A/N: Revision 2.1: Calixte has existed for a long time as a roleplaying character and a Hufflepuff. The whole Gryffindor-Slytherin rivarly thing, though fun, is a bit overdone, so I switched her back to her original house and made some corrections to reflect that. I also more accurately defined the timeline, making this take place during OotP with Calix being a year older than the central characters. Also had some issues with verb agreements left over from an earlier draft. Hope you guys like it.
The copper lamps cast a homey glow over the otherwise dank Hufflepuff dormitories, morning invisible from the cellar dorms. Potted plants flourished on nearly every surface. The pleasant hum of activity filled the room as its occupants dressed for the day, chatting about classes to come. Beds were made with haphazard care only to be rumpled again by girls sitting to pull on their tights.
Calixte woke with a start, breathing hard, sweat soaking her pajamas. She had dreamt of terrible things again, things she could not name. Shaken, she got up, tied her dressing gown around her waist, and headed for the bathrooms. She needed a bath. Her nightmare came back to her in flashes, and it was one she had had many times.
She is running. She is alone. Terror and despair grip her, their intensity remaining even after she wakes.
She settled into the warm water with a sigh. She had a free period in the morning, meaning she had the bathroom to herself.
They are after her. She sees her mother, arms outstretched, calling out to her. Her mother's face holds affection, something Calixte has never seen on her. She finds her mother's embrace and it is so inviting. She feels safe. And then her mother twists in agony as she is sliced asunder by an unseen assassin…
Calixte splashed her bathwater over her face to rouse herself and washed her long sable curls in the suds. She stepped out, dripping, and braced herself for the oncoming day.
...
Calixte shifted in bed. She was sitting upright, propped against the headboard, and had been for some time. Her eyelids were not even the smallest bit heavy. She did not feel drowsy; she felt restless.
She shifted again and frowned. One of her roommates murmured softly in her sleep.
Sighing, Calixte leaned forward in bed, checking to see if anyone else was awake. As she forced her senses into acuity, she fingered the edge of her ugly patchwork quilt. She peered into the darkness, ears piqued to the slightest sound. She saw nothing but the rise and fall of steady breathing, heard nothing but the tranquil hush of sleeping bodies.
Quietly as she could—for she could be very quiet—Calixte stood, changed into her uniform, foregoing her sweater and tie, and picked up her shoes by their utilitarian straps. She could be much stealthier without the clunky, childish things. She had hated them since she first saw them, six years ago on Diagon Alley.
She slipped out of her room and made her way up out of the cellar, following hall after staircase, flagstones chilling her sock-feet. The halls were dimly lit at best and deserted. She liked being this alone. Part of her wished the whole world was like nighttime, people sleeping their lives away like Rip Van Winkle, while Calixte is living day to day in complete peace and solitude. Life would be so much easier that way, she thought to herself. Ah, well. Being nocturnal will have to do.
She made her way up one last staircase before the library. Paintings dozed on either side of her, some snoring, some muttering unintelligibly. She had the way memorized and her night vision was better than most, so a Lumos charm was rather unnecessary. She stepped off the last step, sat down, and put on her shoes, thinking it would look a little odd at this point. Also, her feet were getting rather cold.
And then, footsteps. She froze, ready to flee. Closer the footsteps came, brisk, unmerciful. She peeked cautiously around the corner, eyes wide. She saw immaculate white-blonde hair and Slytherin robes. Malfoy, she breathed. As she stood and turned on her heel to make her escape, a familiar voice rang out.
"You! I saw you. No sense running away now."
Calixte stopped and grimaced, defeated. He may not know her name, but he was in her Charms class, and he would probably recognize her the next day.
"Now, what exactly are you doing out of your dormitory at this hour?" he demanded when he caught up with her.
"I could ask the same of you," she snapped, defiant. "I was headed to the library. What are you doing out, anyway? I have insomnia. What's your excuse?"
His face softened into puzzlement. "What's 'insomnia?' Is that a Muggle thing?"
"I guess so," Calixte shrugged. "I just can't sleep."
"Ah. You're pretty for a Mudblood," he jeered.
Before she could stop herself, Calixte found her open palm flying through the air and connecting with Malfoy's face.
Malfoy flushed scarlet with rage, eyes watering. His hand shot out, grabbed a fistful of her robe, and threw her against the side of the staircase. He drew his wand, pushing it threateningly into her stomach.
"Fucking bitch," Malfoy hissed.
Meanwhile, Calixte's hand crept into the folds of her robe and closed around her wand. "Expelliarmus," she breathed.
Malfoy's wand clattered across the stones. Grinning maliciously, he reached out and wrenched her wand from her, tossing it aside.
Panic welled in the pit of Calixte's stomach. She swung wildly at Malfoy, striking him about the chest and shoulders.
He seemed to watch her for a moment before catching her wrists and slamming them against the stones, moving closer to still her with his weight. She whimpered in pain and fear.
"I'll teach you a fucking lesson," he warned. "And don't even think about screaming."
And then he leaned down and bit her hard on the neck. Calixte yelped, knees going weak. He slipped both wrists into one hand and held her head steady with the other as he kissed her, surprisingly gentle, tongue tracing the inside of her lips. Calixte suddenly felt strange. Her terror began to dissipate and her body gave way. The urge to run left her. And she wanted him. Her hands wriggled in his grasp, only wanting to be free so they could pull him closer.
He pulled away, looking into her unearthly blue eyes. Where he expected fear, he only saw desire. Intrigued, he asked, "Are you… enjoying this?"
Calixte said nothing, averting her gaze.
"Do you want more, you little slut?" he teased, smirking.
She nodded slowly, eyes downcast.
Without warning, his hand plunged between her legs, feeling the heat and wetness of her. "You do like this," he remarked. In response, she moaned softly, eyes closing.
"No. You look at me," Malfoy demanded. The hand that had been occupied in her knickers darted up and grabbed her face. "I want to see those lovely eyes of yours as I make you mine." She obeyed.
"Please, let go of my hands," she pleaded. Malfoy clicked his tongue—"tsk tsk tsk"—and shook his head, admonishing her.
His hand slid up and down the outside of her thigh, teasing. He slipped her robe off her shoulders, and it landed in a pile on the floor. Malfoy cupped her breast through her shirt and nipped at the soft skin of her neck, Calixte sighing into his hair. His nimble fingers did away with the buttons of her blouse with ease, even one-handed as he was, and he kissed the tops of her breasts, unhooking her bra and throwing it aside. Leaning back, he took in the sight of her, creamy skin bare from the waist-up. And then, he devoured her smoothness, tongue flicking her nipples. She arched against him, groaning with pleasure. Everything was happening so fast. She'd never felt so alive, so free of thought. One of his hands ventured to her knickers, delving into them and touching her in her most private places. She moaned outright, surprising herself. He kissed her greedily, tongue probing. He moved inch by inch down her body, gracefully separating her hands and bringing them back together at the small of her back. His lips were caressing the velvety skin of her stomach when he stopped abruptly. He placed one of her long legs over his shoulder, allowing her skirt to pool at her waist. He freed her of her knickers, letting them slide with painful slowness down to the floor. Instinctively her knees went together as best they could. He pulled them apart and touched her in between her thighs, slowly sliding one finger into her. Her hips bucked and she moaned again. His mouth lowered onto her wetness, teasing her with his lips and tongue. His finger found a steady pace and was soon joined by another. She was screaming silently, in complete ecstasy but trying to remain quiet. She felt an unfamiliar tingling feeling that spread from her womanhood down her legs and throughout her body. And then, she came, her insides spasming around Malfoy's fingers.
He set her down and stood up, a peculiar smile on his face.
"Are you ready?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Calixte nodded, still shaky from her last climax.
He unzipped his slacks and took out his member. It was painfully hard and Calixte found herself drawn to it. Before she could touch it, Malfoy lifted her up and plunged into her.
She cried out in mixed pain and pleasure, her legs and arms wrapping around him.
"Are you alright?" he checked.
"Yes. Please, don't stop," she whimpered.
He pumped into her again. She groaned as softly as she could.
As he gained speed, Calixte found herself reaching another peak. Suddenly she found herself turned around, bare breasts pressed to the stones. Draco bent her over, wrists still bound by his strong hand, and slid inside her once again. He thrusted hard, and she nearly cried out, her voice stifled by biting her own lip. She felt she was losing control, spiraling into something blindly primal. And then she could hold on no longer.
"Draco," she purred as she came around him.
"Calix," he answered, joining her.
Even in the haze of her climax, she was surprised to hear her nickname from his lips.