Chapter 98: Conclusion

Calista usually packed her things the morning of the last day of term, stuffing them haphazardly into her trunk to sort out properly when she got home; but usually, she wasn't leaving Hogwarts for good, and she was filled with a queer, heavy sort of hollowness that made her think she ought to take her time, this time.

It was strange to imagine that she wouldn't be coming back to her dormitory room — or the tiny bedroom in her father's quarters — in a few months; it was strange to realise that for the next seven years, and the seven years beyond that, and on and on that someone else would sleep in what she'd come to think of as her bed, in her room. Someone else would fill what she'd come to think of as her wardrobe with their robes and their books. She wondered if the someone-else would think to brew a secret potion in their wardrobe — and despite the Prefect badge pinned to her chest, despite the phrase wildly irresponsible that flitted, unbidden through her mind, she couldn't quite deny that part of her hoped they might.

She packed her things up as carefully as she had ever done, the things from her dormitory room as well as from the room she'd occupied in her father's quarters. She tracked down all of the books she'd lent to her friends that had never made it back to her, and nestled them carefully among the clothes that always seemed to multiply, thanks to her Aunt Narcissa's penchant for shopping. She packed all of her letters from the school year — the vast majority of which were from Gerald — and she packed the tiny, worn journal that was the first thing she'd ever owned. The journal that had once, evidently, belonged to Andromeda; the one that had mysteriously shifted its allegiance to her, when she'd been small and afraid and utterly alone

That — just that, cradling the book and reflecting on how and why it had come to be hers — reminded her of another child who had once been small, and afraid, and alone. She swallowed, as the visions of her father's early memories swam to the surface of her mind, the ones she'd watched through the Pensieve in his workroom.

Like the workroom itself, there was a peculiar flavour to the memories; acrid, bittersweet, rich and deep by turns — a thoroughly complex infusion, and like the muddled odours of a potion in progress, it was difficult to separate and categorise each memory — each ingredient.

She had told him that she would have been his friend, and that was true, at least of the boy he'd been, thorns and all. She loved him now; there was no doubt that he had saved her life, more than once, and he had even achieved the miracle of making her believe that her life might have been worth saving — but it was a long, complicated process from raw ingredients to finished potion, and there were so many potential pitfalls in between the boy he'd been and the man he was; so many places where the brew could sour, or seize, or become irreversibly lethal.

Calista fingered the familiar edges of her journal's pages with the pad of her thumb, unable to stop herself from remembering the roaring, burning fire she'd glimpsed; the Muggles she had to believe he'd saved, rather than harmed… she saw him, bleak and wild-eyed, on a windy hilltop, and she saw him in a dark-papered dining room that made her viscerally ill, arm extended and encased in a Dark spell, blood dripping down…

She gasped and winced, as her thumb was sliced neatly open by the edge of the page she'd been absently running along. She stick her thumb in her mouth, scowling, and then shoved the journal deep into her trunk.

"This is pointless," she muttered; her voice sounded flat and loud in the empty room. "It's stupid to think about now, it's all done."

She made a willful and sudden decision to stop thinking about it; to ignore the creeping, vague unease that fluttered in her gut and behind her heart. She forced it aside, forced it to a deep, dark corner of her mind; one that she wouldn't often have cause to examine, and she pretended not to notice how much easier doing so had gotten since that awful night on the grounds, beneath the full moon, because she was not yet ready to consider what that might mean.

She pushed the lid of her trunk down decisively, grunting with effort; between all of her books and clothes and letters, it was full to bursting, and she had to sit on the lid in order to clasp it shut. Once she had done so, panting slightly, her eyes fell on the open, empty wardrobe — shit. It wasn't entirely empty. She spied a book, wedged into the far bottom corner, and carried herself over to it with a resigned sigh. She didn't think she could possibly fit another thing in her trunk.

She leaned into the wardrobe, lifted the book out, and felt a queer tremor of — something. She hadn't thought about this particular book for quite some time, and it had admittedly been months since she'd last written to the person who had given it to her. She settled back on top of the lid of her trunk and opened the book, reading the note that had been scrawled inside the front cover.

Snapelet -

Our time to corrupt you is coming to an end. In a couple more years, maybe you'll be doing the corrupting. Conor's older brother started this book when he was in school, and we've added to it quite a bit. It's yours now - don't waste it! If you learn a new curse, poison, or anything else a Prefect would throw a nutty over, write it down in the book, but don't let a teacher get hold of it, not even your dad. All of the pages go blank if anyone over twenty years of age opens it, and it's a bitch to get them back. Ethan's mum found it three years ago and it took us months to fix, so don't wreck it and come bugging me for help. That's the only rule — that, and you've got to find someone to pass it on to before you graduate. Enjoy, and happy Christmas!

Love,

Kim (and Ethan, and Conor, and Peter)

Calista felt her mouth quirk into a smile of amusement. Despite the cringe-inducing nickname they'd bestowed on her, Kim Avery and her friends had accepted Calista even though she was several years younger than them, and Kim had been the first one to help her find the balance of making friends in her own house and staying true to herself; and even though Kim had responded with passionate despair when Calista had admitted to her that she'd been made Prefect, she liked to believe that secretly, Kim was a bit proud of her for it — though she had no doubt that Kim would most decidedly not be proud if Calista failed the mission she'd been given, all those years ago.

She flipped through the pages, sometimes grinning when one of the spells or potions triggered a memory —

Expulso, Kim had written once, during the height of her rivalry with Ethan's twin sister Elyse, a Ravenclaw Prefect, 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.

She had added a few entries to the book herself, in the first year or two that she'd had it, including a page detailing how she'd managed to keep the flame lit in her wardrobe for her misguided second-year Potions experiment without catching anything within it on fire.

A few of the spells were darker; her eyes lingered on the instructions for casting Diffindus Aculeus, the modified Severing Charm that she'd once used against Professor Quirrell, in the middle of the Defence classroom. She recognised Kim's slanting handwriting on the entry. It was strange; she'd known the incantation from the pages of the book for ages, but she hadn't dared to attempt the spell herself until her father had taught it to her. Like many of the spells contained in Kim's book, it had only a few words of description and an incantation; she and whoever else had written most of the entries had never gone to the trouble to explain further.

Suddenly, without quite consciously deciding she was going to, she reached into her pocket for the spare quill she'd slipped into it when packing the rest, and she spread the pages open on her lap and began to write, making her usual scrawl as neat as she could.

This spell is a modified Severing Charm, she wrote, underneath Kim's brief entry, though it behaves like an ordinary Severing Charm when used on inanimate objects, the inclusion of the Latin 'Aculeus', for 'sting' results in moderately painful welts when used against a living target, and as such it is officially classed a Dark spell when used in this fashion.

Calista tapped her quill to her chin, considering. And then, with a fleeting glance down at the shiny badge on her chest — the one Kim had despaired of — she added:

This spell should only be used in dire circumstances, when your enemy must be startled long enough to be Disarmed, as there is no known counter-charm. Wounds from this spell can be treated with a general healing potion, or in severe cases, with a Stitching Solution, and in either case will generally take 15-30 minutes after ingestion of the potion to fully heal.

She flipped to the next page: a recipe for a Deathcap Draught, in handwriting that she didn't recognise. The page was full, so she located the next blank page, and then added a note to the bottom of the recipe: Antidote on page 40.

She copied the instructions for the antidote down on page 40, and flipped to the next page, and the next, adding counter-curses and healing charms where there was one that she knew, antidotes and healing potions that would treat spells for which there was no counter, and general information — including both a background on the spell or potion listed as well as appropriate words of caution — on nearly every entry.

By the time she reached the last page — her own, where she'd first written down the instructions for the contained flame spell years ago — her shoulders were aching from hunching over the book, and her fingers had nearly cramped around her quill.

She straightened and stretched, suppressing a yawn; Merlin, her neck and shoulders hurt; she cursed herself for not taking the little book somewhere else, like the library or her father's office, to add the notations, but then she supposed she might have run the risk of having it confiscated. And besides, there was something fitting, and calming, about concluding her ownership of this little book on the same night that she was concluding her status as a student at Hogwarts.

She didn't have to think long on what to do with the book, now that she'd made her own additions. She tore a loose page from the end and started to write a note, ignoring the protesting of her already stiff muscles.

She poised her quill over the page.

Dear —

"Attention, students."

Calista started violently, dropping the book and quill and nearly tumbling off the lid of her chest when a sudden announcement rang out through the castle.

She heard Professor McGonagall's magically-magnified voice, and leapt to her feet; the last time an announcement had been broadcast throughout the whole school, it had been dire… she felt her heart quicken, instinctively; was Sirius Black in the castle again, on their last day and in broad daylight? Had he hurt someone, this time?

"This announcement is for all fifth-year and seventh-year students," came Professor McGonagall's voice; it was impossible to gauge much from her neat, clipped tone. "Would all fifth-year and seventh-year students kindly report to the Great Hall immediately; in addition, any sixth-year students who have taken repeat O.W.L. examinations this year should report as well."

Calista shoved the book and quill into her pockets — she was glad, again, for the oversized pockets on wizarding robes, designed to accommodate the length of a wand — and hurried out of her dormitory room, and towards the Great Hall; there was a flurry of activity in the corridors following the announcement, and many hushed whispers.

Some of the rumours Calista overheard were that the exam scores had come early — but if that were true, it would be the earliest that she had ever heard of official examination scores coming out from the Ministry — but the predominating rumour was that something had gone wrong with the exams, that their work had been lost and that they'd all have to sit them all again. She fervently hoped the latter wasn't true; she didn't know if she could handle her aptly-named N.E.W.T.s over again, not without a month's worth of desperately-needed sleep first.

She noticed that many of the students streaming towards the Great Hall were not, in fact, fifth or seventh-years, and evidently she wasn't the only one who had noticed,because a moment later, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out again:

"This is a reminder that ONLY those students in fifth, sixth, and seventh years who have taken O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams this term should be in the Great Hall at this time; all other students must wait until the feast begins in an hour. I assure you that we will not start the feast without you."

Calista found Amelia and Penny on her way, and then they all found Percy, near the very front of the room where Professor McGonagall stood with the other Heads of Houses, calling for order.

"No, you don't need to re-take the exams," she reassured a cluster of fifth-years who were hounding her with questions, "I'll explain everything as soon as everyone's here — Weasley, that had better not be a Fanged Frisbee you're holding —"

Percy let out a long-suffering sigh at that. "Fred, undoubtedly," he said, "Or George; really, I wouldn't be so glib if I were them. I expect they won't be, in a few moments' time when we all receive our scores."

"Wait — we're getting our scores now?" Amelia and Calista shouted, nearly at once; Penny echoed the same sentiment, albeit it in much calmer tones.

"Of course, what else did you think we'd been summoned for?" Percy asked loftily, brow raised. "Father told me — it was a bit of an experiment this year, having so many examiners for each subject, and they hired a slew of interns to mark the written portions — all properly supervised of course — so that we could all get our marks sooner."

"I did think it was strange that there were so many," Penny mused, "It was only one for the O.W.L.s when we took them, but I heard they all got three or four this year, just like we did for the N.E.W.T.s."

Percy nodded. "They've been angling to get the scores out sooner for a while now, mind you, but Father thinks this whole embarrassing fiasco with Sirius Black —" here, he glanced towards Calista, and she tried and failed to suppress an eyeroll, " — has put the Ministry under some heavy scrutiny; they want some good press, see, and having the test scores come out like this will —"

He fell silent, and a general hush followed, as Professor McGonagall spoke up, magically amplifying her voice once more, though this time only to the students gathered in the room, and explained more or less the same thing Percy had; that the Ministry was pleased to announce that their exams had been graded already, and their results were due to arrive by owl at any moment.

As if summoned by her words, a storm of owls began to swoop into the Hall; and as if summoned by the owls, Severus appeared at Calista's shoulder, cutting a neat path through the crowd to reach her. Her friends edged away slightly at his sudden appearance, even Amelia, who had come to her house at least a dozen times during the previous summer.

Calista had a fleeting, scrambled sort of thought that they were avoiding him because of what he'd done — because of the crackling fire, and the swirling black cloud that had permanently Marked his arm — and then she remembered that she was the only one who knew about that, and that she'd already decided not to think about it. She shoved the flash of thought down again, this time burying it even further and deeper than she had before.

She caught a strange look from her father — was it truly strange, or was she adding her own interpretation? She scowled, and then, an envelope fell square on her head. She scrabbled for it, gratefully accepting the distraction as if it contained a lottery prize; but perhaps, in some ways, it did.

With trembling fingers, Calista forced the seal open, and withdrew her scores —

SNAPE, CALISTA: Hogwarts Graduating Class of 1993

NASTILY EXHAUSTING WIZARDING TEST RESULTS

Certified by the Wizarding Examinations Authority — Official Record

Pass Grades

OUTSTANDING (O)

EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS (E)

ACCEPTABLE (A)

Fail Grades

POOR (P)

DREADFUL (D)

TROLL (T)

Calista Snape has achieved

Arithmancy - O

Astronomy - E

Charms - O

Defence Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - E

History of Magic - E

Potions - O

Study of Ancient Runes - O

Before she'd even had a chance to properly absorb her scores, they were plucked neatly from her hands, so her father could see them; she tried to wrest them back, and in the end, they each held one side of the page, huddling close.

"I got Charms," she breathed, relieved, "I got the 'O' I needed."

"Eight N.E.W.T. levels," her father observed, "That's quite —"

"Ten N.E.W.T.s!" Percy crowed, triumphantly, interrupting Severus and anyone else who happened to be speaking within a ten metre radius, "I got all ten!"

Calista scowled. "That's quite a few less than Percy," she finished for him, in a half-hearted mutter, but no one heard her.

"What's this?" she noticed another cluster of text at the bottom of the score page, and leaned closer to read it:

You are hereby advised that an official copy of the scores listed above has also been sent to the following recipients in accordance with your request:

Ignus Ivanforth, Chairperson, Experimental Charms Committee

Imelda Hipworth, Potions Department Head, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Calista blinked, recalling that she'd been instructed to have her scores sent upon receipt; but she'd thought that they wouldn't come out until sometime in July…

"Wait," she said, mind racing, "I'm supposed to meet with the Head of Potions Brewing — this Imelda Hipworth person — the week after my scores come out, and then I'm supposed to start working after that."

Severus raised a brow. "And?"

"And — and, well, I've got my scores now, so does that mean — I already have to start working? Next week? Every day? Full time?"

Severus smirked.

"Ah, yes, that is the general idea; Welcome to work."

Calista snorted, brows furrowing, as she glared up at him, studying him surreptitiously. He still looked exactly the same; she hadn't realised she'd expected him to look different to her, but she was absurdly relieved to be proven wrong.

"Says the man who gets every summer off," she snarked, in the instant before her look would have been too long.

Severus narrowed his eyes and sputtered; he didn't seem to have a ready comeback.

"Miserable brat," he managed at last.

Calista hid a grin, feeling suddenly lighter than she had all day. "You forgot insufferable."

(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)

The end-of-term feast passed in a blur; a blur in which the hall was festooned with scarlet and gold decorations, and a significant portion of the Slytherin table sulked ominously, but a blur, nonetheless.

Calista had been afraid that she wouldn't be able to sleep, or that she would be plagued by nightmares, but for once, her sleep was peaceful and deep; whatever corner of her mind she'd banished her shadows too, they had obediently stayed, and her final night at Hogwarts was perhaps one of her best.

All too soon, breakfast had come and gone, and Calista was being herded to the docks beneath the school with the rest of the seventh-years; though the Heads of House usually saw their students off, her father was conspicuously absent this time, as he had already gone to the other side of the lake, to greet her there, with the rest of her friends and family.

Of course, since most of her friends were graduating too, or were staying behind in the castle — the younger students were permitted to see their seventh-year friends off, but would board their carriages and, in turn, the Hogwarts Express in a few minutes, while the seventh-years went through the graduation celebration on the far side of the lake — and since she supposed Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa would need to be in London to meet Draco at the platform, Calista didn't imagine there would be many friends or family waiting for her on the other side. Perhaps that was why her father had gone, despite his Head of House duties.

At least it was a Saturday, which meant that Gerald would likely try to come, though in the frenzy of N.E.W.T. examinations and everything else that had happened in the last week, she hadn't thought to properly invite him. She tried to come up with someone else who might be there — Percy had said that he had at least a dozen people coming, including his older brother Charlie, who was coming all the way from Romania — but all she could come up with were her father and, most likely, Gerald. Still, she reflected, if she had to have only two people, at least they were her favourite people.

Her classmates were beginning to break into twos and threes and to climb into the little boats, as their younger friends waved cheerily, or in a few cases, a bit teary-eyed. It was funny; they'd travelled in fours on the way here, almost seven years ago, but it seemed that everyone now had grown impossibly taller and lankier. Calista frowned, suddenly sad without quite knowing why.

Several of the younger Slytherins gravitated towards her; Sofia threw her arms around Calista's waist, causing her to start, and then the rest of them followed suit.

"Argh — get off me — really, I don't do hugs."

Well; that wasn't precisely true, but she didn't have much of a fondness for surprise hugs. She grit her teeth so she wouldn't get teary-eyed.

"Don't worry," Sofia said earnestly, "I'll keep order when you're gone — I plan on taking my Prefect duties very seriously, even when you're not here."

"I don't doubt that at all," Calista said, summoning an even tone, "But please be sure to have a little fun; at the very least, you've got to sneak down to the kitchens after curfew."

Sofia flushed. "I — er — I usually leave things like that to Eva."

Calista felt a glimmer of a sly smile. That reminded her of something; something she had to do, but not quite yet. There was someone else she had to speak to first; someone who was sniffling and wiping reddened eyes a few paces away, at the edge of the docks.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Daisy Spratt was saying, in a trembling voice; her fist was clutching at the back edge of the boat that her brother George had clambered into; he leaned over, simultaneously attempting to placate her and to pry her fingers off the boat.

"Daisy, I'll see you at home in a couple of hours," George reiterated, managing not too sound too patronising, "We'll have the whole summer, remember?"

"But next year!" Daisy wailed, "What will I do without you and — and without Calista?"

She glanced up, as Calista approached. Eva, Sofia, and the rest of their group of Slytherin girls — Mildred Bulstrode, Alma Pierce, Tabitha Higgs — followed close behind.

"I reckon you'll do just fine," George said, patiently, "I'll write you all the time once you're back in school, and I'm sure Calista will, too, but right now I've got to go. I'll see you at home, all right?"

Daisy nodded, but sniffed again, loudly. "You… you'd better," she muttered; her cheeks went pink as she realised that her friends had more than likely overheard the entire exchange.

"You've still got us, you know," Mildred grumbled, "Plus my sister and her friends — are we chopped dragon liver now?"

"N-no," Daisy ducked her head, "Of course not. I just — I..."

Calista didn't get to hear the rest of Daisy's explanation; an ear-splitting yell carried over the crowd, echoing throughout the underground hollow, and drowning Daisy out:

"Oi! Calista! You staying behind another year, or what?" Amelia huffed impatiently, from where she was balancing on the edge of the wooden dock, holding one of the last little bobbing boats in with a charm that kept threatening to come undone.

"I'm coming," she called, suppressing a scowl. "Just — just give me a minute, okay?"

While Amelia grumbled, Calista took a breath and leaned forward. She wasn't one for surprise hugs, but, she swallowed and pulled Daisy into a quick, slightly stiff one nonetheless.

"You'd better write me," she murmured, by Daisy's ear, as the younger girl responded by trapping Calista stubbornly in the hug, much as she'd grabbed onto her brother's boat. "I want to know everything that's going on at Hogwarts — you'll tell me, right?"

"I — yes," Daisy said, eagerly; Calista thought her voices sounded a bit clearer, a bit less stuffy, as she confirmed. "Of course I will."

"Good," she said, and then:

"I've got to go, Daisy, but Eva's going to give you something later, and it's from me. A note. Don't read it until you're alone somewhere, all right? It's something kind of secret."

Daisy nodded eagerly, eyes drying. "I'll be careful, I promise."

Calista extracted herself from Daisy's grip, and retreated from the cluster of Slytherin girls, catching the eye of one in particular.

"Eva, can I have a word?"

Eva nodded, eyes glittering with curiosity; Daisy's look was curious, too, as she followed them with her eyes. Calista caught Amelia's eye just as her friend's mouth opened again, and she held up one finger and waved, indicating that she'd be along soon. Amelia huffed, but didn't shout again.

"What's going on?" Eva asked, as they climbed halfway up the staircase to the great wooden doors that would lead back to the castle, out of the echo zone and just out of earshot of the crowd, but still within sight of where Amelia and George held two of the final boats to the shore. A few stragglers were climbing into the other boats that hadn't already begun sliding away. Professors McGonagall and Sprout were saying good-byes, and ushering the last boats out into the lake. A few of the boats had already begun their crossing.

"You're not giving me one last scolding, are you?" Eva continued, suspiciously.

Calista's mouth quirked. "Not exactly," she said.

She reached up, fingering the silver and green badge that had been affixed to her robes almost every day for the past three years. Carefully, she undid the back, and removed the pin, slipping it into her pocket; she wrapped her fingers around something else within it, at the same time.

"There's something I've got to give you," Calista said, "And I don't feel quite right about doing while I've still got my Prefect badge on."

"Oh?" Eva's brow quirked, with interest. "What is it? A list of secret passages? A year's supply of dungbombs?"

"In my pocket?"

"All right, maybe the list then?"

"Not quite."

Calista drew the object that her fingers had landed on from her pocket, and held it out, though she didn't let go, initially.

Eva's disappointment was plain. "A book? You're giving me a book?"

Calista opened the front cover, and slipped a folded and sealed sheet of parchment out from within it.

"It's not just a book," she said, "It's — well, I didn't have time to write you a proper note about it, but there's one in the front cover that it was given to me with, four and a half years ago, and I think it explains it well enough."

She opened the cover, turning the book so it would be right-side-up for Eva, and held it out. She watched as Eva's disappointment slid into a sly sort of delight.

"Snapelet?" she asked, erupting into a grin, and Calista scowled.

"If you ever call me that again, I'll take it back and I'll hex you."

"Right." Eva's grin widened. "This is excellent. I always knew you weren't completely boring, Prefect or no —"

"Right," Calista interjected, because she didn't have a lot of time — Amelia was signalling frantically from the shore again — "And here's the part where I should give you the Prefect lecture — and trust me, I'll be writing you with one shortly — but I'm out of time and there's something I've got to ask you to do, so for now I just need you to promise me two things."

Eva's nose wrinkled. "I was really hoping you'd let me have this without a lecture, but I suppose I knew better — all right then, what am I supposed to promise? To be responsible, not to hurt anyone if I don't have to, blah blah blah?"

"Yes," Calista said, "That's half of it, and trust me, I'll know if you don't adhere to that — I have my ways —"

She ignored Eva's raised eyebrows, but it was true; she still had other friends in the castle, and if she had to, she'd direct her father to the book, forcing its pages blank — but she didn't really think she'd need to resort to that, or she wouldn't have passed the book on in the first place. For all her posturing, Eva's heart was in the right place, and that was why Calista had chosen to give her the book, and to extract a second promise from her:

"And I need you to promise me something else. Keep an eye on Daisy; don't let Gretchen Nott or anyone else push her around."

"I already do look out for her," Eva reminded her, "You don't need to make me promise — but sure, yeah, of course. Maybe I'll even teach her some of these spells…"

Calista's mouth quirked, at the resurgence of Eva's mischief-laced grin.

"It's your book now, so I guess that's your call, though I suspect Sofia will raise a few objections..."

"Why do I bother having Prefect friends?" Eva grumbled, half-heartedly. "Bloody narcs…"

"Ca-lis-ta!"

"I've got to go," Calista said, as she heard Amelia's frantic summons; one glance told her that only two boats, hers and George Spratt's, were still at the dock waiting for occupants, "I'll write you — but here, this is the last thing I need you to do."

She held out the sealed parchment. Daisy was all the front said; inside there were only a few lines of text, but she had a feeling they'd mean everything to Daisy.

"Give this to Daisy on the train. I think it will make her feel a bit better about next year."

She didn't have time to explain, despite Eva's questioning look; in fact, she barely had time to dash over to the docks, and scramble into the little wooden boat that Amelia looked very much like she was nearly done saving for her.

"Finally," Amelia muttered, throwing herself into the boat behind Calista; they were the second-to-last-boat to do so. It rocked threateningly, and then sliding away from the dock, seemingly of its own accord. "I thought we'd never get out of Hogwarts."

"Aren't you going to miss it all, though?" Calista asked, "The classes, and the castle, and the… the…"

She stopped, as she saw the very last seventh-year step carefully into the very last boat, the one that George Spratt had been holding patiently at the dock.

It was Emily Yaxley, and to Calista's utter surprise, she threw her arms around him as she climbed into the boat; he flushed, and he helped her settle down in the boat, and when he settled behind her, he leaned over to kiss her cheek shyly just as the boat begin to drift away from the castle.

"Miss it?" Amelia snorted, "The homework and the ghosts, you mean? Are you mad? Of course I won't miss it — hey, what are you looking at?"

She followed Calista's gaze, and Calista nodded her chin towards the other boat.

"That's Emily Yaxley and George Spratt," she said quietly; Amelia raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly.

"Okay… and?"

"And… and I had no idea they were… you know, an item."

Amelia snorted affectionately. "Of course you didn't; you're always the last one to notice stuff like that."

"I am not," Calista retorted automatically, but she knew Amelia was probably right, and she didn't argue the point particularly hard.

"I think they're cute together," Amelia said, and Calista found herself nodding.

"Yeah. I think so, too. George is — he's really nice, you know."

"He's all right, for a Slytherin," Amelia agreed; Calista flashed a scowl just as Amelia matched it with a teasing grin.

"I always liked his sister, too.," Amelia added, a bit more seriously. "You think she'll be okay? I saw her blubbering when we were leaving."

Calista recalled the words she'd written the night before, and which were very possibly making it Daisy's hands this very minute, or would soon. She could still see the carefully chosen words, when she closed her eyes:

Daisy —

Do you remember the day when you followed me up to that room on the seventh floor, and it turned into a replica of the Ravenclaw common room?

You told me something that day, something I really needed to hear. You told me that the real virtue in being a Slytherin was better than just being just, or brave, or even wise — it was having the drive to do something meaningful with all of that.

I can't really repay you for that lesson, but I'm going to try my best, anyway. The next time you feel like you need someplace to think, or to hide, or just to be, away from everything else, go back to that room. Walk back and forth in front of the tapestry three times and think about what you need. The room will let you in, and even if it's not what you're looking for, it will be exactly what you need, even if it doesn't seem like it at first.

— Calista

"Yeah," Calista said now, opening her eyes and meeting Amelia's questioning gaze. "Yeah, I think Daisy will be fine."

"Good," Amelia said, and for a few minutes, the two friends just sat quietly, as their boat approached the tall curtain of ivy that would take them out of view of the castle.

"Calista?" Amelia said, quietly; the boat began to slide into a tunnel, blocking the sunlight.

"Yeah?"

"I lied. I am going to miss it. All of it.'

Calista nodded, even though Amelia couldn't possibly see it in the near-dark.

"Me, too."

The boat emerged, and suddenly, they were surrounded by the brilliant light of day; both girls squinted, as the far shore swam into view. They were still too far to make out individual faces, but they could see a crowd gathered at the other side.

Calista turned, craning her neck to look behind her; Amelia did the same thing.

The castle was gone; all they could see was a solid-looking curtain of ivy behind them.

(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)

The first familiar face Calista saw, as the shore drew closer, was her father's. He was standing beside a multi-coloured bouquet with legs — Calista felt her mouth stretch into a smile when she recognised Gerald's legs, even amid a veritable sea of two-legged floral arrangements; evidently, it was a popular graduation gift. Even her Aunt Narcissa was holding a small arrangement of expensive-looking lilies, beneath a pinched expression.

She scrambled out of the boat before it had quite reached the shore, splashing one foot into the shallow, muddy water at the edge of the bank; though she saw her aunt wince as the mud splashed up onto her shoe, she didn't care. Gerald stepped forward, shifting the flowers to one hand and using the other to guide her gently up the bank by the elbow, saving her other shoe from being splashed.

"Beaucoup de félicitations, mon colibri," he murmured, and once she had both feet firmly on the grass, he presented her with the bouquet; she made out poppies and nasturtiums, and the dark green sprigs of ivy before another smaller bouquet was pressed into her hands, as well.

"Calista, darling, congratulations," her aunt said, passing the posy over as Lucius nodded stiffly beside her; she could see him narrowing his eyes, and she followed his gaze a short distance down the shore, where Professor Dumbledore was speaking with Amelia's parents; on graduation day, even the parents of Muggle-born students were welcome, though their memories of the precise location of the mysterious lake would of course be altered.

"We can't stay long, I'm afraid," Narcissa continued, "We've got to meet Draco at the station of course, and your Uncle Lucius —"

"I refuse to lend my presence for longer than necessary to any occasion where that doddering old fool is presiding," Calista's uncle spat neatly and quietly, eyes still on the Headmaster.

"Ahem," Narcissa said, frowning and wrinkling her nose further. "Yes, that — but we can stay a few —"

A sudden motion and loud whooping sound to her right caused Calista to start, nearly dropping both bouquets, and then suddenly, someone had latched quite heavily onto her shoulder and was shouting in her ear:

"Snapelet! You've finally made it —"

"It's good to be done, eh?"

"Honestly, wish I could go back —"

"Kim?" Calista managed, recovering and gaping simultaneously, as she registered precisely who had glommed onto her shoulder, and who was gathered behind her, "Ethan? Conor? And for Merlin's' sake, don't call me that!"

Kim grinned, and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder; she still looked exactly the same, even though both Ethan and Conor were broader than she remembered, and Ethan's spots had cleared up. His hair was shorter, too.

"Snapelet!" Kim crowed again, victoriously; Calista scowled, sneaking a glance back towards Gerald, whom she had tried very hard to keep that particular nickname from; to her dismay, he was sniggering, though he did try to hide it behind his hand when she caught him.

"You remember Elyse?" Kim went on, gesturing behind her, to another familiar-looking girl in a lightweight blue jumper, and a dark-haired one Calista didn't immediately recognise.

"Yes," Calista said, cautiously; but she needn't have worried. Kim tugged Elyse forward by the arm, and she smiled, a bit reluctantly.

"Hi, Calista," Elyse said, "Erm, and congratulations — Kim told me you were made Prefect, despite her best efforts to corrupt you —"

"Unfortunately," Kim muttered, and Elyse frowned, but it struck Calista as decidedly good-natured.

"Here they go again," Ethan muttered, but Kim and Elyse were both laughing, now.

"Erm," Calista said, looking between them; something about the unfamiliar dark-haired girl caught her eye again. She shook her head. "You… you two get along now?"

"On occasion," Elyse admitted, and Kim smirked.

"She tolerates me," she agreed, "'Course, she has to — we're about to be family!"

"Huh?" Calista blinked, while Kim proudly snatched up Ethan's hand; Calista caught a flash of something glittering on Kim's left ring finger as she did so.

"Ethan and I are getting married," Kim said, "I asked him last month — we've been waiting to tell you in person…"

"Oh — " the dark-haired girl moved, sidling closer; there was something peculiar, something familiar about her grin; Calista shook her head, slightly disoriented. "Erm — erm, congratulations."

"Merlin's balls, don't sound so excited," Kim muttered; then there was a brief, temporary hush, during which her Aunt Narcissa cleared her throat delicately.

"Calista, darling, it's time for us to go, I think; we'll have you and your father round later this week for tea and a proper celebration, yes?"

"Oh —" Calista glanced at the dark-haired girl again, who was inexplicably grinning. "I — yes, that's fine. Thank you for coming, I guess —"

Narcissa stepped back as the Headmaster swept by, looking a bit like she'd smelled something unpleasant, but then, Calista knew she didn't care for crowds; she and Lucius said some parting words to Severus, who was staying more or less on the sidelines while Calista's friends bunched around her, and then the two of them took their leave.

"Finally!" someone said, in a very familiar voice; Calista's head whipped around to the dark-haired girl — who had suddenly become a pink-haired girl, with a heart-shaped face and a wide, bright grin. "I was starting to think they'd never leave!"

"Tonks?" Calista answered her cousin's grin with one of her own. Gerald reached out suddenly, taking both bundles of flowers from her hands, wearing a smile that made Calista suspect that he'd known exactly who the dark-haired girl was all along, just as Tonks threw her arms around Calista's shoulders; Kim and the others followed suit, even though they'd already each done so. Even Elyse Briggs patted her shoulder awkwardly.

"And you're finally done with Hogwarts!" Tonks crowed, "We're going to get you so drunk to celebrate —"

Kim whooped an agreement, and Conor and Ethan laughed; behind them, Severus glowered and grimaced; his mouth opened.

"Erm, we can talk about that later," Calista said hastily, before her father or her cousin could embarrass her further; it looked like it was about to fail, when mercifully, Gerald swooped in:

"I don't believe I've been properly introduced to all of your friends," he said, smoothly, and then; "Erm, Snapelet."

Calista scowled, and Gerald grinned sheepishly, while Kim burst out laughing.

"Don't call me that," she hissed, while Kim stuck her hand out, and Gerald shook it.

"Kim Avery," she said, "This is Ethan and Conor — and Elyse —"

"I know Elyse," Gerald said quickly, just as Elyse said:

"Hello, Gerry."

"Gerry?" Kim's eyebrows went up. "As in Gerald — the famous boyfriend I've heard so much about?"

"Boyfriend?" Elyse's brow quirked now, too. She smirked. "Well. That seems oddly fitting, from what I remember of you, Calista — though I can only surmise that you, at least, outgrew the need to keep troublesome lists, since you eventually became a Prefect."

Calista opened her mouth to clarify that he was Gerald Boot, former Prefect and Head Boy — though Calista couldn't imagine who Elyse had him confused with — when Tonks cleared her throat, loudly.

"Erm — Calista — do you have a minute?"

"Of course," she said, just as Gerald nodded, and motioned her forward, a bit too eagerly.

'Yes, go on, Calista; I'll — er, I'll just catch up with… with Elyse and your friends —"

Calista followed Tonks a few paces away.

"So Mum came with me," her cousin said quietly, "But we didn't want to startle you — and plus, I think Mum really didn't want to see Nar-priss-a if she didn't have to —"

"She's really not that bad," Calista said automatically, and Tonks snorted.

"Yeah, okay, tell me what when you're disowned — but seriously, is it all right if Mum comes over to say hi?"

Calista nodded, and swallowed. She felt a funny little flutter in her chest, and she was grateful that Tonks had asked first, before Calista had caught sight of her in the crowd. "I — yeah, that would be nice."

Tonks retreated into the crowd, and came forward, accompanied by her mother — and still, Calista felt a small surge of dread as her eyes took in the curly black hair, the grey eyes — but it went as quickly as it came, as she reminded herself of the differences between her own mother and Andromeda; as if to exemplify these differences, Andromeda stopped a pace away, and smiled warmly.

She glanced over her shoulder,expecting to see her father materialise there, as he always seemed to when something made her nervous — but she couldn't see him at first; when she did finally find him, he was deep in conversation with Emily Yaxley's mother.

"Calista," Andromeda said, in a voice that really was nothing like Bellatrix's, "It's good to see you again; I hope it's all right that I came with Nymphadora —"

"Mum, seriously, don't call me that," Tonks groused; her mother rolled her eyes.

"It's bittersweet, isn't it?" Andromeda went on, regarding Calista with a small, wry smile. "Leaving Hogwarts for the final time; though I imagine it won't fully sink in for a few days."

"It… it already does feel like that," Calista admitted, finding her aunt's description particularly apt. "Bittersweet." She frowned, feeling suddenly awkward; perhaps it was the jubilant buzz of the crowd around her, so at odds with the strange, bittersweet feeling in her gut.

"Erm — do you want — I mean, would you like to meet some of my friends?" Calista ventured, and Tonks grinned, interjecting:

"Ooh, Mum, d'you want to meet her boyfriend?"

Calista felt her cheeks warm, as Andromeda grinned; the resemblance in that moment to her daughter was uncanny.

"As a matter of fact, I would like that," she said, "Lead the way."

(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)

Introducing her Aunt Andromeda to her friends was surprisingly less awkward than she'd been afraid it might be; she'd even introduced her aunt to her friend's families, to the Weasleys and to Amelia's parents, whom she suspected still thought she was a nutter for nearly setting their stove on fire, once.

Severus had come over, once he had noticed Andromeda, but with significantly less alarm than Calista expected; she had cause to wonder if he, too, had known about Tonks' presence, as Gerald had seemed to. He chatted with Andromeda for a few minutes, and squeezed Calista's shoulder briefly, but overall, it struck Calista that he seemed awfully blasé about what could potentially be considered the most important day of her life so far — not that she really considered it as such, of course, but weren't parents supposed to? Amelia's, for instance, kept blowing their noses, and Percy's mother had burst into tears twice.

Eventually, the crowd started to thin, as the pops of Disapparation happened more and more frequently; she made hasty plans to meet up with Kim and her friends soon, and to write to Amelia as soon as she go home; Andromeda invited her to come visit soon, and cast a waspish glare at her daughter when she brightly suggested that Calista bring firewhiskey along with her when she came.

"Only joking," Tonks confided, with a wink, "You're our guest; of course I'll bring the firewhiskey."

By the time Tonks and Andromeda left, the sun was casting the golden glow of late afternoon over the glassy surface of the lake, and there were only twenty or so people still milling about its shore; she saw her father speaking to Professor Dumbledore, looking about as pleased to be doing so as her Aunt Narcissa had looked, while a few other parents, including Mrs. Yaxley, hovered nearby, undoubtedly waiting for their turn to speak to the Headmaster.

And then, at last, she realised that she and Gerald were alone. He seemed to realise the same fact at precisely the same time; he slipped close, pressing his hand to her cheek, and kissed her, deeply.

"It's good to see you again, mon colibri," he said, quietly, when they had broken off, "In person, and in one piece. I must admit, it's a relief to have you out of school now; between the basilisk last year, and the dementors and — if the rumours are true — a werewolf this year, I'm starting to think Hogwarts isn't nearly as safe as I've been led to believe."

"Rumours?" Calista blinked; slowly, it dawned on her that she hadn't really spoken to Gerald properly, for more than a few minutes through a letter or through the fire, since before that night on the grounds. She realised that he didn't know the proper details of any of it — Remus, the wolf, the dementors, the black dog, her Patronus — he didn't even know about Marcus, or the fact that she'd successfully cast her first Memory Charm to stop him from revealing her secrets to the entirety of Slytherin House. It seemed absurd, that so much had happened of which he wasn't aware. For a moment, Calista felt as if she and Gerald were standing a lifetime apart, despite the warmth of his body next to hers.

Gerald was nodding anxiously. "That Defence professor — I met him, didn't I? — they're saying he was a werewolf, and that he got loose on the grounds, the very same night that Sirius Black was caught and escaped; and the dementors, nearly attacking a student? I warned the Ministry, thank goodness no one was really hurt."

Calista nodded, slowly; for a moment, it felt like an unbelievable stroke of luck that he'd heard precious few details that deviated from the Ministry's, and the Prophet's official version of events. She could keep her mouth shut, and he'd never have to know about her full history with Remus Lupin, or the fact that only sheer dumb luck and an extremely timely intervention from a strange black dog had spared her from becoming the wolf's prey; there was nothing saying she had to tell him about Marcus, or the Memory Charm, or the dementors' fingers, cold, around her throat…

And then, looking into Gerald's kind, concerned face, she recalled the gentleness of his fingers, brushing over the scars she'd once thought she couldn't ever tell anyone about; the surprising strength of his arms, wrapped around her despite knowing the truth, and the softness of his breath in her ear, telling her that he loved her still, scars and all.

She recalled, too, the dark cloud that had enveloped a lonely, neglected little boy with her eyes, and the desperate, unhappy man he had become; the silver glow of an ethereal doe that would never truly replace the light that he had lost on that dark, wind-whipped hilltop.

Calista took a breath.

"Actually, Gerald, there's… there's a lot that's happened that you don't know. Do you want to come over for dinner? I'll tell you everything on the way…"

(¯ˆ·.¸¸.·ˆ¯)

Severus' ability to remain stoic shattered abruptly when they were preparing to leave the grounds, and he had reached for her hand, automatically, to Apparate her home.

"Seriously, Dad," Calista had said, shaking her head and stepping back, "I'm eighteen years old, I've had my Apparition license for nearly eight months, and I know the coordinates by heart. I can Apparate myself."

He had blanched and nodded and taken his leave in quite a hurry, then, but not before Calista caught the peculiar expression twisting up his face; if they had been back at his quarters, she'd have stopped what she was doing and gone straight to the coffee pot, and then she would have slipped quietly into the chair across from him until he spoke — but she no longer belonged in the castle, and neither did that table. It, like her father, would be waiting for her at home.

In the meantime, she had promised Gerald the truth. She waited until he had temporarily Vanished her flowers, and both of them had Disapparated and reappeared with twin pops at the familiar spot on the far bank of the dull, grey river in Cokeworth. Either Severus had Apparated to a different location, or he had made swift progress home, because he was nowhere in sight when she and Gerald stepped carefully out of the hidden alcove and across to the patchy, grassy bank.

"What's happened?" Gerald asked, finally, "You're not in any danger, are you?"

Calista frowned. Suddenly, a wave of dread overcame her, as she considered telling him everything that he had missed; she couldn't quite shake the sharp pain that had crept into her gut, when her father had seen the truth of that night on the grounds, when he'd shouted and railed and utterly failed to understand, at first, what it had cost her to push through her darkest fears.

"No," she said, "Not… not anymore, but I was. I'll tell you, but you have to promise you won't yell at me, or scold me, or tell me how wildly irresponsible I was — I've already been told, and I don't care, I'd still do everything just the same."

"Calista?" Gerald's eyes had gone wide with alarm, "Why would I scold you — what did you do, precisely?"

"And," Calista went on, ignoring his question, "If you start up with yelling at me, I'm either going to want to hex you or I'm going to cry, and I'm honestly not even sure which would be worse."

Gerald blinked, and took a series of breaths. Silently, they crossed the bridge over the river, and started a slow, careful ascent up the far bank, picking their way over the weeds and rocks.

"All right," Gerald said at last, "I promise, I won't scold you, about whatever it is that's happened. I'm certain I'll just be glad you're all right."

"We'll see," Calista said, but then she took a breath, and started the tale.

Gerald didn't scold, but he did grip her hand or her arm quite tightly in some spots, and emit an astounding variety of alarmed sounds — the first of which came when she admitted that she'd already known what he was, and the second of which followed swiftly when she told him how she had found the map, and the goblet of Wolfsbane potion on his desk.

There was even more to the truth, it turned out, than Calista had realised; when Gerald asked her why she hadn't gone to Professor Dumbledore upon discovering the map, she had to go all the way back to her strange conversation with the Headmaster, before Christmas, and the ensuing warning from her father. There were elements to that story that she couldn't relay, because doing so would have given up more than only her own secrets, but she did tell him about Severus' fears that Professor Dumbledore's sudden interest in her was undoubtedly tied to her very useful abilities as a legilimens.

"I think he's afraid I'll be talked into something I don't quite understand," Calista offered, as a hesitant explanation; though it didn't quite encompass the entirety of what her father was afraid of, it seemed the safest thing to tell him. "And because of that, he'd just told me not to speak to Professor Dumbledore without him, and I couldn't find anyone else, and I just didn't know what to do."

"So you went outside?" Gerald asked; she could hear how badly he wanted to lambast her with the phrase 'wildly irresponsible', but true to his word, he refrained, as she nodded, confirming his worst fears.

"Yes," she said, "I did; and if you think you're frightened about that, imagine how I felt. I knew about the dementors, and I knew that Prof — that Remus was a werewolf, and that he hadn't taken the potion — but it was my Dad out there. Imagine if… imagine if it was your mum, or Terry. Wouldn't you have gone?"

Gerald frowned, and reached for her hand, twining his fingers through hers and squeezing, in a gesture that seemed designed to reassure himself as much as to reassure her.

"I don't know," he admitted, "I suppose I should say that I would, but… but I honestly don't know what I would have done. I would have been terrified."

"I was," she told him, "I still am, when I think about it all."

She continued the story, as they meandered slowly along the virtually deserted side streets that led to Spinner's End; there was only one spot where Gerald didn't quite seem to be able to keep his promise, and it exploded out of him as they reached the end of her street:

"Wait, I'm sorry — " he interjected, jaw dropping with disbelief, "You're saying you had no idea whether your Freezing Charm would work on Dark Creatures, and you decided to find out while a fully-transformed werewolf was charging you?"

"I didn't really have a better option!" she hissed in response; and then, once again, the truth spiralled into something deeper. She thought again about the other spell, the only other one that had leapt into her mind at the sight of the wolf; as they stopped at the bottom stair in front of her house, she resolved to tell him about it, properly, later. There was only so much truth she could stand to part with, just now.

Gerald frowned, silencing his protest with significant effort, and she pushed on. He had only one more interjection, when she got to the part where she had summoned her Patronus, driving the dementors away.

"So you've got it back?" he asked, sounding relieved, "Your Patronus?"

Calista halted, as they reached the front stairs of her house. She half-expected the door to fly open of its own accord, as it tended to do when her father was waiting for her to arrive home, but it didn't.

"Not exactly," Calista said, as she withdrew her house key from her pocket, and fit it to the lock; she drew her wand out too, sliding the key back, and tapped the lock, murmuring the charms that would open the door.

He followed her into the house; the front room was dark, and silent. When her eyes adjusted, she caught sight of a scrap of parchment on the table, and she snatched it up, scanning the note in her father's familiar hand:

Calista —

If you arrive before I do, I'm out running a few brief errands. I'll be home shortly.

— S

Calista raised her eyebrows. "He's not home; no wonder the front door didn't burst open when we arrived."

"I did wonder about that." Gerald smiled softly, and then, gently, he reminded her:

"Your Patronus?"

"Oh." Calista replaced the note, and lifted her wand. "Yes; as I said, I didn't exactly get it back. Expecto patronum!"

A brilliant, silvery light filled the room — both of them stepped back, as the ghostly shape filled the space between them, wings spreading from one wall to the opposite.

"Goodness," Gerald said, once he had recovered; he pushed his glasses up his nose, eyeing the phantom creature with keen interest. "Is that a thestral?"

Calista nodded, and then, realising he might not have noticed, she confirmed: "Yes, it is is."

He studied it for a moment. "Fascinating," he murmured, and then: "You know, I've never actually seen one."

Calista blinked, as the thestral lowered its neck, extending her nose, in its customary gesture, for her to pat it. "You've never seen a thestral?"

Gerald shook his head. "No. I know they're at Hogwarts, of course, but I can't see them myself."

Calista frowned, feeling a sudden chill. She waved her wand, hurriedly vanishing the silvery form of her Patronus, and she felt the ensuing, abrupt dark of the room wrap itself around her like a cloak, or a shield.

"I… I've never not been able to see them," she confessed, into the darkness.

There was a brief, awkward silence, during which Calista was certain she could feel her heart sinking — and then, suddenly, there were footsteps, and Gerald was right in front of her, reaching for her hands. She slipped her wand back into her pocket, just as she realised that the room wasn't completely dark, after all: a crack of fading daylight still seeped in around the edge of the curtain.

"Rowena Ravenclaw," he said, inexplicably, and Calista furrowed her brow.

"Erm, what?"

"Ravenclaw," he said again, "Her Patronus was a thestral; it was originally going to be the emblem for Ravenclaw House, you know — the other founders all used their Patronuses — but thestrals were even more misunderstood then than they are now, and Rowena was afraid no one would want to be in Thestral House, so she chose to represent her House with her Animagus form, instead — an eagle."

Calista blinked. She had never heard that, before; Hogwarts, A History only said that Ravenclaw was an Animagus, but it hadn't specified what form she took or where the House emblems had come from. "Are you certain?"

Gerald hunched his shoulders slightly, and nudged the floor with his toe.

"I slept with her Chocolate Frog card under my pillow for years, remember?" he muttered, sheepishly, "I'm positive that was the form her Patronus took. According to historical texts, though, no one ever saw it after her daughter disappeared; popular opinion is that she lost the ability, or at least the will, to produce one."

"I forgot about that," Calista said, feeling an amused smile creep to her face, despite herself. "The… the card under your pillow."

"I'd thank you profusely to forget about it again," Gerald groused good-naturedly, "I still wish Chadwick hadn't told you — but anyway, I just wanted you to realise, there's nothing wrong with your Patronus taking that form… it's rather impressive, actually. Magical creatures of any sort are quite rare."

Calista exhaled, relieved. "I know," she said, "I just — I was afraid you might think…"

Gerald smiled, and lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it a well-practised gesture that never failed to make her heart flutter and her cheeks warm.

"Don't you realise by now, mon cœur, that I know you better than that? I know you're kind, and courageous, and clever —"

He pulled her closer, and then his mouth was by her ear, his breath sending a wave of warmth through parts of her body it was probably better not to think about just now —

"Et belle, et brillante, et totalement irrésistible…"

She shivered, and then started, as she heard the unmistakable sound of Severus' key in the lock; she inwardly cursed his timing, just as Gerald retreated, with obvious reluctance.

"And," he finished, as the door swung open, illuminating the room, "Sometimes, I fear — you're wildly irresponsible — but that's not the worst of it, and perhaps you're not as unique in that latter aspect as I've led you to believe."

Something clicked, then; something in the the sudden, sheepish look he wore reminded her of a similar expression she'd caught, earlier that day, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, as Severus locked the door behind him, pretending he wasn't eavesdropping.

"Elyse Briggs," Calista said, "She did know who you were, didn't she? What was she talking about, when she said something about troublesome lists?"

Gerald flushed, and dragged his toe along the floorboards again, and she knew instantly that she'd guessed correctly. "Erm…"

Severus swept a glance over them, but mercifully, he elected to proceed silently to the kitchen. He had a greasy, steaming brown paper sack in his arms that looked awfully similar to the ones from the fish and chips shop at the corner, and smelled delicious.

Calista raised her brow. "Out with it, Gerald," she teased firmly, "You called me 'Snapelet' earlier — you owe me the truth."

Gerald swallowed. "Second year," he murmured, out of the side of his mouth, "It was — you know, I was having trouble with… with Flint and them, and I was nervous about my father's release, and I — erm —"

"Go on."

"I may have been keeping a list of hexes and poisons," Gerald admitted, "Just — you know, just in case."

Calista grinned. "You didn't."

"I didn't use any of them," he reassured her quickly, stuttering through the rest of his admission, "But all right, yes, I kept the list — and I thought I was being clever, translating it into French runes, but Elyse found it in the common room, and she realised what it was, and I ended up having it confiscated and spending an entire Saturday in detention."

"Was this during that time that you were in the library all the time researching 'protective' runes?" Calista teased; she couldn't quite keep her face straight. "When you were trying to work up the nerve to talk to me?"

"I was twelve," Gerald said, with a slight pleading note; she noticed he didn't deny that the spells were forbidden. "And I really was researching protective runes, too — I just thought I should have a backup plan — it was stupid, really…"

"It's a shame, really, that you didn't come and talk to me," Calista said wistfully, electing to end his obvious discomfort, "I probably could've given you a few more spells."

She saw him blink, as the implication hit him.

"Didn't you hear Elyse?" she reminded him, "I was keeping a list, too. I didn't think to disguise it with runes, but I did eventually go back and add all the counter-curses and antidotes."

Gerald blinked again, and then he grinned, fondly.

"Of course you were," he said, "And of course you did."

"Dinner," Severus called from the kitchen.

Calista explained quickly and quietly about the book, and giving her edited version to earlier Eva that morning, and then the two of them went into the kitchen.

"So that's what Kim Avery meant, about 'corrupting' you," Gerald murmured; they both ignored Severus' swift, suspicious glance in their direction. Calista looked back at Gerald, nodding agreement, and not even bothering to look and see what Severus had brought for dinner.

"Yeah. That's what she meant."

Gerald smiled again, and then suddenly, it went sly.

"Kim," he said, and then he reached for her hands, "She — erm, actually, her announcement today reminded me of something I've been meaning to ask you…"

Severus made a sudden yelping noise in his throat, that quickly transitioned into a growl; Calista started, and Gerald appeared to bite back a grin.

"I've been meaning to ask you," he went on, lifting her hands slightly between his, "If you'd do me the honour…"

Severus advanced, breathing venomously down Gerald's neck; Gerald glanced up at him, and suddenly seemed to find the rest of his sentence very quickly:

"Of accompanying me to Chadwick and Mira's wedding," he finished, "As — as my date?"

"Uhm," Calista said, cheeks going pink. She'd never been to a wedding, before. She had no idea what being invited to one meant, or why it had put her father so suddenly on edge — but she couldn't come up with reason to refuse quickly enough, so she nodded. "I — erm, I guess so, as long as… as long as it's all right with my Dad…"

Severus, inexplicably, had relaxed, though he was looking decidedly petulant. He sneered.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he groused, and then: "That's all you've been meaning to ask her, then?"

Gerald looked up, eyes innocently wide.

"Of course it is, sir." he cocked his head, a bit too casually. "What did you think I was going to ask her?"

Severus muttered darkly, something that sounded suspiciously like "You nevermind that, boy," but Calista's stomach was rumbling, and she had finally looked down, to see what Severus had brought for dinner.

She turned, extracting her hands from Gerald's. It wasn't the food that made her suddenly, buoyantly happy: it was where it was sitting.

"The table!" Calista said, and in that moment — in that kitchen, with her two favourite people and a surprising dearth of secrets — she thought she could have summoned a hundred Patronuses, "You did bring it home!"

Severus grumbled; Gerald chuckled. Calista grinned.

It wasn't everything; it was far from the end. But for now, it was enough.

All was well.

(A/N: I can't believe it, but after eight years of my life working on this story, I am finally marking it Complete. However, that does not mean that Calista Snape's story is done. Those of you that follow me on Twitter ( Arinus_FF) may have seen my announcement about an exciting and very large update, as well as an earlier promise to share an illustration I commissioned of my two favorite OCs, Gerald and Calista, and I'm about to share all of that!

Calista's story continues in a third and final volume, which - this is the extremely large and exciting part - is being posted now, so you can start the news troy right away, and most of all so it's easier for all of you to find and set up an Alert for, as soon as you finish this one and before you forget about Calista while waiting for the next update! *g*

About 5 minutes after this chapter goes live, look for the first chapter of the SEQUEL under my profile: Thestral's Calling: Calista Snape Volume III

The commissioned art is now the cover of this story and the third one, and it is also available to view full size at (I'm trying my best to get the link to show, but FF hates that) flic. kr/ p/ SaUkPz (without the spaces, obviously).

Finally, I would like to deeply and sincerely thank all of you for reading my story, particularly those of you that have followed it from the beginning and that have taken time to leave such detailed, thoughtful reviews. You all keep me writing, seriously. A huge thank you from the bottom of my heart and I hope you'll follow me (and Calista) to her final adventure, in Thestral's Calling.

Love, Arinus (Christina))