Death involving Calista

"I’ll go," he had told her when the last of their food had gone from the cabinet. She had clutched at his arm and begged him to stay under the quilts with her, but he had quietly insisted. "I’ll be back within the hour."

Thomas apparated into an alleyway near the grocery where they went infrequently to stock up on food. They had been living as Muggles in Manchester for several months, now, using as little magic as they could manage, working Muggle jobs, and living in a Muggle neighborhood. Although Voldemort’s regime found it amusing to use non-magic folk as target practice, it was generally known that the lot of them usually struck people walking alone or in pairs at night, unprotected and unawares. In large crowds or public places the danger was less prevalent, and therefore Thomas and Calista spent as much time as they could at home, only leaving for the absolute necessities. 

And so Thomas found himself in the little corner grocer’s, the fluorescent lighting making his head ache. He threw item after item into the cart, reading from a list that went on for several pages. Calista’s handwriting could be infuriatingly difficult to decipher when she scrawled in a hurry, and he was struggling to make out something that looked puzzlingly like kitten hair soup.

The door to the shop, several yards away and hidden by multiple aisles of cereal and seasonings and shampoo, swung open with a faint tinkling of bells. Thomas pushed his trolley forward, reaching for a large glass jar of tomato sauce. Gargoyle pizza, read the next item. He shook his head to himself, his lips curving into a smile with a great rush of affection. God, Cal, you great-

And then the light of the store was green instead of dizzying white, and Thomas did not have to hear the lazily-spoken words for his blood to run ice cold in his veins. He reached for his wand, heart thumping so loudly that he was sure the noise would lead them straight to him. They know I’m here already, he realized with paralyzing panic. That’s why they wasted no time torturing the cashier.

"Come out, Tom, or we head back to your flat and kill her instead.” The voice was amused, almost bored, and horribly, horribly familiar. They’ve been following me. Watching us.

Swallowing, wand drawn, he slowly made his way towards the front of the store. There were three of them. Two of the faces were unknown to him, and both of them were alarmingly young- no more than seventeen years old. Thomas slowly moved his gaze to the leader of the group, and his heart dropped. If it was truly him, he was lost. His old friend was not the sort to forgive.

"Mulciber," he greeted him evenly, trying desperately not to betray his fear. Mulciber could sniff out fear like a dog, and he never failed to utilize it.

The boy- the man- who had once been his dearest friend smiled slowly. Mulciber looked much the same, Thomas thought, but somehow different. His hair was cropped shorter, and he was not quite as lanky as he had been at school. Any trace of teenage awkwardness had turned into hard, dangerous muscle. His face was harder, crueler; his cheekbones jutted out of his face like stone, and his pale blue eyes looked like chips of ice. This is not the Mulciber I knew.

"Thomas," Abaddon returned pleasantly, never taking his eyes from Thomas’s. "You know why we are here." It was not a question.

Thomas’s eyes moved to the shopkeeper, laying motionless near the cash register. The man’s eyes were still open, and his face was frozen in sheer terror. Thomas felt a horrible rush of regret. He had known the old man, called George, and liked him; they had always had a nice conversation whenever Thomas and Calista came in to do their shopping. “Been married fifty years,” George had once remarked proudly. “Reckon you two will last as long, eh?” And it was Thomas’s fault he was dead, now. If Thomas had never come in…

He looked back to Mulciber. “Are you going to kill me?”

Mulciber’s smile slowly faded, and something like an apology appeared behind his cold blue eyes. “You know I do not wish to, old friend,” he replied sadly. “But you know I must.”

At that moment the door of the shop swung open once more, and a pale blonde head appeared, turning away from some funny conversation with a passerby. Calista’s eyes were still twinkling and the smile was still on her lips as she entered, saying, “Tom, I forgot, we’ve need-“

Her face froze in shock as she regarded the scene unfolding before her. “Abaddon,” she breathed, terrified. “What are you doing here?” 

The tall Death Eater spun to face her, but the wands of the other two continued to point at Thomas. “Calista,” he sighed, unveiled regret now apparent in his tone. “I’m afraid to tell you your husband has been aiding the Resistance.”

Calista’s eyes jerked to Thomas. “Tom, you stupid idiot,” she whispered, beginning to shake violently. “We weren’t going to take any bloody part; it was going to be me and you and we were going to make it out alive. You great bloody stupid idiot.” Tears filled her eyes and she bowed her head, body racked with silent sobs.

"I’m so sorry, Cal." Every inch of him seemed to ache. Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry. "I just couldn’t stand by and let our friends-"

Your friends!” she shrieked furiously, face glistening with tears. “Bloody hell, Tom, my friends were the Slytherins! The only one I had to protect was you, and look what you’ve done! You have ruined our entire life!”

The two young Death Eaters looked ill. Thomas wondered if it was their first mission. Mulciber was frowning, his expression pained. “Calista, please…”

She rushed up to him with blind courage and grabbed at his robes, begging. “Please, Abaddon, for me, for me, you can’t kill him, we’re meant to have a baby.” She sank to the floor, crying so loudly that Thomas was sure the neighbors would come, or call the police… “Please, Mulciber, I’ll lock him up and take his wand and he’ll never help them again, I swear to you, we were friends, you were friends, you always were fond of him-“

Gently, Mulciber stepped away from her, extracting himself from her clutches. She knelt in a crumpled heap on the floor, still begging. “You know I wish he had not done this thing,” he replied quietly. “But he has. Treason must not go unpunished, and you know that. Don’t worry. After he’s gone, I’ll make sure you are pardoned. I’ll look after you, I promise.” 

Mulciber turned again, to face Thomas once more. Thomas’s world seemed to have muted; he could no longer hear Calista’s desperate cries, or the wild thumping of his own heart. He found himself, inexplicably, remembering his Sorting. Through years and the dull foggy layers of his mind he somehow recalled the sight of Fionn’s curly hair, of Bindy’s graceful black robes, of the way it had felt when the Hat had bellowed out Slytherin. 

I asked him to, Thomas remembered suddenly. I asked him to put me in Slytherin. The thought of it seemed strange to him now. If I could do it all again, would I have done it any differently?

"I’m sorry, Thomas," Mulciber repeated, and raised his wand. He said the words, soft and deadly, and with a flash of green light all was gone.

// basically it’s before the summers hols or something and calista is just rambling and gabbing and doing her thing and then thomas is just hit with the realization that he’s not going to see her everyday for the next few months and is just like “I’m going to miss you”. So yeah.

Thalista getting married~

I’ll make a graphic to accompany this after christmas is over most likely

Thomas peered nervously into the mirror, unnecessarily straightening the collar of his robes for what was surely the hundredth time.

“Tom, relax!” cried his older brother, Robert. “What’s got you so worked up, hm?”

“I haven’t seen her dress, for starters,” Thomas began, pacing back and forth. “She picked it out with Lockhart and Carmichael and she hasn’t let me see it. Says she wants it to be a surprise when she walks down the aisle.”

Robert blinked. “The Hogwarts professors, you mean?”

Thomas waved a hand dismissively. It fluttered like a small white bird against the black sky that was his dress robes. “Yes, yes,” he muttered. “They’re her best mates—don’t ask. The dress though, Rob, the dress! I’m worried it’s going to be some ridiculous Muggle number, feathered, maybe, and sequined, definitely—“

“Feathers?” Robert asked, stifling a laugh.

“Feathers!” Thomas repeated, running a hand over his freshly shaved cheek. “And then there’s Fionn. He and another one of my groomsmen, Leighton, they don’t always get along perfectly because Leighton teases the poor bloke, Fionn being engaged to Leighton’s sister and all—“

“Tom—“

“And Lara, Cal insisted that our little sister be a bridesmaid but I know Lara’s not going to wear some ridiculous confection of a gown and she’s probably decked out in your old dress robes, Godric’s sake—“

Tom—“

“And then there’s your mum! I’m sorry, Rob, you know I don’t usually talk about her to you but she didn’t even want you or Dad or Lara here—“

“TOM!”

Thomas stopped short, billowing robes falling to his sides. “What?”

His older brother clapped him on the shoulder. “Today’s supposed to be the best day of your life. You love your blushing bride quite dearly, yeah?”

Thomas blinked, startled. “Of course I do.”

“And today marks the day you’re bound to her—hopefully forever.” Robert strode to the same mirror Thomas had straightened his robes in. He ran a hand through his own curls, and then turned back to his little brother. “Now, are you ready to get married or what?”

With a deep exhalation of breath, Thomas nodded.

*

Ready as he was, Thomas was still incredibly nervous as he stood at the altar, mentally repeating his vows over and over again. Oliver Lockhart to his left, in fashionably cut robes of royal purple, was positively beaming. He was Calista’s Maid of Honor, a decision that Thomas had been privately skeptical of but had not argued with. Judging by the spectacularly gorgeous nature of the decorations, it seemed that old Oli had actually done his job quite well.

Several minutes passed and the guests began to titter nervously. Thomas felt the back of his neck prickle with unease. Where was Calista? Was she abandoning him at the altar? He ought to have known that they were getting married to soon; he should have given her more time with her singing career—

Finally, behind the doors at the end of the aisle, there came a series of disconcerting sounds—first, a series of muffled shouts that sounded suspiciously like the voice of Calista’s mother, then an alarming crash that ended with a pathetic tinkling of crystal, and finally, a loud screech from what was almost certainly a very disturbed cat.

And then the doors burst open and there she was on the arm of her father, dressed in a beautifully basic white dress, straightening her elaborately arranged bun with one hand. She looked deeply distressed, but at the sight of him her face broke into a lovely grin. Instantly, she regained her composure and began walking slowly forward with all the grace of a prima ballerina.

The next several minutes seemed to simultaneously pass very quickly and very slowly. She seemed to be beside him immediately, and with one final reassuring smile passed between them the wizened old wizard presiding over the ceremony began to speak in a loud, resonant timbre. Thomas could hear the words being spoken, all pomp and promises, but he could hardly focus on them. He could not help but stealing sideways glances at Calista; she seemed to be struggling to keep her face serious. When finally the old man turned to him, the words came instantly: “I do.”

And then the wrinkled wizard turned to Calista, and she spoke the same: “I do.”

Smiling benignly, the man intoned, “You may kiss the bride.”

To Thomas that kiss was just the same and very different as all that had come before. It felt just as right, just as natural and easy—but he felt, too, that as he kissed her he was beginning the new, wonderful adventure that would be a life spent with her.

And he couldn’t wait.

image

A.U.: Thomas is the one who is engaged, and Calista’s the fiancée.

He had privately decided that, regardless of what his step-mother insisted, he was not going to be married to someone that was not of his own choosing.

"I’m sorry, Tom," his father had told him after the dinner at which the news had broken. "Your step-mother…"

"Has devised a very clever plan to get a fat load of cash as well as me out of her house a few years early, has she?" Thomas had snapped with uncharacteristic venom. It seemed unimaginable to him that he would bemarried the moment he left school to a pureblood girl, to one of his ownclassmates-

His father’s deeply apologetic expression had been all the confirmation Thomas had needed.

To his immense shock, the girl that his stepmother had deemed fit for him was not vile-looking and dull-witted. In fact, she was rather pretty-very pretty, even- and she had more wit than Thomas believed he would be able to handle.

He had seen the girl around school; she was in his House, but a year old. Calista Walker. He had always known her name, vaguely in the back of his mind; she was famous, or rather, infamous around the castle for her sharp tongue, distaste for pants, and rumored nights of debauchery with professors. She was not the type of girl Thomas would have ever been brave enough to speak to. If he had tried, she probably would have sent him on his way with a stream of startling clever insults that would have left his self-esteem in ruins for weeks.

Mrs. McCoy believed the same, apparently; as the two families sat down for supper together for the first time there was a malicious gleam of anticipation in her eyes. Although Thomas had been seated strategically across from his betrothed, he could hardly bring himself to look in her eyes. He was nervous, not to mention furious. She was hardly his type. Or perhaps she was. There was certainly another blonde, fiery-tempered girl that he was rather enamoured with…

Refusing to allow his thoughts to stray to the diminutive Gryffindor, Thomas devoted absolute effort to meeting Calista’s eyes. She talked animatedly to everyone at the table; Robert seemed very taken with her, and Lara regarded her with worshipful eyes. Thomas himself was stony-faced and disinterested. She’s not for me, he told himself over and over again. I won’t marry her, they can’t make me.

And then Mrs. McCoy made some particularly harsh underhanded jab at him, and suddenly Calista’s voice came out of the silence to… defend him. “Oh, I hardly think being quiet means someone is stupid,” she pointed out lightly, still delicately cutting up her steak-and-kidney pie. “I go to school with Thomas. He’s no idiot.”

He looked up, shocked, and for a long, quiet moment they looked at one another, really and truly, for the first time in the entire night. 

Hours seemed to pass before he found his voice. “Right,” he assented, still dazed.

She nodded, gave him a small smile, and lifted her fork to her mouth to take a dainty bite.

Linds, please, just this once-

Bindy rolled her eyes at him and began shoving her books roughly into her bag as other students rose to head to their next class. “No, Tom,” she told him for the millionth time. “I can’t.” 

She began striding towards the door, long silvery-blonde hair streaming off of her shoulder. Thomas quickly placed himself in front of her, walking backwards so that he could still face her. “It’s one date,” he pleaded. “It doesn’t even have to be a date. We can just… you know. Hang out.” His lips curled into a frown. “As friends, if you’re insisting.”

She sighed, walking faster still. Thomas glanced behind him, making sure his path was clear, and continued backtracking. “When will you give up?” she asked, and for a moment he swore that the exasperation in her tone seemed forced. 

"Never." He grinned mischievously and shrugged.

She stopped suddenly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Haven’t you got a girlfriend now or something?”

He blinked, surprised. “A girlfriend?”

She nodded, looking vaguely annoyed. “Leggy Slytherin girl you’re always with,” she told him with a dainty cough. “Calista, isn’t it?”

Heart lurching, he quickly shook his head. “No, that’s- that’s nothing. Tutoring.” He nodded vigorously, satisfied with the lie. “She’s tutoring me.”

Eyes still suspicious, Bindy resumed walking. Thomas nearly stumbled, but he untangled his feet and caught himself. “Is that a yes?”

Bindy’s mouth opened slightly and her eyebrows raised in shock, and then Thomas crashed into a tiny first year and fell painfully to the floor, his things thrown into a mess around him. Bindy’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I suppose it is.”

Stepping over him, without looking back, she called, “The lake, five o’clock!” and disappeared into the sea of students.

He had stolen as much food from the kitchens as he could carry to meet her there, including most of the things he knew to be her favorites. He arrived at the lakeside fifteen minutes early, half-expecting to awake from a dream at any moment. Could Bindy have actually agreed, at long last, to anything remotely resembling a date with him?

Excited as he was for the evening, his joy was marred by his constant thoughts of his fiancée. It still felt strange to even think the word, but that was what Calista was- his betrothed. Although he hardly expected to actually end up marrying her, he had decided it would be well worth the effort to at least get to know her. He had found that he actually enjoyed her company- far more than he had ever expected. Once, during one late night spent talking in the Slytherin common room, they had snogged- but Thomas had excused himself before anything beyond that had happened. The thought of actually fancying anyone his horrid stepmother had picked out for him was loathe to him.

Nevertheless, he could not keep himself from glancing anxiously around the grounds for any sight of her. He was not quite sure if their engagement meant he was not allowed to see anyone else, but he did not want to risk her wrath. And so he sat anxiously arranging the various foodstuffs on the blanket he’d grabbed, awaiting Bindy’s arrival.

"Hello." The voice came from behind him, and for another wild moment he thought Calista- but he turned and saw it was Bindy, smiling in a rather adorably shy manner. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She was dressed more casually than he’d ever seen her, and with her long hair loose and tousled down her back she was absolutely, breathtakingly lovely. 

"Hello," he returned nervously, searching desperately in his mind for one of the many clever conversation starters he had come up with prior to her arrival. All he could do was gesture to the feast around him. "Please, sit."

She descended gracefully into the grass to sit beside him, eyebrows raised at the vast selection of dinner items. “You went all out,” she remarked, smiling sideways at him. 

He nodded again, still trying to find his words. “It’s quite a big deal to me,” he heard himself say. “The first time we’re really… hanging out.”

He thought he saw her blush slightly before she turned away to snatch up a flagon of pumpkin juice and exclaim “These are my favorite!” to a plate of lemon cakes.

As they ate conversation began flowing naturally, and it dawned on Thomas all over again why exactly he was so mad about her. She was witty, insightful, kind- completely brilliant. And he managed to make her laugh, too, enough times that he dared to wonder aloud why she hadn’t agreed to go out with him sooner. That earned him a playful punch in the arm, which in turn led to a lengthy discussion about the way in which he’d fought with his siblings as a child, which led to an annoyed criticism of the first years that left them both breathless with laughter. As their talk went on and on, the thought of Calista all but vanished from his mind.

The sun was setting magnificently over the lake by the time they had finished eating, and Thomas found himself leaning backwards watching the red rays color the water, Bindy leaning against him, breathing softly. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. 

She yawned, turning her face up to him. “You’re really not bad,” she teased, grinning lazily. 

He chuckled. “That’s high praise, coming from you.”

She nodded, her chin rubbing against his shirt. “You’ve earned it, Tom.”

Green eyes met brown, and with a terrible, wonderful lurch he realized:this is the moment. He leaned down, cupping her small face between his hands, and their lips met in the moment he had dreamed of since he had met her.

He was suffocated by his euphoria, his triumph; he wanted to pinch himself to ensure that this was reality, and not some heat-induced History of Magic daydream-

A harsh, hurt voice did the job just as well. “Excuse me,” the girl said coldly, and Thomas and Bindy broke apart, staring up at the speaker in surprise.

Calista stood over them, still in her Quidditch uniform. Evidently, she had just come from practice. The look on her face made Thomas feel horribly ill; she was angry and sad and betrayed all in one. 

Bindy sat up, her face settling into her usual mask of defiance. “What, has Thomas got a test tomorrow or something?” she asked sharply. “He doesn’t need to be tutored right now. We’re on a date.”

Calista’s eyes flashed dangerously and her nostrils flared. “Tutoring?” she hissed, and inexplicably, Thomas thought of their late-night snog in the common room. It had been rather nice…

She whirled on him, fuming. “You told her I’m your tutor?" She let out a snort of derision, and turned back to Bindy with a malicious smile on her lips. "The boy you’re snogging is the boy I’m meant to marry, sweetheart."

Bindy’s eyes widened with shock and she pulled herself further back, so that they were no longer touching. She looked at Thomas, her eyes pleading with him to contradict Calista. “Thomas?” she asked quietly, “What does she mean?”

Thomas remained silent, looking back and forth between the two of them and wondering what on Earth he had been thinking with any of it. Calista shook her head and chuckled disbelievingly, disdain plain in her face. Bindy shot up, staring down at him as if he had just told her he was planning on joining the Death Eaters. “You’re engaged?” she spat. “What are you, another pureblood Slytherin prince, already found yourself a trophy wife before you’re even sixteen?”

"Oi, I am not a bloody trophy wife, you sodding elf-“

"Bindy, please, I didn’t-“

"What?" she demanded, ignoring Calista as the older girl turned and walked away, still shaking her head. "You didn’t mean to hurt me? To lie to me?” She laughed, sounding half-mad. “Perhaps not the former, but certainly the latter.” She leant down and snatched up her things. “I’ll see you around, Thomas.”

And just like that, both of them were gone.

Thalista Playlist (x)

  • The Travelling Band | Angel of the Morning

(idk impossible to find the lyrics and was too lazy to write them down)

  • Voxtrot | Fast Asleep

gotta take something great just to get me out of bed
music to my ears it makes you happy when you tell me
this place is like a womb you live so well from doing nothing
one day you will learn there is some beauty in the thing that makes you sweat

  • Someone Still Loves Your Boris Yeltsin | Dead Right

Yeah I know we’re on a
collision course
I know it sucks and it just
gets worse
Yeah I know I know I know

  • Sufjan Stevens | For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti

If there’s anything to say
If there’s anything to do
If there’s any other way
I’d do anything for you

  • The Veils | The Letter

I know I know I know
you felt a change in my heart
I know I know I know
the planets ripped you apart
I know I know I know
all the sins they knew no better
I know I know I know

  • Voxtrot | The Start of Something

Come by and see me, I’m a love-letter away
I’d break your name before I’d say:
"I really love you, loved you,"
Now I don’t care if you saw
I watched every inch of film flash across your roman features
And I loved it, loved it

  • Someone Still Loves You Boris Yelstin | House Fire

Does it have to hurt?
Don’t get confused
Don’t let it bother you
Don’t try to call you’ll lose it all
You get used to her bad news,
It’s just bad news

2

A.U. MEME -> Thalista personality swap.

She wasn’t a girl of many words, but Thomas found, quite surprisingly, that he didn’t mind at all.

He was tired of the unending battles of wits he constantly fought with his typical lot of female friends, and he was tired of being unfairly labeled as another “Slytherin slag”. Flirt as he might, he was hardly a slag.

Calista was… interesting. There was something in the glint of her brown eyes, in the slight gleam of her wary smile, that promised something far beyond the usual exhausting quarrels of his usual conversations. And he found, as he got to know the older girl, that she was kind. She was occasionally awkward, sometimes nervous, and from time to time perhaps fancied him too much, but she brought out the best in him. She was in turns funny, clever, and gentle- and constantly beautiful. 

He’d never thought it possible, but he had finally fallen for someone. When he’d envisioned the day, he’d also expected it to be a girl who challenged him above and beyond the others, a girl whom he hated and loved and burned himself to ash for. But the way he burned for Calista Walker was better than the searing flame of hateful passion. The way he felt for her kept him warm, comforted him, made him feel safe in a way he hadn’t thought possible. 

He supposed that some small part of him always that all fires, however blazing or slow-burning, flickered out eventually. 

And when she’d gone, he was left in the cold again. 

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