23. Oh Father

Susanna had written to Callie saying that she had something important to discuss with her ("Don't worry, it's nothing earth-shattering," she'd included). Still, she'd wanted to talk about whatever this was in person, so the potions mistress decided to take the following day off to find out what was going on.

Presently, she stood in her childhood home, a stony expression on her face as she stared at a photo of her father that sat upon a bookcase. As it turned out, her mother's news wasn't anything tragic, but it certainly wasn't welcome either. "Who is he?" Callie asked. Those were the first words she'd spoken in the five minutes after her mum had told her she was seeing someone.

"He's the new chaplain at the hospital," Susanna replied. "We met when I had to inform a patient's family that they'd passed."

Callie's voice was heavy with sarcasm when she said, "How romantic."

"He's a nice bloke," Susanna remarked. "You'd like him. In fact, I'm hoping you can meet him soon." Callie scoffed; she had absolutely no desire to do so, and the mere suggestion was rather insulting. "Was I wrong to assume you were old enough and understanding enough for me to share this with you?" her mother asked.

Turning to face her, Callie said, "Oh, excuse me for not jumping for joy. How were you expecting me to react to the news that you're-" Replacing my father, but she chose not to voice that thought.

However, Susanna wasn't stupid. She knew exactly where Callie had been going with that, and she said, "You know your father's the love of my life. That's never going to change." She paused, before going on, "But I'm lonely, Callie. Five years it's been, of coming home to an empty house, sleeping alone... I want somebody at my side, I want a companion."

In a rather vicious tone, Callie replied. "You mean lover?"

Susanna looked away from her, blushing a bit. But after a moment she said, "Frankly... yes. But if that were all it was about, I wouldn't have told you about him."

Callie paced the room, her arms folded across her chest. There was a rational part of her that knew she shouldn't be upset with her mum's decision to start dating again. Five years was a long time, and she'd spent the better part of it in grief. And yet, the whole thing just felt wrong. Coming home to an empty house? Did that mean she was going to move this bloke in, and have him sleeping in the bed that used to be David's? Was Callie one day going to find the man lounging in her father's favorite chair in the sitting room? Were pictures of Susanna and her late husband going to be gradually replaced with ones of her and the chaplain?

"A chaplain," Callie muttered. Coming to a halt to meet her mother's eye, "And does he know that his companion's daughter is a witch?"

"Of course not," Susanna said. "That would go against the Statute of Secrecy."

"But if he did know, he'd probably think I was a devil worshipper. Just like you thought about Dad when you first found out about him."

Susanna gave her an exasperated look and asked, "What has that got to do with anything? And Simon's never going to find out anyway. We've been keeping this secret from your aunt your whole life, and it's worked out fine."

"Well, in that case," Callie shot back, "do you really want to have a relationship that's based on an enormous lie? Where you can't even tell the other person the truth about your only child or your first husband?"

"He doesn't need to know what you are or what your father was. That has no bearing on... whatever occurs between us."

Callie was quiet a moment, pondering her mother's words. "So what are we, your dirty little secret?" she asked in a cold voice.

Susanna furrowed her brow and said, "Bloody hell, Calista, this is your secret. I would tell everybody I know if that were allowed, but your government forbids it. Don't spin this to make it out as if I'm embarrassed by you! Or your father!"

That had been an unreasonable accusation, and Callie didn't argue further. But she also didn't care to be around the woman any longer, didn't need to hear any more about the "nice bloke" Simon. "I took the whole day off for this," she said. "You could've just told me in your letter."

"I thought it would be best to do it face-to-face," Susanna replied.

Gathering up her coat and bag, Callie said, "Well... don't worry about that next time. Just like you, I've got a life and a job and my own stuff going on." She went over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and stepped in. "Now if you'll excuse me - I ought to get back and try to salvage the rest of the day."

Clearly this hadn't gone the way Susanna had been hoping, and with a pained expression, she sighed, "Callie..."

But all the younger woman had left to say was, "Goodbye, mum." She then called out her destination, threw down the powder, and disappeared in green flames.

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Severus showed up outside Warbeck's quarters and paused at the sound of faint music coming from inside. Immediately he recognized it as Yesterday, and shut his eyes, going over a list of all possible reasons why she might be listening to the depressing song. He knocked on the door, and when she opened up, he saw that her eyes were puffy and red, and she greeted him, not with a "hello," but with a half-hearted grunt.

He studied her a second, then said, "I suppose that answers my question."

Looking distracted, she asked, "What was the question?"

"You weren't at dinner," he replied. "And McGonagall said that you'd taken the day off. I was wondering if anything was wrong."

She didn't respond to that, but stood back and let him enter. There were tissues strewn all over the sitting area, and a half-empty box of chocolates on the table. Fearing the worst, Severus asked, "Has anyone died?"

"Not recently," Warbeck said in a small voice. "Watch out for Medusa. She's out of her tank." The potions mistress went over to the sofa, along the back of which the snake was slithering, and lay down with her face turned away from Severus, caressing the creature's head.

"What's going on?" Severus asked.

"Nothing to worry yourself over," she said. "It's not that serious."

"Good. I prefer the more frivolous issues." He sat across from her and looked down at a muggle photo album that was laid out beside the chocolates. It was open to a picture of what must've been a six- or seven-year-old Warbeck with a man who Severus assumed was her father. "Reminiscing?" he asked.

She was quiet a moment, and then, without looking back at him, she said, "His birthday was the fourth. He'd have been forty-eight." A pause, before she added in a low voice, "I didn't remember 'til the next day."

Oh - she'd forgotten. For the first time since he'd passed, Severus guessed. "You've had a lot going on," he said, trying to assuage her obvious guilt. "I'm sure he'll forgive you."

She reached over to grab the purple toy wand that she'd played with as a child, and sat up, twirling it between her fingers. With a deep sigh, she remarked, "It isn't right. He oughta be here."

"Yes," Severus agreed.

"He was young. Even in muggle terms. He was supposed to become old and grey and..." She trailed off, and then continued, "It was a given that he'd outlive Mum. She kind of took comfort in that fact, actually, since she'd never have to live without him." She paused, a thoughtful, far-off look look in her eyes. "And he was supposed to give me away at my wedding. One day he'd be 'Grandpa David.'" She was struggling to hold back tears as she imagined all the things that were no longer possible. "And he wasn't supposed to die until I was old, and had my own grandkids. Only then, when I wouldn't have to go a hundred years without him, would it have been all right."

The two of them sat in silence for a while. Severus knew he ought to offer some words of comfort, but he couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't sound like a load of hackneyed rubbish. He was thankful when Warbeck finally spoke again. "I went to see my mum today. She told me that she's seeing someone."

Clearly this was not happy news for the potions mistress, and Severus was sure that it was Dr. Warbeck's first foray into romance since losing her husband. "A new man," he remarked. "I imagine that's not a particularly welcome development for you?"

She shook her head, almost to herself, and said, "She suggested that I'm not mature enough to handle this. Like I'm a petulant little girl because I'm not happy to see her with a man who's not my father. Is it really so unreasonable to be upset about that?"

"It's understandable," he replied. "The idea of another bloke taking his place."

"Exactly." She folded her arms across her chest, and there was not only sadness now but a hint of anger in her expression. "Maybe I'm a little bit jealous. She can get another husband if she wants to, but I can't get another father."

"You wouldn't want one," he said.

"And she shouldn't want another man. She called him 'the love of her life.' If that's true, then nobody else is going to compare, so what's the point?"

"A taste of happiness is better than none. Do you want to deny her that?"

She hesitated, but replied, "No." A pause. "But the idea of her being happy without him..."

Severus thought it over, and declared, "She isn't replacing him, Warbeck. He can't be replaced. That doesn't mean she has to spend the rest of her life alone and in mourning."

A realization seemed to come to her, and she asked, "Isn't that what you're doing?"

An icy feeling shot through the Defense teacher. He hadn't been prepared for that, and all he could do was stare at her, a blank expression on his face.

She looked away sheepishly, apparently regretting what she'd said. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "That was hitting below the belt."

He regained his composure, and after a moment he remarked, "That's different."

Unable to meet his eye, she asked, "How is it different?"

"Because I'm content with being alone. I've no desire to share my life with another person. But I'm assuming your mother isn't quite as solitary as I am."

Warbeck sat in silence for a moment, taking that in. She then leaned forward and flipped through the photo album, landing on a picture of David and (Severus assumed) his widow, happily embracing in front of the Eiffel Tower. Gazing at the image, Warbeck said quietly, "I know she's lonely. And I want her to be happy." She paused, her jaw tightening as she bit her bottom lip. "But I'm scared that in ten years, or twenty... he's not going to be the love of her life anymore. That he's only gonna be a dim memory." She shut the album and sat back, finally allowing the tears to fall. "I'm afraid this is the start of him fading away."

Severus took the album and looked through it himself, stopping at a photo of David Warbeck and studying it. There weren't many physical similarities between the man and his daughter, except for one - though his eyes had been brown and hers were blue, they seemed to have exactly the same stare. The kind that made one feel as if the person was looking into their soul. The girl had spoken before about feeling her father's spiritual presence, and despite the fact that Severus had never met the man, he could've sworn, as he studied the photo, that he could almost feel it too.

It was rather unsettling. He quickly turned the page, stood up and joined Warbeck on the sofa. "Have a chocolate," he said, handing her the box. Reluctantly, she did as told, and Severus flipped to a photo of the girl and her father sitting side by side at a piano. "Tell me about this day."

Warbeck sniffled and explained, "He was trying to teach me how to play Für Elise. You know that one?"

"Mm," Severus muttered.

The slightest of smiles curled her lip. "Daddy was good on the piano. He had a thing for classical music. Once in a while he'd give a little 'concert' for Mum and I. Für Elise was my favorite. I asked him to teach it to me, but you know I haven't got any musical talent."

"Yes, they say it skips a generation." He turned the page and asked, "What about this one?" They spent the next hour or so going through the album, Warbeck describing every moment that had been captured on film.

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Callie had the sixth years working on Amortentia. There was a welcome bit of levity as the girls giggled over their cauldrons of shimmering pink potion, and the boys looked uncomfortable and embarrassed about the week's subject. As Callie passed by Sapphira Beckwell and Vivian Marquette's work table, she overheard the latter say, "It smells like cologne to me. Not any particular cologne, but definitely men's." She turned to Sapphira and asked, "What about you?"

The Slytherin hesitated, then replied, "Lavender. That was all I could really identify."

The potions mistress smiled to herself, linking the girl's not-so-secret crush on her with the fact that she - Callie - used a lavender-scented shampoo.

Vivian noticed her hovering nearby and called out, "Eh, Professor - you said that love potions don't produce genuine love, they only make the drinker think that they're in love. So when it wears off, do they just..." she shrugged "..snap out of it?"

"That's right," Callie confirmed. "Love potions are rubbish. I've actually thought about doing away with this lesson, but it makes for an interesting discussion of ethics."

"That was interesting," Sapphira remarked. "I've never thought about the implications, but you're right. It's like getting someone drunk and taking advantage of them."

"Which is why so many people have called for an outright ban," Callie said. "But the other side of that argument is that they can enhance the feelings that already exist between an established couple. A lot of people say it makes them feel more connected to their partners, especially if they take it together."

"So really it's useless for what its name implies," Vivian said. "To make somebody fall in love with you."

"Right," Callie agreed. "But do you want to know a trick?" She summoned her own bottle of Amortentia and uncapped it. "Dab a bit on yourself." She did just that, applying the potion to her neck and wrist. "It smells like whatever a person's attracted to, right? So if you're wearing it, they'll be attracted to you. It invites them in."

The girls considered that, and Vivian exclaimed, "That's brilliant!"

Callie went on, "Plus, you'll be surrounded by the scents that you find pleasing, and that'll put you in a good mood. Win-win." She left the two to get on with their work, sniffing her wrist as she wandered about the room. The Amortentia was different than when she'd first smelled it three years ago. Back then it had been chocolate, jasmine, and wine. The chocolate and the wine were still there, but she couldn't detect any distinct floral notes. Instead there was the smell of rain, as well as a smoky sort of scent. Incense, she thought. Bloody hell, it was better than any perfume, and for the rest of the week she found herself putting it on two or three times throughout the day.

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She was back in the padded room at Azkaban the following Saturday. As always, Orphie and the minister were with her - along with the guards - but due to a work obligation, Hermione had been unable to come. The girl ended up asking Harry to go in her place, and in all honesty, Callie wasn't particularly upset about the switch. After two months of experiments, Hermione still had trouble remaining stoic while her friend was being tortured, and it was a bit of a distraction for the potions mistress.

Harry was not only less emotional about it, but also more encouraging in the way that Callie needed him to be. Almost forceful, whereas Hermione was more of a gentle nurturer. After the fifth round of cursing, he got right up in Callie's face and asserted, "You're stronger than she is! That's all it's about - your energy versus hers. Your power versus hers. You can beat her!"

This kind of talk spurred her on, made her try even harder to "push" the imaginary flames out of her body. She now pictured them as bright green, just like the flames produced from Floo powder. All she had to do was concentrate, direct all her energy towards making them move. But the mental struggle was akin to the physical act of rolling a thousand-kilogram boulder uphill. It was fucking impossible, and every time she felt there might be just the slightest bit of movement, either her energy ran out, or Kingsley ordered, "Wand down, Carrow."

"Ugh!" Callie groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. "You've gotta give me more time, Kingsley."

"We're already up to thirty seconds," he reminded.

"I can handle it!" she insisted. But her vocal cords were almost shot to hell from all the screaming.

The minister looked over at Orphie and asked, "Can she?"

Turning her eyes on Callie, the woman said, "I don't feel comfortable with it."

"But I do!" Callie attempted to shout.

"You're not without limits, Callie," Orphie argued. "And you're approaching them. I can see that. Anything more than thirty seconds is going to be unendurable. You'll lose focus, and then you won't even be able to try and fight."

"I know what my limits are. And if I felt like I couldn't handle it, I would say so."

Orphie studied her a moment, and asked, "Would you?" clearly not convinced.

Callie looked away from her and sighed, then pointed to Carrow and said, "She and her brother tortured me for a lot longer than thirty seconds, and I came out of that all right."

"But we aren't looking to replicate what happened that night," Kingsley countered. "Thirty seconds, Callie. That's my limit."

She folded her arms, looking down at the ground with a defiant expression. But she was sure that the minister wasn't going to budge on this, especially not with Orphie's disapproval. "Fine," she said disappointedly. "Let's take a break."

She and Harry wandered off on their own, and the latter remarked, "I'm amazed you can go for even thirty seconds. Are you one of those people who actually enjoy pain?"

Callie scoffed and asked, "Did I look as if I was enjoying that?"

"No, but..." He trailed off with a shrug.

Shaking her head to herself, Callie said, "It's so God damn frustrating. I feel like I'm right there, like I've almost got it. I can see it so clearly." She paused, then explained, "You know, visualize the curse lifting."

"What does that look like?" Harry asked.

She told him about the green flames and how she imagined them slowly moving from within her body to beyond her skin. "Basically I'm 'pushing' it out of me. Mentally - you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "But how do you do that, exactly?"

"I focus on the visualization. The green flames. Then concentrate on willing them to move. Same idea as moving a tangible object using only the mind."

Harry got a thoughtful look on his face, and asked, "Have you ever performed the Cruciatus Curse yourself?"

A bit shamefully, Callie admitted, "Yes, once. Other than the time Amycus Carrow made us practice it on rats. The night Dumbledore died, I used it on a Death Eater that was trying to hurt Lupin."

Harry smiled, and she could tell that he approved of the way she'd defended their friend. He then told her about the one and only time that he'd performed the curse - on none other than Amycus Carrow. Callie's jaw dropped and she excitedly asked, "When?"

"Right before the Battle of Hogwarts. Luna and I were in Ravenclaw Tower having a look at that diadem. Carrow and McGonagall showed up and started arguing, then he spit in her face. The bastard didn't even know I was there; I was under my invisibility cloak. But when I saw him do that, I just sort of... reacted."

Callie was absolutely delighted that Carrow had ended up getting a taste of his own medicine. She was actually laughing as she exclaimed, "Christ, Harry, I could kiss you for that!"

In all seriousness, he said, "If I'd known at the time what he and his sister did to you, I might've stretched it out a bit longer."

The potions mistress smirked at him and remarked, "Not so innocent, Saint Potter." After a pause, "Really though, I've had a shitty week, and that story just lifted my spirits through the roof."

"Bad week?" he asked. "What's that all about?"

She explained the business with her mum, and how that had led to her fear that her father was "fading." But it occurred to her while they were talking that she oughtn't be going on about her deceased parent to someone who'd lost both of his when he was only a year old. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head in a dismissive sort of manner. "I shouldn't have unloaded all that on you."

"It's all right," Harry replied. "I don't really have anything helpful to say, but-" he shrugged "-you wanna talk, I can listen."

She gave him an appreciative smile, then hesitated, before she said, "I've got a friend whose dad ran off when he was three. He told me, 'I never knew him, so I can't miss him.'" She bit her bottom lip before asking, "Do you feel the same way about your mum and dad?"

He pondered the question, and Callie wondered if it had been cruel of her to make him think about the parents he'd never had a chance to know. But he seemed all right as he explained, "It's different than the way I miss Sirius or Remus or Dumbledore." A pause. "Although, I did meet my parents. Or at least, some form of them, a couple of times."

"In the forest," Callie said, nodding in acknowledgement. "I remember you telling me about that."

He went on, "But it's not as if they're nothing to me, just because I never knew them."

"Oh, no," Callie cut in. "I wasn't suggesting-"

"No, I know that," he said, unoffended. "What I mean to say is... I know who they were, what they were like, based on what I've been told. And I suppose it's... not being able to miss them, that gets me."

Was that better or worse? "Tell me," Callie said, "would you rather they'd have died when you were older? Like, teenaged? After you'd had the chance to know them yourself?"

He thought it over for a long moment, and replied, "Yes. It would've been harder losing them, but... better than never having had them at all."

Callie thought about how much emptier her life would've been if she'd never known her father. She realized that the pain of not having him around anymore was eclipsed by the joy and the love that he'd given her. And Harry had been robbed of that kind of happiness. Setting her hand on top of his, she said, "I'm sorry."

Looking up at her, he replied, "I'm sorry, too."

They held each other's gaze for a moment, both of them with a quiet sort of sadness in their eyes, before Callie stepped forward and gave him a hug. She'd been afraid that he might be uncomfortable with that, and was relieved when he returned the gesture.

"Your mum took ballet when she was a young'un," Callie said. "Did you know that?"

He hesitated, then replied, "No," breaking the hug to look at her with a furrowed brow. "How do you know that?"

Vaguely, she explained, "Just something I heard. She wasn't very good, but she loved it."

He got a far-away look in his eye, and a slight smile curled his lip as he no doubt imagined his mother as a little girl, dancing around in a pink tutu.

"She was also a fencing champion," Callie went on. "And she fancied Paul McCartney." She tried to remember more details that Snape had mentioned. "She had a thing for unicorns. At one point she wanted to be a magizoologist. And she once saved a squirrel that got stuck under a chain link fence."

Harry kept quiet as he took all that in, and then he said in a low voice, "I didn't know any of that." He paused, before adding, "Thanks."

She gave him a small smile, then looked in the direction of the padded room. "Suddenly I'm not in much of a fighting mood. Think I'm done for the day."

"I can't say I blame you. Six shots of the Cruciatus is more than enough for one afternoon." As they turned to go back and tell the others, Harry asked, "What do you think your dad would say if he knew you were doing this?"

With a smirk, she replied, "Same thing that everyone else has said. That I'm out of my fucking mind."

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A couple of hours later, she was just getting out of the bathtub when Snape showed up at her door. He got one look at her in a flimsy kimono robe and said, "I'll come back."

But she rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. "Oh, just come in! You can wait here while I change." She practically yanked him inside, then went to the bedroom to get dressed, leaving the door cracked a bit so she could talk to him. "I suppose you can guess how my day went," she said. "What about yours?"

"Uneventful. Though I very nearly made a fourth-year cry."

"How'd you manage that?" Callie asked. "Remind him that he's still got three more years before he'll be rid of you?"

Ignoring that dig, he explained, "Orville Tenenbaum. One of my only 'D' students, and I've finally figured out why. I told him if he'd stop daydreaming about Kinsey Fairbanks all throughout class, then he might be able to scrape a passing grade."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Callie exclaimed. "Couldn't have gotten your point across without humiliating him?"

"How else am I supposed to entertain myself?"

Ruddy git, Callie thought.

"No progress today?" he asked.

She didn't want to admit - certainly not to him - that once again, her efforts with the curse had led to nothing. "There was a flicker," she said. "I did have some effect."

"A 'flicker'?" he echoed.

"I could feel it. For only a fraction of a second, but..." She'd kept this to herself because it was so brief, she wasn't even sure that she hadn't simply imagined it. "You know how the pain is a constant ten? In the time that it takes you to blink, it went down to a nine. Maybe an eight."

There was a beat of silence, and then he asked, "Really?" His tone was more surprised than skeptical.

Fully-clothed, Callie stepped out of the bedroom and said, "Aye. Not very impressive, but..." she shrugged "...I guess it's something."

He furrowed his brow, taking in her less-than-enthusiastic demeanor. "Why aren't you happier about this?" he asked.

With a sigh, she replied, "Because I don't know how much more I can give. All my focus, all my energy goes into trying to lift it, and the best I can do is a second of slightly less agonizing pain. What the hell is it going to take to eliminate it completely?" He didn't respond, but she knew what he was thinking. "Nothing, right?" she said. "It can't be done."

He clearly agreed with that, but chose not to say it out loud. Instead he ordered, "Come with me," and turned to leave.

As Callie followed him, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"Dungeon 42," he replied.

"What's in Dungeon 42?"

"Lots of things. It's used as a storage space."

Cocking a brow, she asked, "And why are you taking me to a storage space?"

"There's something in there I want you to have a look at."

She didn't ask anymore questions as he led her through the corridors. When they arrived at Dungeon 42, he opened the door and gestured for her to go in. There was nothing spectacular in there, as far as she could see, nothing that stood out. But Snape moved to the back of the room and stood before a large, unknown something that was covered with a black sheet. "There's a mirror underneath," he said. "A rather extraordinary mirror."

"What's extraordinary about it?" Callie asked as she came to stand beside him.

She was taken aback when he spoke in what sounded like complete gibberish to her. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Do you know what that means?"

"No. What language is it?"

"It's English," he said. "Only backwards. 'I show not your face, but your heart's desire.'" Looking up at the covered mirror, he explained, "Those words are carved at the top of the frame."

Following his gaze, she asked, a bit skeptically, "Does it really do that?"

"Yes. I was curious to know what you would see if you looked into it."

She wondered if she'd see herself successfully countering the Cruciatus Curse. Was that why he'd brought her to the magic mirror? Snape moved to the side, keeping his eyes on her, and she grabbed the sheet, pulling it away.

She sucked in a breath at the sight of her father, looking back at her from within the glass and smiling. In a barely audible voice, she muttered, "Dad."

The dark-haired man in the mirror nodded, before turning to the side. Callie then watched herself step into the scene from out of frame, and she and her father embraced as if seeing each other for the first time after a long separation. There were tears of joy in mirror-Callie's eyes, and a look of pure elation on her face. When the two broke away, they were laughing and talking with each other, though their voices were inaudible to the real Callie. After a moment, her mother appeared in the mirror as well, reunited with the love of her life. Mirror-Callie smiled as her parents embraced, and finally, her father wrapped an arm around each woman, pulling them close. Their family was whole again.

"Merlin's beard," Callie whispered. "It's like a view into Heaven." She couldn't take her eyes off the scene, and after several minutes, when her father wandered out of frame, she craned her neck as if trying to see around it, and thought, No, come back!

And he did, but now he was dressed in a fancy suit. And mirror-Callie, who had also disappeared, returned in a wedding dress and veil. Her father admired her, kissed her cheek, and took her hand in his. As the two of them began their father-daughter dance, the real Callie wept in silence. Not because she was sad that this visual would never be reality; rather, she was overcome with happiness to see herself dancing with her father at her wedding. Experiencing such a moment in this way was real enough, when she'd thought that she'd never get to have it at all.

Who knew how much time had passed before she said, "I can't look away. I don't want it to end."

Off to the side, Snape remarked, "The mirror isn't going anywhere. You can see him whenever you want to."

Callie gave it another minute, then whispered, "Good night, Daddy," and replaced the sheet.

Neither she nor Snape said anything for a while. Callie was the first to speak. "What do you see when you look at it?" She had a pretty good idea, but wanted him to confirm it.

With his eyes on the ground, he replied quietly, "Lily. She's alive and well."

She waited for him to say more, but he didn't. "Are you there?" she asked. "Are the two of you together?" He didn't respond, and she took that as a yes. One of their previous conversations came to mind.

"You loved her?"

"Yes. And it's been twenty years since I saw her last, and the feeling hasn't faded."

Callie took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma of incense that, to her, was characteristic of Amortentia. Snape had taken to burning incense in his quarters to cover up the smell of cigarette smoke, and the much more pleasant sandalwood-like scent was all over his clothes whenever she was with him. She'd never had any particular liking for the fragrance, until recently.

Wandering about the room in silence, she wondered, Does he know? She tried not to think about it when he was around, fearing that he'd push her away if he sensed that she was still attracted to him. The schoolgirl's crush had faded after sixth year, when she'd thought he was a legitimate Death Eater. And she hadn't had many favorable opinions of him in the months following the war, during which he had treated her like scum.

But when he behaved as a semi-normal human being, it was difficult not to be taken right back in by that alluring voice, or his commanding presence, or the intensity in his eyes. She'd been thinking a lot about the night of their private Patronus lesson three years prior, as well as the time that she'd kissed him - which he still had no memory of, as far as she knew.

But she had no intention of letting her desires be known. He'd made it perfectly clear that he wanted to be alone. Not to mention the comment he'd made during her interrogation - "I saw you were attracted to me, and I wanted to put an end to that." She didn't need to be told twice.

It'll pass, she thought. Sooner or later. And until it did... well...

Thank God for Occlumency.