivia and Portia wrote about.
"I… see." Severus said.
As soon as she could without arousing suspicion, Calista closed herself in her room, and dug Marcus' letter out of her school trunk. He was probably telling her he didn't like her anymore, she told herself, bracing for the worst. He'd tried ignoring her first letter, but then when she sent another he had to be sure she didn't get the wrong idea…
She unrolled it, tired of speculating.
Hey Calista,
Yeah I'm glad you wrote me again because I was really confused before. I thought maybe you just wanted to be friends again and I didn't know what to say because that's not really what I want. I liked having you for a friend, but I like having you for a girlfriend much better. I hope that's what you want too.
I knew you would like flying once you gave it a try. I bet you could be really good at it if we keep practising. But really I don't mind you not being so good yet because I like taking you up. We could go flying before school starts you know, you could come visit my house. I told my parents about you so they won't mind, they want to meet you anyway.
Let me know, it would be really cool to see you again before school.
- Marcus
PS: Yeah I do have remedial transfiguration again. That's my only one this year though.
Calista read the letter over and over, feeling the same flutter in her stomach she did when she was with him; she was glad she had closed her bedroom door, because she knew she was blushing something fierce.
I like having you for a girlfriend.
Amelia was right, then, she did have a boyfriend… it felt thrilling and a little scary at the same time to think of it that way. And he liked taking her flying… she wondered if he liked it for the same reason she did, because they could be close together, because he could put his arms around her… because he could say things right in her ear.
Calista read the letter until it ceased to have so strong an effect on her, until she felt her cheeks cool. She folded the letter up, and stuck it inside the cover of her Arithmancy book, in her school trunk. She wanted to write back… but she didn't want to risk her father asking her why it was so critical that she continue her hairstyle conversation with Emily tonight, so she forced herself to wait until tomorrow. She supposed she could have written the letter that night, and simply waited until the next day to post it, but she didn't want to take the risk of having it sitting around in her room, just in case.
When she did write back the next day, she waited until her father was deeply absorbed in a book before she let Nox out of his cage and sent the letter.
Dear Marcus,
I do still like you. I like this better than just being friends, too.
I wish I could come visit you, but I still haven't told my dad. I don't think I can, he won't understand. I know he'll just tell me, again, that I'm not allowed to have a boyfriend until I'm thirty.
At least when I'm of age it should be okay. I don't think I really have to keep everything a secret until I'm thirty, probably only until I graduate Hogwarts. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I just don't want him to tell me I'm not allowed to see you, and I don't want him to be unfair to you, either.
I don't think I'll ever be any good at flying by myself, but once I can Apparate, it won't matter. I will still want to go flying with you, though. It's different.
- Calista
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Calista was spending a week at Malfoy Manor. She had thought, initially, that Severus would be there the entire time, too, but he'd told her he had some other things to attend to, some meetings at the school and so forth, and something about a house that had belonged to his family, or something. It sounded boring, so Calista tuned that part out, and focused instead on the fact that she would be spending an entire week away from him.
She could… maybe she could go visit Marcus, maybe Aunt Narcissa would let her… but then, Severus had misread her surprise, and said that he would likely stop by to visit several times during the week, when he found the chance. She supposed it was a good thing, in case she had another nightmare she had to talk to him about; he told her that Lucius and Narcissa would know how to call him up on the fire if he wasn't at home, and bid her ask them to do so if anything important came up.
He had actually offered her the choice of staying the week with Emily or with the Malfoys, but Calista wasn't quite ready to relive the week she'd spent at Emily's so soon; more than one embarrassing thing had happened that she'd care to forget. Besides, she liked Draco and Aunt Narcissa a lot, and even her Uncle Lucius was being kinder to her than he had been initially. Severus reminded her, nevertheless, to be vigilant and to keep her barriers intact.
The first night, Severus had stayed for dinner. The entire meal, Calista had concentrated on trying not to look as nervous as she felt; what if Narcissa slipped and asked Calista something about Marcus in front of Severus? She didn't, though, thankfully, and then Severus left after dinner.
After they had eaten, Calista wanted to go up to Draco's room and make a potion with him, but Lucius and Narcissa invited her to the library instead, for tea and sweets. She accepted politely, and wondered if they were going to ask her about the hexes her father had been teaching her. She hoped not, because she didn't feel like she knew very many useful ones, yet, and she wanted to impress them when they asked about it.
It turned out they didn't want to talk to her about that at all, though. They wanted to talk to her about Olivia, or at least Narcissa did. Lucius seemed interested mostly in observing the conversation, though he did contribute a sneer or a comment here and there.
"How are things going with that girl at your school?" Narcissa wondered, after their house-elf had come around with a tea tray. Calista wished they had coffee instead, but accepted the tea and a few biscuits.
"She's the same as always," Calista said, "Trying to get me in trouble, or make me cross, or just generally ruin my life."
"Well," Narcissa said, "You don't need to concern yourself with her or her opinions, it's just as I suspected, darling. She's not nearly as important as she'd like you to think."
"So you found out who her mother is?" Calista asked. "And why she wants Olivia to be friends with me so badly?"
"The latter is blindingly obvious," Lucius interjected softly. "I'm afraid, Calista, that this is not likely to be your final experience with people who wish to use your family connections to improve their own lot. It's precisely why you should be choosing your acquaintances carefully."
Calista shifted uncomfortably; she felt the topic was drifting dangerously close to blood purity, and she didn't want it to go there. Although, it would be rich to find out that Olivia wasn't really a pureblood, after she nattered on about it so much… but surely Olivia wouldn't be so brazen as to lie about that, when it could so easily be verified?
"It turns out," Narcissa said, "That Thomas Avril's wife is on the Wizengamot; it seems like a coveted position in some circles, of course, but she serves on a subcommittee that deals primarily with internal fraud investigations at the Ministry. Certainly, there are more glamorous positions to be had in the Wizengamot, but it does explain how her husband got away without serving any time for the embezzlement business with the Floo Network."
Narcissa smiled, and leaned forward. "But that's not the interesting part, darling. Her mother's maiden name is what I think you'll find amusing. Before she married Avril, she was Almeria Gamp."
"Erm…" Calista said, sheepishly. "Am I supposed to know who that is?"
"The Gamps, dear," Narcissa said, as if she did expect Calista to know. "The great pretenders of our world."
Calista nodded, and tried to look as though she knew what Narcissa was talking about.
"It appears," Lucius said, with an evident note of disapproval, "That further revision on the wizarding families of Britain is in order."
Calista scowled. Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, as if in challenge.
"Anyway," Narcissa pressed on, glancing between her husband and her niece, "The Gamps claim to be pureblooded, but their line is riddled with misalliances and mixed blood, so much so that they were barred from appearing in the Sacred Twenty-Eight as far back as 1930. Your schoolmate can put on airs all she wants, but in essence, as far as our kind are concerned, she's a nobody."
"Well, I'm not a pureblood, either," Calista said, crossly. She wasn't certain anymore if she was cross with Olivia, or cross with her aunt and uncle. "So why does her mother want her to be friends with me so badly, anyway?"
"You're much closer to being a pureblood than she is," Narcissa began, but Lucius cut through his wife's words with a declaration that was no less powerful, no less final, for the fact that it was spoken softly.
"Your father is an exceptional man, a credit to our kind despite his mixed blood. With him, and with you, it doesn't matter as much as it does with some others. Besides, his mother's line is pure. One Muggle ancestor, while regrettable, does not dilute the blood in the same way that a pattern of such indiscretions does."
Calista nodded, uncertainly. She wasn't even certain which line was his mother's. She had never asked, because she didn't care. She had a feeling, however, that admitting to the Malfoys that she didn't care about blood purity would be inadvisable.
"Yes," Narcissa agreed, "As long as you make a suitable match, the long-term harm can be mitigated."
A suitable match. Calista wondered if they would consider Marcus a suitable match. She didn't think she cared whether they did or not.
"Indeed," Lucius agreed, and his tone darkened as he added, "As for this Avril girl, I will strongly advise both of her parents to seek an audience with me directly in the future, rather than engage in attempts to manipulate my underaged niece."
Calista smirked. She liked the idea of Lucius "strongly advising" someone of something, so long as that someone was not her. This would surely get Olivia off her case.
"Thank you," she said.
The rest of the week went by relatively smoothly, although Lucius did insist that she take their copy of Pureblood Wizarding Families of Great Britain to her room to look through. It sat on her night stand, stubbornly untouched.
She and Draco made a few potions together, which made Calista sharply miss the times when she had been in the reverse role, learning potions from her father. She wondered if she could still successfully keep her secret relationship with Marcus from him, if she began spending more time with him again. She felt a dull ache of sadness when she considered the possibility that it might not be possible to spend both more time with her father and more time with Marcus, not while she had to keep the latter secret from the former.
Narcissa insisted on taking her shopping, again. They had her robes lengthened, and Narcissa bought her a whole slew of new things to wear underneath them, skirts and blouses (as if she didn't have enough from last summer), and even more embarrassing things that went underneath those. Narcissa said she needed a new brassiere, but Calista thought her aunt had only said that to try and make her feel better about the fact that she didn't need one.
"So," Narcissa said, while they walked the short distance from their Apparition point to the salon Narcissa had brought her to last summer, "Tell me about this young man of yours. He is in Slytherin, of course? Is he from a good family?"
"He's in Slytherin," Calista said, apprehensively. What if he wasn't from what Narcissa would consider a 'good family'? It wouldn't change the way that Calista felt about him, but if Narcissa disapproved, would she then decide to try and put an end to their relationship by informing Calista's father of it?
"What's his name?" Narcissa pressed gently, but Calista imagined she could hear Narcissa's unspoken question: What's his blood status?
"Marcus," Calista said, and then, deciding there was no point in delaying the inevitable, "Marcus Flint."
She braced herself for an adverse reaction. Narcissa paused, stopping just outside the door of the salon. Calista forced herself to look up into her aunt's face - and was surprised to see that Narcissa was positively beaming.
"Oh, that's wonderful, darling. The Flints are a very good family - in fact, I believe Lucius is acquainted with one of them, I do remember him saying something about a Flint who works in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry."
"Oh," Calista said, relieved. "Well, that makes sense, I guess. Marcus is on the Quidditch team. He plays Chaser, and he's going to be Captain this year. He said Quidditch was really important to his dad, before."
Narcissa swept them both into the salon. "You know, you wearing your hair up like that has given me an idea," she said thoughtfully, putting her hands on Calista's shoulders, and studying her face intently.
Calista had been wearing her hair in a ponytail almost exclusively since Marcus had said he liked it. The memory of that conversation, and the summer flight that had come after it, caused her to blush faintly.
The stylist came over then, and it was just as before, Calista was placed immediately at the front of the line, and was in the chair seconds after they had entered.
Narcissa instructed the stylist, who took Calista's hair down from its ponytail, and started carefully cutting it. Calista didn't bother to pay attention to what Narcissa was telling her, because it was evident that she didn't have a say of her own in this circumstance, and anyway, she wasn't sure if she even wanted one.
"Have you told your father about him yet?" Narcissa asked, and Calista shook her head rapidly, causing the stylist to cluck, and hold her head still.
"No," Calista said, "I can't, he'd never approve."
"But the Flints are a good family," Narcissa said, for the second time. "I think perhaps he might, as long as this young man is treating you properly. He is treating you properly, isn't he?"
"I guess," Calista said, "I mean, yeah, he's really nice to me. We've been friends since my first year, and he's always stuck up for me when Olivia was being a stupid cow. He… he taught me how to fly a bit, too. I never would have passed flying lessons if he didn't help me. But there's no way my dad is going to let me date anyone, trust me."
"It will take some time for him to get used to the idea," Narcissa agreed, "But I suspect that he will be much more amenable to it if you tell him directly, and tell him soon. The rumours will begin to fly at school, darling, if they aren't already. Wouldn't you rather your father heard about your relationship with this boy from you before he hears about it from one of your classmates - that nasty Avril girl, say?"
"I'd rather he never hears about it," Calista said sourly.
"Yes, well, I don't believe that's going to be an option, once you've decided to be exclusive with this boy… unless you've made it that far, already?"
"Uhm," Calista said, because she wasn't quite certain what her aunt was asking. "He called me his girlfriend -ow, watch it! I need that, you know."
This latter part was directed at the stylist, who had the tip of her wand dangerously close to Calista's eye.
"Calista," Narcissa said, "If you truly intend to carry on a relationship with this young man, you'll need to tell your father."
"No," Calista said again, stubbornly. "And you can't - you promised me you wouldn't tell him!"
"I won't, as long as this Marcus is treating you with the proper respect and kindness," Narcissa said, "But you should. Please think on it carefully, darling, all right? Now - look at your reflection, isn't that lovely?"
Calista rearranged her scowl into a neutral expression as she was turned around to face the glass. At her aunt's behest, the stylist had given her a longish, wispy sort of fringe, with longer pieces at the ends that framed her face. It actually looked… Calista turned her head to the side to be certain… it actually looked nice.
Narcissa stepped up behind her, and pulled Calista's hair back gently, holding it in a fashion that imitated the ponytail she'd entered the salon with; it looked even better this way, making her hair appear sleek instead of simply thin. Now, if only she could do something about her blasted nose, her too-narrow chin, or any of the other things Calista didn't like about herself.
"What do you think?" Narcissa asked her, with a smile that Calista thought looked a tiny bit mischievous. "Do you suppose your young man will like it?"
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
Things continued to go surprisingly well, until the final night of Calista's stay. Severus had come for dinner again, and he was supposed to be taking Calista home after the meal, but she hadn't packed all of her things yet, because she'd spent the day making potions with Draco and avoiding Lucius, who she was afraid might question her to see if she'd been reading the book that was still sitting untouched on the night stand upstairs.
Calista was on edge anyway, because Narcissa was telling Severus about their shopping trip as they ate dinner, and it felt to Calista that it was nearly inevitable for something about their conversation, about Marcus, to slip.
"She's growing up to be so lovely, Severus," Narcissa said affectionately, after she'd described their trip to the salon. Calista had the impression that Severus was only feigning interest. "She looks more and more like her mother, don't you think?"
Calista set her jaw, and looked fixedly at her plate.
"I think Calista looks like Calista," Severus said, evenly, and Calista considered leaping up from the table to hug him for saying what felt like the perfect response.
"Well, yes, of course," Narcissa said, and when Calista chanced a glance at her, she was smiling affectionately. and redirected her words to Calista. "But you have her bone structure, darling. If you had curly hair like hers, you'd be nearly her spitting image."
"I would not," Calista said, defiantly. She didn't care if she sounded rude.
There was a familiar, gentle brush against the edge of her mind; she investigated it, and felt the words of a message.
Stay calm.
"I know she wasn't a perfect mother," Narcissa said, and even though her tone was kind, and Calista knew she meant well, she could feel a familiar rage rising up like a tidal wave, pounding against her skin. "But I know she loved you in her way, and I am certain she would be proud, if she could see the way you're growing up."
Calista was not quite capable of staying calm, any longer. She thought she was angry, as she pushed her chair away from the table, and stormed out of the room as quickly as she could, upstairs towards the bedroom she slept in when they were here. She still thought she was angry when she hurled open the bedroom door, yanked the lid of her school trunk open, and began stuffing things inside.
It was only when her eyes blurred with tears, and one fat drop landed on the cover of her Charms book that she realised that what she was feeling was a good deal more complicated than that.
A minute later, her ears perked at the sound of footsteps at the threshold. She should have known her father would come after her. "I'm sorry," she said, struggling to keep the tears out of her voice. "I just couldn't…" she trailed off when she turned her head and realised that it wasn't Severus who had come into her room at all. It was Narcissa.
"Darling, what's wrong?" Narcissa asked, gently. Calista drew in a breath, swallowed the lump in her throat, and wiped her hand across her eyes. She found that, when she concentrated, she was able to keep new tears from stinging her eyes.
"Nothing," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. I just… nothing's wrong, Aunt Narcissa."
Narcissa reached for her cheek, holding Calista's face in the same tender gesture she had done when they'd first met, when she'd bid Calista to remember that it was important for the old families to remain close.
"I'm afraid I don't believe you," Narcissa said quietly. Calista noticed that she had closed the door behind her, though it must have been softly, because she hadn't heard it.
"Where's my dad?" Calista asked. It occurred to her that it seemed out of character for him not to pursue her.
"He's still downstairs, with Lucius," Narcissa said, "I asked him to let me come and talk to you, since I was the one to upset you."
"It's nothing," Calista repeated, wishing Narcissa would leave so she could wallow in her rage, her sadness, her whatever-else she was feeling.
Narcissa took her hand off Calista, and rose, but she didn't leave. She perched on one of the matching armchairs in the room, instead.
"It's certainly understandable, even expected, for you to resent your mother," Narcissa began, and for a second Calista thought she actually understood, and she felt a temporary relief that was like a lightness in her chest.
"You're growing up," Narcissa continued, "And she isn't here to see it."
"What?" Calista said, stunned into a response. "Are you - that's not it, at all. You have no idea…" she shook her head.
"No idea about what, Calista?"
"Nothing."
"Is it…" Narcissa asked hesitantly, "Are you upset because you feel you can't be honest about who your mother is?"
This startled Calista. How did Narcissa know that?
"I… I guess that's part of it," she hedged.
"I should admit, then, that I've already discussed this matter some with your father. I know you were both trying to keep your mother secret for some time to protect your father's interests with Dumbledore, but… Calista, it will out eventually, anyway. We both agree that's so."
Her father's interests with Dumbledore… Calista had never even considered how the truth of her mother's identity might affect her father, had only ever concerned herself with how it might affect herself. What if it made people see him differently, as well? She realised that she didn't know, really, how the wizarding world at large did view her father. Did they know that he had once been a Death Eater, too?
"I don't want to tell anyone," Calista said, because it seemed as if Narcissa expected her to say something.
"You like your secrets, don't you, darling?" Narcissa said, and she sounded a little sad.
"Yeah," Calista said, "I do."
She'd meant it to come off a little rude, enough to get Narcissa to leave her alone, but hopefully not enough to get herself in trouble. Narcissa didn't seem to take it that way, though; she beckoned for Calista to come closer to her, again.
Calista did, only because she couldn't think of a way not to that wouldn't seem extremely ungracious; she was upset with Narcissa, but she still had the presence of mind to realise that antagonising her was probably a very bad idea, for herself and for her father.
Narcissa reached for her again, touched her face, and then cupped her cheek again.
"You don't need to keep secrets from your family, Calista."
"Yes I do," Calista replied, without quite realising she was going to say it out loud.
"No," Narcissa insisted, and still she managed a tenderness in her voice, even though Calista was fully aware of the the fact that she was not giving Narcissa much cause for tenderness. "Your family will protect you, from whatever you're afraid of. Can't you see that, in the way that your father is constantly looking out for your best interests, in the way that Lucius and I are dealing with your problem classmate? Families keep secrets for one another, not from one another. You know what you need to tell your father..."
Narcissa let her hand fall from Calista's face, and reached for her nearest hand instead. "And I have a hunch there is a secret that you need to tell me, too."
"No," Calista said, and she was saying no to both telling her father about Marcus, and telling Narcissa whatever it was that Narcissa thought she wanted to know.
"Darling," Narcissa coaxed, "I see you look as though you want to cry every time your mother is mentioned, although you always try to hide it; you don't need to be strong all the time. It is quite alright to admit that you wish she was here for you."
"No," Calista said again, and she wrenched her hand free from her aunt's. "I don't wish she was here. And you know what else?"
Calista knew she was being reckless now, but the pulse of rage was at her skin again; she couldn't take it anymore, couldn't hear one more word about how she was supposed to feel about her mother.
"I hope she stays in Azkaban forever," Calista said, "I hate her, and I hate the way that everyone here talks about her, like she's someone I should want to be like. None of you have any idea what she's really like, or if you do, then it's just plain cruel to keep talking to me about her."
She hadn't planned on saying any of that, and even though logically she knew she was only getting herself, perhaps even her father, in trouble, she couldn't deny that saying it was like lifting a weight off of her shoulders. The rage inside of her cooled, and retreated.
Narcissa was trying to regard her levelly, but Calista could see a mingled confusion and pain in her eyes.
"What is she really like, Calista?" she asked softly. Something in the set of her face wrenched the words out of Calista.
"Those things she did," she said, and she was alarmed to discover that tears were filling her eyes again, and that this time, she could not will them away, "To those Muggles, that got her into Azkaban. She did all those things to me, too. Short of… short of k-killing me, although she would have done that, too, if it would have helped."
"I know she was not always kind to you," Narcissa said, and there was something in her voice that Calista sensed was begging Calista to take back what she had said, to admit that she was exaggerating. Perhaps she had tears in her eyes too, but Calista's own were too blurred to tell her so. "But surely she loved you. You don't mean… you can't mean that… that you believe she would have truly hurt you."
Calista was not exaggerating, though, and she was tired of having to pretend that her mother was anything other than her enemy. She supposed her father would be irate with her for having said all of this to Narcissa, but she thought a bit savagely that if he wanted a say in what she revealed, he bloody well should have come up here himself.
"No," Calista said, her voice catching. "She… she didn't love me. If she did, she couldn't've…" she swallowed. "She told me she would sacrifice me to help the Dark Lord."
"But surely she didn't mean it…"
"I guess I don't know," Calista said bitterly, wiping her eyes again, "She never got the chance. But everything else… are you going to tell me that she didn't mean-that she didn't mean to C-Crucio me? Or that she didn't mean to pull my hair, or kick me, or any of the other things she did to me all the time? Was that just… was it an accident when she tortured me, she meant to hug me instead but just got it wrong?"
Calista didn't know what she expected from Narcissa. More denial, perhaps, or more questions. Sadness, pity, rage… all of those things seemed within the realm of possibility. What she had not considered as a possibility was that Narcissa would leap up from her chair, and envelop Calista in a soft, tight hug.
But that was what happened. And the worst thing of all… or perhaps the best thing, she didn't know how to think of any of this, anymore… was that the feeling of her aunt's arms around her made Calista ache sharply for something she didn't even know she still wanted. She remembered dreaming, once, that Bellatrix had wanted to apologise for the way she'd treated her, wanted to make amends and start fresh. She remembered dreaming that Bellatrix had wanted to actually be her mother.
She'd been so ashamed, then, of wanting such a thing, even in the tiniest part of herself, and she felt the same familiar shame filling her heart up, now, as Narcissa pressed Calista's face to her shoulder, and rubbed her back comfortingly with her other hand. She waited for the mistake, for the rejection, for Narcissa to push her coldly aside and tell her that she was foolish for wanting any part of this…
"I'm so sorry, darling," Narcissa whispered, still holding her close. "I had no idea…"
When it did not appear as if Narcissa was going to push her aside, Calista felt something inside of her, some protective dam she had built up somewhere in her, break loose, and she stopped trying to control the flow of her tears, stopped trying so hard to hide the depth of both her hatred for Bellatrix and her pain at what Bellatrix had done to her. She cried like she had not cried for a very long time, like she had never done in front of anyone but her father.
"I love you, Calista," Narcissa murmured, and Calista could hear the tears choking her aunt's voice, as well. "And I'm so sorry I let that happen to you."
Calista let herself wrap her arms around her aunt, too, and Narcissa didn't seem to mind, which made Calista cry harder. They stood like that for quite some time, and Calista couldn't make any words come out of her mouth; but as the moments passed, she felt more and more like she didn't need to.
Narcissa, who had always struck Calista as mostly kind, but slightly emotionally distant, kept her arms around her niece, kept making circles on her back with the palm of her hand, didn't say anything else but didn't let go, either. It occurred to Calista for the first time to be jealous of Draco, who had certainly got the better end of the bargain when it came to which of the Black sisters he belonged to; but then, did it matter? Just now, just in this moment, Calista felt as if she, too, belonged to Narcissa.
"Severus," Narcissa said softly, her voice still strong with emotion, and Calista realised that her father must have come into the room; she wondered how long ago, wondered how long she had been standing here, clinging to her aunt like a much younger child. "Why didn't you tell us?"
There was a brief silence, which Calista used to lift her head and dash her hand across her eyes, to extricate herself, finally, from her aunt's supportive embrace. She chanced a glance at her father, who didn't look cross with her at all, looked only quite solemn and more than a little sad.
"It was never my truth to tell," he said quietly. "Calista… Calista reveals her secrets in her own time, a fact that I myself still have difficulty accepting."
"No one condones the way Bellatrix treated you, Calista," Narcissa said. "I want you to understand that."
"Thank you," Calista said weakly, finding her voice at last. "I think I… I think I really needed you to say that."
She sniffed, and rubbed at her eyes again, and then, because she couldn't stand the weight of either her father's or her aunt's stares any longer, she walked over to her school trunk, and shifted a few things around, before pulling the lid closed.
She heard soft footsteps across the thick rug as someone left the room; then, the familiar weight of her father's arm came down around her shoulders.
"Are you ready to go home?" he asked her, as gently as he had ever asked her anything.
She looked up, her head filled with a hollow, shivery post-crying feeling, and nodded gratefully.
(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)
She had many chances over the summer to reflect on what Narcissa had said, regarding Bellatrix and regarding Marcus. She knew, better now than she ever had before, that Narcissa meant well with her advice, that her aunt did truly believe that it was a good idea to tell her father about Marcus, and for a good several days after she returned home from her week at the Malfoys', she considered it.
Once, at dinner, she had nearly done it, nearly burst out with the truth of it while the two of them sat across from each other, discussing the next curse she would learn, and cutting their chicken into smaller pieces.
Always, though, she backed off before she told him. There was a very small chance that Narcissa would be correct, that Severus would have somewhat of an open mind regarding her relationship with Marcus; but what if he didn't? Calista did not know if she had it in her to truly disobey her father, to do directly the opposite of what he said, and what if what he said was that she was forbidden from seeing Marcus?
And then, on the opposite hand, she really liked Marcus, and she didn't know if she'd be able to stand it if Severus treated him poorly, or if they were forbidden from seeing each other. In light of the risks, it seemed safer to keep her secret, and to hope that the world would be complicit in her plan.
She exchanged letters back and forth with him for the remainder of the summer, in the same vein as the second one she had sent, and she felt a warm glow inside her chest, in the apples of her cheeks, every time he wrote that he missed her, or that he was looking forward to seeing her again.
She exchanged other letters, too: she wrote back to Kim, and she had a few letters to and from Percy. She wrote to Penny about the dueling club, asked if her friend would be willing to help her put the question of it to Flitwick, and Penny wrote back that she was interested in trying to convince him.
She wrote to Emily again, too, because she still felt she owed her another chance, though she was still slightly wary of getting too close to her. She wrote to Eva and Sofia; Sofia had sent her three pages of gossip, and Eva, predictably, had asked her if she'd managed to acquire any dungbombs yet.
There was a letter from Olivia again, too, which seemed ludicrous, in light of everything that had happened at Malfoy Manor. Evidently, though, Lucius had not yet spoken to Olivia's parents, because the letter contained yet another passive-aggressive missive summoning her for a visit at her Bearsden town house. She promptly burned that letter to ashes, betting that the Ministry would assume a stray flame spell in her home had originated from Severus.
She didn't bother writing to Amelia, once they had realised they lived so close to each other, but at least once a week she either had Amelia over to her house, or she and Amelia each took a bus downtown, and met there for lunch. It was difficult to choose which she liked better, because she did feel like she had to be on her best behavior when they were at her home and Severus was there, but meeting Amelia downtown was almost no better, for all the safety lectures Severus gave her before begrudgingly seeing her off.
Inevitably, the day came for her father to take her to Diagon Alley, to pick up her new Potions supplies, and the remainder of her new school books. She had already cajoled him into purchasing her Charms book and one of her Ancient Runes books earlier in the summer, so she could look them over, but she still had to obtain the rest of them.
She didn't mind, though. Since her first year, Flourish and Blotts had been her favourite school shopping stop. This year, however, she wasn't quite as single-minded as usual, didn't race immediately to the Magical Theory section as soon as they had arrived at Diagon Alley. She craned her neck, looking around at all of the shops, because she didn't know what day Marcus was going shopping; she wasn't certain if she wanted to run into him or not, considering that her father was with her.
She didn't see him, though, and after an hour she gave up on the idea, and let herself be drawn, like a magnet, towards the bookstore. She ducked inside the doorway, weaving through clusters of students and their parents, taking one final visual inventory of the store, in case Marcus was here, and she had missed him. And then… and then, her eyes caught on a figure who was standing by the registers, and she felt her heart stop.
It was Bellatrix; Bellatrix was here, in Flourish and Blotts, and she was paying for a pile of books, as if it were the most normal thing in the world… why hadn't anyone else noticed her? Why weren't people running away, screaming?
Calista had to leave, she knew she had to leave, but her feet were rooted to the floor; her head felt light, and her heart had started beating again, and was pounding in double-time to make up for stopping. She needed to go, before Bellatrix turned her head and saw her, she needed… she needed…
Somehow, she regained just enough of her mental faculties to remember that her father wasn't far away, that she could call out to him.
Help, she broadcast, mentally, She's here, help me!
Things moved very quickly then, as if the world had paused along with her heart, and was also seeking to fill the void of the time it had lost; in what felt like less than a second, Bellatrix had turned, and was walking towards her, eyes locking onto her face; Calista realised that the people in the store, closest to her, were beginning to stare at her as if there was something wrong with her; and Severus appeared behind her, and was pulling her out of the store, saying something to her over and over.
They were outside now, in an alley beside the shop; Calista's back was to the brick wall of the side of the shop, and Severus was standing in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, still speaking, but she couldn't hear him; then she realised, belatedly, that she couldn't hear him because she was screaming, and she stopped, so she could listen, in case he was telling her how to get away.
"It's not her!" Severus was saying, intently. "Calista, it's not her, calm down; She's not here, you're still safe."
"It's her," she croaked, breathlessly; she could feel a tight ache in her throat, from screaming.
"No," Severus said, leaning close to her, so that his face was all she saw; somehow this did make her feel calmer, because if Bellatrix was approaching, at least Calista couldn't see her. "It isn't her, Calista, I promise it's not. It's her sister, Andromeda."
He kept telling her this, over and over, and in between he reminded her that she was safe; something clicked in her brain, and she felt suddenly as if she were seven years old, sitting upright in terror in her bed in the little bedroom she had in Severus' rooms at Hogwarts. And now, just like then, her father had strong hands on her shoulders, a smooth, deep, reassuring voice that was telling her that her nightmares were not real, that she was safe; and even though now, just like then, everything in her body was telling her that she was in danger, that she had to run, his words managed to penetrate her brain, to allow her to come down from the high of her terror, shaking and weak, but aware that she was still very much alive.
"It's not her," Calista repeated, faintly, somewhere between a declaration and a question.
"No," Severus said, "It's not her."
She nodded, and tried to find her breath; she felt the stickiness of tears on her face, and then she was grounded in reality enough to realise that she had just made a gigantic scene at Flourish and Blotts, in front of Merlin only knew how many of her schoolmates and their parents.
"Oh no," Calista groaned, "Everyone is… everyone is going to think I'm mental."
"Calista?" came a hesitant female voice; she turned her head, and Severus pulled back enough for her to see around him.
Nymphadora Tonks was standing at the mouth of the alley, looking at her with wide-eyed concern on her heart-shaped face. "Are you… are you alright?"
The figure Calista had seen in the store loomed behind Tonks; and even now, even when Calista knew it wasn't Bellatrix, her mind still wanted to see her that way, still pinged faintly at her to run run run. She felt the reassuring grip of her father's hands still on her shoulders, and only when she knew fully that he still stood between her and whoever that figure was, could she let herself focus on the woman, search out the subtle differences between her and Bellatrix.
Her hair was lighter than Bellatrix's, and that was very near where the differences ended. Slowly, Tonks and the woman approached closer, until they were each only a few steps from Calista. Severus hovered tensely over Calista, ready to leap to her comfort if she lost touch with reality again; in a split second it occurred to Calista quite fiercely that she loved her father very much, and her mind was still so open in the aftermath of her panic that she suspected he could sense the emotion in her. When his eyes widened and softened just slightly, she knew it for a fact.
"Calista," Tonks said again, carefully, "This is my mother, Andromeda Tonks."
"She thinks I'm Bellatrix," the woman supplied, in a voice that was thankfully different enough from Bellatrix's to ease Calista's nerves just slightly. She allowed herself to look again at the woman's face, and she noticed that her eyes were a bit wider than her mother's, and she suspected they would be softer, were they not touched by a mild irritation just now. "Tell me, child, what has my sister done to you that put you into such a fright?"
But Calista's heart was still racing, and she couldn't… there were a dozen ways she had envisioned the scenario of the truth of her parentage coming out, and this was worse than any of them.
Severus' eyes roamed her face, and then he flicked them back towards Nymphadora and Andromeda. "Leave us," he commanded firmly, and then, as an afterthought added, "Please."
They did leave, Tonks casting one last uncertain glance over her shoulder at Calista.
"I'm sorry," Severus said to her, quietly. "It never occurred to me to warn you. Are you going to be alright?"
"Please," Calista said, "I want to go home."
Severus nodded, and pulled himself back, standing up straight. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, and placed his hand at her elbow instead. For a fraction of a moment, he began to lead her back out of the alley the way they had come; but perhaps her mind was still open to him, because he changed his mind and led her instead to the darkness at the back of the alley, gripped her arm firmly, and Apparated them back home.
"I'll go back tomorrow," Severus said, "And pick up the rest of your books. Why don't you invite your friend Amelia over to keep you company, when I go?"
Calista nodded, seizing on the normalcy of that plan. She realised that her father had forgotten to call her Miss Slater, or perhaps she had just been over their house so many times now that it seemed absurd.
"Yeah, Amelia," Calista echoed, and she thought that she would give almost anything in that moment to have nothing more humiliating in her mind than trying to set Amelia's oven on fire.
She knew there had been plenty of people in the bookstore, and those that weren't there would likely hear about what had happened from those who were. It was the most humiliating thing she could imagine, and she had somehow done it to herself, without Olivia's help at all. What was she going to do when school started?
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