Dreams
Hospital Wing, Hogwarts, November 23, 1977
The room was quiet, save for the hum of magic and the soft rustle of a lone patient shifted in their bed.
Lily Evans stepped in cautiously, her heart pounding as her eyes sought her friend. The past few days had been a haze of guilt and helplessness, but today there was hope: Mary Macdonald was awake.
Tucked in the far corner, Mary lay pale and fragile under crisp white sheets. Her once-bright eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, as if grasping for something just out of reach.
“Mary?” Lily called softly, her throat tight.
Mary blinked and turned her head, lips twitching into a weak smile. “Hiya,” she whispered hoarsely. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Lily let out a shaky laugh. “You gave us a scare. I wasn’t sure when—or if—you’d wake up.”
Mary’s smile faded. “I can’t… remember everything. There was shouting, and then—” Her hand drifted to her side, where pain lingered in memory.
Lily’s chest tightened. “You don’t have to remember,” she said gently. “It’s over now.”
Mary shook her head, eyes distant. “But it’s not, is it? It’s never really over.”
Lily couldn’t argue. Deep down, she knew Mary was right. The attack—a brutal reminder of the growing darkness—had shattered any illusion of safety.
“I should be angry,” Mary said quietly. “But I’m just… tired.”
Lily nodded, the words striking home. Anger at injustice had sustained her for so long, but now it mixed with exhaustion.
“I’m tired too,” she admitted.
Mary closed her eyes. “There’s a war, isn’t there? I thought we had time. But it’s here, isn’t it?”
Lily’s heart sank. The war wasn’t distant anymore. It was here—Mary’s battered body was proof of that.
“I wish I could say it wasn’t,” Lily whispered. “But yes, Mary, I think it is.”
Silence fell, heavy with unspoken fears.
Mary opened her eyes, gaze steady despite her frailty. “We’re going to be alright, though, aren’t we?”
Lily swallowed hard. She didn’t know, but she had to believe it. “Yeah,” she said, her voice soft but firm.
They sat in silence, hands clasped, their shared determination the only answer to the battles ahead.
**
Marlene was on her way to her Transfiguration class when James pulled her aside in the bustling corridor, his face unusually serious. “We need to talk,” he said, his tone low but intense.
Marlene’s stomach dropped. She had known this moment would come eventually—despite all her and Sirius’s efforts—but her heart still skipped a beat. Nodding nervously, she glanced over her shoulder at Dorcas, who shot her a worried look before disappearing into the crowd.
James led her out to the Quidditch pitch, its vast emptiness amplified by the overcast sky. The damp grass clung to her robes as they sat, the coolness seeping through the fabric. Marlene picked at the blades absently, waiting for him to speak.
“Sirius?” James finally said, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was tight, controlled—but his anger was barely concealed. “Of all the blokes in the world, Sirius? How long has this been going on?”
Marlene flinched. She wanted to deny it at first because she knew that tone too well—it was the same one he used when he was disappointed. His unspoken rule had always been clear: don’t mess with James’s friends. He’d practically declared it in fourth year, the summer she’d come back with boobs that turned heads, prompting him to warn every boy in their year to stay away.
“This summer,” she admitted softly, staring at the ground as though it might offer her an escape. “I don’t even know how it happened. He drives me mad half the time, and yet…” She trailed off, the words sticking in her throat.
James’s jaw tightened, the muscles working as he looked away, his angular face framed by his perpetually messy black hair. His hazel eyes, usually alight with mischief or determination, now seemed clouded with something heavier—regret, perhaps, or frustration. The air between them grew heavier, weighed down by everything left unsaid.
“I’m sorry,” Marlene added, her voice trembling. “I should’ve told you. But I didn’t know how. Things between us…” She paused, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “They were already strange.”
James stayed silent, his expression unreadable. The longer the pause stretched, the more unbearable it felt.
“I don’t even know how I feel about him,” she continued, her words rushing out as if she could fill the silence before it swallowed her. “But I can’t pretend there’s nothing there.”
James turned back to her, his eyes hard. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
The question hit like a hex. She didn’t need to ask what he meant. He wasn’t talking about her and Sirius—he was talking about them.
That night.
They had never spoken of what happened—not really. And maybe that was for the best. It was easier to blame it on the firewhiskey, easier to pretend the heat and the tension and the whispered confessions had been nothing but a drunken mistake. But she remembered it all too vividly. For one fleeting moment, with James on top of her, there had been something. Something real. And then they had both silently decided to bury it.
“No,” she said quickly, her voice sharp with panic. “And you can’t tell him.”
James’s temper flared. “We have to tell him,” he snapped, his voice rising. “He’s my best mate, Marlene!”
“You can’t tell him!” she shot back, her tone matching his.
“I haven’t done anything wrong!” James retorted, his frustration spilling over. “You’re the one who should’ve said something before it got this far. You’re the one who decided to shag him, not me.”
The words stung, but Marlene forced herself not to flinch. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he sounded jealous.
“Well, I haven’t!” she fired back, throwing up her hands in frustration.
James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair. “What do you want me to do now? Keep lying for you?”
She softened slightly, her voice quieter but no less firm. “We’ve said a hundred times that whatever happened between us was in the past. Why can’t it stay there? What’s the point of telling Sirius something that doesn’t matter anymore?”
“Do you want Lily to know?” she added. She could be vicious sometimes when she wanted.
James opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, his expression conflicted. For once, he didn’t have a quick retort. The silence stretched between them, tense and uncertain.
Marlene leaned forward, her voice trembling slightly. “Please, James. If we tell Sirius, everyone will know. I can’t… I can’t face that.”
The problem was, at Hogwarts, secrets didn’t stay secrets for long. If they told Sirius, there was a good chance he'd spill it to Remus, who would then look at her differently. And once Remus knew, she would have to tell the girls. Lily would be hurt and disappointed. Mary would never stop pestering her for details. The whole castle would know before the week was out, and suddenly, everything would shift.
James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. “Alright,” he said at last, his voice quieter. “I’ll do this for you.”
Marlene exhaled, relief washing over her.
“I promise I won’t tell him” James took her hand, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. “But if this blows up, you’re on your own. Understood?”
“Understood,” she whispered, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you, James. You’re the best.”
**
Mary returned to the Gryffindor dorms, her steps slow but steady as she reached the door. She looked pale and her usually bouncy curly hair was wrapped in a satin scarf. Though her cheerful disposition usually masked her insecurities, this afternoon she felt a pang of vulnerability. It wasn’t often she was the center of attention, and most of the time, she felt like an afterthought among her friends.
For most of Hogwarts, Lily had been inseparable from Severus. The two had shared everything—secrets, dreams, even laughter - leaving Mary as third wheel. Marlene and Dorcas were closer than ever, but Mary always felt like the odd one out.
Her heart warmed at the sight that greeted her—the room was festively decorated with strings of lights and colorful banners, and the air was filled with the comforting smell of chocolate. Piles of Honeydukes chocolates and pastries were spread out on her bed.
"Welcome back, Mary!" Marlene exclaimed, jumping up from the bed.
"Surprise!" Lily added with a grin, waving her arms to show off the decorations. Dorcas smiled, a little more reserved but just as happy to see Mary.
“We thought you could use a proper welcome home.” Mary blinked, touched by their thoughtfulness.
"You didn’t have to do all this!" she said, feeling her throat tighten with emotion.
"Oh, of course we did," Lily said firmly, handing Mary a chocolate frog.
"You’ve been through enough these past few days. Now sit down, eat some chocolate, and tell us how you’re doing.” Mary took the chocolate, sinking gratefully into her bed.
"I missed you. I really did." She unwrapped the frog and took a bite, savoring the sweetness after the infirmary’s bland meals. “What have I missed?”
Marlene, sprawled comfortably across the bed, raised an eyebrow, her tone dripping with sarcastic amusement. “Oh, you know. The usual. Dorcas is trying to convince us that Divination is a serious field of study. Sirius still can’t keep his mouth shut, Remus can’t stop eating chocolate frogs, I told Lily she needs to stop supplying him. And James—well, James has been trying to impress Lily every single day about how mature he is and totally-not-into her anymore and Lily’s been rolling her eyes every single time.”
Lily shot Marlene a sharp look.
"I do not roll my eyes that much," she said, though the slight blush on her cheeks betrayed her.
Dorcas chuckled softly from the corner of the room, leaning against the window sill.“She’s right, Lils. You’ve perfected the art of eye-rolling. It’s practically a superpower at this point.”
Mary grinned, the familiar warmth of her friends’ playful banter easing some of the tension in her chest. "And what else?" she asked, sinking further into her bed, taking another bite of chocolate.
Marlene paused for a moment, pretending to think hard. It was Dorcas, however, who added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Peter’s still got a hopeless crush on Marlene. You should’ve seen him the other day."
Marlene waved a hand dismissively. "He’s sweet," she said, though her tone softened. "Don’t have a go at him."
Lily laughed, nudging Marlene with a teasing grin. "If only he wore leather pants and had a few more piercings, maybe you'd fancy him."
The comment was probably a not-so-subtle jab at Marlene’s ex. For most of their sixth year, Marlene had been on and off with Whitehorne—then a seventh-year Hufflepuff, now the lead singer of the underground wizarding band, Spellshock and the heir to the Nimbus Fortune. She’d even bought him those leather pants at a muggle store.
Marlene snorted, clearly amused, and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I can’t help it. I like what I like," she teased.
Mary took another bite of her chocolate frog, feeling the warmth of her friends’ presence fill the room. But something weighed on her mind, and after a moment, she spoke again. "Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you."
The room quieted, and all eyes turned to Mary.
"Before... before I was attacked," Mary began hesitantly, her fingers fidgeting with the chocolate wrapper, "Severus came up to me. He apologized."
Lily’s eyes widened. "Apologized? For what?"
“For saying that word,” Mary said softly, her voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “He said he was sorry. I think he meant it.”
Lily fell silent, her face reflecting a whirl of emotions. Severus and Lily had been friends once, and the slur had marked a painful fracture in their relationship.
“.. I don’t know,” Mary continued, "but he seemed really sincere. He even asked me to tell you that he wants to apologize to you, again, Lily."
Lily’s expression hardened. “Mary, you need to stop being such a pushover. I’m done with Severus.”
Mary flinched, the words cutting deeper than she’d expected. She wasn’t sure if it was the tone of Lily’s voice or the sharpness of her words, but it stung more than she thought it would. She had always tried to be the peacekeeper, the one who smiled through uncomfortable situations and patched things up between her friends. Maybe that was why it felt like she was always walking on eggshells—like no matter how hard she tried, things seemed to go wrong.
As the silence stretched on, her shoulders slumped, and she instinctively began picking at the edge of her sleeve, the motion almost automatic. The teasing from the Slytherins seemed to echo louder in her mind now—those cruel whispers, the spiteful jabs, the way they made her feel like she didn’t belong. Muggleborn , they called her. Not welcome , they said without words, with every sneer and sideways glance. The worst part was that she never pushed back. Not really. She never knew how.
Marlene broke the tension with a playful nudge to Mary. “Enough about Snape for now. The important thing is you’re back, and we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
She couldn’t help but smile, Marlene always knowing how to lighten her mood. The girls spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing, as Dorcas braided Mary’s hair into twists, with the usual buzz of Gryffindor Tower as their background music.
**
The late afternoon sun streamed through the glass walls of the greenhouse, casting a warm, golden glow over the rows of strange, vibrant plants. Marlene stood near a patch of flutterby bushes, watching their delicate leaves twitch in the soft breeze. The quiet hum of the space was calming, and for the first time in ages, she felt at ease.
The door creaked open, and Sirius strolled in, his usual easy confidence radiating off him as he spotted her.
“I thought you only liked to haunt the castle at night. What’s the occasion?” Sirius teased, his lips curling into a playful grin, hands casually shoved in his pockets.
Marlene’s eyes sparkled as she let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes, but the smile stayed firmly in place. She was still beaming from the news of Mary’s release and the fact that James had—begrudgingly—given his blessing to pursue Sirius.
“Figured I’d give you a chance to see me in my natural habitat. It’s not every day you get to admire greatness in full sunlight,” she shot back, her voice warm and teasing.
Sirius let out a bark of laughter, stepping closer. “That’s generous of you, McKinnon. Though, I’d say the lighting’s doing most of the work.”
“Oh, piss off, Black” Marlene said, her grin widening.
Their laughter filled the greenhouse, light and unburdened.
“How’s Mary?” Sirius asked after their laughter subsided, his voice a little softer now.
“She’s good. Chattier than ever,” Marlene replied, still smiling.
“Back to her old self, then,” Sirius said with a grin, the relief clear in his voice. “I’m glad.”
“Me too,” Marlene murmured, her voice dropping a little as her smile faded into something more thoughtful.
She hesitated for a moment, then added, “I have to tell you something… James knows… and he’s fine with it.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. “James says he’s fine with it,” he muttered, as if testing the words on his tongue. His tone was casual, but there was a slight edge to it, a note of doubt that Marlene didn’t miss. “How does he even know?”
“He caught us in the infirmary,” she admitted. “He doesn’t like it, obviously—he’s protective, you know that. But he wants me to be happy.”
“If you say so.” Sirius’s voice was skeptical, hesitant even, but he didn’t push the issue. He’d talk to James in due time—who was, most likely, still raging about it no matter what Marlene claimed.
Marlene replied sensing there was more than he let on “I hope you’re not mad. I’m sure James won’t tell anyone if that’s what worries you.”
“No, I’m not mad,” Sirius assured, sounding sincere. “And… honestly, I—I don’t care if the others know. Maybe it’s time they did.” His words hung in the air, heavier than Marlene expected. There it was—an unspoken acknowledgment that whatever they were, it wasn’t just a secret anymore. It was something real. “I was just mostly scared of James”.
And Remus, maybe, but she did not need to concern herself with that.
“You don’t have to tell me. He’s my Quidditch captain,” Marlene teased, shaking her head.
“Fair point.” Sirius leaned against the table, sighing.
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Marlene hesitated, her fingers brushing absentmindedly over the petals of a nearby plant. “You know what happened to Mary… it makes you think, doesn’t it? About what we’re all doing. What if we’re just wasting time?”
Her tone was casual, but her eyes betrayed a deeper vulnerability. “I don’t know. Seeing Mary like that …I kept thinking, what if that had been it? What if she never got the chance to do the things she always dreamed of? It’s been stuck in my head ever since.”
Sirius didn’t answer right away, his expression unreadable as he leaned against the table. Finally, he said, “So? What do you want to do, McKinnon?”
She hesitated, the words catching slightly in her throat, but then they spilled out, unfiltered. “Honestly? I’d love to just travel, maybe follow a band, journal, live on the road. Something exciting and unpredictable. Something that’s mine. Not what my family expects.”
Sirius’s expression shifted, something raw flickering in his eyes. “And what’s that, exactly? What do they expect?”
“The usual,” Marlene said with a wry smile. “Marry some pure-blood, settle down, pop out some heirs…”
Sirius’s jaw tensed slightly, and for a moment, his usual carefree expression was replaced with something more intense. “Take it from someone who knows—you’ve got to live your own life, Marlene,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “Be whoever the fuck you want to be.”
The words rang louder than he’d intended. For a fleeting second, he felt as though he were speaking to himself, not just to her—like a silent confession of his own desires and regrets.
Marlene blinked, startled by the vehemence in his tone, but then her lips curved into a small smile. “You’re right,” she said softly. “I think... I needed to hear that.”
Sirius smirked, the tension easing slightly. “I’m always right, McKinnon. Took you long enough to notice.”
He kissed her. His hand found its way to her cheek, his touch soft and almost tentative, as though grounding himself in the moment. It felt real, but was it real enough? He didn’t know. All he knew was she needed this, needed him.
They left the greenhouse together, their hands brushing as they walked side by side. The simple touch felt like a promise, light but full of meaning. It wasn’t long before Sirius took her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers in a casual yet intimate gesture.
As they rounded the corner, they spotted a familiar figure leaning against one of the stone pillars—Regulus.
Sirius’s grip tightened for a fraction of a second. He paused, his confidence faltering for the first time in front of her. “Reg,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.
Regulus barely spared them a glance. His eyes flickered coldly between Sirius and Marlene before he turned and walked away, his back straight, his posture rigid. The silence that hung between them was heavier than any words Regulus could have spoken.
Sirius exhaled slowly, his shoulders tensing. Marlene squeezed his hand.