Narcissa dressed her up in the wig and makeup again when the day for the shopping trip came around, and she gave her a dress to borrow. Callisto was glad she had begun to shave her legs. They looked like lady's legs, always had done, long and shapely. She looked at herself in the mirror in the hall as she was waiting for Narcissa to come down, and took a breath. There was no need to worry, not anymore. She was Callisto, the girl she'd always known she was. But she did worry, worried until there was a twisting knot in her stomach. She worried about school, worried that they would know it was Orson, just stupid, fat Orson, dressing up like a kid. She thought of Montague, of Charles. It had been easy to laugh off the bullies with Charles. But on that night Orson had walked into the dormitory to see Montague standing on his bed, diary in hand and reading it out to the full room, the look on his friend's face had been disgust.

Most of all, she worried about her family, about the fact that she and her brother, who had been close nearly all their lives, weren't speaking. She worried about her father, who had always been proud of his eldest son. Thankfully, there were no grandparents left. She couldn't bear the thought of her grandfather Abraxus knowing. Lucius was an only child, and Narcissa....well, Narcissa was as well to be one too.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a house elf, Keely, clearing the table in the dining room. The house elves didn't seem to mind. They cheerfully called her "Miss Callisto," now, upon being corrected by Narcissa on "Master Orson."

She couldn't help but fear it was all a game to her mother, a game she would soon get bored of. The sound of heels on the stairs made her look up, and she saw Narcissa coming down. Her mother was beautiful. She remembered being a small child, sitting and watching her do her make up, delighting in the soft feel of her dresses and little chubby Orson thinking innocently that he wanted to be a lady just like his mother when he grew up. Well. It was time to test it.

"Ready?" Narcissa asked, and she coughed and straightened her dress nervously.

"As I'll ever be."

"Chin up, darling. Walk like you're confident."

"But I'm not," she whispered.

Narcissa gave a small smile. "Neither am I, most of the time. It helps to pretend."

They went to Diagon Alley at first, as though Narcissa was fond of London boutiques, she always said you couldn't beat Madam Malkin.

The old witch looked up as the door opened, and the light twinkled off her glasses. "Good morning, Mrs Malfoy. And....?"

She paused politely, and Callisto's eyes flickered anxiously to her mother.

"This is Callisto," Narcissa said, examining some gowns. "She is the daughter of one of my distant cousins."

Callisto almost believed her. She was a good liar, and played a good part. She had always envied her and Draco for it, the ability to make everyone else feel inadequate and desperate for their attention. Callisto burned hot in her wig, wondering if it was obvious to Madam Malkin that she was really the awkward teenager who came to get his school and robes for formal occasions fitted. But the witch smiled and hardly spared her a second glance. "Of course. Are you looking for anything specific today or....?"

Narcissa finally looked up at her. "Yes. I would like some dresses for Callisto, please. Maybe some casual robes too?"

"Certainly," Madam Malkin replied, and she bustled forward with her tape measure. "Arms out, please."

Callisto burned. She wondered if the padded bra would work. Narcissa had said it made her look simply like a girl who was a little flat as of yet. Madam Malkin measured around her bust, her waist and her legs.

"I think....something light," Narcissa said. Though she was keeping up her snobbish exterior, her eyes twinkled at Callisto like they had a private joke. "What do you think, Callisto?"

"I'd like blue," she found herself saying. Her voice hadn't deepened much as of yet, and anyway she was now taking a potion to keep it high.

The bell above the door jingled as another customer arrived, and Madam Malkin excused herself as she snapped up her tape measure and disappeared to the front of the shop.

"We'll go to a few boutiques after this," Narcissa said. "Get you some shoes. Maybe heels, even."

Callisto's silent fear finally surfaced. "Mother....don't you think you're being a little....hasty?"

"Of course not. You need some proper clothes, don't you, and you know money isn't an problem. It makes a change from those horrible shapeless sweaters you used to insist on wearing."

She allowed herself a brief flicker of a smile. That was when she had been several pounds heavier, when she had been Orson. She liked to think of that as being in the past now, even though her father and brother still insisted on calling her that.

Narcissa gave her a quick hug that smelled like perfume, her blonde hair tickling her face.

"I'm proud of you," she whispered. "And I'm just....I know I've been maybe focusing on Draco too much."

"You haven't," she lied, like she hadn't resented Draco for capturing their mother's attention for so long.

"I have," she said quietly. "I haven't been the best mother, either. So now I'm trying to make up for it. I don't know much about this, but we'll learn together, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, and she let her go as Madam Malkin returned with the other customer. She got a shock as she realised she recognised him. Landon Smythe, a fellow Slytherin from her year. Not someone who she was exactly friendly with, but he had never joined in with the teasing. He was staring, and she tensed. Why was he staring? Did he recognise her? When he saw her looking, he blushed pink and gave an awkward nod, disappearing into a changing cubicle.

"Boy you know?" Narcissa asked. She was smiling.

"Yes," she said, and swallowed as Madam Malkin returned to them.

When they returned home, they had a lot of bags and receipts. She'd nearly had a heart attack when she saw how much Narcissa had spent in one of the boutiques. Five hundred galleons.

"Relax," her mother told her. "That was when I paid for my dress too, remember? Anyway, we can afford it."

It didn't stop her feeling guilty. She knew her brother and mother could spend any amount of the family money and not feel at all guilty, but she felt uneasy.

They were back in time for dinner, which was mostly a silent affair, these days.

"Orson," Lucius said finally, his voice tight. "Do you have to wear that clown outfit at the table?"

Before she got a chance to answer, Narcissa spoke. "I think she looks lovely, Lucius. Anyway, she didn't get time to change after we came back from shopping."

His face was completely disapproving. Callisto bent over her food, and nothing else was said until she went upstairs, when she met Draco in the hall.

"You look nice," he said grudgingly. "Almost like a real girl."

"Thank you," she murmured, and went into her room, the sentence playing around in her head, almost like a real girl.

Well, what had she expected? That calling herself female, dressing up and being called Miss in shops made her a real girl?

Callisto discovered a new fact about makeup that evening, and that was that mascara ran when you cried.