Callisto

4

School was school. There were classes and there were teachers, good and bad. None of them seemed to recognise her, and Snape was as much a dick as he usually was, so no changes there. Everything was so ultimately the same that it unnerved her. Her life had changed so much in the past months that she had somehow expected Hogwarts to change too, but it hadn't. Everything was still exactly the same as always.

She was trying to do her makeup the third Monday, alone in the common room as it had a large mirror and everyone had already gone to breakfast. Narcissa had given her some tips, but it was a skill to learn, and lessons had certainly been learned after weeks of walking around with a streaky orange face and a white neck.

When the door opened, she looked up guiltily, as though she was still a boy who would be made fun of for wearing makeup. But the other girl just nodded to her, and Callisto, though she now felt self conscious, tried to get on with her makeup.

She could see the girl out of the corner of her eye, lounging back on a chair by the fire. She didn't know her name, but she had seen her around. She was older than her, in the next year up. "I think your foundation is too dark for you," she said finally.

"Oh," Callisto said, and she nibbled her lip, worried she was about to be teased.

But the girl just swung her legs off the chair and reached for her bag. "Here," she said, rummaging around, unzipping a smaller bag and taking something out. "You can use mine."

She passed Callisto the little bottle, and Callisto blushed pink. Maybe there was something in it. Maybe it would be like the time Montague had written letters on Orson' face when he was asleep in bright sparkling letters that wouldn't come off, FAGOT. It didn't help that Montague didn't know how to spell. It had still hurt just as much. She found she was referring to Orson now like a separate person. Orson was in the past, he was gone. Now there was only Callisto.

"Here," the girl said finally, sounding exasperated. "I'll show you."

She put hers on quickly, in a well practised way, and Callisto did her best to copy. While she showed her, she talked a mile a minute about everything - Callisto could barely keep up. She heard that her name was Adele and told her her own name, and then Adele went off on a high speed ramble that ended, "but anyway, he's a bit of a prick and everyone knows it."

"Okay," Callisto said, hoping that was the right answer.

"Yeah and anyway -"

It was pleasant to listen to Adele ramble about teachers and how much she hated them. It almost took Callisto's mind off everything else.

"You sporty?" Adele asked, as Callisto moved on to concealer. "You like Quidditch?"

"Uh. Not really," Callisto said. The only sport she'd ever really liked was running.

"Oh, well, we could really do with some more girls - even though we're not doing the cup this year," she added bitterly. "There's only dicks like Montague on the team, and he can barely tell one end of the broom from the other and he plays dirty - but you probably don't know him."

Callisto stayed silent as she finished with the makeup and then Adele squinted at her face.

"Is it okay?"

"Yeah," she said, a little grudgingly. "You have good features."

"So have you," she said, trying to be nice.

"I know, thanks," she said, glancing appreciatively at herself in the mirror. "It's all about the style."

Adele had shoulder length black hair, and monolid green eyes, like a cat. Her uniform was worn in an interesting way, with no jumper, her tie loose, her shirt untucked and the sleeves rolled up, and she was apparently wondering just how much leg she could show without actually being naked. Her shoes were the accepted black patent, but they were scuffed, which she knew McGonagall couldn't stand.

"Don't the teachers say anything about your uniform?"

"They try" Adele said, and readjusted the waistband of her skirt so it went up even higher, then smiled at her. "Breakfast?"

Adele and Callisto sat at the end of the Slytherin table. Nobody paid them much attention at all, but she couldn't help but notice that nobody sat beside them either.

As they sat down, one of the boys wolf whistled at Adele, and she threw a balled up piece of parchment at him. "Sod off, Travers."

Callisto poured some cornflakes, hiding behind a curtain of blonde hair. Her own hair was growing, and perhaps she could take the wig off soon. Her natural hair was the same shade after all, if a bit curlier.

The boy and his friends guffawed, and Adele rolled her eyes. "Pricks," she said, reaching for some toast.

When Callisto didn't answer, she looked amused, raising one finely arched eyebrow. "You don't say much, do you? Which year are you in?"

"Sixth."

"Below me, then. It's my last," she said, looking around the hall wistfully. "You'll love it here, you know. The people aren't always great, but it's still brilliant."

Callisto stayed silent. She hadn't particularly enjoyed her first five years. The school part was fine, and of course she had had Charles, but Montague had made life hell.

She took her timetable out, and Adele peered at it. "You've got Charms first," she said. "That's on the -"

"Third floor, second classroom," she said, before she could stop herself.

Adele stared at her. "How do you know that?"

"Um, my cousin Draco told me," she fibbed.

"Oh. Okay then."

They got up to leave as the bell rang, but a voice stopped Adele in her tracks.

"Adele Rosenbluth, you appear to have forgotten the rest of your skirt!"

Adele rolled her eyes before turning around, and Callisto straightened the strap of her bag as Professor McGonagall came towards them.

"And your jumper," she said, the light glinting off her glasses. "Tsk tsk, you really must stop being so absent minded in the mornings."

"It's a statement for house elves, Professor. A new movement."

"I see. Well my statement, Miss Rosenbluth, is that you must wear a jumper, have your skirt an appropriate length, and polish your shoes. Unless you want to borrow one of the spare jumpers from my office, of course."

The two of them stared at each other in a battle of resolve. Professor McGonagall won.

"Yes, Professor," Adele muttered, and when the teacher walked away, she murmured, "Fuck's sake."