There was the childish temptation to kick at the door in frustration but one, if her unlocking charm had done nothing, force probably wouldn’t either; and two, kicking was rather unladylike. And Calliope, as the pureblood witch she professed to be, and as the current Mrs. Cosmo Zabini, had a reputation to maintain.
Not that it mattered what Ama Zabini thought of her. It wasn’t as though she had any contact with her former family - not that Calliope knew of, at least - or any surviving standing in society circles.
Rather than kick the door, she whirled around to watch the other woman move towards the windows. “I’m not sure you’ll fit through there,” Calliope remarked, more matter-of-fact about this than consciously trying to imply anything unpleasant. (That said, she was quite good at being malicious unconsciously, too.) What she meant, really, was that clearly neither of them would fit; she was the taller of the two, clearly, and the window was high up and rather tiny. She did hear the sound of someone’s amusement outside - if this was some Hogsmeade ragamuffin’s idea of a fun jape, she would gladly box them around the ears, ladylikeness be damned - and moved nearer with some idea of calling out for help.
Only for the breeze to bring in some other scent to her nose for a brief moment, and that brought all the nausea she’d thought was finished for now rushing back up; gagging, she lurched for the nearest sink, leaning forwards and trying desperately to hold it in.
Not that it mattered what Ama Zabini thought of her. It wasn’t as though she had any contact with her former family - not that Calliope knew of, at least - or any surviving standing in society circles.
Rather than kick the door, she whirled around to watch the other woman move towards the windows. “I’m not sure you’ll fit through there,” Calliope remarked, more matter-of-fact about this than consciously trying to imply anything unpleasant. (That said, she was quite good at being malicious unconsciously, too.) What she meant, really, was that clearly neither of them would fit; she was the taller of the two, clearly, and the window was high up and rather tiny. She did hear the sound of someone’s amusement outside - if this was some Hogsmeade ragamuffin’s idea of a fun jape, she would gladly box them around the ears, ladylikeness be damned - and moved nearer with some idea of calling out for help.
Only for the breeze to bring in some other scent to her nose for a brief moment, and that brought all the nausea she’d thought was finished for now rushing back up; gagging, she lurched for the nearest sink, leaning forwards and trying desperately to hold it in.
