"He hates her."
"No he doesn't, not really.
She just makes him feel things that he's claimed don't exist."
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When Slughorn puts Callisto McAdams and Regulus Black in his potions class together, he unknowingly functions as a match maker...
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WITH AN ANGRILY PUMPING HEART IN HER CHEST, Callisto strides back into the hospital wing and collapses onto the bed she had woken up in earlier. The sterile smell of antiseptic stings her nose, but she barely registers it. Her gaze is fixed on the ceiling, a constant companion to her thoughts. Madam Pomfrey's voice breaks the silence, sharp and disapproving.
"Callisto, dear—"
Callisto doesn't even spare her a glance, her eyes still locked on the white stone above. She can feel the pulse of her own fury, the slow-burning anger from the confrontation in the Great Hall still simmering beneath her skin.
"I can't do it anymore, Poppy," Callisto mutters, her voice thick with frustration. "I swear, those Slytherins are worse than..." She doesn't finish the sentence, her words trailing off as she turns onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest. "If I could, I'd go into that damn forest and let a werewolf eat them all alive."
Madam Pomfrey sits beside her, patting her leg. She seems to be the only one believing Callisto's words.
"That's an interesting idea," the door creaks open, and Callisto's words die in her throat. She looks up sharply to see a boy leaning against the doorframe, a bemused smile curling at his lips. He's a Gryffindor—Callisto doesn't know him well, but she recognizes the face from classes. Remus Lupin, she thinks his name is.
Callisto feels her cheeks warm, realizing she's been ranting in front of him. A flash of embarrassment makes her look down at her hands.
"Remus!" Madam Pomfrey greets him warmly, as if he's a regular visitor here. "I didn't know you were coming this soon."
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Madam Pomfrey," Remus says, his voice low and calm. "But I need to speak with you about something... in private."
Callisto stays silent, still flustered, her gaze shifting between them. She's about to get up when Madam Pomfrey gives her a pointed look.
"Be careful next time, Callisto. I don't want to see you here again so soon." The woman's voice is gentle, but firm.
"I'll be fine," Callisto mutters, brushing past them and heading for the door. The last thing she needs is to be lectured again.
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The common room greets Callisto with an eerie silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound breaking the stillness. She enters cautiously, half-expecting some ambush to spring from the shadows, but there's nothing. No Carrows. No Crouch. No Black. Just the water of the black lake slashing against the windows and the quiet warmth of the room.
