Remus Lupin called Mary an angel for the first time on Christmas Eve.
It was their last winter together before she moved away from their hometown, away from the hot colored Christmas lights and Hope Lupin’s holiday parties. He’d been a part of her life for so long, so intrinsically, that she couldn’t have imagined what it would be like without him. Things were good then, though most things were at nine years old.
She saw it all in technicolor, the fairy lights on the Christmas tree, her dad’s smile. Remus’s living room was where the world started and ended, those four walls wrapped in her best memories. Mary sat criss-crossed on the floor, a red mug of hot chocolate huddled between her palms, her knees knocking Remus’s. They were in stitches about something that only the two of them found funny, something she’s long forgotten.
Hope crouched down to their level, her eyes conspiratorial as she glanced between the two of them. “It’s time,” She said, her smile growing. Mary’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall, excitedly reading the time.
In a comical fashion, Remus and Mary’s head swayed to face one another. “Midnight!” She breathed, on a high knowing that it was far past her bedtime.
Remus nodded along, unconsciously scratching the scar running across his neck, dirt under his fingernails. “It’s time!” He repeated after his mother, throwing his arms up.
Mary watched her dad as he threw his head back, an affectionate laugh ringing throughout the room. “Don’t get too excited, you’ll spill your drink.”
It made her laugh, the idea that Remus would spill anything. He was the careful one. Like clockwork Remus held his mug closer, cradling it like a baby. Mary’s head fell on his shoulder, a smile on her lips as she watched Hope take the stockings off the fireplace. Mary’s stocking stood out from the rest, bright pink amongst the red and green. She’d sat at the table with Hope for hours as they glued rhinestones on it, spelling out her name in big cursive letters.
They always did Christmas Eve as the Lupin’s, ever since Mary’s mother died when she was three. And while they kept presents for the morning after, they always opened the stockings that night as soon as the clock struck midnight.
Mary set her mug down on the carpet, scooting closer to where Hope had plopped down on the ground. She buzzed with excitement, entirely unable to sit still. They got through the few presents the stocking held, Mary got two new dolls, a pack of socks, and an orange at the bottom of the sleeve.
She held it up to the warm chandelier light, grinning. They’d both gotten them every year, Hope insisted. It was a tradition from when she herself was a kid. She said it symbolized rebirth, the dawn of a new year.
Mary watched Remus pick his up, paying special attention. Hope let her pick out Remus’s orange that year. She spent an entire twenty minutes in the grocery store trying to pick out the best one. Hope caught her wandering eye with a knowing glance, turning to Remus.
“Do you know who it’s from Remus?” Hope asked, leaning forward like she was trying not to laugh.
“My angel?” Remus replied without much thought. It was something Hope always said, the oranges were gifts from their angels.
His mother laughed, holding her fingers up to her lips. “This one was from Mary, my love. She went with me to the market to pick it out and everything.”
Remus looked at her, his eyes wide and dark in the flickering light. After a moment he shrugged, a shy smile on his lips. “Same thing.”
It became a ‘thing’ after that. Almost as a joke, to taunt her playfully, he’d call her angel. And, oh, she hated it at first. As a kid the idea of being seen as anything but tough and strong was much to her despair. But as she moved away, and the memories of Remus Lupin faded, it was all she could remember.
When she could hardly recall his voice, or the exact color of his curls, she remembered the nice boy who called her his angel.
Mary didn’t believe in fate before.
She didn’t believe in much of anything before she moved to Hogwarts and her entire world changed. Even as a kid, in church with her dad. Nothing ever stuck with her. She was always stubborn like that, never believing a thing anybody had to say.
Fate blew in on the wings of Remus Lupin the day she saw him on platform 9 ¾ wearing a torn up flannel and ripped jeans. It made no sense for both of them to end up at the same school, neither of them were locals.
They never spoke about it, not really. And as far as she knew neither of them told anybody. It just lingered. A secret shared between the two of them, caught between stolen glances and shared smiles. She felt the need to keep it between the two of them. In her mind, Remus was hers, and she was his. Privately, they were intertwined, despite the separate circles they ran in.
She thought, for the longest time, that if they never spoke about it she could be his angel forever.
If the memory only existed in their minds it could last as long and they lived, and it’d die with them too, becoming a part of the Earth as if it never existed at all. If her wishes came true Remus and her could exist in only her imagination.
Mary thinks about it now as the snow crumbles beneath her feet. She finds that she thinks about Remus a lot. She wonders how he’s doing, what he ate for breakfast, if he still wonders about Heaven, if he thinks about her. She balances presents on top of one another as she walks back to the Gryffindor tower.
There’s almost nobody around, the campus filled with the desolate silence that only occurs in the dead of winter. She reckons they’re all at home, with families that care enough to put oranges at the bottom of their stockings.
She remembers hearing that Hope died around the same time her dad passed. Mary cried for weeks, unable to get out of bed. It’s a strange thing, to grieve someone you only know in distant memory. The only person that would’ve understood was someone she couldn’t talk to. Sometimes she wonders if Remus ever resented her for not reaching out, but she doesn’t think he has a resentful bone in his body.
For a man so hellbent on blaming himself for everything, he doesn’t cause much trouble at all. No, Mary was always the one messing everything up. She always kept the secrets, she always told the lies.
It’s all catching up to her now, though. Their two friend groups decided to spend their last Christmas break at Hogwarts together. With the brewing war and the fact that most of them are orphans, there weren't a lot of places to go. Despite that they decided to make the most of it.
Lily had decorated the entire common room, enlisting the help of near everybody that decided to stay. One of her recent core memories was decorating the tree she’d forced James to haul into the middle. All of them— including Remus— got drunk off firewhisky and messed the entire thing up. Still, they kept it the way it was, and now it stands lopsided with mismatched ornaments glowing in the middle of the common room.
She pushes the door open when she arrives, using one hand to precariously defend her presents from outside forces
“Hello my loves,” Mary calls to the room, holding the door open with her leg. Lily jumps out at her immediately, laughing as she takes half of the wrapped gift load off her.
From the corner, James holds up one of his cheap beers to her in some sort of half-hearted greeting. He then proceeds to slump down into the crimson couch and stare at the fireplace. Mary rolls her eyes. Sirius is next to him, equally intoxicated but more pleasant. He gives her that Sirius Black smile.
They broke up last year after a good six months of dating. It didn’t work for either of them. It was good fun, sure, but they’re too similar. Equally noncommittal and equally as argumentative. Still, they’re on decent terms. She could never really hate Sirius Black.
Mary dumps her presents under the tree next to the plethora of half-wrapped gifts. It always seems she’s the only one who really knows how to do it. Peter gives her an apologetic smile from his place on the floor next to the fire, wringing his hands as he stares at his badly wrapped presents.
Next to him is, of course, Remus Lupin.
He’s not the same as he was when he was a kid. It’s something she’s noticed more and more recently. With them all going their separate ways soon, she’s taken to studying him whenever she can. It’s a silly little fascination, but one she can’t find it within herself to get rid of. He has more scars, for one. Privately, she finds it a little funny that all of the boys (save for Remus, of course) think she doesn’t know about what happened to him. Sometimes, in her less-than-sane moments, she wants to tell them that she knew before any of them did.
She was the first person he told. How crazy is that?
Mary watches him for a moment, while he cradles his butterbeer in his hands. A wave of nostalgia washes over her with a current of memories, the swirl of a cup of hot chocolate. He carries himself differently. He used to be so shy. She supposes the upcoming war has changed them all, but part of her hoped that he’d stay the same forever. Selfish, considering that she’s changed more than he has.
She twists a black curl between her fingers before clasping her hands together, turning to everybody. “Okay!” Mary claps, ripe with nervous energy. “Time for stockings!”
Lily leans forward, grabbing her crimson red stocking from where it fell on the floor. They all follow, Sirius grabbing his black (apparently ‘punk-rock’) stocking, James takes his quidditch themed stocking. Mary watches as Remus takes his. She holds eye contact when his eyes raise to meet hers, shooting him one of their secret looks. He grins and begins to look through his assortment of gifts.
She looks through hers without much thought. There's multiple muggle lip glosses, an eyeshadow pallet, pink slippers, a rolled-up pink robe (which she literally squeals at), and a couple of sized down books that she’s been meaning to read. Before she can get much father, though, James laughs.
“Who gave you an orange, mate?”
It causes the room to look up, curiously. Mary’s cheeks flush with nerves, though nobody notices. Remus covers his mouth with the back of his fingers, covering the widest grin she’s seen from him in a long, long time.
He turns it in the fairy light lighting, before composing himself. Remus shrugs before looking up at her.
“It must’ve been an angel.”
Mary looks back down, attempting to cover the smile creeping up on her, when she sees the bottom of her stocking.
And the single round orange that lies at the bottom.
“So much for rebirth.” She hears a voice behind her say. Fortunately, Mary would recognize it anywhere. She turns around with a grin.
“The dawn of a new year.” Mary says, feeling rather whimsical in her intoxicated state. She turns the orange around in her hands.
Remus said he was going to go to bed about an hour ago, having gone up to the boys portion of the tower. The rest of everybody lay scattered around the room in various stages of passed-out. He sits down on the couch next to her, the only light coming from the dull glow of the Christmas tree.
“You know, for someone who sleeps so much, you’re up late.”
Mary grins, turning over to him. “And how do you know how much I sleep?”
He laughs, draping a hand on the couch behind her head. “You’re half-dead at breakfast every morning. You’ve always been like that.”
She leans forward, grabbing one of James’s half full beers from the coffee table, pressing the bottle to her lips. The liquid burns her throat. “Always?”
Remus looks at her for a long moment, his eyes somber in the dull, flickering light. For a moment they look just like she remembers them. “We should talk about it.”
It hits her, in that moment, that she’s scared. She’s never scared of anything, but she’s scared of bringing up their past together. She’s scared that they’ll acknowledge it and everything she’s built up in her head will fall. That they’ll have to talk about Hope’s death, and then her dad’s, or they’ll try to get close again and he won’t like who she is now. If he stays in her memories, he’s her best friend forever. And it hurts to miss him, sure, but at least she won’t have to lose him.
Mary’s good at running, and it takes nearly everything in her to keep her feet on the ground.
Until Remus speaks. “But we don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.”
She looks over at him, really, truly looks at him. His eyes are tired, but earnest. She’s sure she falls in love with him for a moment. Just a moment. A small second slipped between sobriety and sanity, Mary Macdonald falls in love with Remus Lupin.
“No?” Mary asks. She’s always felt unsteady being vulnerable with people, showing her fear, or her weaknesses. But not with Remus. Never with Remus.
Remus gives her one of the softest looks she’s ever seen, tilting his head to the side as he tucks a stray curl behind her ear. Her head naturally falls onto his chest, the same way she used to lay her head on his shoulder. He carts his hand through her hair, his breathing slow and steady. She closes her eyes and takes a moment to breathe, just to breathe.
“No.” He confirms. “We can just stay like this for a while.”
And so they do. Mary lays with her head on his chest, and they talk about nothing in muffled voices. Keeping the past at bay, everything in the present. Their fears, their wants.
Just before midnight, as she’s about to fall asleep with the orange still in her hand, she swears she hears him call her angel one last time.