New Year's Eve arrived with another gathering.
Calli couldn't decide whether her father had invited more people than at Christmas or whether she had simply developed a lower tolerance for all of them.
Either way, Nott Manor was crowded again.
The drawing room glittered with candlelight and silver decorations. Champagne floated around on enchanted trays. Somewhere nearby, a string quartet played something elegant and painfully dull.
Calli stood near one of the tall windows with a glass she had barely touched, watching snow fall across the dark grounds.
She'd healed herself before coming downstairs.
The cuts were gone.
The bruises hidden beneath glamour charms.
Her ribs no longer protested when she breathed.
Her father would never allow visible weakness in front of guests.
That didn't mean she felt whole.
Every spell she'd cast that morning still lingered inside her muscles like lead.
Her magic felt oddly stretched.
As though someone had wrung every drop from it and expected it to refill immediately.
Her left palm throbbed beneath the faded scar.
Every now and then it twitched involuntarily.
She quietly curled her fingers before anyone noticed.
The worst part wasn't physical.
It was her mind.
Hours of keeping every thought buried.
By the end of training she hadn't been sure where the walls ended and she began.
Now she smiled politely at witches complimenting her dress while wondering whether she'd remember how to smile normally when all this was over.
Her father was doing what he'd done at Christmas.
Circulating.
Introducing people.
Strengthening connections.
Calli had become increasingly certain that half these gatherings were merely Death Eater recruitment dressed in expensive robes.
She glanced across the room.
Cantankerus was speaking to someone she didn't recognise.
Young.
That immediately caught her attention.
Most of her father's guests were considerably older, but the wizard standing beside him looked only a few years older than Calli.
Tall. Immaculately dressed. Dark-haired.
And currently looking at her.
Calli looked away.
No.
Absolutely not.
She became intensely interested in the snow.
Unfortunately, footsteps approached.
Keep walking.
They didn't.
"Callidora."
Damn it.
Calli turned with the pleasant expression she'd perfected since she was seven.
YOU ARE READING
Callidora ☆ Fred Weasley
FanfictionCallidora Nott has always known exactly what is expected of her. As the daughter of one of Britain's oldest pure-blood families, her future has already been carefully planned; alliances, power, and a life shaped by tradition she never chose. At home...
