October 2, 1998

It took her far too long to realize what was happening. Calandra tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled to herself. Far too long. She'd had the headaches and the strange dreams for months before she understood what they were.

"That's old age, for you I guess." She said to the wall.


February 6, 1994

Calandra was puzzled at the dreams she'd been having. Her headaches weren't as bad as before, but they still pounded behind her temples. When they faded away Calandra would drift off to sleep and dream those strange dreams.

She lay in the bed and stared at the white ceiling, thinking about the dream she'd just had. She'd been standing in the flat, singing an old Air Supply song. That song had been on the radio all the time. She was stirring something, maybe soup, and dancing about the kitchen.

Calandra watched herself in her dream. Her hair was wild. It looked like she hadn't even run a comb through it. She seemed softer somehow; as if someone had taken a paintbrush and smoothed all her edges. Her eyes looked bigger than they did when she caught her reflection in the water of the tub, and the small details she always noticed about herself didn't seem to be here in this dream. Other details stood out instead.

The Calandra in the dream turned back over her shoulder and smiled a devastating smile at whatever stood there. Calandra was awestruck by the look on her own face. She reached out a hand to touch the dream version of herself, but the dream dissolved into fog before she got the chance.


February 27, 1994

The healer didn't speak very much, now. She came into the room, cast her diagnostics, gave Calandra potions, and left. Calandra didn't try to make conversation. There was nothing she could say to the old woman that she hadn't said before.

She stared at the potions on the bedside table and thought back to when she'd asked the witch why she was keeping her here. The conversation would be one she took to the grave.

"So, is my magic all better?" Calandra asked.

"It's healing nicely." The healer said. "It'll probably never be what it was, you can't exercise it. But it's coming along."

"Doesn't that go against what the hospital is all about?" Calandra quipped. "Shouldn't you be encouraging me to practice?"

"In your case," the healer said. "No."

"Why is my case different?" Calandra asked.

The healer looked shrewdly at Calandra.

"Dumbledore informed me of your condition upon arrival. It is my duty to ensure the safety of my staff and the other patients."

"So, it's because I'm part Siren?" she asked. "That's it?"

"That's it?" the healer repeated, a bit incredulous. "What? Do you think it's just a case of Mumblemumps? You shouldn't even be here."

"Then let me go." Calandra said.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to." The healer said. "Your father's donation to the hospital has paid for the renovation of six wards."

"Besides," the healer went on. "Dumbledore gave me strict orders to keep you here."

"And he's the boss of you, is he?" Calandra spat.

"I recommended snipping your vocal cords." The healer fixed a cold gaze on Calandra. "Would you rather we go that route?"

Calandra was silent for a few moments. If her father knew the healer's intentions, he probably would've given her the go ahead on it.

"If I let you do that, will you let me go?" Calandra asked quietly.

The healer looked up in surprise. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned down in disgust.

"It's not my decision to make." She said and walked out the door.

She'd have gone through with it, too. If there was a guarantee they'd let her out, she'd have done it herself. But her father would never let her out. Not even if she was silenced.


March 13, 1994

Calandra paced the room. Eight steps across. Eight steps back. She thought of Remus. Some of the strange dreams had him in them. Times and places where she couldn't remember being, but were so real, she could swear she'd lived them before.

Him falling asleep on the sofa in the common room with things piled on him, walking back up from the Whomping Willow, sitting at a desk in class whispering to his friends. Calandra tried to remember the specifics of those times and places but couldn't get her brain to cooperate with her. So, she thought of things she could remember about her friend.

He'd had a soft spot for Dorcas. Calandra didn't know what it was about her, but Dorcas could always squeak by without him being cross with her.

He was absolute shit at Arithmancy that first year. It had taken him forever to get the hang of those formulas.

He took great pride in pranking Peeves.

Filch was the one who gave him most of his detentions. The teachers mostly felt sorry for him but Filch granted him no leniency.

He always went easy on her when they dueled, and she hated it. It made her so angry that she'd hit him with stinging hexes to piss him off and make him fight her.

He liked sitting by the lake at school but didn't care for going into the forest.

He let her pierce his ear to win a bet with Peter and James sixth year. She'd healed it a few days later, but for a couple days he wore a fetching dangly silver hoop.

They'd tried to teach Sirius how to drive his mother's old car once. It had been a disaster. They had ended up in a ditch after driving the wrong way through the little town and Remus had talked his way out of trouble with the traffic wardens. He'd said that he was trying to teach his simpleton cousin how to drive because it had been his greatest wish. Sirius was sputtering and flustered, and they'd believed Remus.

When she made steaks, she cooked his medium rare, even though he usually preferred rare. She knew that he hated the fact he liked them that way.

He'd never treated her any different than any of his other friends because of what she was.

He liked The Rolling Stones and always sang along to the Bee Gees.

He'd offered to walk her down the aisle if she ever got married. She'd laughed and told him if the day ever came, she'd make him wear solid gold robes and one of McGonagall's dress hats.

His hair had started to go grey at the temples about a year after they left school. He hated it. Calandra said it was distinguished. They'd gone out to the pub that night and a couple of pretty young girls had chatted him up, so they called him a silver fox for weeks afterward.

He was always scared that people would cast him aside. Because of what he was.

He never forgot her birthday. Even if all he sent was a simple card, he always remembered.

He'd used the mirrors Sirius and James had charmed to call her the first time he babysat Harry. He'd begged her to come over and help him properly do up the nappy. Harry had peed on the sofa and on Remus and on the cat before she got there and showed him how to fix it.

He'd never answered any of her letters after he and Sirius had fought that night at Godric's Hollow.

She'd missed him terribly. Every time Abba would come back home with no letter, her heart would break a little more.

She pressed her forehead against the wall and swallowed the grief that washed over her. He held such a special place in her heart. He was the first person she'd willingly and intentionally shared her secret with. He was the person that intertwined her life with Sirius. He was the person who understood how she felt about what she was. And she would probably never see him again.


March 30, 1994

She held her breath and waited for the pain to subside. It didn't last as long as it used to. There were even some days when she could go hours without feeling the pounding in her head. Those were the days she tried to figure out how to leave that blasted room.

She couldn't think of anything new to try. No complicated schemes or grand escape plans. Her head hurt too much to think about it for too long, so she just tried all the things she'd tried before.

She hid behind the door and held it so it wouldn't close, but when she tried to step through the doorway she could only get as far as the frame. Some invisible barrier kept her inside. She tried pulling the toilet and the sink up in the bathroom, but they wouldn't budge. She didn't really think they would. She'd managed to get the sink up in the bathroom once and had rammed the door with it repeatedly hoping to bust it open, but all she'd managed to do was bash the porcelain to bits.

She used the bedside table to break off a chunk of the bathtub and spent weeks scraping away at the wall around the door, trying to get out. The healer was impressed with that one. She hadn't huffed or sighed or anything when she figured it out. She'd just repaired the tub and placed unbreakable spells on it.

Calandra ran her hands along the walls and hummed to herself, sifting through previous escape attempts in her mind and wondering which one might actually have half a chance of working this go around. None of them seemed to jump out at her.


April 9, 1994

The dreams continued. They were especially vivid when she'd nod off during the day. She could almost figure them out then, so Calandra kept herself awake as long as she could, so she'd have a better chance at examining the dreams. The only problem with that, was it sent her right back to those weeks she couldn't sleep, after Dorcas's death.

She was right back outside that small house with those huge windows. Calandra knew what was coming. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't bear to watch it again. Dorcas's screams filled her head and she pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the sounds. She held herself through the screams and waited for the other dreams. If she could make it through the awful ones, she could figure out the others.

Thankfully, the screams faded away and new sounds took their place. Calandra studied her surroundings and tried to make sense of the dream. She was in a bedroom. Quidditch posters lined the walls and two beds sat on either side of a window. Each bed had a small figure lying in it, covered up with a fluffy duvet.

Calandra walked forward and peered down at the sleeping figures. One of them rolled over and Calandra stopped in her tracks. She was looking down at James Potter. He was about thirteen, his hair was sticking up every which way, long lanky arms spread out across the bed, his glasses crooked on his face. Calandra drew her brows together and glanced around the room. Why was she dreaming about this? She didn't even really know James back then.

She looked over to the second bed to find Sirius curled up there. She took a step toward him just as the door opened. Euphemia Potter walked in and checked on each bed. Calandra peered around her as she tucked James's covers around him, and found herself looking into a small grey eye only half open. Euphemia turned back towards Sirius's bed and he closed his eyes very quickly. Euphemia ran her hand across the dark hair that fanned out over his pillow and tucked the covers around him

"Sleep tight, my boys." She whispered and left the room.

Calandra stayed where she was, staring down at him. He'd opened his eyes again, and was staring up at the ceiling. Calandra reached out a hand and tried to touch him, but her fingers just sank right through his hair as if she was nothing more than mist. She drew her hand back and gazed at the look on his face. His smile was the loveliest thing in the world. His eyes fluttered closed and Calandra watched as his breathing evened out.

The dream suddenly grew hazy and Calandra found herself surrounded by fog again. She tried to wave it away, but it grew thicker and thicker until she couldn't see anything else. Why couldn't she get back to them? Calandra tried to banish the fog in her dream. She ran, looking for a wall or a door. There was nothing. She was stuck there, until the fog completely enveloped her. Then she woke up.

She lifted her head from her knees and rubbed her eyes. Why had she dreamed that dream? It didn't make any sense. She wasn't friends with Sirius or James back then, she wasn't even friends with Remus. Most of her dreams centered around places in time she wished she could go back to. Memories she played over and over in her-

Memories.

Most of her dreams were her memories.

There was no way she could have remembered that scenario. She hadn't even lived it. But Sirius had. They weren't her memories; they were his.

She laughed out loud. These were the memories; the memories he'd given her. She could finally see them. She leant her head back against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't going crazy.

She closed her eyes and smiled. She'd take every headache that came her way if she could see the rest of them. She wanted to see every single one he gave her. Calandra hummed softly to herself as she let her mind wander over the possibilities of what she'd see. She had a connection to him again.