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Calliope and Thalia and Their Inspiration by lucilla_pauie

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~Yule in the Yucatan~






“No, no. Mustn’t waste space.” An airy wave. Cute. Tempting. How can he have not noticed it before? He wants to touch his lips to that small, shapely hand.

“You can return to your book. I’m not a child or like your dogs that need to be entertained.”

“No, you’re like my cat. Crabby for no reason.”

A half-smile. “My apologies. That was stupid.”

“Had a nice Christmas?”

“Tolerable. Wet. You?”

“Wet? Where were you?”

“Belize. It rained most afternoons the week we were there. But Mother loved it. I suppose there was really no cause for complaint because we were well shielded from mosquitoes and the skies were still bluer there. I spent my time underwater.”

“Diving?”

“No, in the tub. Of course, diving.”

An eyeroll. “'Tolerable. Wet.' I’m so sure. Belize, for Merlin’s sake.”

A smirk. “Perhaps one day, I’ll take you.”

A disbelieving chuckle. “Yes, of course. And we’re bringing our twins.”

“Our twins?”

“I never lose in the Improbable Scenarios Game.”

“Deal. You’re priceless.” A genuine laugh. Surprising, addicting. How can she have not noticed it before? She already wants to hear it again, cause it again.





Hermione had shared a friendship with her mother. Helen felt guilt over turning her daughter into a small adult through genes and traits she had passed and consequently became her daughter’s most eager confidant and pal. This camaraderie was halted by Hogwarts. Hogwarts replaced Helen. Harry and Ron replaced Helen. Helen became ‘Mum’ and nothing more. Hermione became increasingly cognizant of this when the secrets she had to keep from her mother for her parents’ own safety grew in number and size while the time she spent with them decreased and decreased. In turn, she felt guilt over this.

Guilt that tripled and quadrupled after the Australia incident. Since then, she and her mother had reconnected, but the connection was splintered at best. Thalia had fixed those splinters. And now the splinters were back because of the absence of Thalia’s twin.

“Calliope? Callie? Callie. Callie.”

Hermione tried not to wince at each of those stabs Harry unknowingly delivered as he spoke to the mirror.

“She’s probably at dinner now,” said Lia. “Like me.”

“Right. You try again later, squirt.” Harry handed back the mirror.

Hermione stared at her daughter. “Why are you so pale all of a sudden?”

“Delayed reaction from the Apparition premiere?” said Fred, offering the now-empty bowl of potatoes.

Lia laughed shakily. “Maybe?” But after taking a sip of water, she regained her colour and even grinned to herself as she spooned more raspberry sauce on her peach melba. Looking up from observing her daughter, Hermione saw her mother observing her. As their eyes met, hurt, pique, forgiveness and sympathy were all conveyed.





Draco shot a warming charm under the table and then envied his legs and feet for being warm and comfortable. He fiddled with the napkin ring and, to appear that he was not fiddling, went ahead and pulled the napkin out of the ring and spread the napkin on his lap. His father sat to his right and the other two empty seats at the round table waited for his mother and his daughter. Where had they gone off to? Was this a calculated move on his mother’s part, to make Draco pretend not to squirm under Lucius’s scrutiny? Not that he was pretending not to squirm. Squirming and all that milksop behaviour were behind him. He was no longer a pup now, for Merlin’s sake.

“How is she?” said Lucius, and Draco kicked his own shin. All that repressed squirming getting out in one spastic jerk.

“She looked fine to me,” said Draco, crossing his leg over the other and surreptitiously rubbing his injured shin. “We saw her not an hour ago.”

“Not Calliope. Her mother.”

“She has a name.”

“Yes, of course. Hermione Jean Granger, bane of my existence, next to you. Astonishing, really, how the two top students of Hogwarts could not only deed but also maintain their combined folly.”

“Father.”

“To closely paraphrase your mother, don’t ‘father’ me in that tone, Draco Malfoy.”

Despite the jocose words, the disdain in Lucius’s voice had been replaced by real disquiet and Draco felt like he was freshly seventeen again, freshly reunited with his father after the second breakout from Azkaban, and their small, untouchable family freshly displaced from their status and in their own home. That was the first time his father had talked to him without sounding like an overlord giving orders or condescending to show appreciation or displeasure. Lucius had taken one look at Draco’s marked skin and whispered, “Forgive me, Draco.” The proverbial rug was pulled from under Draco’s feet, staggering him with new realisations about his father and his father’s aims and ambitions.

Lucius was about to say more, but seemed to change his mind and instead said, “There you are.”

Narcissa and Callie sat down.

“Callie has her sister’s doll,” said his mother. “She says Thalia gave it to her as a keepsake until they’re together again. I didn’t know that could be done. I suppose my sisters and I were simply too possessive with ours.”

“Bella had dolls? What did she do with them? They can’t scream.”

“We were all children once, Lucius,” said Narcissa, raising her hand and prompting the elves to start serving dinner. “It is hard to believe but Bella was like every other girl once, too.”

“She was? Do you and your contemporaries fashion lengths of lace and ribbon into lethal nooses, too, Calliope?”

For some reason Draco could very well fathom, his daughter pinked and failed to stifle a laugh. “Not lethal, nope.” She grinned at Draco, and Draco was helpless to return it, though grudgingly. He returned his eyes to his plate and caught his father’s gaze. This man, this almost-god whom Draco had admired and obeyed all his life, was again his father. When Draco was seventeen, Lucius had revealed himself to be a father who had cared and miscalculated in his schemes. Now, he was a father who cared, badgered, and irritated his son to Hades, but a father who cared, nonetheless.

“I take it you’ve been victimised by those non-lethal nooses?”

Draco grunted into his soup and wondered how Hermione was faring.

“Well done, Calliope.”





An exchange of hisses in the loo.

“It was so scary.”

“Mine was scarier. If Grandma and her sisters hadn’t been too attached to their dolls--”

“I nearly fainted when Uncle Harry began calling my name into the mirror--”

“Oh, priss. Just rel--”

“Don’t oh, priss me and don’t tell me to relax! What do I do? I think they all want to talk to you through the mirror.”

“What?”

“Don’t say ‘what’. Say ‘I beg your pardon’ or simply ‘pard--”

“Oh, priss. Tell them I don’t want to meet them through the mirror because, well, that would be somehow sadder, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh. You’re right. My thinking engine goes haywire when I panic, doesn’t it?”

“Let’s hope you grow out of it.”

“Don’t sound so superior, swine.”

“And haven’t you got normal shirts and jeans?”

“You should wear nice clothes from time to time.”

“Now who’s being snotty?”





It is widely known that little more than a decade ago, Miss Granger, the illustrious friend of Harry Potter, consternated British Wizarding society by championing none other than Lucius Malfoy. Convicted of Death Eater malignancy and complicity to Unforgivables cast in his own home as well as to numerous other crimes that led to, and commenced after, Voldemort’s return, the senior Malfoy had been included in the Undesirables facing life imprisonment in Azkaban. Miss Granger advocated the Malfoys to have this sentence reversed; arguing that while Lucius Malfoy is guilty of most charges (see page 12 for full list), all of them combined still did not merit life incarceration as punishment. In the end, Lucius Malfoy was heavily fined and exiled. The Malfoy ancestral seat in Wiltshire and all the artefacts within it were seized by the Ministry, and the Malfoy vaults remain frozen in Gringotts. The Malfoys, once among the most powerful elite and apparently still the most cunning in preserving and ensuring their future even with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named camped in their drawing room, relocated to France.

“What hasn’t been widely known until now is that the rumoured romance between Draco Malfoy and Miss Granger, also little more than a decade ago is as real as puffskeins. This author is among those staggered by this--


“Oh, gods,” said Hermione, grimacing at her tea. “Until you reached ‘puffskeins’, I was starting to believe that isn’t Skeeter. But it is, isn’t it?”

“Who else?” said Harry.

“You have a reporter named Skeeter?” said Logan.

“We wish we don’t,” said Hermione grimly. “I wish I’d shipped her to the Isle of Drear.”

“Why? What’s there? I don’t think I’ve heard of that place,” said Helen.

“Just off the north of Scotland. Inhabited by man-eating spiders,” said Ron, visibly shuddering. “Go on, Harry.”

Harry shook open the Evening Prophet again and continued, “... as real as puffskeins.” He chuckled and got a slap on the arm from Ginny, who was yawning beside him. She, Harry and Ron were the only ones remaining for a nightcap, along with the Grangers. “This author is among those staggered by this but the incontrovertible evidence of their attachment have just arrived at Hogwarts this year. This author (and all others) has not yet acquired photographs and Hogwarts records have always been an impregnable and closely guarded archive, but their names are Thalia Granger and Calliope Malfoy. One grew up with her mother, the other with her father. Accounts from various sources suggest the two sisters even quarrelled, both of them wrongly suspecting the other as being the cause of their respective families being broken...

Harry looked up to join the others in giving Hermione a look of either sympathy or rebuke. She just grimaced again.

What drove our star-crossed lovers apart? Buh, buh, buh, buh. The gist of the conclusion is she’s wondering why you kept your daughters apart, why you kept all this secret from everyone and the twins and if you four are together for Yule and when you’ll go about legitimizing the twins.”

“What rubbish. I did tell Lia about her father.” Hermione placed her undrunk and cold tea on the coffee table and rubbed her face with her hands.

“Well, are you?” said Helen.

Hermione knew what her mother was asking but still asked belligerently, “Am I what?” She was suddenly bone-tired and wished they would leave.

“Are you and Draco getting married? If not, why not? Isn’t it the only plausible solution to this muck you’ve dragged your daughters in? And this secret reason why you two broke it off in the first place had better not be something petty, Hermione Jean Granger, or I swear, I’ll finally disown you. You’ve used your magic brashly again and this time you don’t even have the excuse of not wanting the poor beneficiaries of your magic to be hurt! They are hurting! Logan, we’re leaving. Good night, Ginny, Harry, Ron.”

Hermione kept her face hidden in her palms and waited until she heard the front door slamming shut. And then she emerged to snatch at the afghan draped on the back of the sofa so she could wipe her eyes.

“She’s as scary as Mum, isn’t she? And she’s had some wine, too. Mum’s mostly mellow when she’s had some.”

Hermione snorted a laugh. “Thank you, Ron.”

“You’re still not ready to tell us what happened?” said Ginny, levering herself off the armchair. Harry jumped to his feet and pulled her upright.

Wordlessly, Hermione hugged Ginny, then Harry and Ron.

“See you on Yule. If you want anything else in that blasted paper, take it away with you. I’m this close to throwing it in the fire right now.”

“Things will work out, Hermione,” said Harry. Hermione nodded and watched and listened as they left. The front door bolted itself shut after them.

Hermione threw the afghan back on its perch and went upstairs to check on her daughter. Only to find Lia’s door locked. That pinched Hermione again like her mother’s telling-off and instead of unlocking the door, she rushed to her own bedroom, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head so that she sat in a small tent, one elbow propped on one knee, forehead cradled by her hand. Her mother’s reprimand and Ginny’s question haunted her.

Yes, it had all been so petty. So how could she ever be ready to tell anyone? Especially now, when the pettiness had had more than a decade to fester?

Not to mention she was now facing disownment.

She wondered how Draco was faring.




An exchange of giggles in the loo:

“You should have seen Mum’s face. But she was too polite to boot him out. So I called Uncle Fred on the Floo and told him that Menis is here and then he shooed me off the grate and he and Uncle George came and acted like they were expected for lunch and Mum went along and didn’t bother including Menis in the conversation. But he still tailed us to the dining table--”

“Yeah, he’s aggravating that way.”

“--and then he, um... farted... when he sat down. I nearly... died.”

“Breathe, priss. In... and out.”

“You breathe, too, swine.”

“It was the Cushion, wasn’t it? Only Julius still falls for that one. It’s like he’s completely gormless when Mum’s around that he doesn’t even notice what he’s sitting on.”

“What do you mean? He fancies Mum? He’s as old as our grandfathers! Maybe older!”

“Grandfather was mauled today. He took me and Grandmother to Paris and I noticed women tended to turn and stare at him--”

“Grandma gets looks, too, but fewer because men get intimidated by Grandfath--”

“--and then we were invited to Mr Carew’s on the way back home. His sister-in-law who’s only a little younger than the Headmistress was completely drunk and she was completely convinced Grandfather was her sweetheart Edmund and she was babbling to him in what she thought was hushed tones and everyone got red in the face when they heard her and cast me embarrassed looks but I can’t understand slurred French anyway. Grandfather couldn’t move because Celeste was right on his lap and she’d even draped her cat on his shoulder. And then... and then... she tugged on his hair and seemed to come to when it wouldn’t come off...”

“She thought her Edmund was wearing a wig?”

“Probably! She stood up right quick and tried to scramble away in a hurry, but she tripped on Grandfather’s cane and then on her cat and that did it. She fell down on the sofa and just started snoring so fiercely the fur on her stole kept being sucked to her mouth... I think Grandma did some marvellous spellwork there. No one noticed the sofa was six inches to the right of Celeste.”

“Wait, wait, Lia. You said you can’t understand slurred French? But you can understand it when it’s not slurred?”

“No. Nana Helen tried to teach me but I didn’t like it. I only know key words and phrases.”

“I suppose you’ve been extremely lucky so far. None of the Carews spoke to you?”

“Not really. Just greetings and flatteries. Now I’m nervous, priss.”

“Just stay home, then. Ask Grandmother not to have a party this year. Tell her you want the family to yourself.”

“Okay. Now sound the tune of Julius’s fart.”

“Does he really fancy Mum? He’s not even handsome like Grandfather. What makes him think--”

“Never mind him. He’s not a threat. Haven’t you seen Dad? And those kisses? Come on, the fart, I need another laugh. I regret not learning French!”

“She’s still getting roses, by the way.”

“Really? I thought that was someone at Hogwarts trying to make Dad jealous.”

“Here’s the fart.”




Dear Grandfather,

We have chosen you to be our accomplice. Be honoured! We only have 72 vials of Polyjuice Potion each. We need your assistance before we drink the very last doses. You will meet Lia in the orchard. You will see Callie again in June.

Love,
Callie and Lia


Lucius chuckled to himself and stashed the letter in the small chest of Cuban cigars he rarely smoked. He’d found the letter under his breakfast plate that morning. How Cal-- No, it was Lia, wasn’t it? He chuckled again. How Lia had managed to put the letter under his plate without attracting attention was anyone’s guess and such a fine execution of Slytherin art that Lucius chuckled for the third time.

“What’s the joke?”

Narcissa entered his study and went to stand before the fire. Lucius waited. Narcissa only ventured into his domain when she had something to say, something she couldn’t wait to blurt out. If she could, she’d have been in her sitting room and sent for him. It was their little tradition. She obeyed him but he answered her summons. And being the Black princess she was, she summoned him as much as she could and obeyed him only when it suited her.

“Lucius, this is-- well, I’m lost for words.” She turned to him and chuckled herself, reminding Lucius of the little fay queen who’d laughed at him the day he told her they were affianced. Granted, she was only ten then and he’d been at his most arrogant at fourteen, making sure his claim was staked before the girl stepped foot at Hogwarts. “I think it’s not Callie with us just now.”

“Not Callie?” Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“No. We were in the conservatory just now, and she called my Cristana ‘that tiger-looking pitcher flower’.”

“Your Cristana?”

“My Brazilian Orchid, Lucius! Callie named it Cristana!”

“Oh.”

Oh?” Narcissa glared at him. And because she looked liable to employ the poker to finally get a reaction out of him, he reached into his cigar chest, held up a hand to stave off her indignation that he’d think to smoke while she was in the room, and effectively shut her up by showing her the letter. She read it in two seconds and laughed.

“But why am I not an accomplice, too?”

“You can be if you want. I’ll tell you everything, of course.”

“Their doses run out tomorrow! And Thalia must be freezing in the orchard. Why are you still here?”

Because you detained me, woman.”

He kissed her and finally returned her wide grin on his way out.





Dear Uncles Gred and Forge,

Of course you’ll be our accomplices, won’t you? Wait for an owl. It will have a key in an envelope. Please give it to our Mum tomorrow morning at eight. Tell her it’s a surprise for her and me. You see, if I’m the one who gives it to her, she might be a tad suspicious and the plan is reliant on time. Lives are at stake!

Love,
Lia and Callie

PS: Don’t slip and call me Callie or Lia will kill your stud pygmy puff.


“Eight in the morning?” George groaned.

“They threatened Brad Pitt!” said Fred sounding genuinely outraged. “Now where is that owl?”





Near eight in the morning, in the cottage in the outskirts of Devon, Hermione was lifted bodily from her bed and set on her feet before her eyes even blinked open.

Meanwhile, for the first time in years and years, Draco was ambushed by both parents in his bedroom and for the first time ever, was roused so roughly a yelled profanity echoed through the still morning air of Chablis.

Shoes were slapped onto Hermione’s feet. “Ow, Fred! Are you trying to break my ankle?”

Draco got slugged on his arm. “Ow, Mother! You hit like a man!”

“What is this?” said Hermione. “Why are you manhandling me and why is my daughter here to witness it?”

“What is this?” said Draco. “Why are you manhandling me and why is my daughter here to witness it?”

Callie grabbed her mother’s hand.

Lia grabbed her father’s hand.

Fred and George looked at their watches.

Lucius and Narcissa turned to look at the clock on Draco’s mantel.

And then Fred handed Hermione a key. “Have a nice holiday. Happy Yule!”

Lucius closed his son’s fist on a key. “A gift from your mother and me. Use it well, won’t you?”





They arrived in a whirlwind of green and blue and white. When the colours stilled, Draco and Hermione blinked at the darkness. Where they’d come from, it had still been the dark of night. Here, it was truly... night.

They saw each other at the same time in the moonlight. Hermione opened her mouth to speak and then averted her eyes. Draco would have realised he was wearing nothing but his boxers if he wasn’t so thoroughly distracted by Hermione in that same red nightgown that had lived behind his eyelids since he’d seen her in it last.

They grew aware of Callie and Lia switching places and switching faces just then. The girls shuddered and clutched at their respective parent’s hands as the Polyjuice’s magic expired. And then they grinned up at their mother and father.

“There was a change of plans.”

“We were all supposed to be dressed and packed.”

“But Grandfather thought you two shouldn’t be given a chance to guess at things...”

Their grins slowly faded when they didn’t elicit the reactions they’d expected.

Draco and Hermione exchanged smirks. Callie and Lia exchanged frowns.

“You’re not surprised?” said Lia.

“No,” said Draco and Hermione together.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I didn’t serve a whole roast chicken last night?” said Hermione, speaking to the girl on Draco’s side. “It’s always what I make for Christmas Eve. But I happened to have been told you’re very sensitive to that sort of thing.”

“And didn’t you wonder why I didn’t ask you to play the piano?” said Draco, speaking to the girl on Hermione’s side. “I knew you’re a sculptor, not a musician.”

Draco and Hermione laughed as the girls spluttered like fish out of water.

“I hope you ate your fill in France, Lia. You’ve lost weight.”

“I had to explain things to your mare, Callie. She misses you.”

“Who told you?” Lia wailed.

“You did,” said Draco. “When you laughed after throwing up. Callie couldn’t have done that. She’d have thrown up again after throwing up and kept on going until she had nothing left to heave and we can finally take the taste out of her mouth and the embarrassment out of her system. Would take a Cheering Charm as well as a Draught of Peace.”

“And Lia never sips water. Or anything, really. She hates washing off the taste of food in her mouth when she’s not yet done eating. And when she drinks, she guzzles and gulps. She always waits for her tea or milk to cool so she could tip the mug or goblet into her mouth and put it down empty.” Hermione shook her head. “We’re your parents. Did you really think you could fool us? You need another monster-like thing to distract us enough first.”

Callie and Lia pouted. By silent agreement, they ran off, their nightgowns billowing behind them.

“Um, should we be letting them do that?” said Hermione. “Where are they going? Where are we?”

Draco had already recognised the house the girls were running to. And the garden they were standing in. He could even smell the salt in the air. When he looked at Hermione, she seemed to be catching on as well. Her hand had flown to her mouth.

Hermione couldn’t help gasping. She looked at the shadowed palm trees and took note of the slap of the wind on her skin. It was a particular and unmistakeable type of breeze. An ocean breeze. She looked at Draco, and by the wry twist of his grin, she knew he was also remembering that long-ago conversation in the Hogwarts Express.

“It seems you don’t always win the Improbable Scenarios game after all.”

We’re in Belize?

“With our twins.”
Chapter Endnotes: Additional: Edited last part because I forgot timezones! Duh. UK is six hours ahead of Belize in winter. Ooh, Belize! Even without knowing about it, you can still guess that it’s a pretty country just because of the name, right? I had to stop here because I have to do research... I’ve never been to Belize (or anywhere else, really). ;)

We’ve been back in the outline since ‘Uh-oh’, btw. After the cliffy in the last chapter, the next scenes were supposed to be a relief from those cliffies. The scene I was holding in my head was that of C and T weaselling their way out with aplomb *coughluckcough*.

But that bit of train dialogue just plopped onto my lap when I finally sat down to write after days and days of mooning over Queen’s Thief and our reserved seats at the cinema for DH Part 2. Dammit. My concentration was shot and went from bad to worse because of the premiere... The story seemed to know this and decided to hook me in with that bit.

Writing is such a pain in the ass most of the time but these magic moments of inspiration more than make up for that, don’t they? ;) We all owe that bit for this whole chapter getting written in one day! If this seems fragmented, it might be because I was writing so fast before the inspiration ghosted away again. I still let this sit overnight of course and I think it’s still in my usual style of plonking scenes in there without preamble and unnecessary twaddle...

And the ones in trouble in the last chapter? That was Draco and Hermione, not Callie and Lia, haha. The wrath of the mothers.

Yule in the Yucatan Part Two coming right up! Thanks for reading! Please review!