Mary isn't an idiot. She knows that she isn't alright. Between her inability to sleep for more than a few hours at a time and her new paranoia that she's constantly being followed, she's definitely spiralling in a downward direction. Still, sitting on the roof of her childhood home blowing smoke into the pink evening sky, she's finding it hard to care. Well, actually, she's been finding it a bit hard to care in general lately.
It's too cold for this but she can't stand being inside anymore. She feels trapped. Trapped by the bedroom she grew up in, more full of the kid she used to be than the person she is now. She barely recognizes herself these days, barely remembers caring about the boys whose posters are hung-up on her walls, or the names of her stuffed animals or the girls who gave her the friendship bracelets still sitting on her dresser—carelessly taken off one day and never put back on.
She breathes in deep, filing her lungs with all the smoke she can, letting it burn, holding it in until she starts to cough and choke. She sits up, throwing the nearly finished cigarette off the edge of the roof and letting the tears squeeze out of the corners of her eyes. She doesn't really cry, hasn't in a long time, this feels good though, even if it isn't the same.
She hears him coming before she hears the window sliding open.
"I thought dad fixed this?" Damian says, pulling himself through like he was invited.
"He did," Mary nods at the window screen she'd popped out and thrown further down the roof.
Damian lets out a low whistle as he settles next to her. "You're gonna get hell for that."
Mary only shrugs, looking out at the quickly darkening sky. A particularly bitter gust of wind blows through them, sneaking right under her jumper and through her skin.
"Fuck," her brother hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Bloody freezing out here."
"No one's stopping you from going back inside."
Her brother lets out a huff. They're close in age, only two years apart—Damian being the older sibling. They used to be close in other ways too, used to be friends. Though every time she comes home it gets harder and harder to remember that. Damian's at Uni now. Mary can never remember which one. Can't imagine she'll ever go to one herself.
"Who was he then?" Damian asks.
Mary reaches into her pocket and pulls out another cigarette. Excessive, but she knows he hates the smell and she's hoping it'll make him go back inside. "Who was who?" she asks, lighting the thing the old-fashioned way—with matches she stole from the kitchen. She's gotten too used to doing this with magic.
"The boy who's got you out here being moody."
She inhales, the smoke scratching her raw throat. "There's no boy," she says on her exhale, it's insulting but not surprising that he thinks everything she feels is because of some boy. But then, she supposes there's no way he could guess at what the actual problem is.
It's incredibly easy to hide things from your parents as a Muggle-born. For all their talk of inclusivity Hogwarts has never been particularly committed to communicating with the Muggle families of their students. From what Mary can tell, all her parents were told about her attack was that she got injured and would recover quickly. When her parents asked her about it she told them it was a Quidditch injury, just the mention of the word 'Quidditch' made their eyes glaze over. There were no more questions after that.
"Then what is it?" Damian pushes, she can feel him looking at her without turning her head. He coughs as she lets go of another cloud of smoke. "What's going on with you?"
It's an interesting question; what is her problem exactly? Is it that a group of boys she goes to school with violated her in every possible way? Is it that there's a war coming that she has no choice but to be a part of? Or, perhaps, is it that the one person she trusted with the truth—with her feelings about all of this—is involved with one the bad guys? Because maybe James doesn't know about the Mark but he still knows who Regulus Black is. The kind of person he is. And what people like him do to people like Mary.
"Oi! Earth to Mary?" Damian snaps his fingers in front of her face.
She looks over at him and then back at the now black sky, flicking the ash off the end of her cigarette. "Never mind, you're right, it's a boy."
Mary barely tries to sell it, but Damian doesn't appear to need much convincing. "You need me to beat him up?" She's pretty sure he's only half joking.
"No," she says firmly, something cold coiling in her gut. "I have it covered."
"Out?" Lily repeats.
Mary rolls her eyes, lying on her back on her bed, curling the phone cord around her finger. "Yes, out. It's New Years Eve."
"Sure, but we normally do a movie night on New Years—you, me, Alice, Marlene."
"Yes, I know, I've been there. Aren't you bored of it?"
"No."
That makes Mary smile. She's always admired Lily's ability to be completely immune to peer pressure. Lily does what she wants when she wants to and doesn't care whether anyone else thinks it's cool or not.
"Well, I am, so I say we all go out this year."
"Out where?" she doesn't need to see Lily's face to know that she's frowning.
"There's a club in London," Mary says, as casually as she can. As though going out to Muggle clubs is something she does all the time.
"There are several I would imagine."
"Well look at you with the jokes, little Miss Sarcasm. It's called Infinity, they're doing a whole New Years Eve thing. We should go."
There's a brief pause. "We're underage."
"Damian can get us fakes."
"All of us?"
"Mmhm," Mary inspects her nails. "Oh, also, can you invite James and the crew?"
There's some static like maybe she's dropped the phone. "You want the boys to come?"
"Obviously."
"And you can't invite them because...?"
Mary lets out an exasperated sigh. "I'm busy with other preparations."
"Why can't Marlene—"
"I'm sorry," Mary interrupts, sounding not at all sorry. "Have you lost your ability to speak with James Potter? Been hit with some kind of anti-James Potter curse I'm not aware of?"
Lily mutters something under her breath that Mary can't hear.
"What was that? I didn't catch it," she says in her most sickeningly sweet voice.
"No, I have not lost the ability to speak to James Potter."
Mary grins even though Lily can't see her. "Excellent, then put on your big girl pants and send him an owl."
Lily huffs on the other end of the line. "I just don't understand why it has to be me."
"Oh I'm sorry, I thought that was obvious. You fancy him, so I think it's funny," also, he's currently fucking Regulus Black and I want to know how serious it is - of course, Mary doesn't say that bit. But if Lily can turn his head then maybe the problem will resolve itself and Mary will have one less pit in her stomach.
"You're a terrible person," Lily says flatly.
Mary snorts. "So I've been told."
"I still think this is a bad idea."
"But you're coming anyway?" Mary can practically hear Lily rolling her eyes over the phone.
"As if you'd let me say no."
"Smart girl."
There's a small pause and Mary instantly feels her skin start to crawl. She knows what's coming and she ought to just cut it off at the pass, just say goodbye and hang up before Lily has the chance. But for some reason she's decided to be a masochist today.
"This silence is feeling very poignant Evans."
Lily huffs out a laugh. "It is a bit."
"Well then, spit it out, what do you want to say?" Mary does her best to maintain an aurora of indifference.
Eventually Lily sighs. "Are you alright Mary?"
Ah, yes. There it is. Since the attack she hasn't been able to have a single conversation with her friends without it ending up here.
"Sure."
"Sure?"
"Well, I'm bored as hell right now," which isn't exactly a lie.
She likes her family, really she does. Her mother is bright and colourful and her father is soft and sweet and their home is a mess but only if you don't know it very well. There's a genius to the chaos, to the walls that are covered in far too many photos and the red sofa hiding under far too many pillows. She likes her family. Her home. Except that these days they don't really feel like her's anymore. Magic building a wall between them. It makes her stir crazy.
"Damian not keeping you entertained?" Lily asks. She's met Mary's brother a few times, back when they were still young enough to have playdates. Despite being older Damian has always been more than happy to play with Mary's friends. With her. Probably still would if she'd let him.
"Damian's a goody two shoes, you know that. Speaking of terribly dull older siblings," Mary goes on, desperate to change the subject. "How is Petunia?"
Lily snorts. "Not living here anymore, thank God. Me and mum went to visit her new place the other day and it was just...bleh, you know?"
Mary laughs. "Where is she living now anyway?"
"Surrey."
"Oh God no."
"Uh-huh, it's like no one there is even a real person, all the houses look identical and Petunia was wearing an apron when she answered the door and Vernon was in a suit and he made her serve us."
"What!"
"Right?" Lily's tone is similarly indignant. "She was in the kitchen basically the whole time and me and mum offered to help but she wouldn't let us and then Vernon got all snobby about having a wife who didn't need help, like that was some sort of brag?"
"That man is the worst person I have never met."
"You have no idea," Lily sighs. "Anyway, I don't know, she seems happy so I guess that's all that matters. They're talking about having kids soon."
"Oh no! They want to procreate? That can't be good for the future of the human race."
Lily laughs. "God, I shouldn't find that funny."
"Of course you should, I'm hilarious."
"Just be grateful that Damian hasn't gone and married an absolute prick."
Mary opens her mouth to confidently say that Damian would never, but finds that she can't quite get the words out. Because she actually doesn't know if that's true. She finds herself looking at the wall that separates their bedrooms. She's never met one of his girlfriends before, never been home long enough or at the right time. She actually has no idea what kind of girls he dates.
"Mary?"
"Sorry—sorry—talk of matrimony always makes me maudlin."
"You don't think you'll ever, you know, wanna get married?"
Mary laughs before she can stop herself. "For some reason I just don't see that happening for me," and then; "What about you?"
"Mmm," she can tell that Lily is biting her lip. "It might be nice, I don't know, have to be the right person though."
"I do think that is the general idea with marriage."
"You know what I mean."
"Sure."
Lily laughs like she knows Mary is only humouring her. "Right, well, I should go. But Mary?"
"Yeah?"
"You can talk to us you know? Really."
Mary swallows. "I do know, yeah. I just...don't want to." She couldn't say that to Marlene, it would upset her too much. But Lily, she somehow knows, will understand.
"Okay. Well, I'll see you New Years Eve I guess."
"No guessing. Say hello to Jamie for me!"
"I'm hanging up now!"
Mary makes a series of kissing noises into the phone until the line goes dead.
Okay, so it's possible she isn't actually getting their fake ID's from Damian (because he's such a bloody goody-goody that he would never), it's possible that she is, in fact, magicking them, which may or may not be a little bit illegal. Usually she can get away with smaller spells without anyone seeming to notice, but since there are so many ID's she decides to go on a day trip to Diagon and charm them there. It's almost impossible for the Ministry to know who's casting in a magic location that busy. Plus, it gets her out of the house and away from her family.
"You're going out?" Damian had caught Mary trying to make a swift exit out the front door that morning.
"Mhm," sliding a pair of oversized sunglasses onto her face. "Why?"
"No reason just..." he'd shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Thought maybe we could hang out for a bit."
"Another time, yeah?"
"Where are you going? Maybe I could come with, or give you a drive?"
"No!" she'd said too fast and too sharp, "Sorry, it's a magic thing."
Damian had instantly frozen. "Ah," the hands returned to the pockets. "A magic thing."
"Yup, okay, so...see you later?"
Now, sitting outside Florean's with an ice cream cone, charming ID's into existence, she feels a little guilty. She isn't sure why she's so desperate to get away from him, why the idea of spending time alone with her brother is so frightening. She just knows that it makes her skin crawl every time she thinks about it.
Maybe,
hisses the irritating voice in her head.
You're afraid that he still knows you too well. That he'll see right through you like he always did. Maybe you're afraid that you want him too.
"Stupid," she mutters to herself, punctuating it with another flick of her wand. She picks the newly formed card up, squinting at the details. The ink is bleeding a little but it'll have to do. She has no idea why that happens.
Suddenly there's the sound of screeching metal and then— "Shit."
Mary looks up to find Regulus Black on his hands and knees a few paces away from her, ice cream all over the cobble stone in front of him.
"Fuck," he mutters, pulling back so that he's sitting on his heels, inspecting his hands which appear to have gotten scrapped on the way down. Mary wonders if he's seen her but that question is answered a second later when his eyes flash up and meet her's.
She arches her brow. "Was that my fault?" she asks, feeling a little smug that just the sight of her sends Regulus Black to is knees.
"I'm not sure you can take credit for my lack of coordination," Regulus mutters. "But I wasn't expecting to...see you here...or anyone really."
"Pretty popular place to be if you don't want to see anyone."
He nods, looking back down at his hands. "Yeah well, most people aren't getting ice cream in December." Which might be a valid point, but since Florean's patio has a warming charm permanently cast over it in the winter Mary hardly sees why the weather matters.
"They let you out on your own little Black? Or is your Mummy around here somewhere?" Mary asks, intrigued when she sees the colour rush to Regulus's cheeks.
"My mother isn't here, no."
"But? I'm sensing a definite 'but' at the end of that sentence."
Regulus grimaces. "Kreacher is with me—our house elf. We're getting some things for Christmas dinner."
"I see," she runs him over with her eyes. It's strange to see him out of his Slytherin colours and Wizarding robes. Instead he's wearing a grey peacoat and black pants, a pair of pointy leather boots on his feet. Dressed like this she can almost forget that he's the heir to the Black family dynasty. Almost make the mistake of thinking he's just another boy.
"So you left the elf—"
"Kreacher," he corrects.
Mary arches her brow but doesn't comment. "—Kreacher, to do all the work while you fucked off to get ice cream? Very nice Black."
"Actually, I was getting us both ice cream. Not that it matters now." Both of them look down at the massacre in front of him.
"You were getting your house elf ice cream?" she repeats.
"Technically sherbet, that's his favourite."
Mary wrinkles her nose. "Ew. Sherbet."
Regulus nods gravely. "I know, I keep trying to get him to try something else but he's adamant. Honestly, I think he just likes how colourful it is."
It suddenly hits Mary that she's having a conversation with Regulus Black about his house elf's ice cream preferences and she has no idea how she's meant to process any of that.
"Ah," Regulus says knowingly, after a pause that is too long to be comfortable.
"Ah?" she asks.
"You've just remembered."
"Remembered what?"
He gives her a dry smile. "Who you're talking to."
Well at least he's self-aware. If such things matter when it comes to psychotic blood purists, which Mary is pretty sure they don't.
"That happen to you a lot?"
He shrugs. "Probably more than most people."
Another long pause.
"Are you planning to stay on the ground forever? Or are you waiting for your house elf to come help you up?"
Regulus blinks, looking down at himself like he'd forgotten he was still kneeling on the ground.
"Right, no," he mutters, getting to his feet and quickly vanishing the mess he'd made.
"Well," he brushes his hands off on his coat, "I'd better go."
"Aren't you gonna replace your ice cream?"
He shakes his head, looking a little rueful. "I don't think so. Running into you, falling—doesn't feel like the universe is a fan of me getting ice cream today."
Mary very nearly laughs. "That's absurd, you do realize that?"
"Oh yeah, absolutely."
She shakes her head. "Well alright then," turning back to her ID's, not willing to actually say 'good-bye' to him, like this was a real conversation, like he deserves civil niceties.
And that should be the end of it.
Really, she means for it to be.
But then, before she can stop herself, she hears herself say:
"You said sorry."
Regulus is already halfway into the road and Mary wonders if he's going to pretend he didn't hear her, but after a few seconds of hesitating he retraces his steps, coming to stand in front of her table.
"When you left me outside the infirmary," she clarifies. There's no one around but she watches Regulus's eyes do a quick search anyway.
"Yeah," he says finally. "I said sorry."
"Why?"
He arches his brow. "Why?"
"Yes. What exactly are you sorry for Regulus Black?" She stares him down, waiting for him to decide how honest he's willing to be. How honest he's capable of being.
"I don't know," he says eventually. "All of it I guess."
Which is barely an answer. "You didn't have to do it, you could have just taken me to the infirmary and left my head alone. No one one was forcing you, there was no wand to your head."
Regulus nods slowly. "I could have."
"But you didn't."
His eyes keep hopping around, making sure no one is within hearing distance. Not that Mary thinks it would matter much if they were. If they can't punish Mulciber for this because of his family connections there's no one way that anything is going to happen to Regulus Black.
"You have your people and I have mine, I expect you'd do what you had to to protect them."
Mary does her absolute best not to hex him. "My friends don't normally go around assaulting people."
Regulus looks away but doesn't move, even when Mary thinks he might—might just walk away from this conversation.
"I don't agree with what they do."
"No," she say sharply. "You just make sure they can keep on doing it." And when he goes silent again, she continues; "You must spend a lot of your time being sorry."
A sad sort of smile comes across his face. "I do actually."
"How fucking useless of you," her voice is so sharp she's surprised he isn't bleeding. "A sorry Death Eater."
He flinches, pulling nervously on his sleeve. "Are you going to tell him?"
She arches her brow. "Who?" he gives her a look like: 'You know who,' and she does. But she's still going to make him say it.
After a few seconds of tense silence he sighs. "James."
"Ah," she says. "Yes."
She's not sure what answer he was expecting but he recoils almost instantly, face going pale. Funny, she wouldn't have thought he was capable of caring that much about someone other than himself. But then, James has always had a way with the Black boys hasn't he?
"When?" Regulus asks, sounding like he's having trouble breathing.
Mary gives him a once over and then shrugs, "I'm seeing him New Years Eve."
Regulus flinches.
"I know that I'm not in a position to ask for favours—"
"No, you're really not," Mary interrupts, but that doesn't deter him.
"Please, can I—can I do it? Can I just—can I be the one to tell him?" he looks at her beseechingly. "I'm worried that if you tell him now, before he can...reach me...he'll do something stupid."
Mary would like to dismiss this fear, but, she's known James long enough to see the truth in it. "Like show up at Grimmauld Place demanding to speak with you?"
"Yes," Regulus says, voice tight. "Exactly like that."
Mary has no idea how that would end. Not well she imagines. Not well for anyone.
"Alright," she says finally, watching as Regulus's whole body seems to relax, he has to reach out and grab the table in front of him for support. Mary leans forward, "You have two weeks after we get back," she says calmly. "If you haven't told him by then I will."
Regulus still looks deathly pale. "Okay," he says, sounding a bit hollow. "Okay."
Mary nods, leaning back in her chair. "Good. Glad that's settled. Now get the fuck away from me."
Regulus doesn't need to be told twice. Turning around without ceremony and stumbling across the street. Mary is not at all confident that James still won't do something stupid, even if they are at Hogwarts, even if Regulus is the one to tell him. But she supposes that at least whatever he does at school will be less likely to get him killed.
She sighs, looking over at her melted ice cream and vanishing it. She should probably be a little more cautious with the amount of underage magic she uses but she can't bring herself to care.
Without much pause she turns back to the task at hand: making sure her and her friends can get absolutely plastered on New Years Eve.
"Give it back!"
"I don't have it!"
"Yes you do you little twerp! Give it back!"
Mary has barely closed the front door behind her when her little sister comes barrelling into the hall, throwing her arms around Mary's waist and burying her head in her stomach.
"What's up buttercup?" she asks, gently patting her head. There's no time for an answer before Trinia walks in already rolling her eyes.
"God Lu, you're such a baby."
"Hey—no name calling," Mary says without thinking.
"She stole my shirt," Trinia says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Trinia is thirteen and Lu is eight. When they were younger their parents used to refer to the three of them as 'the girls.' As in 'Here comes Damian and the girls,' like they were some sort of band.
"No I didn't!" Lu says into Mary's stomach. It's almost certainly a lie but Lu's always been Mary's favourite so she doesn't say anything.
"You did. Now tell me where it is!"
"Wait," Mary holds up her hand. "You don't know where it is? Then how do you know she took it?"
Trinia puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes. "Because it's missing," like Mary is the stupidest person on earth.
"So?"
"Sooo," Trinia repeats, dragging out the word. "She obviously took it."
"I didn't!" Lu stamps her foot, still clinging to Mary.
Trinia narrows her eyes and looks like she's about to say something vicious when Mary cuts her off. "Have you checked your room?"
"What?" she asks indignantly.
"Have. You. Checked. Your. Room?"
"It's not in my closet or my hamper," Trinia says stubbornly.
"But you didn't check anywhere else?"
Trinia throws her arms up in the air. "I don't need to, I wouldn't put it anywhere else. She's taken it." She jabs an accusing finger at their little sister.
"You really shouldn't go around making unfounded accusations like that."
"Yeah! You're being super unfunded!" comes Lu's little voice, and Mary has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
"Ugh, whatever, you two are so annoying."
With that she turns around and stomps back up the stairs to her room. Mary waits until she's certain the coast is clear before she crouches down to Lu's level.
"Did you take the shirt?" she whispers.
Lu stares back at her with big brown eyes and for a moment Mary thinks she might not tell her, but then she smiles. "Yeah."
Mary smiles back, she can't help herself. "I thought so. Where'd you hide it?'
"Mum's bedroom. She'll never check there and even if she does, Trinia isn't dumb enough to yell at mum for stealing her clothes."
Mary laughs, mussing her hair before straightening up again. "You're a little evil genius aren't you?"
Her sister grins at her, missing a few of her teeth. "Yes."
"Alright, go on you gremlin, before Trinia comes back and starts yelling at us again. Where is mum anyway?"
"Kitchen," Lu says, already scrambling up the stairs, practically on all fours.
Mary nods, hanging up her bag in the front hall before walking to the other side of the house.
She'd hoped that Trinia would get a letter when she turned eleven. There'd never been any question that Damian was a Muggle, being older than her, but Mary had been convinced that she couldn't be the only one—surely her sisters would be witches. It had been devastating when Trinia's birthday came and went and no letter arrived. Not for Trinia of course, or their parents, neither of them seemed to care much one way or the other. But Mary, Mary had been so desperate to have someone else in her family who understood. They'd all been so close when she was growing up, she missed that. Now there was this wall between Mary and the rest of her family. She'd thought that maybe if she wasn't the only one it would help break some of that down.
She was doing her best not to hope with Lu.
"Hey," Mary says as she slides into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and watches her mother flutter around making dinner. It smells good, warm and spicy, but then, it always does.
Carry Macdonald looks over her shoulder and smiles. "Hello sweet-pea, how was downtown?"
Her mother has a head full of brown curls that are piled haphazardly on the top of her head, loosely held by a silk handkerchief and collection of pens and pencils she's stuck in it and then forgotten about.
"It was good," Mary loves watching her mother cook, she always has. It's like a whole production, with music on in the background and her mum constantly chopping and stirring and mixing. The food at Hogwarts is good but it's...impersonal. She tried to explain that to Marlene once but she doesn't think she understood. There is just something about her mother's food that is so undeniably her. Made with love, she always says.
"Did you see any of your friends?" her mother asks while meticulously dicing an onion into tiny pieces.
Mary thinks of Regulus Black and nearly laughs. "No, no I did not."
Her mother glances up, something a little too knowing in her eyes. "That's too bad."
Mary tries to look casual. "Sometimes it's nice to be alone."
Her mother holds her stare for a moment longer before turning back to her cooking. "Sometimes."
Part of her wants to tell her mother—tell her what really happened this term, tell her about the war and the Death Eaters. Wants to tell her that she feels like she's in over her head and she doesn't know who to ask for help, not because she doesn't have people around her who care but because she's not sure she has anyone who can bear it all.
"Damian was pretty disappointed that he missed you today," her mother interrupts her thoughts, snapping her back to the present.
Mary makes sure to keep her expression neutral. "If he wanted to hang out he should have said something sooner."
Her mother makes a noise that Mary knows means; 'I don't agree with you but it's not worth fighting about'.
"You're still going out on New Years Eve to a friend's place, yes?" she asks, and Mary doesn't like where this is going.
"Yes," she says cautiously.
"You should bring Damian with you."
Mary rolls her eyes. "I'm sure he has his own friends."
"He does, he sees them all the time. He wants to see you."
"Mum," Mary says in a tone of voice that is eerily similar to Trinia's.
"Mary," her mother volleys it back at her.
"He won't know anyone," which isn't strictly true, Damian does technically know Marlene and Lily. "I don't want to have to babysit him the whole time."
Her mother laughs, dumping something into a pan that sizzles. "I'm sure Damian will be able to manage a few social interactions without you holding his hand."
"You can't make me bring him," Mary says petulantly, folding her arms over her chest.
Her mother looks over at her, brow arched. It's an intimidating expression, one Mary has stolen from her mother and put to good use on many occasions.
"Are you and Damian fighting?" her mother asks finally, taking Mary by surprise.
"I—no?"
"Good," her mother rests her arms on the counter separating them, leaning towards her. "Mary, he just wants to be your big brother, he doesn't get to be very often, so...throw him a bone every once and a while okay? It's Christmas."
"So you're playing the Christmas card now," Mary says, though for some reason her throat has grown unreasonably tight.
Her mother smiles. "Absolutely."
"Fine," Mary sighs. "I'll ask him. But he probably won't want to come anyway."
This does not stop her mother from beaming at her, walking around the counter so she can pull Mary into a hug. "Thank you," she gives her a good squeeze before kissing the top of her head and going back to her cooking.
"Will you set the table?" she calls over her shoulder. "It's almost dinner time."
Mary makes a big show of getting up and getting the plates, but the truth is, she doesn't mind, she simply has a reputation as a brat to maintain. And if her mother's smile is anything to go by, she knows it.
"Just don't be weird okay?" Mary says for the hundredth time as her and Damian walk down Carnaby street. It's busy and dark and a little cold. Mary can feel the excitement in the air, people already tipsy and loud. It smells like cigarette smoke and cheap beer and something deep fried. In other words, it smells like a party.
Damian laughs. "I'm not going to be weird. You know, most people like me a lot actually." He shoots her a grin.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a big popular football lad, I get it," she rolls her eyes.
"I don't know what you have against football."
What she has against football is the fact that her parents have attended every game her brother has ever played since he was six. What she has against football is the cabinet full of Damian's trophies in their living room that their father practically drools over every time they have company. 'Oh have you met my son, Damian, he's a football star' which isn't even true, by the way. He's only playing on the Uni team and doesn't plan on going pro.
What she has against football is that she is every bit as good a Quidditch player as her brother is a footballer and her parents will never understand that. Not because they actively don't want to, not because they're trying to choose favourites, but because they grew up with football. They can brag about it to their friends. They can't even tell their friends where Mary goes to school, let alone that she plays a sport on a flying broomstick.
"I don't have anything against football," she says, after too long a pause.
"Uh-huh. So, am I gonna be meeting anyone special tonight?"
She shoots him a look out of the corner of her eye. "Special?"
"Love interests?"
Mary pulls a face that makes Damian laugh. "Gross, don't ever say that again."
"I'm just asking! I'm a good wingman you know."
She gives him another skeptical look. "Somehow I doubt that. But no. No one of interest. One ex-boyfriend I suppose."
Damian instantly stiffens. "Is this the guy who broke your heart?"
Mary scoffs as they round the next corner, music pouring out off every building they pass. "No boy has ever broken my heart." Mary is pretty sure that's true.
"Fine, then is he the boy who had you sitting on the roof feeling sorry for yourself?" his voice has done that thing where it gets all low and macho and stupid.
"I already told you I don't need you to beat anyone up for me," she says wearily.
"Mary."
"Oh honestly," she comes to a stop, turning to face her brother and causing the people walking behind them to grumble as they're forced to maneuver around them. "No, he isn't. I broke up with him. We're honestly very good friends when he isn't being an idiot. He has a boyfriend now anyway so."
There is the chance that maybe she shouldn't have said that.
She watches her brother's eyes go wide. "He has..."
Mary's gaze hardens. "Yes. Is that going to be a problem for you? Because if it is you can fuck right off."
He's still staring at her in shock. "Er—no, I—no, not a problem. Just...surprised, I guess?" he passes his weight back and forth between his feet, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. Uncomfortable. "Is that—er—common, with Wizards?"
Mary arches her brow. "Are you suggesting only Wizards are gay?"
Damian laughs a little, though it's still laced with nerves. "No, no I'm not."
Her eyes narrow. "I mean it Damian, if you're going to make this into a thing—"
"I'm not," he cuts her off. "I'm not I swear, I've just never met anyone who's...y'know..."
"Gay?"
"Sure."
She gives him another once over. "Statistically that's unlikely, but they're not going to be all over each other or anything so you really don't need to worry about it."
Her brother nods. "Right. Okay. Yeah. Cool."
"Cool," Mary repeats mockingly before she starts walking again.
The silence between them lasts for about a block before Mary gives in. "Are you seeing anyone?" she asks, imagining the answer is 'no' since he's out with his little sister on New Years Eve.
"Nah, there...there was for a bit but, not anymore."
She looks over at him. "What happened?"
He shrugs. "She wanted to keep her options open and I...didn't," he gives her a self-deprecating smile.
Mary snorts. "Obviously she didn't deserve you then."
"I'm not sure that's true," Damian says, smiling a bit more genuinely. "But it's nice to hear you say it."
Mary knocks her shoulder into his. "Anytime."
The silence returns, except this time Mary can feel the glances that Damian keeps sending her way. It's work for her not to roll her eyes. She knows exactly where this is going.
"Mary, are you okay?"
She really wishes people would stop asking her that. It's such a ridiculous question, as if anyone can ever answer it truthfully.
"Absolutely," she says, but she doesn't look at him, doesn't need to to know that he's making that dumb expression he does when he's concerned—all furrow browed and sad-eyed.
"You can tell me you know," his voice drops, growing softer, reminding her of the way he used to talk to her after a nightmare or when their dad would put on a scary movie.
"Sure."
The concerned furrow doesn't go away. In fact he goes so far as to reach out, squeezing her arm. "Mary—"
But he's cut off by someone else calling her name:
"Mary!"
Both of them follow the voice to a small group of awkward looking Wizard teenagers leaning against a closed storefront across the street. Mary smiles. It's only been a week but she realizes as soon as she sees them that she's missed these lunatics.
Marlene launches herself at Mary the second she's close enough, causing the pair to stumble into the road laughing as Mary does her best not to lose her balance.
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!" her best friend shouts in her ear, clearly already intoxicated.
"A few days late but your enthusiasm makes up for it," Mary laughs, giving her a kiss on the cheek as the freckled blond pulls away, eyes falling on her brother.
"Oh my God, what's up Damian!"
He smiles at her, the pair performing some weird handshake they developed years ago that Mary has always disliked. Firstly, because handshakes are tacky and secondly, because Damian needs to go find his own best mate and leave her's alone thank-you-very-much.
"Hey," Lily says, laughing a little as she gives Mary her own, slightly less aggressive, hug.
"How much has she had?" Mary asks in a low voice.
Lily's green eyes sparkle. "Only two glasses of wine I swear."
Mary rolls her eyes. "Bloody lightweight."
"I can hear you!" Marlene sing-songs from beside them.
"Good," Mary says over her shoulder.
Marlene sticks out her tongue at her.
"How's it going Macdonald?" Sirius grins from where he's leaning against the wall, ankles crossed, Remus on one side of him and James on the other, with Peter standing just a step behind.
"Happy New Years Mary," Remus adds.
"What Moony said," James smiles, stepping forward to give her a one armed hug. She tries to push down all the things she has to say to him. All the things she's been stewing over for the last few days. This is not the time. Not yet anyway.
"Good to see Lily was able to reach you," she says to him, enjoying the way Lily's cheeks flush.
James just looks confused. "Why wouldn't she be able to reach me?"
But Mary waves the question away, turning back to the group at large.
"Alright children," she holds up her purse. "I brought presents." She pulls out the stack of ID cards.
"Santa is that you?" Sirius asks, earning him a snicker from James and Peter and an elbow from Remus.
"You betcha baby," Mary gives him a wink as she starts handing out cards, noticing that Damian very purposefully looks away, like if he doesn't see the ID's he can pretend he didn't stand by and allow their underage shenanigans to take place. She supposes she should be grateful he didn't just run and tattle the minute she told him the plan.
"Hey Mary?" Remus asks quietly when she passes him his card.
"Mm?"
He nods his head in Damian's direction. "Who's he?"
She looks over at him like she'd forgotten he was there. "Oh, that's my older brother—DAMIAN!" she shouts, causing him to look up from his conversation with Marlene and Lily.
"Jesus Mary, spare our eardrums would you?" Sirius mutters.
"This is Remus, Sirius, James and Peter," she points out the Marauders to her brother, "And you lot, that's Damian."
The boys all nod at one another and Mary can tell by the way that Damian's eyes roam over them that he's trying to figure out which one of them is Mary's ex. She has no intention of helping him out, it's much more fun to watch him guess.
"Alright, now that we're all acquainted, lets get drunk yeah?"
"Here, here!" Sirius calls out, arm swinging around Remus's shoulders as he pulls away from the wall, Marlene grabbing hold of Mary's hand while Lily very subtly maneuvers her way to James's side. Mary feels her chest fill with an unfamiliar fuzzy feeling, so unfamiliar that it takes her a while to figure out what it is:
Love.
She loves them.
All of them.
As stupid and ridiculous and useless as they all are.
Marlene elbows her as they walk up to the club. "What's that look for?"
Mary shakes her head, "What look?" she demands automatically.
Marlene scrunches up her nose, pointing an accusing finger in Mary's face. "That one." Mary playfully slaps her hand away.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to point?"
Marlene grins, somehow bringing out the freckles on her cheeks. "Nope."
"Figures."
But Marlene continues to 'scrunch' at her. Eventually Mary lets out an exaggerated sigh.
"It's nothing, I just...think I've spent too much time with Lily. She's made me all sentimental."
Marlene laughs. "Oh no, what a tragedy!"
"Tell me about it."
"Well, when we get inside I'll buy you a drink to dull the pain."
Mary grins at her. "You better."
The club is everything Mary had wanted. Loud and dark and crowded. She is drenched in sweat within ten minutes of being inside, drinks sloshing around, glasses littering the floor where people have casually dropped them or knocked them from their tables. There is one almost constantly in her hands, the cold feel of the glass and the burning of the alcohol down her throat making her feel settled for the first time in ages.
They find themselves a booth somehow, tucked away in a corner, with ripped pleather seats and an unstable wooden table covered in years of sharpie—like a bathroom stall—people have written names and quotes and bits of gossip. Stuck stickers of bands and political slogans all over it.
Somehow, using her magical drunken wiles, Marlene has managed to drag Damian, Lily and James all out onto the dance floor, giving Mary an unsubtle wink as she knocks James into Lily. Mary snorts.
It isn't until they're the only ones left that Mary realizes there is something wrong with Remus. He sits stiffly, flinching whenever anyone slides in or out of the booth or when the beat in a song is particularly loud. The club is dark but not so much that she can't see the exhaustion in his eyes or the worry in Sirius's. It's odd to see Sirius acting so—there's no other word for it—mothering. He hovers over Remus, barely taking his eyes off him, though whenever he catches anyone looking he shoots them a sly grin or a wink. Makes some offhanded joke.
Eventually, and reluctantly, Sirius gets up to use the loo, at which point Mary downs the rest of her drink and scoots around the booth to take his place beside Remus—since speaking across the table is nearly impossible with the music.
"Hello," Remus says, his smile is, at best, delicate.
"Remus," she says, "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you look terrible."
A laugh that seems to surprise him falls out of his mouth. "Yeah, I know. I was hoping..." but then he cuts himself off, shaking his head and looking down at his glass.
Mary stares at him for a moment before deciding to press forward. "You can leave you know? You and Sirius. I won't take it personally I promise. I'll even make sure James gets back to you in one piece."
Remus grimaces running his finger through the water rings left on the table. "He was so excited," Remus's voice has gotten significantly quieter, forcing Mary to bend her head closer to hear. "He's never been to a Muggle club before, heard about them in songs though, in books, in movies. He forgot—" but Remus abruptly cuts himself off, growing stiff.
Mary doesn't speak this time, instead waiting for Remus to take up the story again. And he does. Eventually.
"I told him to come without me," Remus sighs, "when I started feeling...sick. But he—he wouldn't. Said he'd stay behind," Remus laughs, running a hand over his face "Said he had to kiss me at midnight."
He sighs heavily before reaching for his glass and downing the rest of it. Mary waits for a few seconds, making sure Remus is done talking before she starts.
"So you decided to come even though you're obviously in pain, because Sirius wouldn't come without you?"
"More or less."
She lets out a breath. "Jesus, you two are a fucking toothache aren't you?"
Remus looks at her, brow raised in question.
Mary smiles. "Too sweet."
He rolls his eyes. "More like dysfunctional."
But she dismisses that with the wave of her hand before leaning forward again, careful not to brush against him. "Listen, Remus, there will be other nights and other clubs. Has it ever occurred to you that however excited he might have been, being with you matters more to him?"
"I just..." his mouth struggles to form the words. "I'm worried I'm going to hold him back. Worried he'll start to resent me. That he already does."
If it wasn't for the fact that she was certain it would cause him actual physical harm, Mary would have taken him by the shoulders and shaken him.
"Resent you for what Remus?"
He shrugs, swallowing with difficulty. "For all of it. For being me."
"For being you?"
He nods and then, running a hand through his hair; "For being a boy. Other things too but that...it's...harder for him to accept. And he wouldn't have to if it wasn't for me. He could just be...God, I don't know, normal."
"Normal," Mary repeats, like it's a dirty word. "Remus, you do realize, as gorgeous and lovely as you are, that you did not turn Sirius gay, right?"
Remus huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, I know, just sometimes it feels a bit like...I put him in this position. Forced him to make these choices. Cause we were mates first and he was afraid he was going to lose that and it's—it's really important to Sirius you know? With his family and all. Friends are really important to him. And so yeah, maybe he would have still been attracted to boys every once and a while with or without me, but he could have ignored that."
Mary opens her mouth to object but Remus cuts her off.
"I'm not saying it would have been healthy, I'm just saying he would have had the option to act on it or not. And it's like I took that away from him. Because if he didn't act on it he was going to lose something else. Another family. So in a way I forced him to do this thing that maybe he never would have done otherwise." He laughs then, swiping a hand over his face. "Sorry, I'm rambling."
There is honestly so much to unpack there that Mary isn't at all sure where to start.
"Look, Sirius is fucked up," she says bluntly, going on before Remus can protest. "And that isn't your fault. It's his parents' fault, it's, you know," she waves her hand in the air, "society's fault. People suck, generally, they think a lot of stupid things and then feel the need to force those stupid thoughts on other people. That isn't your fault either. But that kid," she points after Sirius, "looks at you like the world starts and stops with you. Looks at you like he's never seen anything so beautiful. Looks at you like he can't believe you're real."
Even in the dark she thinks she can see Remus blush.
"There are people and things he might grow to resent, but you're never going to be one of them. I promise you."
Remus lets out a heavy breath, leaning back in his seat before shaking his head, a rueful smile twisting his mouth. "Thanks," he says. "That—I—thank you."
She nods. "No problem."
He gives her an apologetic look. "Sorry this—this is weird right? Considering..."
It takes her a moment to realize what he's referring to. "Considering I used to shag him?' she asks, unable to keep the smirk off her face.
Remus blushes again. "Er—yeah."
Mary only shrugs. "Not really no."
"Oh," Remus nods even though he clearly does not understand. "That's...good."
"Macdonald," they both look up as Sirius comes swaggering back to the table, eyebrow arched. "Trying to take my place?"
"Please, as if I have to try." Still, she slides out of the booth, not bothering to sit back down once Sirius has retaken his spot at Remus's side.
"I think I'm going go find the others, do try to break a few public decency laws while I'm away."
Sirius laughs out loud while Remus's blush intensifies, causing Mary to leave the table feeling distinctly satisfied with herself.
It doesn't take her long to find the others. Marlene with a drink she definitely doesn't need, Damian and Lily apparently having an embarrassing dance moves competition. Lily currently performing a very enthusiastic 'sprinkler' which is quickly followed by her brother's version of the robot.
"Where's James?" Mary has to practically snog Marlene's ear in order to be heard over the music.
The other girl shakes her head, and then: "He said he needed some air!" she shouts.
Mary nods, sparing on more look for her brother and Lily before pushing back through the crowd. She tries not to flinch at all the bodies and hands brushing against her, pulling on her, tries to stop constantly checking over her shoulder like she's going to find someone there, watching her. Hunting her. It's hot and loud and despite the room being large the crowd sucks up all the space. She doesn't blame James for needing a break.
She stumbles out into the cold without her jacket, the wind feeling nice on her sweaty skin, though she has a feeling that's going to change soon. She stands in the middle of the pavement, directionless, until she sees a shaggy haired boy a block away, sitting with his back pressed to the bar and his head tilted towards the sky.
"You look miserable," she says as she sits down next to him. Fuck the pavement is cold.
He huffs out a laugh that freezes in front of his mouth, drifting off into the night. "I'm not," and then, closing his eyes, he says it again; "I'm not." Mary isn't sure who it is he's trying to convince. "It's the alcohol," he goes on eventually.
Mary gives him a skeptical look. "You look miserable not drunk."
The corner of his mouth twitches up in a pathetic imitation of his smile. "Yeah well," as though that's any kind of answer.
Mary, quite frankly, doesn't have the patience for this.
"Regulus Black," his eyes snap open, head turning towards her. "Explain that one to me would you?"
"Mary—"
She holds up her hand. "If you're about to tell me you don't know what I'm talking about I will be forced to punch you in the face."
He lets out another disbelieving laugh, running a hand over his quickly flushing face. It's a few seconds before he speaks. "Did he...tell you?"
She arches her brow. "You told me."
James, bless him, looks genuinely confused. "What—I didn't."
"Sweetheart," she says patronizingly. "You practically begged me to help him."
James opens and closes his mouth, something helpless in his eyes before he drops his head back against the wall and looks up. "Did you tell him?"
"Yeah."
James closes his eyes again. "Was he angry?"
She watches him, the tension in his shoulders, the corners of his mouth. He's nervous, she realizes, afraid that he did something to upset Regulus. Regulus Fucking Black.
"No," she says finally. "He wasn't angry."
James gives a small nod, still without opening his eyes. Mary waits another minute before pressing on.
"You really care about him?"
James's mouth forms another sad smile. "I really do."
"He what has you out here being miserable?"
James lets out a shaky exhale, the cold starting to bite at Mary's skin.
"I'm scared for him. And I also just...I miss him. Fuck, I miss him all the time. It's this clawing feeling in my chest, like there's some monster in me that never settles unless he's nearby. Unless he's touching me. Talking to me."
"Monster sounds about right."
James hisses like she's burned him. "Don't Mary."
"Don't what?" she demands, a little more harshly than she intended. She had promised herself she would be gentle with him.
"I'm not going to listen to you talk shit about him."
"Oh? Am I supposed to have nice things to say about him?"
He swallows, shaking his head. "You don't even know him."
"No? What about Sirius? Does he know him?"
"Don't."
Mary scoffs, looking out at the road and trying to quell the trembling anger under her skin. "Has it ever occurred to you that you might be thinking with your dick right now?" she says bitingly.
James doesn't get louder, if anything his voice gets quieter and quieter. "I love him Mary," he practically whispers. Like that means anything.
"You were in love with Lily not too long ago if memory serves."
"I wasn't—what does that even—" he laughs, but it isn't the warm sound it usually is. "I don't even know what to say to that Mary."
"Just because you think you're in love again doesn't mean—"
"Oh fuck you," he gets up but doesn't head back inside, just takes a few steps forward before turning back to her, the moon behind him. It'll be full tomorrow. "I don't think I'm in love. I am in love."
"Oh so this time you're sure are you? This time it's the real deal?"
James grits his teeth. "Yes."
"Why?" Mary pushes, getting to her feet too. "Because it's reciprocated? Is that the only difference James? He sucks your cock and you suck his so you think that it's love?"
"Fuck. Off."
But she isn't done. A bit because she's angry. A bit because she's scared. Scared for him. Scared of losing him. Scared of hurting him. "What if Lily had wanted you? Huh? Do you think you'd still have ended up doing whatever the hell it is you're doing with Regulus Black?"
That pulls him up short, indignation and shock battling it out across his face. "W-what? What are you even talking about?"
"What if Lily had wanted you back?" she asks again, voice lower. This is it, this is her ace. Her card to play. To win the game. To keep James safe. Because maybe if he has Lily it won't hurt so bad to lose Regulus. Because maybe if he never stopped loving her that means that Mary was right to trust him. That he is the person she's always believed him to be. Because maybe she can fix this. This one thing. Her head is fucked, her future uncertain, but this one thing—this she can put to rights. Because Lily and James were always meant to be weren't they? Isn't that the world they had all been living in? Before Death Eaters and Dark Lords and Blood Purity.
"I don't know, it doesn't matter," he runs a hand through his hair, his teeth starting to chatter. Mary had almost forgotten about the cold.
"Doesn't it?"
He looks at her almost like he's afraid. "What the fuck are doing Mary? What kind of game is this—are you drunk?"
"She wants you James."
He instantly takes a step back, eyes wide. "Stop it."
"She does though, she wants you too. You don't have to...do this."
"This?"
"You can't love Regulus—you just—you can't," she can hear the desperation in her voice but she's not sure that James can.
"I can't?" he almost growls. "Jesus Mary, I don't even—I do. I do. I love him. I'd fucking die for him—"
"But would he die for you?" she cuts him off. "Huh? Would he die for you? Because I bet you he wouldn't. I bet you he'd sell you out the first chance he got."
She sees it, right there in the whites of his eyes, sees the flicker of doubt, even while he fights to snuff it out.
"You have no idea—"
"I have some idea of what Regulus Black is capable of actually."
It can't be more than a few seconds that they stand there in silence, the weight of Mary's words dragging them down. It feels like longer though. Hours. Days. Years. She watches the confusion and fear and horror all flickering across his face.
"What—" he has to stop, the word coming out choked. "What do you mean?"
Mary holds his gaze. Even when it hurts. "I lied."
"You lied," he repeats, voice hollow.
James has a right to know. To know what he's doing. Who he's with. Because if he does—if he did—he would never choose Regulus. He couldn't. Not James. James of all people.
"He was there."
James takes another step back. "No. That's not possible. He was with me."
"The whole night?" she asks, relentless. He has to face this. Surely it's only fair?
James has gone pale—almost frighteningly so.
"Don't do this Mary, don't do this just because you don't like him, because you want me to walk away. Don't do this."
"I'm just telling you the truth."
James shakes his head. "No. No, because you told me—because you told me what happened, what happened to you," his words are falling out of his mouth, tripping over one another. "And Reg would never let that happen—would never stand by and let them...he just, he wouldn't."
Ten.
Funny, it reminds her a bit of Regulus, that night in the Quidditch stands. His vehement denial that she had been raped because he had stopped it. He had stopped them.
Nine.
Eight.
"He was there," she says again. "He brought me to the infirmary, he tried to erase my memories."
Seven.
Six.
James is still shaking his head, still walking backwards, away from her. He's halfway into the street at this point. Mary is vaguely aware that people have started counting around them—voices echoing in the background.
Five.
"STOP."
Four.
Three.
"You don't love him James," she says confidently. "You don't. Not really. You can't, not someone like that—someone who would do something like that. You don't love him like you love Lily."
Two.
"I DON'T WANT LILY!"
One.
"Oh."
Both of them swivel around as cheers and fireworks and crashing bottles irrupt around them.
Just a few paces away Lily stands by the door looking slightly shellshocked.
"Er—I—" she shakes her head. "I was supposed to find you for the countdown," she swallows waving at the air. "Anyway I—um—I'm gonna go now, yeah?" She nods to herself. "Yeah. Okay." And with that she stumbles back inside, both James and Mary frozen in place.
"Fuck," James hisses under his breath, running a hand over his face.
"Yeah," Mary agrees, fairly certain that Lily won't be forgiving her for this anytime soon. "I—"
"Don't," James growls. "Don't talk to me right now. Just...don't."
He starts moving towards the door, leaving Mary feeling equal parts guilty and angry. She chooses to focus on the latter, easier that way.
"You can be mad at me all you want," she shouts after him. "It doesn't change what I said. Doesn't change that it's true."
James doesn't stop. Doesn't look back, storming inside to do God knows what. There'll be no talking to Lily, not tonight. Maybe not ever. Mary stumbles backwards until she hits the wall behind her, sliding back down onto the ground.
She needs to get a grip—her head is buzzing with hands and faces and laughs that cut like blades. She sees Mulciber. Sees Snape. Sees Regulus. She still can't find Barty's face—like her brain won't let her get that far, won't let he remember that much. His touch. His weight. His smell. She remembers all of that. But she never sees his face. Probably thanks to Regulus fucking Black.
He went in her fucking head. He took the truth from her—took moments of her life. And now her word means nothing. Her truth means nothing. Fuck him. Fuck him for thinking he had the goddamn right. For thinking one violation was worse than the other. Fuck her stupid head for not being strong enough to keep him out. To keep any of them out.
Her face is in her hands, nails digging into her skull, breaths coming in short little gasps. She should stop thinking about this. She knows that. But the world around her is all noise—all shadows and voices she doesn't recognize. Which is what it feels like in her head most of the time these days. She just keeps seeing them. Keeps feeling their hands. Hearing their laughs. They fucking enjoyed it. What they did to her. They fucking enjoyed every goddamn minute of it.
"Mary?"
She's barely able to hear her name over the rest of it.
"Hey—hey, oh, hey, are you okay? Mary?"
Someone is sitting next to her, someone has their arm around her shoulders pulling her into their chest. Someone who smells like rooftops and home cooked meals.
Damian.
She doesn't realize until his arms wrap around her that she's crying—sobbing more accurately. She hasn't cried in ages. Didn't when she woke up in the infirmary with a splitting fucking headache and no idea where she was. Or when the nightmares started. Or when she pieced together what really happened to her. So she has absolutely no idea why she's crying now. Why she can't stop.
"Sh, sh," Damian says, rubbing soothing circles into her back. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay."
For some reason that just makes her cry harder.
Once she's able to stop long enough to speak she'll blame it on the alcohol. Damian will believe her. Or at least he'll pretend to, and soon enough she'll be back at school and she won't have to see the pity in his eyes every time he looks at her.
"What is it Mary? What's happened? I know this isn't about some boy, I don't even know why I said that, I was just trying to get you to talk to me. I just want you to talk to me. Let me help. What's wrong? What's happened?"
And of course she can't tell him. She can't really tell anyone. The only person she did tell was James and it turns out he's in love with one of the people who put her here so that shows how bloody good her judgement is. Fuck James too. God, he's so good at acting like the nice guy but he's just like the rest of them. Another privileged goddamn Pureblood who has no idea what it's like. What this feels like.
"Mary," her brother says softly, and she knows she has to speak, even though it feels impossible in that moment. Knows she has to tell him something. Knows it has to be true.
"I'm scared," she manages to sob into his shirt. "Fuck, I'm so goddamn scared. All the time. I don't—I can't—" she sounds pathetic, she recognizes that. Definitely planning to blame it on the alcohol.
"Scared of what?"
How can she even begin to explain? How can she articulate all the things crowding her chest and crushing her lungs and keeping her up at night?
She shakes her head against his chest. "Magic," for some reason that's the word that crawls out of her mouth.
It's the thing that's built this wall between her and her family. The thing that let a group of boys turn her body into something she can't trust. The thing that's painted a target on her back. The thing that at eleven years old made her feel invincible.
"I'm scared of magic."