11

Chapter Eleven:

"Okay," Calista said, around a mouthful of toast, "We haffa –," she swallowed. "We have to set some boundaries if you're going to keep surprise-testing me. Last time you caught me when I had a mouthful of juice and I almost choked on it. And," she continued sourly, "If you surprise me when I'm in the loo or something I'm going to go spare."

Severus lifted his eyes to regard her over the rim of his coffee mug. Their jet depths were impassive as always, and the rest of his face was obscured by the cup.

"What if Bellatrix surprises you while you're – using the lavatory?" he asked delicately.

"I guess I'll bloody have kittens," she retorted, borrowing language from her new fifth-year friends. She winced when what she could see of his expression narrowed into a glare.

"Kindly keep your language at least moderately respectful in my presence." Severus set his mug down on the table, and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he set his right arm flat across the table in front of him, and regarded her levelly. "It should set your mind at ease to know that I can tell which room you're in before I even attempt to breach your mind."

Calista stopped her hand halfway to her mouth, a corner of toast dangling precariously from it. "That's a bit creepy. Can you do that with everyone?"

"No. Nor can I tell which part of the castle you are in at Hogwarts, unless you're particularly distressed. I don't understand why it bothers you. When we're both in the flat, I could likely tell where you were simply by listening to your footfalls for a moment."

Calista rolled her eyes. "What if I don't want you to know where I am?"

"Then it's probably even more imperative that I do," he said dryly.

Calista grinned, although Severus couldn't begin to guess why. The truth was, she didn't really mind her father keeping a fairly close watch on her, at least not when she wasn't doing anything she shouldn't be. Bellatrix had, for the most part, ignored her whenever she wasn't actively tormenting her, and although she'd never admit it, she secretly rather enjoyed the knowledge that someone cared enough about her to ensure she was staying out of trouble.

"So," she said, tilting her head as she nibbled her last piece of toast, "How do you know Emily Yaxley's mother, anyway?"

Severus considered his daughter for a long moment, during which Calista thought he wasn't going to answer her at all.

"I suppose," he finally said, "I know her in the same way that your mother knew her."

Calista coughed, and sprayed the table with chunks of toast. "She was a Death Eater?" she finally choked out.

He regarded her coolly. "Not everyone that was in Slytherin House during my time at school became a Death Eater, Calista."

"Then," Calista coughed again, in an attempt to dislodge toast crumbs from her windpipe, "Why'd you say it like that? What was I supposed to think?"

"Emily's mother was never a Death Eater, to my knowledge" Severus continued, "But there are people in her family that were."

Calista recalled suddenly a comment her father had made, once. You'd be surprised, he'd told her, when she'd made the declaration that none of her classmates had ever seen their parents commit murder.

"Emily's not like that, though," Calista said slowly, "Not as much as Olivia, anyway."

"She may not be. You of all people should know that one doesn't always have to be a direct reflection of one's parentage."

Calista blinked several times, screwing her face up in an expression of confusion.

"But I am," she said, "I'm a lot like you, or at least I try to be." After a second of further thought, her mouth twisted into a pouting sort of frown. "Although I'm obviously not as good at Occlumency."

Severus was hit by several responses at once, and wasn't even quite sure which one he was going to say until the words were out of his mouth already.

"That's not what I meant – and why would you try to be like me?"

Calista's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't I?"

Severus looked at her fathomlessly. "I'm sarcastic, rude, and critical of others, simply to begin a list," he said, not certain if he understood her angle on this sudden turn of the conversation.

"Yeah," she agreed, "Like I said, why wouldn't I want to be like you?'

Gods help him, the child was serious. Severus did the only thing he could do – he laughed.

"Perhaps you do take after me. A sufficiently frightening prospect, I'm sure."

Calista smiled brightly, an expression that frankly suited her features better than her customary scowl. "Anyway," she said, "There's all that stuff, I guess, but you're obviously brilliant, and you're the only one I've ever seen stand up to her."

"Well," he replied, trying hard not to smirk at her assessment of him – it was about damn time someone recognised his positive character traits – "It seems to me that you've done an admirable job of the latter. And…"

Calista hunched her shoulders, but continued to meet his gaze. "Not really," she muttered, and Severus chose to ignore her, and continue with what he had been about to say.

"For what it's worth, you're a better Occlumens now than I was when I was your age."

Calista's shoulders relaxed, but her neck stretched into an exclamation point. "What – I am? Really?"

"Yes, well, I didn't have anyone teaching me," he said, finding himself falling just short of the ability to prevent his own pride from eclipsing his desire to empower his daughter.

Calista either didn't notice or didn't care. She cocked her head and smirked. "Am I better at Potions than you were when you were twelve?"

"Hardly," he said, "Sorry to disappoint you." He stood and began clearing the table of the remnants of their breakfast, directing plates to the sink with his wand.

"I'm not disappointed," she said, a mischievous glint lighting her dark eyes, "It just means I have to try harder."

"An excellent philosophy," he said, "Although I can't say I'm confident it will do you any good." He turned away, hiding his smile under pretence of checking the sink.

"We'll see – Argh, would you stop doing that? I'm supposed to be on holiday from lessons, you know!"

o-o-o-o

Dear Calista,

How is your summer so far? Mine has been dreadfully boring – I'd hoped to travel abroad for most of it, Switzerland or some place like that, but Mother says she's far too busy at work to get away. I did tell you that Mother works for the Ministry, didn't I? She's got quite an important place there, but of course I shouldn't go on about it.

Speaking of my mother, she asked me to invite you to visit over the summer. I told her you must be dreadfully busy and likely won't have the time, but she insisted that I extend the invitation.

Do enjoy your summer. I expect I'll see you again when term resumes.

Most Sincerely,

Olivia C. Avril

Dear Calista,

How's your summer been? Is your father making you do homework the whole time? I hope you get to have some fun, anyway. I've been to Diagon Alley a few times to get ice cream, but I haven't done much of anything else.

I know you're probably wondering why I didn't talk to you much while you were quarreling with Olivia. You know how she can be, though. I didn't want her to treat me badly for being friendly with you, but I guess she wants to be your friend again, so I can too. I'm glad, because I missed playing Gobstones with you.

I hope you can come over and stay for a bit. Portia's coming next week, and Mum said she'll write to your father to ask permission for you to come as well. Please don't tell Olivia you're coming, because I'm not allowed to invite her. Mum doesn't really approve of her.

Bring your Gobstones set when you come. See you soon!

-Emily

Hey Snapelet –

Got another one for your list. Expulso – the Exploding Spell. I used it a few days ago on a turkey Ethan's mum cooked and Elyse is still cleaning stuffing out of her ears. You didn't learn it from me, though, if anyone asks.

- Kimberly Avery

o-o-o-o

"I expect you to remain vigilant, to keep practising the guarding of your mind. If you think Bellatrix is trying to contact you again, send me an owl straightaway. And whatever you do, do not mention that I've told you anything about her relatives' involvement with the Dark Arts, and especially not with the Death Eaters – I shouldn't even have told you –,"

"I know," Calista interrupted him, setting her travelling bag down with a muffled thud. "I'm not stupid, I know enough not to say anything about that."

"Well," Severus said, not sounding entirely satisfied, "What about the rest of what I said? Don't let your guard down just because you know I won't be testing you. If Bellatrix should try to contact you again, you must notify me immediately."

"I know, Father," Calista repeated, "I will. Can I go now?"

"I suppose. Are you certain you don't want me to go with you to the train station? It's quite a walk to carry that bag all the way."

"You could just Apparate me to Emily's house," she said hopefully, hoisting the bag back up on her shoulder with an exaggerated grimace.

"Nice try, but no."

"What about the Floo network? Can't I take that?"

"Not by yourself. It's too dangerous, you could get off at the wrong grate and I'd have no idea where to find you."

"I could get off at the wrong train station, too," she argued half-heartedly, "And then I'd be lost and terrified among all those Muggles and none of them would help me."

"That's an excellent point," Severus said smoothly, "In that case, I suppose I'd better take the train with you to her house, to make sure you arrive safely."

"Ugh, no," Calista groaned, "Emily's family would think I'm an ickle baby if you did that."

"How is my taking the train with you any different from my Apparating you?"

Calista rolled her eyes. "Firstly, of course they know I can't Apparate by myself, so I'd need you to take me. Secondly, it just so happens," she said haughtily, "That the immense embarrassment I would suffer if you Apparated me is worth the convenience of not having to sit in a smelly old train with a bunch of Muggles."

"And you have now answered your own question," he said, placing a hand on her free shoulder, "You're obviously not accustomed to sharing the world with Muggles and you're not going to have a choice about doing so. The earlier you manage to learn to tolerate it, the easier life will be for you."

"You sound so professor-y," Calista said scathingly, although Severus decided to take it as a compliment.

He shifted his hand from her shoulder to cup her chin briefly. "Be careful," he said, "Ask Ferada to get me on the fire if you need me."

He saw a smooth transition behind her eyes as a retort came to her and she bit it back. Instead, she half-smiled at him and touched the elbow of his still-outstretched arm, as affectionate a gesture as he was likely to get from her during daylight hours.

"Try not to miss me too much," she said, and he felt there was more behind her words than her light tone implied, "And don't forget to feed Yellow. I know you've been tempted not to."

Then she turned and left, closing the door behind her, and as if on cue, Severus heard a plaintive mew from the general vicinity of the air behind his ankles.

"Shut it, you," he said darkly, glancing down at the inaptly named cat, "Or I'll feed you to something."

o-o-o-o-o

When Calista got off the train at Kings' Cross Station, she spotted Emily and her mother waiting on the platform for her – and it was a good thing, because even as it was, she was nearly swept away among the teeming, harried crowds. For a few brief seconds, before she spotted her friend, Calista wished that she had allowed her father to accompany her.

"Calista!" she faintly heard, and then through a break in the crowd she saw Emily waving frantically at her. Her mother stood behind her, and as Calista pushed through the crowd to meet them, Emily's features spread into a smile.

The three jostled their way off the platform, and Emily assaulted Calista with a barrage of chatter that caught her completely off-balance; Emily had never come across as particularly loquacious, and yet she was hardly letting Calista get a word in edgewise just now.

"Mum says we can go to Diagon Alley this week for ice cream – Have you been to Florean Fortescue's? I'm sure you have, of course, but it's my favourite place. I'm so glad you could come, Calista."

When she finally paused for breath, Calista interjected. "Where's Portia? I thought you said she was coming, too."

"Oh…uhm, well, something came up, and she isn't coming. That's all right, though, we can still have fun, just you and I. I've already polished my Gobstones, it helps them roll further. I'm not going to lose, I hope you're prepared for that – you did bring your Gobstones, didn't you?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I did." Calista was bewildered by the other girl's apparently sudden chance in personality. Emily had always been quiet and perhaps even a bit shy. Why was she suddenly so giddy?

"Excellent! We can play as soon as we get home – oh, we could set up a tournament. Do you think that would be fun?"

"A tournament?" Calista queried, "With just the two of us?"

Emily blushed. "Well, we could set up rounds, you know. And whoever wins the round gets some sort of advantage in the next round… well, I haven't really thought it all through yet."

"Oh," Calista said shortly, at a loss. She wasn't used to Emily (or anyone, really) chattering so enthusiastically with her. How was she supposed to respond? Was she supposed to act the same way? Was this how friends were supposed to behave with each other outside of school?

"We don't have to do the tournament," Emily said, sounding somehow wounded, "It was just an idea – but we can do whatever you want."

"Oh, the tournament's great, it sounds fun," Calista supplied quickly, sensing that it was important to Emily for some reason. For once in her life, she was the one someone was trying to impress, instead of the other way around. She couldn't quite decide if she liked the supplication or if it annoyed her, but it was different, at least.

Emily continued on in the same vein for several minutes, with Calista offering a few meagre words edgewise, but if Emily noticed that Calista wasn't really holding up her end of the conversation, she didn't say so. For her part, Calista was so intent on following Emily's lively conversation, that she didn't take much stock of their surroundings as they walked, until they slowed and stopped in front of a building.

Emily's mother fished in the pocket of her skirt for a key, and Calista looked up at the building they had come to. It was an old, run-down Victorian terraced house, and when her eyes slid to the left and right of the house, she saw that it was sandwiched in between two very similarly run-down buildings. On the front stair to the building on the right, Calista thought she saw a pile of rags, until it moved and she realised it was a man.

Emily followed Calista's gaze, and suddenly seized her hand and yanked her towards the house. "Come on, let's go inside."

Calista started at the unexpected touch, and forgot about the man on the stairs outside as she concentrated on regulating her heartbeat. She cursed herself inwardly – would she ever stop overreacting whenever someone touched her unexpectedly?

She followed Emily up a creaky stair to the third and topmost level of the building. As they passed a door on the second landing, she could hear a woman screaming from the other side of the door. It was shrill and angry, and was punctuated with a baby's cries. For a reason she didn't completely understand, Calista suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

"Here we are," Emily said nervously, as her mother pushed open the right-hand door at the very top of the stairs.

Entering Emily's flat was like stepping into a world entirely separate from the common halls of the old building and the street outside. The first thing Calista noticed were books. She supposed that the room they had entered into was meant as a sitting room, and after a moment, she did notice two old, worn-looking armchairs stuffed into opposing corners of the room and covered with warm, thick knit blankets.

All four walls of the room were lined with bookshelves, and they were all full. Calista's eyes widened as she took in spellbooks, history books, novels, and almost every sort of book imaginable. There were breaks in the rows of books only for windows and one doorway at the far end of the room, through which Calista glimpsed an oven and the spindly legs of wooden chairs.

Emily surveyed Calista's face expectantly, and seemed pleased (or perhaps relieved) with the expression she read there. "Mum works at Flourish and Blotts'," she explained, "She gets a good discount on books. We've got loads."

"It reminds me of my father's study at Hogwarts," Calista said, her eyes having already caught a collection of books on a lower shelf across the room which appeared to be potions books.

Emily's mother, Ferada, had deposited her keys in a room further along the flat, and came back to stand in the centre of the sitting room – or book room, as it were.

"Welcome, Calista. I'm so pleased that Emily's brought home a friend from school. Make yourself at home, and do let me know if you're hungry or thirsty. Emily will show you where to sleep and put your things, and we'll have dinner in a few hours. Do you need to inform your father that you've made it here all right?"

"No," Calista said slowly, "I think he'd be more interested in hearing if I didn't make it here all right."

Ferada laughed. "You're a cheeky one, then. Very well, but I'm going to send him a brief owl anyway, to let him know that you've made it and that we're happy to have you. I know I'd be fretful if Emily were away for a week, even if I might not want to let on to her that I was worried."

"Mum!" Emily hissed, "You're embarrassing me. Come on, Calista," she said, reaching for Calista's hand again. She almost dropped her travelling bag, but her reaction to the unexpected touch far much milder the second time. She allowed Emily to lead her through the tiny kitchen and into one of two doorways set in the far wall.

Emily's bedroom was quite small, as long as the kitchen and half as wide. There was room for a single bed and a small chest of drawers whose top surface was crowded with personal effects, and the room's single window had bright yellow curtains. The bed was covered with a thick knit bedspread that reminded Calista of the chair covers in the first room, and there was an array of soft toys on Emily's pillow. All four walls were hung with posters, most of which advertised books.

"I thought we could take turns sleeping on the bed," Emily said, "The floor's hard, but Mum has a bunch more of these bedspreads we can put down to make it softer. My Gran knits them all and sends one to us every few months, and Mum doesn't like to hurt her feelings, so we've got about twenty of them, I reckon."

"I like your room," Calista said awkwardly, and it was true; she had a sense, standing in the tiny space that she was inside a piece of Emily, somehow. By looking at the posters, and the soft toys, and the ribbons and dolls that crowded Emily's room, she felt like she was seeing a representation of her friend.

Her own room at home was perhaps two or three times as large as Emily's, but it was bare in comparison. She had no keepsakes or knitted gifts from family members, and the top of her chest of drawers was empty of anything but dust. She didn't have any soft toys, or really any toys at all. She'd had one soft toy, a cat, but it had gotten lost when they'd moved. Most of her personal belongings were textbooks and potion-making tools and the like, and she kept them in her school trunk at the foot of her bed over the holidays. Thinking about her own room, she suddenly felt as though she were only a ghost of a girl; that if she disappeared one day, there would never be any indication that she had lived at all.

"Thanks," Emily said, disrupting Calista from her reverie, "It's so small, I feel I can hardly breathe in it sometimes – but Mum gets these great posters from work, and I have all my toys from when I was small, so even though it's a tiny space it feels like it's all mine."

Calista nodded, feeling a sudden, inexplicable sense of loss. She set her things down in the corner of Emily's room, using the moment it took to clear her expression. She had progressed so far in Occlumency that she could actually feel the sadness invading her features, and she forced it down and away, and presented what passed for a smile.

"What shall we do first?" she said, a bit too loudly, but Emily didn't seem to notice.

"Let's play Gobstones," Emily said, "Or – actually, let's draw up the tournament guidelines. We'll figure out how many rounds we should play, and which advantages the winner of each round will earn. I think we should play a different format of the game in each round, so we can find out who's really a better player all-around." She paused to flash Calista a grin, "Of course it will be me."

"You've been playing a lot longer than I have," Calista grumbled, "You already have an advantage."

"Maybe, but you're catching on really quick," Emily said, "Here, I'll give you the advantage straightaway in the first round – hang on." She slipped past Calista, passing through the kitchen and rummaging for something in the book room. She returned brandishing a sheet of parchment, a quill, and a large, flattish book. She settled herself on the bed, surrounded by a sea of soft toys, and patted the foot of the bed.

"Come on, sit down and let's draw up the rules."

Calista perched gingerly on the edge of Emily's bed, and peered over as Emily set parchment in her lap, using the book as a writing surface. She watched as Emily printed "Gobstones Summer Tournament Rules" neatly across the top of the parchment.

"In the first round, you'll get two shots on your first turn," Emily said, "To give you a slight advantage. We'll play to first to seven points the first game."

"All right," Calista said, allowing herself to be drawn into the preparations. "We should play part of the tournament outside, so we can play Snake Pit rules."

The girls dedicated the next two hours to drawing up the rules of their thirteen-game Gobstones tournament, and Calista gradually began to relax. By the time Emily's mother poked her head in from the kitchen to tell them that dinner was ready, she was leaning over the parchment and eagerly suggesting amendments to the rules, and had quite forgotten her earlier pang of sadness.

Over dinner in the tiny, cozy kitchen, the girls decided to spread their tournament out over the week that Calista would be staying, so that neither of them tired of it too soon.

"Besides, if we try to play all thirteen games in one day, our knuckles will get sore," Emily pointed out, "And this way, we have something to do each day. We'll play the first round after dinner tonight, and then we'll play one round in the afternoon and one in the evening for the rest of the week. We'll play three rounds the day before you go home, and the final round in the morning before you leave."

Between scheduled tournament games, Emily seemed determined to fill every minute of each day with some other activity. The girls weren't allowed to leave the flat alone, and Ferada was working almost every day that Calista spent there, but Emily had no shortage of games they could play in the flat.

There was one Emily seemed to favour, since they played it at some point every day, where they would determine each others' fortunes using only a book, a scrap of parchment, and a quill. One girl would hold the chosen book and direct the second girl, whose fortune would be told, to choose several numbers. She would the use those numbers to find words in the corresponding chapter, page, and line, which would supply an answer to whatever question they had asked.

"This round, we're going to find out who we'll wed someday," Emily said eagerly on the fourth or fifth day of Calista's visit, pulling a thick history book off the shelf. "The first letter of the first word you choose is his first initial, and the first letter of the second word you choose is the first letter of his surname. I'll go first. Here, you take the book."

Calista furrowed her brow and took the book, wondering why Emily seemed to find this question so intriguing. Calista had never once thought about whom she might marry some day, and now that she was being forced to think about it, she felt her face grow hot. Even though she really couldn't think of anyone she'd ever want to marry, she was distinctly embarrassed by the topic.

"For my first word, I pick chapter seven, page three, line eighteen, and word four," Emily said, closing her eyes as though she were getting some sort of cosmic enlightenment about which numbers to choose, "And for my second word, I pick three, twelve, eleven, and nine."

Calista thumbed through the volume, dutifully finding the word that corresponded to the chapter and line that Emily had chosen. "Probable," Calista announced, and Emily grinned and waved her on. "Now the second word," she instructed.

Calista located the right page again, and then announced the second word. "When."

"That means I'll marry someone whose initials are P.W.", Emily said, smiling. "I wonder if it's someone I've met yet, or some mysterious stranger. I kind of hope it's not someone at Hogwarts. I don't really like any of the boys in our year."

Calista grinned suddenly, and then broke out into all-out laughter.

"What?" Emily said, defensively, "It's not my fault most of the boys in our class are disgusting."

"P.W., " Calista managed, "Percy Weasley! You're going to marry Percy Weasley!"

"I most certainly am not," Emily countered, her cheeks turning pink, "There's more than one P.W. in the world. There's no way I'm going to marry a Gryffindor, and especially not Percy Weasley."

"Why not?" Calista couldn't resist teasing, "I'm sure you two would make a simply adorable couple. In fact, I think I'll tell him when we get back to school…"

"You wouldn't," Emily said, sounding a little panicked, and she reached out to grab the book from Calista, "Anyway, before you take the mickey out of me, let's see who you're going to marry. Pick your numbers."

"Oh, all right, " Calista said, her laughter subsiding. "One, five, eighteen, and two."

Emily flipped the pages. "Many," she said, looking at Calista expectantly for the second set of numbers.

"Uhm… sixteen, three, nine, and five."

Emily located the page, drawing her finger across the proper line. When she stopped her finger, she was still for a moment, and then looked up at Calista with an expectant grin. "For," she announced, "M. F." She paused for effect. "Marcus Flint."

Calista scowled. "This is a stupid game," she said, "I'm not going to marry anybody, least of all Marcus Flint. He has the mental capacity of a troll."

"The book doesn't lie," Emily teased.

"Right, then I hope you and Percy are blissfully happy together. How many children are you going to have? Nine? Ten?"

"Ew," Emily said, closing the cover of the book. "I am most definitely not going to marry Percy Weasley. And I won't have time for ten children anyway, since I'm going to be so busy with my career."

"What career is that going to be?" Calista queried, "Do we need to consult the book again?"

"No," Emily said, blushing slightly, but her back straightened almost defiantly. "I don't need to, I already know exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to write and publish spellbooks. I'll have my own press, and I'll release my own books as well as the ones I find promising from other writers."

"Wouldn't you have to discover or invent some new spells, to write a whole series of books?"

"Yes," Emily said, as if replying to a challenge, "And I will." She looked at Calista expectantly, and Calista received the distinct impression that this moment, and how she reacted to Emily's declaration of her dreams, would define the rest of their friendship.

"Well," Calista said, "I want to research new spells too. Maybe your press could print a book of mine some day."

Emily's eyed widened, and then narrowed in suspicion. "Are you having me on?" she demanded, "Are you being sarcastic again?"

"No, I'm not," Calista said earnestly, "I really am interested in discovering new spells. I've been wondering if some spells that currently require a wand to perform could ever be adapted so that you could use them without one. If I ever figure it out, maybe I'll write a book on that." She broke off, and laughed derisively, "Ask Professor Flitwick if you don't believe me, I practically write a book for each of his homework assignments anyway."

Emily studied Calista, and then smiled shyly. "I'd print your book. If it were up to my professional standards, of course."

Just then, the door of the flat opened, and Ferada's head poked in. "I'm on my lunch break," she said breathlessly, not even bothering to step fully inside the room, "I have to be back in half an hour, but if you girls can be ready in less than a minute, you can come back to Diagon Alley with me for ice cream."

With impressive speed, both girls slipped into their shoes, and Calista dashed into Emily's bedroom to retrieve some money from the bag she'd brought with her. She'd had nothing to spend her small allowance on over the summer, so she'd brought what she'd managed to save with her, for just such an occasion as this.

As the girls met Emily's mother at the door, Ferada looked over Calista with a strange expression. "Don't you need to wash up a bit? Go on, I can wait another minute or two."

"What? No, I'm fine," Calista said, but Ferada pressed her lips into a tight line. "Go on, dear," she repeated gently but firmly, and Calista suddenly felt a strange hollowness in the pit of her stomach.

She rushed into the tiny washroom off the kitchen, and examined herself in the mirror. Her hair hung lank and decidedly greasy-looking, although her face was clean for the most part. She scowled at herself, but thought the expression only made her nose look even more prominent, and so she wiped her face of any expression.

She didn't much feel like going to Diagon Alley anymore, but she knew that refusing to go now would only draw more attention to the incident, and she already felt like she was about to die of embarrassment. Ferada must have noticed that while Emily dutifully bathed herself every day, Calista hadn't done so once since she'd arrived several days ago.

It wasn't that she'd deliberately decided not to, but she felt a little funny about bathing at someone else's house, and she'd never really had a routine about personal hygiene, anyway. At home and at school, she bathed whenever she felt dirty, which sometimes meant that she bathed every other day, and sometimes meant that she'd go for stretches of four or five days without.

Now, resisting the urge to scowl again at her reflection, Calista ran the tap and poured handfuls of water on her hair. Then she pushed her wet hair behind her ears, silently praying that Emily's mother wouldn't make another comment about it.

When she rejoined them at the door, Ferada only smiled. "Are we ready now, girls?" she said, and they left the flat. It didn't matter. The damage was already done, and Calista felt sullen and forlorn for the rest of the day.

They went to Florean Fortescue's as promised, although by the time they'd reached Diagon Alley, Ferada had to rush back to work. She made the girls promise to come to Flourish and Blotts' when they were finished, and then left them on their own. Emily ordered her favourite ice cream, but Calista declined, no longer in the mood for sweets.

"I can pay for your ice cream," Emily offered, and Calista felt her face burn, both with embarrassment and with the effort to school her expression.

"It's not that," Calista said forcefully, "I have money. I just… I don't feel very well, that's all."

"Are you sure?" Emily queried, and Calista was struck with the urge to slap Emily, although she didn't really know why.

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't feel well, alright? In fact… I think maybe I should go home tonight."

"Oh – really?" Emily asked anxiously, "It's just one more day. You don't think you can make it that long?"

"I don't know," Calista answered shortly, making a presentation of looking around at their surroundings, but Emily didn't catch the hint.

"We haven't finished our Gobstones tournament," Emily said anxiously, "And you're only one game behind. Anything could still happen."

"I haven't decided yet, okay? Just leave me alone." Calista snapped, not really caring that she was being rude.

"All right. Sorry. What do you want to do n—Oh, no."

"What?" Calista looked back at Emily.

"Portia MacNair is coming. She's seen us – great."

"I thought you and she were friends—"

"Shh, here she comes. Hello, Portia! How are you?"

Portia approached the pair just as Emily had predicted she would, and to Calista's surprise, she met them with a scowl.

"I thought you said your mum wasn't letting you have any company," Portia said to Emily, "How come she's staying with you, then?"

Emily's face flushed, and Calista hid her surprise only through her training.

"She… she's not staying with me, Mum did say I couldn't have any company," Emily stammered, "She's just… we just… agreed to meet in Diagon Alley for the afternoon."

Portia redirected her glare to Calista, suspicion written all over her face. Calista spared a split-second glance at Emily, and caught the stricken look there. Emily's eyes were as easy to read as the lit sign above the ice cream parlour, and they begged Calista to play along.

"Is that a crime, Portia?" Calista challenged, pushing an edge of scorn into her words with very little effort. "Coming to Diagon Alley for the afternoon without sending out an announcement?"

Portia blinked, and looked behind her, as if she were expecting Olivia to suddenly appear at her shoulder and back her up. When it didn't transpire, she blinked again, and looked between Emily and Calista. "Well, no," she said, "I guess not. I'll, ah – see you at school, all right?"

When Portia left, Calista rounded on Emily, who was wearing an expression of mingled relief and dread.

"I thought you said you invited Portia and she couldn't come."

"I did say that," Emily stammered again, and bit her lip. "The thing is… Oh, Calista. I couldn't invite her or Olivia. You've seen where I live, it's… well, they'd never let me hear the end of it, if they knew what the outside of my house looked like, and where it is."

Calista absorbed this a moment. "But you invited me," she said quietly.

"Yeah, I did, and I'm not sorry. I was afraid to at first, but then Mum said she knew your dad, and – well, you never seemed as obnoxious as Olivia and Portia, and Mum was on my case about her never meeting any of my friends. I thought – I hoped that you'd understand. My mother works very hard to keep both of us in nice clothes, even though she says there's no shame in having to work hard for a living. No one at school knows where I live, except you – and you can't tell them, Calista, you simply can't."

Calista didn't really know where to begin. Finally, she settled on something. "I think I'm ready for ice cream now," she said, "And then we can meet your mum and go back to your flat for the next round of the tournament."

o-o-o-o

Later, in retrospect, Calista would think that she should have seen the nightmare coming. She had had a great week at Emily's, all things considered, had even won all three games of Gobstones they'd played that last day, effectively winning the tournament. She thought she'd finally really connected with someone her own age, maybe even had a real friend in Emily now. So, of course, on the final night of her stay at Emily's, she had woken up screaming.

The dream had started out in Calista's bedroom at home. She'd been trying to decide how to decorate her room, but every time she went to put something on top of her chest of drawers – the earrings from Olivia, her favourite book, her pewter cauldron – the item would disappear as soon as she had placed it.

In her dream, she had glanced up at her bedroom window, and seen Bellatrix's face outside of it. Her mother clawed at the glass, making a terrible, screechy scratching sound. She called out for her father, but when he entered the room, it was like he couldn't even see her. He stood in the room and looked around, looking right through Calista, and not seeming to notice Bellatrix fighting to get in through the window. Calista waved her arms and yelled, trying to get him to notice her to no avail, and when she looked down she found that she was almost invisible, and fading fast. She could see the floor of her room through her legs, could barely make our her hands when she moved them.

Then, the window shattered, and Bellatrix entered the room. Severus stood in the doorway, apparently unable to see either of them. Bellatrix smiled wickedly at her daughter. "I can see you," she said, and the words chilled what remained of Calista from head to toe. Bellatrix reached out a claw-like hand and grasped Calista's throat, which became suddenly solid underneath her fingers.

Calista screamed, but her father didn't appear to hear her. Bellatrix only laughed.

"Calista!" She was jolted awake by Emily shaking her arm. "Calista, what's happening?"

Calista closed her mouth, realizing belatedly that she had been screaming out loud. It took her a few seconds to fully comprehend where she was, and that she had been dreaming.

Ferada was suddenly in the doorway of the room too, her face creased with concern. Her eyes were a little foggy-looking, and she was in her nightclothes.

"Girls, what's going on? Calista, are you all right?"

Calista concentrated simply on not crying; why now, when she was in front of Emily and her mother, did she feel like bursting into tears? She hated crying, especially in front of anyone else; so why did she feel compelled to tears so often lately?

"I—I'm fine," Calista stammered, hating the way her voice wavered, "I just had a nightmare. I... I'm sorry I woke you up."

Ferada fussed for a few moments more, but eventually left the girls in peace. Calista rolled over in Emily's bed, facing the wall and silently begging Emily not to question her any further.

"Calista?" Emily ventured, and Calista stubbornly refused to answer, screwing her eyes shut tight and hoping Emily would think she had fallen asleep again already.

"What was your dream about?" she asked after a moment, and Calista still maintained her silence.

She heard a soft rustling, and then Emily was kneeling beside the bed, her voice so soft that Calista wasn't certain Emily even knew she was awake.

"I've had some nightmares, too. I don't think I've ever woken up screaming, but sometimes I wake up with tears on my face and I'm terrified someone will see them."

Calista opened her eyes, but didn't turn to face Emily yet.

"It doesn't happen very often," Emily continued, murmuring, "But often enough that I'm afraid it will happen when I'm at school, and Portia and Olivia will see. I... I've seen how they treat you. I don't want that to happen to me."

"So you just let them tease me," Calista finally responded softly, "Because you were afraid of how they'd treat you if you took my side. Even though you know what it's like."

"I never claimed to be brave," Emily said after a startled pause. Perhaps she really had assumed that Calista was asleep. "The Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin, didn't it? You should know as well as I do, us Slytherins aren't heroes. We just… we just try to survive, no matter what it takes or who it hurts."

"Survival," Calista murmured, "I don't remember hearing that one in the Sorting Hat's song."

"Don't judge me," Emily sighed, retreating to lie back down on her makeshift pallet of afghans, "You know as well as I do that once we get back to school, it's going to be the way it always was."

Calista waited until she heard the soft, deep breathing of sleep coming from Emily before she whispered her reply.

"Actually, I didn't know that."

She shut her eyes resolutely, ignoring the burning sting of unshed tears and went back to sleep.

o-o-o-o

Calista hadn't been expecting her father to meet her at the station when she got back home, but there he was. He looked almost comically out of place, amid the Muggles in business suits and street clothes, standing tall and pale with his longish dark hair and pitch-black travelling cloak, even in the heat of summer.

She'd probably never admit it out loud, but he was a welcome sight to her at that moment, even if she felt he was treating her like a little child, not trusting her to cover the short distance from the station to their home by herself. She rushed off the train, but composed herself several paces before she approached him, determined not to let him know that she actually wanted him there, after all her complaints a week ago.

Perhaps he knew anyway, though, because when she reached him, he leaned down slightly to take her travelling bag, and wrapped his other arm around her briefly in a partial embrace.

"How was your trip? I trust you enjoyed your visit with Emily?" he asked, just as Calista said, "How's Yellow? Did you remember to feed him?"

Father and daughter bit back what surely would have been identical half-smiles, and both looked up at each other with the most careful of expressions in place, neither of them aware of the stark similarities between them that everyone else in the station surely noticed.

"Your cat is regrettably still in perfect health," Severus muttered, "Although if you'd left me caged with it for much longer, I don't know that I'd offer the same guarantee."

"I don't know why you don't like him. He likes you. Anyway, I did have fun, but I'm glad to be home now."

"Missed your cat that much, did you?" The question was so offhand that Calista bit back yet another secret grin.

"That's part of it, but I missed someone else, too."

Severus smiled, and this time Calista caught it.

"I must admit," Severus said, leading his daughter away from the station, "I worried about you a lot more than I thought I would. I kept wanting to call Ferada on the fire to make sure you were okay, even though I knew you'd be cross with me. I'm glad she sent me an owl when you arrived, or I might have called anyway."

"I wouldn't have minded, really," Calista said, wearied into honesty after the strange week she'd had, "I mean, I would have put up a fuss of course, but it's actually kind of nice to know that you worry about me."

Severus glanced down at his daughter. He couldn't read much of anything in her face, which made him at once proud as well as sad. Her confession surprised him; while he struggled throughout their relationship to be offhand about his level of affection for her, and not to appear emotional or caring enough to drive her away, it had never really occurred to him that she might be doing the very same thing, that her affected distance might be a cover.

He felt a kick of fear in his stomach as he looked straight ahead, not daring to meet her gaze while he said what he said next. "Of course I worry about you," he said, perhaps louder than he intended to, but he wanted to make certain she couldn't miss his words, "I love you."

There was a dreadful silence that carried on for perhaps three or four paces, and then Calista reached for his free hand. "I love you too, Dad."

It was the first time he could remember her calling him that, instead of 'Father'. The word sounded unnatural, both in her forlorn voice and in the way it described him. That was all right, though. They would have years ahead of them to make the word work.