Callidora ☆ Fred Weasley

[chapter 124]

When there was nothing left, when even the hollow spasms faded into something weaker and emptier, Calli stayed there for a second longer than she needed to, one hand braced against the ground, breath uneven, the world still tilting faintly around her.

Then she slowly forced herself up.

Her movements lacked their usual precision, but she steadied them as best she could, wiping the corner of her mouth with the silk glove still clutched in her hand. The fabric was ruined now, damp and crumpled, but she didn't seem to register it.

Not really.

Theo hadn't moved.

He stood a few steps away, watching her. Not with concern, not exactly, but with something sharper. Something colder. His expression was controlled, but his eyes gave him away just enough.

Shock.

Curiosity.

And something else.

Something too close to interest.

"You've seen him, then."

His voice was even, but there was an edge to it. Quiet. Intent.

Calli's stomach twisted again, though there was nothing left in it to respond.

For a second, she thought she'd imagined it: that faint note beneath his words.

Wonder.

Her left hand curled into itself without her noticing at first, fingers tightening as if she could block out the lingering sensation still etched into her skin.

She could still feel it.

That touch.

Cold. Thin. Wrong.

Her scar burned faintly beneath it, the ache sharper now, like something had been woken up rather than soothed.

She tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Her throat felt tight, her voice caught somewhere between her lungs and her mouth, refusing to form.

So she didn't push it.

Didn't force it.

She just nodded. Once. Short.

Theo watched her for another moment, his gaze flicking briefly to her hand, then back to her face.

He didn't ask more. Didn't press.

But the silence between them shifted.

Calli straightened a fraction more, forcing her shoulders back, forcing her breathing into something steadier, something closer to normal.

Piece by piece, she pulled herself back together.

Not fully.

Not yet.

But enough to stand.

Enough to hold.

Because even here, even now, she couldn't afford to fall apart.

Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.

So she lifted her chin slightly, her expression smoothing back into something distant, something unreadable.

And her hand remained clenched at her side, the phantom burn refusing to fade. She didn't acknowledge it. She couldn't.

Calli didn't remember walking upstairs.

One moment she was outside, the night air sharp in her lungs, Theo's voice somewhere behind her, seeking more answers. The next, her bedroom door was shutting.