March, 1911
Hogwarts
'Dear Calliope,
I am so sorry darling. About everything. I wish to be able to talk to you in person, to explain, but I am afraid I cannot. Circumstances prevent me from doing so, and I know you will possibly be angry, scared, and confused. But I swear on my life you will be safe. And loved.
Callie, I can't take care of you the way you deserve. It terrifies me not knowing where your next meal will come from, or if I can afford your school books, or if I can even manage to put clothes on your back.
What I do for a living is not a respectable job by any means, and I don't wish for you to grow up like that or around that. And I know you are at Hogwarts most of the year, but your sister is not. Colette needs a proper home, as do you.
As of the end of this school term, you will no longer be living with me, and if things work out with this family, you will no longer be my daughter, at least, not legally.
There is a couple who is wishing to adopt, to take care of you and your sister and to love you unconditionally. They will provide for you better than I ever have, darling.
Now, this couple is different from most families. They are both women, which I know is unusual and generally frowned upon. But I've met them, and they really are quite lovely. I trust them with your life, which is very hard for me to do, but I trust them.
I know you may never see them as your parents, and you may be angry with them and me and even the world, but I know they will love you, so give them a chance will you please?
I know this a lot to take in. But it's for the best. And I do it because I love you, not because I don't. I just want you to have a better life than I did.
They have a son. And they will take you and Colette, so the two of you will stay together.
Their names are . . .'
Calliope stopped reading the letter, tears streaming down her face. Her mother was abandoning her and Colette? With strangers? She would no longer be their mother?
She didn't understand. She couldn't comprehend what was happening. And to make matters worse, she found out through a letter in the Great Hall.
Other students were eyeing her oddly, wondering what on earth could make someone cry that quickly or that hard. Because dear Calliope was sobbing, her breath coming out in hiccups.
She noticed all the eyes and grew uncomfortable and embarrassed, standing up from the table suddenly. She ignored the questions of her friends, her letter gripped tightly in her hand, tear stains beginning to form on the parchment.
Calliope ran to the Hufflepuff common rooms, so caught up in her mind that she tapped the rhythm on the barrel incorrectly, vinegar spilling all over her in response to her mistake.
This only made her cry harder, her body sinking to the ground against the wall behind her. She pulled her knees to her chest, unable to stop herself from crying even for a second.
It was nearing the end of breakfast, so she hardly expected to see anyone nearing the common rooms, though, that was hardly the thought on her mind. At least until a shadow had over-fallen her.
Newt had overslept, much to his own displeasure, which led to his late exit from the Hufflepuff common rooms.
He hadn't expected to see the crying, drenched girl who smelled strongly of vinegar, despite her yellow colored robes. Certainly a Hufflepuff hadn't tapped the rhythm wrong. Maybe she was a first year? He wasn't sure, and despite his lack of people skills, he found himself walking over to her.
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, a surprising lack of stutter in his voice.
Calliope looked up at the boy, recognizing him quickly. She had always been good with faces, and his unusual injury and shy nature had him stuck in her head quite often.
"Oh, uhm, Newt. . . I'm wonderful." She said, forcing a smile, though it seemed strained and sarcastic.
"Oh, it's Calliope right? You help in the Hospital Wing." Newt said, finding himself crouching down, as if he were talking to a creature.
She nodded and wiped her face, nearly gagging as she caught a whiff of the vinegar.
"What happened to you? Why are you crying?" Newt found himself asking rather gently. Why was he prying, he wondered to himself. This was very unlike him.
"Oh, it's nothing, really. And I tapped the barrels wrong, hence the. . . vinegar." Calliope said.
Newt mentally berated himself. She had no reason to tell him anything, and whatever had her crying was obviously very personal, if it had her sobbing that hard. He should just open the common room for her and leave her be. They were not friends, they had only talked once.
"I don't believe that. You're crying quite hard, even though you seem to think you've stopped." Newt said, watching as Calliope touched her face again and realized he was right.
He spotted the crumpled letter in her hand.
"Bad news from home?" He ventured gently. He immediately regretted asking as she burst into tears once more at the mere thought of the letter. At least he knew the letter was the cause.
Newt moved to sit cross-legged, the position more comfortable to sit in for long periods of time.
"Do you want to talk about it? I know we aren't friends, but if it's something you are worried about getting out, I have no friends to tell." Newt told the girl, the self-deprecating comment only being the truth.
"I-I don't know," Calliope admitted quietly through the tears. She cried quietly. "I just want my mum."
"You'll see her soon. The term will be over before you know it," Newt suggested, thinking her tears to be homesickness. He got that quite often, and knew how terrible it could be.
"No, that's the problem." she stressed the word. "I'm never going home. Not my home. I'm going home to strangers and I don't even get a say in the matter. Two random people will be my parents and my mum didn't even ask me."
Newt certainly wasn't expecting the confession, his eyes widening in slight shock.
"Oh," was all he could get out.
Calliope's cheeks flushes a violent red.
"Oh my Merlin, I am so sorry, I just dumped that on you." She shook her head at her own stupidity. Sure he had offered to listen, but she knew that he hadn't been expecting that.
"No, it's okay. I asked." Newt told her. "Do you want to keep talking about it, since I know now?"
"I smell terrible. You're just being nice, you don't have to pretend to want to sit here with the girl who smells like vinegar, Newt."
"I've smelled worse. But if you want you can go shower and then we can talk?" Newt suggested.
This was so out of character for him. He didn't understand why he was offering to be her shoulder to cry on when they had hardly talked before. He didn't understand why he was trying so hard.
Perhaps it was the thought that maybe he could make a friend. She had been nice to him when he was in the Hospital Wing, and had seemed to be genuinely interested in talking to him. Plus, even now she seemed like a nice person since she wasn't just telling him to mind his own business.
Needless to say, he was not a popular student. He much preferred the company of his creatures. At least they didn't care if he was a little strange.
"Do you not have a class?" She asked him curiously, wiping her nose on her sleeve, wincing at the smell.
"No, on Thursdays I have a free period. I was just going to try to see if I could run to the Great Hall for some food, but it was much to late, even before I started talking to you." Newt explained. "But, do you not have a class."
"I do. . . but I can't go to class." she admitted to him. "I'll just say I was sick. Surefire way to get out of class. At least for girls."
While Newt didn't quite understand what she was getting at, he chose not to question.
"Then you can shower and I'll wait in the Common Room? If you want to talk." Newt said, suddenly worrying he had read the situation all wrong. Mild anxiety took over as he waited for her answer.
"That'd be nice," she told him quietly, managing a small, nearly invisible smile. Yet that barely there smile was still comforting to Newt.
"Maybe this time I should tap the barrels?" He suggested, somewhat jokingly.
What was he doing? He was joking now. This was so unlike him.
"Yeah, maybe you should." Calliope agreed, standing from her curled up position.
Newt did as suggested and tapped the barrels, thankful he too didn't mess up the rhythm and find himself doused in vinegar.
"I'll just wait here." He told the brunette, sitting on the yellow and black striped couch across from the unlit fireplace.
"Okay, I'll try to be quick." She told him, making her way up the stairs and to the girls showers.
Her shower, or showers, took longer than she had planned, taking nearly an hour. When she finally descended the stairs she half-expected to find it empty, but instead Newt was sitting patiently on the couch, writing on a piece of parchment.
"I am so sorry that took so long, Newt." She said so suddenly she made the boy jumped. Thankfully he didn't mess up what he was writing. "I didn't mean for you to wait so long, but I had to take like three showers for the vinegar smell to even begin to go away. I did spray some flower perfume I borrowed from my friend, so hopefully you'll smell that over the vinegar."
Newt watched her as she moved to sit on the other side of the couch, leaning against the arm of it so she could face him.
"It's okay, really. I worked on an assignment for a class, that's actually due today, so I stayed busy."
"That's good. I'm still sorry though. Now, are you sure you still want to listen to me?" She asked him cautiously. She wouldn't mind having someone to talk to, and despite her number of friends she knew she could trust, she didn't feel like she could talk to any of them for some reason.
"Of course. I wouldn't still be here if I didn't plan to listen to you. Talking to someone can be nice. I know I feel better after talking to someone, especially if it's about something that upsets me."
By someone, Newt meant his brother, Theseus, or his mother, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He didn't want to seem lame. But he could hardly talk to people, so there was no one his age he could talk to. Which is why he found it so strange he was reaching out to the younger brunette.
So Calliope began talking, telling him about her mother, and about the letter she received.
Much calmer tears streamed down her face now, and Newt not knowing how to stop them, just let her cry.
"Who tells someone something like that through a letter?" She asked quietly. "Was I just not a good enough daughter for her to want? Or to bother telling in person?"
Newt had heard many of her fears and anxieties at this point and did his best to quell them, even if his attempts weren't successful.
"Don't think like that. Maybe your mum just knew she couldn't go through with it if she told you in person. And if she thinks that this is what's best for you, then she knew that it'd be a mistake to tell you in person." Newt suggested.
Calliope sniffled, but the thought made her feel better, if only just a little bit.
"Thank you, Newt," she said, reaching over and hugging the boy, startling him. He wasn't used to much physical contact, so a hug was quite a strange concept to him. Sure his mother hugged him, as did his father, but once more it was that fact of never experiencing something with a peer.
"You're welcome, Calliope," he told her, his arms eventually wrapping around her.
She pulled back and looked at him.
"You can call me Callie, if you want."
It was the beginning of a wonderful friendship, one that neither Calliope nor Newt was prepared for.