May 17, 1994

Calandra drank the potions and sat on the edge of the bed. The headaches eased off a bit. Sometimes they were nothing more than a soft ache at the back of her mind, but they always came back with a vengeance.

They puzzled her, those headaches. Why were they just happening now? Was it because her magic was getting stronger? Was it because those memories weren't really her memories and her mind was trying to push them out? Were they just intruders her brain was trying to fight?

She didn't have any of the answers to those questions, and most of the time she was too focused on trying to control the memories to care. But sometimes, late at night, she wondered. She'd lay in bed and stare at the ceiling and try to work out different possibilities. But she never figured it out.


July 12, 1994

Calandra hummed softly to herself, trying to figure out the tune that swam through all the brief glimpses of memories that flashed in her mind. She paced the room and ran her fingers along the wall, trying to piece together bits of melody.

It wasn't something that reminded her of her mother. Her mother preferred more upbeat music. Music she could dance to. This wasn't very fast. The song that floated through those memories was slower, more mellow.

It wasn't anything that Alice played. She had very specific tastes. She preferred Elton John, and only listened to other music when Calandra played it and sang along.

It wasn't rock. It wasn't the Rolling Stones or Pink Floyd or Zeppelin. It was smooth and a bit twangy. Far too tame for those bands.

Calandra hummed a bit of it again and pursed her lips. It wasn't Queen. It wasn't nearly complicated enough to be one of their songs. None of that fanfare or anything. Whatever it was, was simple and beautiful.

It wasn't the Exile song they played over and over. Good Godric, Sirius had played that song all the time. Calandra shook her head at the memory.

"You know, we do have other albums." Calandra said, putting plates away in the cupboard.

"Why play any of those when this one has the perfect song on it?" Sirius asked, setting the needle on the record again.

"I wouldn't call this the perfect song." Calandra laughed.

Sirius moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her, swaying along to the music.

"But it is perfect. Just listen." He said and sang along to the music.

"Gonna wrap my arms around you." He gave her a smirk.

"Hold you close to me." He leant in and kissed her, singing against her lips.

"Wanna taste your lips, wanna be your fantasy."

Calandra laughed against his mouth and pulled back, twirling him around.

"Do you really like the song that much or are you just gunning for a shag?" she asked.

"Both." He winked.

Calandra laughed and he spun them around, waltzing all through the kitchen.

She smiled and bit her lip. It wasn't that song, but she almost wished it was.


July 30, 1994

Calandra ran her finger over the calendar. There were small smudges on the corners of most of the squares from where she'd put bits of soap to mark the different days. The healer hadn't given her a magical calendar; she was still using the one she'd asked for years ago, but Calandra thought she'd counted right. She couldn't quite remember much of anything between her father's response to her letter and last year, but even if she miscounted, she'd only be a year off. That wasn't so bad, all things considering.

It was Neville's birthday today. He was a teenager now. Calandra traced her fingers over the letters that made up the word July on the calendar. She wondered what kind of cake Alice was baking him. Did Frank show Neville how to fling those cards and hit the gnomes in their garden, yet?

Calandra pressed her lips together and stared at the page.

Did Alice ever tell him stories of her? Did she show him any of the pictures of himself as a little baby reaching out for Calandra? Did he even know she ever existed? Or did Alice keep her hidden; his godmother he never really knew? Did it cause too much pain to show him the pictures or the paintings or the sketches?

She could understand if it did. If she were in Alice's spot, Calandra didn't know if she could look at pictures without crying. It was ok if Neville didn't know her more than a name that was mentioned in passing. It was ok if he didn't know his nursery was painted by her. It was ok if he didn't know she used to sing him to sleep and bounce him on her knee. It was ok if he didn't know he used to reach for her when she swirled through the fireplace.

"It's ok." She told herself as tears slid down her nose.

He was safe and it was ok.


August 21, 1994

The healer was scribbling on parchment when she came into the room. Calandra looked at her with curiosity. She didn't usually bring anything but the potions these days. Calandra craned her neck to try to see what the parchments were, but couldn't tell.

"Lots of paperwork today?" she asked pleasantly.

The healer glanced up at Calandra and continued scribbling her quill across the parchment.

"Yes, a bit." She said shortly.

"Anything I need to sign?" Calandra asked, hopefully.

The healer rolled her eyes.

"No." she said, waving her wand over the vials on the table.

Calandra sighed and reached for the potions.


September 1, 1994

They were off to school. Calandra propped her chin in her hand and tapped a finger to the calendar. Neville and Harry were off to school. They were probably already on the train. Alice was probably straightening Neville's robes and tucking permission slips and extra parchment in his trunk.

Perhaps he and Harry were friends. Merlin knows they probably would've been if circumstances had been different. The two of them would probably be over at the flat all the time, getting into mischief with one another. Maybe the two of them were friends now, even though life hadn't gone as planned. Maybe they'd both been sorted into the same house. Calandra chuckled to herself. Maybe it had been Gryffindor.

Calandra pictured them there, now. Neville with Frank's eyes and Alice's smile, tugging a trunk along. Harry, his hair sticking up in every direction, just like James's. Both of them in Gryffindor robes, waving to one another. Maybe next year (or perhaps this year, Calandra wasn't sure) one of them would be made Prefect. Lily would've been over the moon if it happened to Harry. James would probably have teased him about it but would've been as chuffed as could be. Alice would cry if it were Neville. She'd laugh and fling her arms around him like she always did when she was excited, and he would probably try to wriggle free.

Calandra smiled and closed her eyes, dreaming of children she loved as if they were her own. Lost in a world that she had no part in anymore.


November 28, 1994

Calandra tried to bring the memories forward on her own. She tried and tried to bend them to her will and pull them to the forefront of her mind so she could watch them herself, but of course they refused. What else should she have expected from his memories? They were just like him; vibrant, and insufferably independent, and so very warm when she did get to glimpse them.

She leant her head back against the wall and wiped the sweat form her forehead. The ache in her mind drummed a steady rhythm that beat in time to her heart beats. She took deep breaths and focused her mind on the dream she'd woken up from.

A stag had been in the middle of the road. Someone had laughed in the distance. The moon was reflected on the water in a puddle by the road. The sound of an animal snorting. Then she'd woken up.

Calandra focused on the laugh. The sound was warm and full of light. She thought of the moon reflected in the puddle and watched the image ripple when someone walked through it. Stars dotted the black water surrounding the moon. The laugh rang out again and Calandra felt her chest grow warm with the sound. She smiled to herself without even realizing it and looked around to see where it came from.

She couldn't see anything, though. There was just her and the puddle and the moon. She stood there quietly, waiting for something more. Calandra stared down at the reflection of the moon and drifted off to sleep again. The last thing she could remember was the stars laughing.


January 21, 1995

Calandra pressed her head against the cold stone wall and grit her teeth.

"Come on." She muttered to herself. "Are you a witch or are you a walrus? Get it together."

She focused her mind and concentrated on pushing her own memories back, behind Occlumency walls. If she could file her own away, the others would surface. She sorted through her thoughts and carefully sealed them behind brick walls of nothing. She meditated and emptied her mind, waiting for his memories to return.

"Prongs…" a voice called out in her mind.

She drew a deep breath and continued her Occlumency. All her memories were shoved away, hidden behind tall walls. Her mind was a blank canvas ready to be painted with his memories. Stark whiteness ready for colors and shapes and sounds.

Laughter. Familiar laughter, but it wasn't his. His laughter was a punch in the gut; sharp and sweet and devastating. This laughter wasn't as biting. It was like playing exploding snap beside the fire. It was comforting but had an edge to it.

Calandra tried to figure it out without destroying her walls. She rolled it around in her mind and tried to move on from it and let her mind go blank, but it was too late. Her Occlumency walls shattered and her own memories flew forward. Laughter filled her mind and she listened for the right one.

It was Remus. Of course, she should've known. His laugh almost always held something back. It could change in an instant. One moment he could be laughing along to a joke, then the next minute catch you off guard with a witty, sarcastic remark.

Calandra sighed and brought her hands up to her temples. Her head pounded horribly, and she knew she wouldn't get anywhere with the memories tonight. She'd just have to be satisfied with her own.


March 10, 1995

This day had some sort of significance. Calandra couldn't quite remember what it was, but she knew they'd celebrated something. They'd toasted one another with sip cups full of champagne and sang songs for Harry.

Calandra thought back and tried to make sense of the memory. They were babysitting Harry. Was that why they were celebrating? Why would that be a celebration? She remembered Harry crawling all over the living room floor and almost making it to the fireplace.

Sirius had swooped in and corralled him back toward the couch then shielded the fireplace so Harry couldn't get inside. He'd tickled Harry with his beard scruff and Harry had shrieked with laughter.

Calandra smirked at the memory. She'd jumped him almost before they'd gotten through the fireplace later than night.

"Whoa, Cal." Sirius said laughing. "What's got you all riled up?"

"You look good with a baby." She said pulling his mouth to hers.

"Wonder if James will let me borrow Prongslet tomorrow, too." He shrugged off his jacket and lifted her onto the kitchen counter, a devastating smile on his face.


June 5, 1995

Calandra drank the potions the healer gave her and lay back as the woman cast her diagnostic spells. She gazed up at the white ceiling and wondered just how her magic was healing. The healer probably wouldn't tell her the truth if she asked, so she didn't.

She'd been taking magic suppressants for years, now. She had no idea what the long-term effects of that would be. Maybe she'd never be able to do magic again. What would life be like if that were true? A life without magic. Calandra chewed the inside of her cheek and thought about the possibilities.

Maybe they'd let her out if she couldn't perform magic anymore. If she wasn't a threat to anyone maybe her father wouldn't care enough about her to keep her here. She shook her head and sighed. That wouldn't happen. There was no use pretending it would.


August 19, 1995

There was apple cider with dinner. Calandra peered at the goblet suspiciously. It was always water before now. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed it, looking for hints of potion ingredients. It smelled normal. She dipped her finger in it and brought it to her lips. It tasted normal, too.

Calandra set the goblet back down and pushed her plate away from her. She didn't really have an appetite. She hadn't really had an appetite in a decade. Eating was just something she did so the healer wouldn't give her more potions.

She rested her elbows on the bedside table and watched the blue light glow on the grey walls. Blue and grey. Once upon a time, blue light shining on grey walls might have been romantic. It might have reminded her of poetry of lover's eyes or pictures of wedding dates. But, in this room, it wasn't romantic at all. It was suffocating.


October 30, 1995

She lay in bed with the sheets over her head, hiding from everything. Calandra closed her eyes and wished that tomorrow wouldn't come. She wished that they could just skip the day and go straight to November 1st. But that wasn't how it worked. Tomorrow always came, no matter how much she dreaded it.


December 17, 1995

Calandra pulled the scrap of paper with the tiny hands on toward her. She ran a finger down the edge and across the curves. Those little hands weren't little anymore. Her heart clenched at that knowledge.

She'd missed out on thousands of hugs from those chubby little arms. Missed out on a decade's worth of walks in the park grasping those little hands. She only ever knew the soft baby hands that wrapped around her fingers. She only ever got to feel them change from soft baby hands to chubby toddler hands that liked to play with her hair. She never got to feel them change from toddler hands to scraped up little boy hands or awkward teenage hands that felt like they were too big.

Calandra swallowed and held the bit of parchment in both hands. This was all she had left of him; of that beautiful little boy with big amber eyes who looked at her like she had all the answers in the world. This was all she had left of the little boy she loved more than herself. This was all she had left of Neville.

A tear dropped onto the parchment and Calandra patted it dry and quickly put it away so it nothing else could damage it. It was all she had left and she'd be damned if she lost it too.


January 2, 1996

She stirred the cup of tea on the bedside table and brought the spoon to her mouth, trying to focus her mind on the memories. Her head pounded and her eyes grew blurry. She sipped the tea, trying to ground herself and breathe through the pain. It was almost always the worst a few minutes after she woke up.

She lay her head back against the pillow and curled into a ball, letting the pain overtake her. She wouldn't fight it today; she'd let it consume her. And when she inevitably passed out from it, hopefully her dreams would be of him.