AN: Hey everyone!!! I want to clear a few things up before the story starts. Okay. Sirius is nineteen, and he's been out of Hogwarts for two years. Callandra has been out for only one year- she's eighteen. The reason I chose the name "Callandra" is because in Greek it means "Singing Bird", which is the appropriate name for her. "Alethea" is from the Greek name Althea, which means healing, but it is of English origin, meaning "True", which Alethea certainly is. The name Papadimitrou is Greek, pronounced, Papa-di-me-tree-oh. Her father is obviously Greek, because his name is "Nick", which is an incredibly popular Greek name. I based the character of Callandra off of myself, and Alethea after my alter ego. I share a lot with Callandra, (it was unintentional, but after I wrote the chapter, I basically realized I was writing myself) including my talent for singing, but my shyness for displaying it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! BTW, I have highlighted the chorus of the song in bold so that it's easier to read. Yes, I did write it myself. Toodles!!!
"Before you say yes to her,
Listen to what I tell,
That girl has something up her sleeve,
Don't fall under her spell!
I've seen her with some other boys,
I know what she can do,
She'll eat your heart for breakfast,
Then she'll walk all over you!
Oh, she's a minx,
She knows a hex or two,
Don't get too cosy with that sphinx,
Or the jinx----- will be on you.
I know her smile may be pretty,
Her eyes like midnight magic,
But looks can be deceiving,
The truth, let's have it!
Oh, she's a minx!
She knows a hex or two,
Don't get too cosy with that sphinx,
Or the jinx----- will be on you.
Her witchcraft comes in handy,
She knows her tricks real well,
But don't cave into her voodoo,
'Cause it's your heart you're gonna sell!
Oh, she's a minx,
She knows a hex or two,
Don't get to cosy with that sphinx,
Or the jinx------ the jinx---- will be on you-------!"
A pretty young witch belted out her last note, embellishing it with a difficult vibrato. With a final beat on the drum, she ended her song. The bar instantly erupted in applause. Bouquets were conjured and she was bombarded with flowers of all varieties and shrill wolf whistles. Modestly, she curtsied and waved at everyone in the bar before hopping off of the low platform she was standing on and walking quickly down the rickety hallway to the room she had lived in for seven months. She unlocked an old, black walnut door with a gold number 7 gleaming on the front and she ducked inside, shutting and bolting the door behind her. She had had a singing gig here at the Leaky Cauldron for several months now. Old Tom, the bartender, had asked her to stay on and sing every Friday night for room, board, and a small salary almost since she first got out of Hogwarts a year ago. She smiled thinking of her sweet, old friend.
Back during the summer before her seventh year, she desperately needed money to buy her school books, and Tom had hired her to be a barmaid and a dishwasher, and stay at the pub until she could pay her way into school. One day, after the dinner crowd had cleared out, she was in the back washing dishes.
Flashback
"I dropped a bit of fairy dust inside the pot,
Swirled it around till it was good an' hot,
One drop,
Two drop,
I'm makin' a love potion!"
She was rinsing a plate of hummus that a Middle Eastern wizard had requested, (and she had painstakingly made to fit his specifications) and singing an old diddy along with the Wizarding Wireless Network. Singing always made the work pass by more pleasantly, (even if it was hummus). She wiped the rim dry just as she sang the final verse.
"I'm makin' a love potion!"
She set the dry dish on top of her mounting stack, and just as she was picking up another plate, she was startled when she heard clapping behind her. In her astonishment, she dropped the china, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Fumbling with her wand in her apron pocket, she pointed that at the shards of glass that were scattered on the floor.
"Reparo," she stuttered, picking the repaired dish off of the floor and placing it in the soap suds that were filled up in the sink. Then she turned nervously to face her employer.
"Sir, I-I didn't know anyone else was in here," she said, throwing out a feeble excuse.
"You have a delightful voice, Miss Papadimitrou! Simply delightful!" gushed Tom.
"I-I just like singing along with the radio, that's all. My mom's a singer," she replied automatically. The first part wasn't true. She wanted to grow up and be a star like Celestina Warbeck, charming everyone's hearts with her jazz and sweet love songs.
"But why let such a beautiful voice wither away, with no one to hear it? When we have a gift, Miss Papadimitrou, we are awfully stingy if we don't share it with others! Especially if it's value is ever abundant!" he reasoned, flashing a sweet, toothless grin at her.
"I suppose so," she murmured, avoiding his eyes.
"Why don't you sing this Friday night? I can't seem to book anyone, and the last time I had no entertainment on Friday night, half of the pub had vacated by eleven, and I would almost guarantee they all disappeared to that establishment run by Rosmerta in Hogsmeade," he wheedled her persuasively. She cursed his ability to send her on an impressive guilt trip.
"I couldn't!" she blurted. He looked at her knowingly.
"Well, I guess I could, but-" she trailed off, looking at the floor again.
"But what?" he chuckled. "You're afraid that someone will think you're good?" She laughed a little. It did seem so silly that she objected when he put it that way. Tom strode slowly across the room from the door and coaxed her quietly.
"Callandra," he said in a firm, but understanding voice. "We're all scared of something. But if we face what we fear, then we cross one more thing off of our list of things that we're afraid of!" he now held her unwilling eyes in a steady gaze.
"Will you sing one song for me?" he asked her seriously. She looked at him unsurely, fidgeting with her apron as if it would delay the inevitable moment where she would either appease him or let him down. Her mouth opened as if to give consent, but she seemed to reel it back in. She let out a heavy sigh.
"One song?" she asked tentatively.
"One song," he assured her. She was silent for several moments more. She turned her back to him and picked up a dish and began to scrub it.
"Alright then," she agreed softly.
End Flashback
Callandra sat at her vanity examining her face in the mirror. She contentedly sighed at her reflection, and began slowly and steadily removing the hair pins out of the mass of strawberry curls she had piled on the back of her head. She hummed a Celestina Warbeck song under her breath as she began taking off her jewelry, starting with her pearl earrings, then a gold bracelet and finally, a large gold locket that hung from a long, fine chain under her robes. She shook her hair out contentedly, running her fingers through it and pulling it down to it's natural length at the small of her back. She was about to get up when a flash of color caught her eye. She looked back into the mirror. Tucked into the corners were photographs; the one in the bottom left hand corner was of her and her best friend, Alethea. They were donned in black school robes with blue and gray scarves and hats advertising their house high up in the Quidditch stands; Alethea winked at her in true Alethea-style. In the upper right corner was a photograph of herself, reading a book. She watched as she nuzzled her feet underneath a blanket and flipped a page in front of the fire. But in the bottom right hand corner was a picture of two middle-aged people. The picture was still; it was obviously not a wizard photograph.
Her face had altered: her brow was furrowed and her lips were curled into a decidedly sad frown. Her eyes filled. She reached for the locket that she had just discarded on the small dressing table. She pried the two windows apart. On the left, a man identical to that in the other picture was situated. Her father grinned at her; the picture had been taken when she was thirteen and they had been on summer holiday in Italy. Her father had strawberry gelato smeared across his cheek, and the Coliseum was just visible from behind his head. Opposite him was a woman, whose bold pearly whites seemed to light up the entire photograph. Her mother smiled at her cheekily, her confidence evident through the picture just as it had been in real life. Tenderly, Callandra kissed each of them and whispered "Good-night," before closing it together again. She could almost see the two pictures kissing each other on the inside. She blew out the candle on her dresser and pulled her dress over her head. She laid it over the top of the dressing screen and withdrew from her closet an ivory floor-length cotton nightgown that seemed to slip over her skin like cream. She crawled beneath her fresh, crisp sheets and blew out the candle on her bedside.
She could not stop thinking of her parents. Her mom had been a singer at a restaurant in London for as long as she could remember. Katerina Reynolds had always wanted to sing, and when she turned eighteen she moved to the city and began auditioning for every musical that was holding them. She gained a lot of experience and plenty of good feedback, but directors complained that she couldn't dance well enough, or they needed a soprano, not an alto. While she still remained hopeful, she learned one day how tough a business show biz really was. She had walked in on her rival giving the casting director... shall we call them "pleasing attentions"? Anyway, she was fed up and decided that she was just going to sing in a restaurant until she could get through all the nonsense they were throwing at her. And it was there that she met Callandra's father.
Nick Papadimitrou was an ambitious young waiter who wanted to own his own restaurant one day, working evening shifts to pay for his tuition in cooking school, and he caught the pretty vocalist's eye after spilling a loaded tray of plum pudding, roast, calamari and Sheppard's pie on her only black dress. After they worked the issue out, he worked up the courage to ask the strong, vivacious singer on a date.Three years later they were sitting on the floor playing with their daughter. She remembered the first time they had come to watch her sing at the Leaky Cauldron. After Tom assured her that she only had to sing one song, word must have spread through the grapevine, and someone, (she highly suspected Alethea) must have owled her parents and assisted them into the pub. It wasn't until she was through, and they had enveloped her in a tight embrace that she even discovered they were there.
"We didn't want to make you nervous, sweetie," her father explained.
"I was nervous already," she had laughed in response, squeezing her parents tightly. It was that night that they gave her the locket. On the front her initials were engraved. Her memory traced over the smooth lines. CMP. A tear leaked from her eye and ran down her cheek. She missed them so much! If only they could see her now.
Sirius Black leant back in his chair, legs propped up on his desk. He had been out of Hogwarts now for two years; and what had he to show for it? Hardly anything at all. During days he worked an easy desk job at Gringotts, and at night he trained to become and Auror. Then he slept, and started all over again. This was most definitely not how he had imagined his life after school.Somehow, he had picture that he'd rent a flat and BAM! suddenly he'd be an Auror and everything would fall into place. But he still had 6 months of rigorous training to complete. James and Lily had gotten married month before last; Sirius hardly saw his best friend anymore. Peter was now an errand boy for the village of Hogsmeade, and Remus worked two jobs: at Flourish and Blotts by day, and at a Muggle grocery store in the evening. Sure, there was the occasional exciting mission for the Order of the Phoenix, and of course there were meetings where he got to catch up with his mates a bit, but he missed his Hogwarts days. He smiled as he reminisced. Lounging by the lake, pranking unsuspecting second years, romping with Moony and Prongs in the moonlight, and girl he wanted... Merlin! He hadn't had a date since right before he turned eighteen!
"So that's what's so bloody wrong with me," he muttered. "I haven't had a good snog for over a year!"
He couldn't even enjoy the free tickets he got from James all the time, (he was a seeker for the Tornadoes) because his job consumed so much of his time. He felt frustrated; shouldn't he be somewhere by now? His best mate was married with his dream job and rolling in gold, while he toiled away with training and counting rubies for old ladies. It didn't seem right! He was nineteen, for crying out loud! His life should have direction by now!
Sirius furrowed his brow. He whipped his legs off of his desk, and tucked the chair in. Pulling off his robes, he stuffed them into a tattered old bag and pulled on a leather jacket in it's stead. He grabbed his keys off the table and tossed them in the air, before dropping them in his pocket.
"Thank Merlin it's Friday," he muttered grumpily to himself. No Auror training tonight, and he got to sleep in tomorrow. Flicking off the lamps with his wand, he locked his office door and began walking quickly across the polished marble floors and out into the fresh evening air. He jogged past all the closed shops and made his way into the crowded Leaky Cauldron. A woman's voice met his ears. Damn! she's fine! Sirius thought to himself, listening to her singing. Her voice isn't bad either! In fact, it was great!
"Oh, she's a minx,
She knows a hex or two,
Don't get too cosy with that sphinx,
Or the jinx---- the jinx------will be on you!
He paused on his way towards the door that led into London. Instead, he stopped and listened to the voice in his head. There, Sirius. You talk about wanting a date and a beautiful, talented girl appears! Just go ask her if she'd like to have dinner tomorrow night! Sirius started pushing through the crowd.
"Excuse me- yeah, I need through- thanks! -pardon- ouch! watch the toes!" he exclaimed. At last he reached the front, only to find that his potential date had-
"She's gone!" he said angrily.
After all that he had put up with that day, the first sign of a relief comes and is pulled out from under him. Shaking his head, he parts the crowd more easily and heads out the door. He locates his motorbike and gets on it, before taking off and letting the wind blow through his hair, (the first good thing that actually happened to him that day).
AN: What'd you think? I would really appreciate feedback if you want to give it, and if not, that's cool too. Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!