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Calliope and Thalia and Their Inspiration by lucilla_pauie

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Chapter Notes: Yep, I'm STILL writing this story and Then Somebody Bends. :) Thank you, modlies, for featuring this story. Thank you to all you faithful readers, especially those of you who drop a line. Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the Parent Trap (whose plot I very loosely follow in this story) do not belong to me, or else I'll be too busy living the good life to take the time to write fan fiction. :))
~o0o~ Alliances ~o0o~




Janus Demouit got his first warning. One more and he would be on probation. If he was found negligent again during that period, he would lose his post.

But this wasn’t what was being talked of at Hogwarts.

The portraits in the Headmistress’s office were all former Heads themselves, and could be counted on to be discreet. But they couldn’t be counted on to be abstinent. One historical headmaster had been invited to a party yet again, and there, while steeped in mulled mead, he happened to think of entertaining his hosts with a little bit of family drama, something that rarely happened in their domain. As rarities went, news of it spread faster than Dungbomb stink.

The fact that Hermione Granger had twins with Draco Malfoy was astonishing, and the fact that those twins had been fighting each other, oblivious to their full kinship, was amusing. And it was also so very romantic, the higher years thought. Professor Granger and Mr Malfoy were only a little older than them now when their romance unfolded. Even prim and proper Priscilla couldn’t help smiling in a silly manner at Lia even as the Head Girl shushed and glared at the other silly gossips.

Hermione was glad her colleagues were seemingly too in awe of her and the Headmistress. Although they all watched out for poor Janus, they all worked and talked as usual. At least, when Hermione or Minerva was present.

In the Headmistress’s office: “Forgive me, Minerva, but I thought to liven things up just a bit. It’s been dreadfully dull, you know. I almost wish there’s a Dark wizard again.”

Minerva was so irate with Albus she turned his portrait to the wall.

“And think of those poor girls...” he continued, muffled, as though nothing happened.

“Those poor girls you have now subjected to titters and stares, you mean?”

“Yes. I wish them both to have both their parents.”

“How is your gossipmongering going to make that wish of yours come about, Albus?”

“Oh, entertainingly, I’ll wager. Now be a dear, Minerva, and turn me back around or at least put me in another, more interesting patch of wall, I’ve already memorised this one.”


~o0o~



They’d left the Headmistress’s office separately and quietly. Callie couldn’t look at Lia and Lia couldn’t look at Callie but their eyes would stare when they thought the other wasn’t looking. They didn’t know how their parents parted yet again. But though they’d lingered by the door in a silent, unanimous decision, they’d heard nothing but the swish of Floo.

Also silently, they seemed to have agreed to not acknowledge each other, even during the worst of the gossip when heads would collectively swivel back and forth between the two of them across the tables.

In class, her mother was affable, sweet, patient. Just like with the rest of her students. Outside of class, she wouldn’t even look at Callie, even when Callie was outright staring at her. Callie stopped coming to meals at the great hall and took to noshing on the treats her Aunt Pansy and grandmother sent. If she could stop going to Charms as well, she would. But she wanted top grades, and she wanted to continue forcing her mother into noticing her, so she remained in her seat up front, dead centre, and raised her hand at every opportunity, locked eyes with Professor Granger every chance she got and showed the woman that she was unaffected by being unacknowledged, being unwanted. She was a Malfoy. Never mind being a Granger.

Thalia noticed, but was too confused and still too bewildered to act on it. She didn’t question her mother, knowing that she might get more answers from simply watching. So Thalia watched, and was hurt almost as much as her sister because Hermione never referred to the subject of Thalia being a twin. Never. Was her mother so determined to continue lying by omission? Was her mother cursed or something? And where was Thalia’s own bouquet of flowers? She’d thought she’d get one now. Instead, the owl from the florist continued to arrive only at the Gryffindor table; the bird would land there lightly, just quick enough to discover its addressee was not there, and then take wing and go wherever Callie was.

She only saw Callie in Charms and Potions and Astronomy. And during those Wednesday nights under the dim light of the moon or beside the harsh glow of magical spheres, Callie looked pale, and to Thalia, it was looking at a wan version of herself.

She refused to have a visit with her mother because she knew she would burst with questions and accusations. Hagrid would invite her to tea, and she would suddenly have urgent homework.

At last, one Tuesday morning, her mother insinuated a note into her hand as they were all leaving the Great Hall.

‘I’ll see you at Hagrid’s later at four.’

When they settled at Charms, Thalia looked anywhere but at her mother.

“I’m indisposed today, boys and girls. So I’ll just set you to mastering your levitation and locomotor charms. Quietly, please. I don’t want to hear any thumping. Pretend you’re rearranging the furniture with a baby asleep in the next room. And no pranks on each other. Disobedience will have consequences.”

Thalia huffed, caught her mother’s eyes, and meekly ducked her head.

There was muffled noise as everyone rose and began muttering incantations, levitating and moving stuff. Thalia felt her skirt shifting and then tugging at her. Dionelise’s face was red from suppressing giggles; she was operating with her naughty streak on. Lia grabbed her friend’s wand hand and checked if her mother saw that. But she needn’t have worried.

Her mother was on the other side of the room, watching Callie.

Lia watched as her mother bit her lip, squared her shoulders, and went to her sister. When she reached Callie, she seemed to take stock of herself, as though she wasn’t sure if she was wearing all her clothes. What was with that?

Under cover of an upended desk sidling to the left, Lia moved closer to her mother and sister to hear.

“...haven’t you been going to meals?” her mother was saying.

“But I have. Of course I have, Professor. Why?” Callie answered without looking at her--their-- mother. She was busy making a tower out of glass jars.

“Have you? I don’t see you there.”

“I’ve noticed you don’t, Professor.”

Callie jabbed the air with her wand and the last jar dropped with a thud. The tower collapsed. Still without looking at anyone though the whole room jumped at the shatter of glass, Callie jabbed with her wand again and gritted out, “Reparo!”

And then she turned on her heel, stepped several paces away from their mother, and made the heavy, antique teacher’s desk shoot high up in the air so fast everyone gasped. She left it there and smirked, daring anyone to take it down without damaging it and without noise.

Lia was so angry she didn’t care if she sent that desk crashing down on Callie. She just pointed her wand.

Everyone caught their breaths again as the desk hurtled down. At the last second, it stopped, hovered, and dropped soundlessly back to the floor.

Callie sat down as if she’d done and seen nothing out of the ordinary and opened her Standard Book of Spells.


~o0o~



Hermione barely had enough in her to dismiss the class with composure. The moment the last student stepped outside, her body bent in on itself, she clutched her middle and cried softly.

When she managed to get it together again, she wiped her face and went straight for Minerva’s office.

The Headmistress was absent. And conspicuous in the wall behind her desk was Dumbledore’s portrait. Rather, the back of Dumbledore’s portrait.

“Headmaster? Are you-- Is everything all right? Why is your--”

“Is that you, Hermione?”

“Yes, Albus. I came to talk to Minerva--”

“Oh, what about? Do tell me, please. No one talks to me any longer.”

Hermione was distracted enough by that to chuckle at Dumbledore’s antics. “What are you talking about? We talk to you. And I wasn’t going to talk about anything. I just wanted to be excused for the rest of the day, if I could.”

“Of course you could, my dear. Are you all right?”

“Oh yes. Well, no. I want-- I need to talk to someone.”

“By all means, go talk to him, then. I’ll tell Minerva. She should be along soon. She only went to the Owlery. Something about a letter and a rejuvenating walk and two snidgets with one net and all that.”

“Thank you, Albus. Wait a second--”

“Off you go, Hermione,” said Dumbledore, chuckling. “And give Draco my regards.”

“You keep interrupting me, Headmaster. That’s impolite! I was going to ask: why are you turned to the wall? Minerva isn’t angry at you or punishing you, is she?”

“Oh, no!” Dumbledore said airily. Too airily. And Hermione heard several of the sleeping portraits snort. “I begged to have a change of vista.”

More snorts and one snigger. Hermione shrugged and left.


~o0o~



Lia was furious with Callie and seethed all through History of Magic. She’d looked for Callie during break, but Callie had disappeared again and Kia had only shrugged when Lia questioned her. She had already turned away when Kia added softly, “She might be back in our room. She only leaves for class.”

This confirmed what Lia had heard between Callie and their mother. “What does she eat?”

“Biscuits and sweets from home.”

By the time they queued for Potions, Lia was ready to explode. What was Callie doing? If she thought she’d get attention in this obtuse manner, she had another think coming. She’d get something, all right.

But one look at Callie’s face popped the red balloon of Lia’s anger. How could she be angry? Her poor sister. Just what was their mother playing at?

Lia’s furious stride slowed, and she reached Callie just in time before Callie entered the door Professor Dimwit had just opened. “Keep your chin up, Grace,” she whispered in passing. “But not too high up, okay? And don’t sass Mum.”



~o0o~




Callie sat hunched with her elbows on the table, something her grandmother would have reprimanded her for. She wanted to turn her head and look at... at her sister, but this was as much as she could do at the moment. Her pride had undergone too much pounding from a pestle.

Professor Demouit was speaking about Torch Potion again. He was still harping on about it, though he couldn’t blame Callie and Lia outright since the explosion was his fault for carrying the potion around. His name was pronounced Dem-woa, but more and more people were calling him Dimwit now. His eccentricities had lost their novelty and he was now simply annoying.

“... when people used their fireplaces as sources of light and heating, and then when furnaces and heaters were used. Hence, the Torch Potion, an improvement to the crude thing Muggles use, something called kerocide or some such. A fire built from the Torch Potion does not create ashwinders and gives up to a hundred times more warmth. Makes it indispensible in these drafty castles. Miss Granger, go and get the potion in my office. I tweaked it so its flames emit bright white light similar to those electric lightbulbs you see in Muggle healing rooms. Great for Potion-making. Mind you don’t blow up the potion, now.”

Professor Dimwit laughed. He thought he was being witty. He was the only one. Everyone else groaned. They’d been preparing the Torch Potion over and over for several classes now. Dimwit said they should perfect it or even tweak it. He was all about tweaking. They suspected he didn’t even diversify his classes for the different years. They all alternated in reeking of woodsmoke, depending on which year had Potions for the day.

Callie, with her eyes downcast, saw a trail of fine grey powder just before the professor’s robes swept it away. She blinked, thinking she imagined it. Or perhaps Dimwit was shedding so much dandruff.

Callie suddenly turned in her seat toward the back. Lia wasn’t at her stool. She was already inside Dimwit’s office? Callie swivelled back around. Why was Lia taking so long?

Callie looked toward the spot where she saw the powdery stuff. And then she turned to the magically-installed fireplace in their classroom. To her horror, the trail seemed to originate there and had traces continuing toward Dimwit’s office. She shot out of her seat and ran.

Lia seemed to be studying something near the store cupboard. She jumped when Callie clattered over to her, knocking over cauldrons and boxes and bottles.

“Get out of here. Come on!”

Just as she reached Lia, she saw the huge, showy shelf beside the cupboard. On the shelf stood flagon after flagon of clear liquid. You’d think it was prized alcohol, the way Dimwit stored and displayed it. Lia had one flagon in one hand. Callie noted all this even as she stared at the shadowy arch between the shelf’s claw feet. It was the only dark recess in the room. The rest of the floor space was dominated by doors to cupboards or stocked helves.

“Someone’s burned their table,” Lia remarked, sniffing toward the classroom.

Callie tugged at her sister’s free hand with all her might.

They made it to the door before the Potions professor’s office exploded.



~o0o~




Hermione didn’t go directly to her destination. She rambled around the village, entering shops, browsing merchandise, and even stopping for hot cocoa at Honeydukes before she realized she was stalling and overthinking and slapped a hand to her forehead. She finally arrived at the little cottage, and saw three owls flocking toward one of the open windows in the second floor. Each bird had a parcel tied to its leg.

She hesitated before lifting the shamrock knocker with her index finger. It still melodiously tapped thrice as though she’d used her wand. She heard the crack behind the door but still jumped back when he opened it before a second had passed after the last tap.

He blinked at her. “I knew you’d come here, but you’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything about it. Don’t flatter yourself, Hermione.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows but let it pass. “Hi to you, as well.”

“Oh. Hey. I thought you were Belinda’s girl with my brunch. I’m starving. You want to come with me and get something?”

“Are you hiding something in this cottage?”

He rolled his eyes. “A little trust, Hermione. But I’m asking for the moon on that score, aren’t I? Please do me the honour,” he said that last with a theatrical sweep of his arm toward the interior of the cottage. Hermione just nodded and stepped past him and inside.

“What’s the matter? Is Callie all right?”

Hermione nodded non-committedly. Callie was all right in some respects.

“Is Thalia?”

“I really messed up with that agreement I drew, didn’t I? I should have included that I can’t try and see Callie the way I’ve done when I first went here, and that you can’t ask after Thalia.”

“Did you come here to rant about the agreement? Because if you are, can we reschedule? I’m rather busy. Replacing and rearranging furniture. These owls are getting disgruntled waiting for the ones I’ll send back.”

Hermione glanced around, distracted again like she’d been earlier by Dumbledore in Minerva’s office. Perhaps her mind was all too willing to be distracted.

“What possessed you to inhabit this place? Callie won’t have enough space. The yard is ample, but what about her rooms? For sleeping and for studying or playing.”

“Callie’s rooms in my house at Chablis are quite satisfactory. She has a bedroom with an en suite, a playroom, a music room. My mother’s even planning on giving Callie her own conservatory. Happy?” Draco unwrapped one parcel and the minature contents arranged themselves on the coffee table. It was a living room suite. One loveseat, one armchair, a square side table with a sleek lamp that left plenty of space for a tea service beside it, a rug, a bookshelf, and even a rustic stone fireplace.

“What do you think?” Draco asked without looking at Hermione. He fingered the loveseat and nudged it to an angle beside the bookshelf.

Hermione nodded almost desperately, acutely yearning yet at the same time not wanting to give in to the urge to bombard Draco with more questions about Callie’s life in France. “It’s certainly more suitable to this room than this humongous sofa and coffee table.”

Draco nodded. He pointed his wand at the sofa and it disappeared from sight, shrinking to the size of matchbox on the floor. Hermione picked it up. Draco placed the loveseat in the sofa’s place and unshrunk it. It didn’t hog the windowside to itself as the sofa had done. Hermione stood to the side, out of the way, but when Draco looked to her again, she shrugged and took the side table next.

They placed the furniture around the living area, exchanging raised eyebrows and nods. Lastly, she picked up the rug and he picked up the fireplace before he shrunk the coffee table. The room seemed much less cramped now that there was more legroom.

“Well, that’s it. Sit down. I’ll dismiss the owls. I’m done with my bedroom and the kitchenette. I’ll make us some--”

“I can make the tea myself.”

Again, he swept his arm, now toward the ‘kitchenette’, which appeared very spacious on account of the dining table and its four chairs still being on the countertop in miniature form. Hermione left them there though she did peer at them and found the round corners of the table and the oval-backed chairs cute.

The house was cute. She wondered how many bedrooms were upstairs. Probably just two. But a family could easily extend the house without crimping the backyard.

There was an odd twinge between her throat and stomach at the ‘family’ part of her thought. There was really no need for an extension if the family consisted of a father and a daughter, or a mother and a daughter...

“What are you staring at over there?”

Hermione started and pretended to fiddle with the kettle. She got her fingers burned for her idiocy. “Nothing.”

He grabbed her had and held it under the faucet. He ran cold water. “Don’t you have classes to teach? And I’m really pissed off about those classes, you know that? How very Slytherin of you.”

Snatching her hand back and making a big show of wiping it, she glared at him. “How very Slytherin of you, thinking everyone else plots things like that, because it’s what you do and what you’d have done. Minerva invited me to teach, and it coincided with my resignation.”

“You resigned, so she invited you to teach. Did you resign so you’d get invited?”

“How would I have known that Filius had gone down with something and was likely to retire? I resigned because--” Hermione almost heard the snap of jigsaw puzzle pieces in her mind. “You didn’t know anything about what, precisely? Do you mean the reason I resigned, a reason undisclosed to the public? Something I was supposed to be flattering myself about when I appeared on your doorstep?”

Draco was shaking his head, acting confused and she wasn’t buying it. But before either of them could speak again, they heard and felt a low rumble. Like the earth coughed somewhere.

They both rushed to the window that looked out toward the castle, where the rumble had come from.

“What was that?”

Hermione didn’t answer. She was already running out the door. When she Apparated at the gates, Draco was already there, having Disapparated from his kitchenette. She pointed her wand at the gates to open them but her hand was shaking so badly nothing happened.

Draco grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to him. “Hermione, you’re scaring the crap out of me. Don’t be ridiculous,” he ground out. Then he took a deep breath and said more gently, “They’re fine. Open the gates so we can know for certain. It’s probably nothing. They’re fine.”

Hermione nodded, clinging to his assurance. When she pointed her wand at the gates again, she was able to think about the incantation properly and they felt the magical lock releasing. Draco unlatched the gates and ushered her in. They ran.



~o0o~




“What happened? Was there an earthquake? An explosion?” It was Draco who did the asking when they arrived at the entance hall. Hermione was silent. Her lips were white. Damn the woman. If she was overreacting, he’d strangle her later. But he couldn’t shake away his own fear. He wasn’t usually affected by others’ thin hides. But then again, this was Hermione, and she was an exception. She’d always affect him.

His questions earned nothing but shrugs. The students milling about the entrance hall had come from their free periods or other classes, which seemed to have been undisturbed.

One girl, who had the Head Girl badge, went to Hermione and said, “It came from the dungeons, Professor.”

They heard crackling. Hermione whimpered. Draco peered at the hallway leading to the dungeons, ready to rush there. Was there fire? Something orange was definitely approaching. Draco pulled Hermione and the Head Girl back.

A foot connected with Draco’s forehead.

“WHAT THE FUCK, PEEVES!”

The poltergeist cackled. It was his insane laughter they’d heard. And then there they were, an almost invisble group because their soot-blackened faces nearly blended with the dark stone walls. Herding them was McGonagall, also covered with soot, and shouting like Draco had never heard before. She rivaled that Howler Weasley had once gotten from his mother.

“...AN AMPLE SEVERANCE PAY BECAUSE I WILL SEE TO IT NO ONE ELSE HIRES YOU! YOU CAN BLOODY KISS YOUR MEMBERSHIP TO THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY SOCIETY OF POTIONEERS GOODBYE. EXTRAORDINARY, MY FOOT! DON’T YOU EVER LET ME SEE YOU AT HOGWARTS AGAIN! YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HALF OF MY FIRST YEARS, YOU PUERILE NINCOMPOOP!”

She stopped dead at seeing the crowd at the entrance hall. Draco thought she was ashamed of having lost dignity like that, but the headmistress was staring at him and Hermione.

“Minerva! Where’s Thalia and Calliope?” Hermione asked, ramming her fist to her mouth after talking, as though she was stoppering sobs. Draco’s knees shook.

“They’re fine, Hermione. They’re right behind me. They’re--”

She didn’t finish. Draco and Hermione had already run past her.

They were walking on either side of Madam Pomfrey, who held them, supported them, by the shoulders. The old, dear matron squeaked in protest when her charges were snatched away from her hands.

“What in Merlin’s name happened? Did that puerile nincompoop try to blow you up this time as payback?”

“Where does it hurt? Does anything hurt? Can you see all right? Please don’t scare me like that again.”

“I was bloody terrified!”

“Mum’s here now, honey. You’re okay.”



~o0o~




Callie looked at Lia from Hermione’s bosom through a gap in Hermione’s hair.

Lia returned the look when she managed to turn her head while being pressed to Draco’s chest.

Afterward when they’d been washed from hair to shin, Hermione went to Lia. Draco went to Callie.



~o0o~




“I didn’t know McGonagall had made an even more interesting appointment apart from yours.”

“Don’t start that again. I told you--”

“I’m just saying, I’m glad the idiot’s fired. Gods. How could he have created that ashwinder?”

“He said he didn’t want to catch Filius’s cold. He’d magicked that fire to burn constantly and added warning charms and that potion he’s so obs--”

“I don’t really care. He should be thankful the girls-- everyone’s fine. I just wish I’d booted his arse. I mean that literally.” Draco lifted one foot and eyed the bronze-colored steel toe of his shoe.

“I hate to agree with you, but I also wanted to--”

“Slap him? Bloody his nose?”

“Interrupt me again and I’ll bloody your nose. But the point is moot.” Hermione stopped at the door to her office. Her quarters connected with it through a concealed panel. “I’m here. Good night.”

“Wait a moment, Hermione. What did you want to discuss when you called earlier?”

“Oh, that.” Hermione sighed.

“Can you spare just one more hour? I think this is as good a place as any. And we can’t put it off. Not after my talk with McGonagall.”

Hermione hesitated, shaking her head. “I think it’s best we don’t talk or see each other at all. But that’s only best for me. And no mother knows the word ‘me’ any more.”

Draco somberly nodded. “No father either. Even if that father is me.”

“How selfish we’ve been when we drew and signed that damned agreement.”

“Well, I was hurt. My mother said hurt people are the most selfish beasts there are.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, her face going blank. “You were hurt?” She raised her eyes to heaven and snorted. “Never mind that now. We’ve lost five minutes of the hour. Come in.”



~o0o~




“They didn’t know who they were holding, did they?"

“Mum thought she was holding me.”

“Daddy, too. He didn’t know it was you.”

Their superficial cuts and bruises had all been healed, but the matron wanted to watch them overnight because of their mild concussions. A potion was bubbling in Madam Pomfrey’s office. Other than that, it was quiet. The moonlight slanted across the row of beds, showing interesting shadows of the rails and potion bottles. Callie jumped when Lia’s feet sounded on the floor. Lia padded over in her socks and climbed into the bed next to Callie’s.

“Professor Dimwit was sacked,” said Lia, amid her bedsprings squeaking as she turned to face Callie.

Callie, who was still a little shy at her sister, fiddled with her blanket hem. She wanted to face Lia, too. “I know.”

“Is your-- Is Dad any good at Potions?”

Callie turned to look exasperatedly at Lia, but was surprised to see her expression. “What are you grinning for?”

“Well, is he?”

“Yes.”

“I hope the Headmistress offers him the post, then.”

“Won’t that just hurt you?”

Lia’s blithe tone disappeared. “I don’t understand them. They seemed to love us, both of us, when they yelled at each other in the Headmistress’s office. What is with them?”

“I think I understand.”

“Tell me. And look at me, will you, miss priss?”

“Don’t call me that,” Callie snapped, but she smiled when she made her bedsprings squeak in their turn. She looked at Lia from under her eyelashes. “I’m sorry for insulting your--our mother.”

Lia laughed. “You more than made up for that when you pulled me out of that exploding dungeon. And hey, I insulted her, too.”

They giggled for a minute at that.

“But why didn’t you know she’s your mother? I knew he’s my father.”

“Daddy only told me about her, but never her name. I think because he was afraid I’d seek Mum out. And they had this agreement.”

“A what?”

“An agreement. And Daddy said I’d guess what it is sooner or later. Well, sooner is right. I think when they, you know, separated, they had this agreement that says they go far away from each other, and that the two of them mustn’t seek the other child, mustn’t look at the other child, or something like that. You saw how they acted when they knew which of us was which.”

“But Mum does look at you.”

“In class. Only in class. And she treats me like any other student. Maybe that’s a loophole in the agreement. I bet when she asked me why I wasn’t eating at the great hall, she was thinking she was asking me as a concerned teacher, not as a mum.”

“That really pisses me off.”

“You sound like Father.”

“We’re not in on this agreement they had.”

“I reckon it’s a magical agreement. They probably die or something pretty much near that happens if they break it.”

“I don’t care! They deserve to suffer! We suffer!”

“So you no longer want Father to teach?”

“No, I do. I want him here.”

“What for? So he could ignore you? It really hurts, Lia.”

“You think I don’t know? You’re only unscathed now because you’ve been hiding out in your dorm. If you’ve always been at the great hall receiving those bloody bouquets that only you get even after he’d bloody seen I’m here at Hogwarts with you, you’d have been red from being pelted by Dionelise’s catapult by now.”

Callie grinned ruefully. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Lia grinned back. “How about we make them sorry?”