The First Night
Dear Mary,
I went on a walk this morning, a long one. I walked up the hill that I can see from my window and walked to the other side, right back down to the ocean. There’s this little beach hidden away in these great stony cliffs that all have little pockets of caves tucked into the walls. It’s my favorite place of anywhere on earth, I decided. Certainly, it’s where my walks always go, though it’s too cold to swim, or much too dangerous. I’ve only ever taken Severus before, and not even him so much lately. Maybe you could come with me one day, if you’d like. I thought about it while I was there, what you’d look like with the sea and the sand. I do so hope you’ll come one day, and maybe I’ll get to watch it happen. There would be nothing more beautiful than that.
What can you see from your bedroom window? That was what started me thinking so much anyway.
(P.S. I stole a bottle of vino and brought it to the beach with me.)
(P.P.S. That also made me think of you.)
Yours from the seaside,
Lily Evans
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Dear Lily,
My bedroom window looks down onto an alleyway that is largely regarded as quite the makeout spot, so those are the views I’m usually afforded. Looking straight out of it all you can see is brick, the ugliest kind. Obviously, I try not to get my view from there. Better to sightsee from, my flat has this beautiful balcony that looks over the street. My ma used to say you could see the whole city from that spot, and even though I know it isn’t true, I like to pretend. Like you walk over the hill, sometimes I walk out into the block and try to find the balcony at certain points while I go. Sometimes I feel like I can see straight through the buildings and the smog to catch a glimpse of home. I’ve decided it’s a superpower I have. If I turn in the direction of Hogwarts, maybe I can see that too. I’m turned to Killarney now, and there you are!
Safe to say, I’d love to see the beach, second person or not. I hope I do it more justice than Snape. To see you and the ocean, all in one swoop, would be a privilege, a view that might take me out, especially when drunk.
(P.S. Dear, you are a lightweight!)
(P.P.S. A lightweight that knows me too well.)
Yours with hope that one day you’ll handle your alcohol a wee bit better,
Mary Macdonald
Chapter 3: The First Night
Unlike Remus, who had just about eaten a whole turkey at the feast, Mary somewhat despised the first meal at Hogwarts. She believed that the Sorting was an ultimate bore that was best done in private, where no one had to watch little eleven year olds suffer that much embarrassment, and she thought that Dumbledore yammered far more than anyone ought to. His speeches never meant much to Mary. He talked for the people with wizard blood, students who weren’t shut off from the world over holiday. She didn’t know what had happened, all the issues that were dividing their community. All she understood was that some wizards hated her and some didn’t. Just like in Muggle politics, Dumbledore’s speeches would amount to about as much removing one drop of water from an Olympic sized swimming pool. Worst of all about the whole feast, she hated having the whole school watch her enjoy her first real meal in months.
So, with four buttered rolls stuffed into her robes and a tipsy headache brewing behind her eyes from the firewhisky that Marlene slipped into their goblets, Mary followed Lily as she herded the Gryffindors towards their common room. The trick steps became harder as the whiskey hit her, and it was terrific. Instantaneously, she decided she would ask Lily on a walk as soon as she’d gotten the wee first years settled. Mary badly needed a turn about the castle, like she’d almost forgotten how it looked, though that was probably just Marlene’s drinks talking. Already, she had one stupid move in the bag, and it felt very good to be back.
“Hey, what’s the password they’ve come up with now?” she asked Lily. Mary thought it was infinitely strange to have a password for the common room. If the other houses really wanted in that badly, why not let them? It wasn’t like she hadn’t slipped in boys from other houses before. The Ravenclaw Quidditch captain had been a particular sneak.
“Ai, I believe it’s Snaggle Snick,” Lily replied with the most terrifically straight face, and Mary couldn’t help but laugh.
“Who comes up with those things?” she exclaimed, still giggling.
“The Fat Lady! She’s one of the brighter minds of our civilization, can’t you tell?” On cue, they came upon the Fat Lady intently reading a book that was fully upside down.
“Snaggle Snick!” Mary declared, “Good read there?”
“Oh yes dear, the best!” The Fat Lady swung forward as Lily and Mary dissolved into snickers, tumbling through the portrait opening.
She quickly made her way to the cushiest chair in the common room, placing herself right next to the fire to watch Lily and McGonagall hand out the room assignment. Lily is talking quietly to a group of the girls over some dispute. Mary imagines that they’re scared, as everyone is their first night. The fire flicks off of Lily’s freckles and grows with the flecks of gold in her hair, and nothing could touch the kindness in those eyes. For a moment, all the magic that pooled in the room ran straight through Lily Evans.
Then, she remembered the letters. She remembered the summer, and she remembered what she’d done. The fire was too hot and Lily was still a lightning rod, still talking to someone who wasn’t Mary. She watched as the crowds dwindled, as questions got answered, waiting for her moment. Mary hated to seem eager, like she really cared, but it was getting hard to disguise.
“Sit with me?” she mumbled in Lily’s ear once people had all gone to bed, squeezing her hand for only a second.
Lily gave her a look, eyelashes fluttering, “Mary, I-”
“Come on, the crowds are dispersing, dear! Prefect duties are over. Besides, don’t we need to talk?”
`
Lily blinked at her and looked to Professor McGonagall, who gave her a curt nod of freedom. She smiled, “Of course.”
They came to rest on the same chair Mary had occupied while she silently stalked Lily’s prefect duties. It was just big enough for two girls, just big enough that their heads were close together and their feet were tangled up and smiles took on a life of their own. They’d sat in this chair before, gossiping about the newest couple or who the cutest boy was, but it never felt like this. She felt the urge to talk about her mother and sisters, or ask Lily truly about what Petunia was doing back home. She’d gotten so used to sharing her mind over the summer, however distantly, and felt like a part was absent now that they were back inside their own bodies. As the fire ate away at the magically replenishing wood Mary and Lily sunk deeper and deeper into the brown patterned cushions and fell further and further into conversation.
“I forgot what it felt like to be here,” Mary said. “We’d said that in one of our letters, don’t you remember?”
They were both puzzling over the same lion tapestry, the one that hung over the fireplace. Mary never could tell what it was supposed to be about. With each crackle and pop in the room it shifted and roared, its mane cascading down in showers of bright red. She thought it was looking at them and couldn’t help but stare it down, only tearing her eyes away to make sure Lily wasn’t laughing.
“Ay,” was all Lily said in reply. She worried that she shouldn’t have mentioned the letters, but she couldn’t imagine why they’d be a sore spot.
“Being without magic for so long, it makes me feel like a liar to be experiencing it all again.”
Lily nodded, but made no noise. She looked discontent, her fingers playing at a loose thread in the chairs embroidery. Mary watched her eyes intently, watched as the emerald green flitted and glassed over in the firelight. She began to feel herself panic, which made her angry in turn. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. They were supposed to have an enlightening conversation, one that would shock Lily into realizing that Mary had meant more of what she’d said then only the boy talk.
“I’ve no one to talk to about it at home, that’s what makes it so crazy,” she tried to meet Lily’s eyes, halfway succeeding. “You were the only one, really.”
Lily still didn’t say anything. The thread kept lengthening as she silently worked her way up it. Mary mused that someone must’ve hexed it to make it keep going on forever. She knew that Lily wouldn't be satisfied until it was gone. She knew that in the next week or so, after this night was done and whatever little spat Mary thought they were having was over, Mary would follow Lily down the steps from their dorm and watch as she cut the errant string, laughing at her innate quirks. Just as much as she knew Lily Evans would never leave a thing unfinished, Mary knew that she could never stay hurt.
All that to say, it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight now.
“Sure, I guess you had Snape. He brings a little slice of Hogwarts home with you,” Mary sneered.
“Hey, catch yourself on,” Lily objected, sitting up from where she was slumped.
“What? It’s not like it isn’t a fact.” They’d had long standing problems over Snape. Long standing hatred on Mary’s part; long standing cowardice on Lily’s. Mary always had a way of bringing it up when she got angry. She knew what would bite Lily the most.
“Christ, we weren’t even talking about him!! Why’d you always have to bring it up?” Mary didn’t know why. She liked to be angry, to begin the offensive shove before she could ever be pushed back.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s what changes your situation from mine,” she objected. It was hard even to know if she believed the words she said. She wasn’t sure what was right and what was wrong.
Lily was frowning at the ever lengthening thread. It piled in loose coils in her hand, slipping through each individual finger. She looked just as confused as Mary certainly felt.
“That’s not-”
“Face it dear, it’s true,” she snapped.
Lily stood straight up, her eyes angry like the lion and the fire all rolled into one.
“Don’t call me that,” she quietly ordered.
“What?” Mary was too far on a roll to remember that Lily could be scary too. She was lovely, far kinder than Mary ever could be, but when she knew you the girl packed heat. She could afford to, anyway. Among all those things, Lily was very easy to forgive.
“Don’t call me dear. Don’t do it when you’re angry, please.” Still, she looked more stricken than scared.
“Come again?” Mary, for all of her stupidity, couldn’t find the slightest hint of what she meant.
“That’s what you called me in your- in the-”
They had a moment of perfect unity, a shock of understanding. Mary remembered what dear meant. She remembered all the time she’d called her that, addressed letters with such care.
“The letters,” she gasped, standing to take each of Lily’s hands in hers. They were soft and gave way easily, eagerly. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“You think more of them than that, don’t you? They mean so much, don’t they?” Lily asked desperately. Mary could see that it was the same desperation for hers. They both wanted answers more than anything else.
“I think the world of them, Lily. They mean the world to me.” Quietly, she wrapped them together, hugging her as tightly as she’d wanted to all summer long. “I didn’t mean a word of it.”
“I told Severus I was done with him this summer. I told him that he had to budge up and become a better person or that we were finished.”
“Oh, Lily-”
“No, no, I don’t deserve your sympathy. It was overdue.” They hadn’t stopped embracing yet, and Mary squeezed her tightly.
“Still,” she whispered, “that’s years down the drain. It stings, even if it’s good.”
“I miss who he used to be.”
“I know, dear, I know.”
“I broke it off after what you said about the beach, my beach.” Mary listened silently. She remembered instantly, as she did with all the letters. She had them memorized to the date, categorized by topic, but that felt far too insane. Instead of revealing herself, she waited for Lily to continue.
“Do you remember what you said about being second to him?”
“I do,” she admitted. She remembered writing that in the bathroom of a dingy chippy, waiting for the other girls to finish up eating. Her hand had cramped from writing in the squished stall, and the smell of vomit and oily fish had lived in her nose for weeks.
“I realized I didn’t want you to be second,” Lily said. “I thought about everything he’s done and realized that I gave away the beach, my beach, to a boy that didn’t even deserve it, who’d turned it all to shite. So I gave him my ultimatum. And that was that.”
“I’m proud of you, dear,” she tread lightly around the word.
“Mary?” Lily mumbled into her shoulder. She could smell the perfume clinging to her robes. The room was heady and hot, the pulse of everything in the room was combining into one steady beat. She erased the scent of the chippy from her head and placed this one in its spot.
“Hmm?” she murmured in response.
“Will you be the first, this time?”
For a long moment, she pulled back to look at her. Mary wanted to be sure it was right and true. She didn’t want to make the wrong choice, or to walk into some great prank. This felt perfect, but perfect things tended to shatter and slice her open. Life was bloodletting enough. She couldn’t handle this being real.
With future analysis in mind, she decided to respond.
“Of course, dear. Of course.”
They stayed up for a while before retiring to bed. Sitting on the chair, they spoke so close that Mary felt like her head was inside Lily’s, like they barely had to speak at all. In cyclical circles, they recapped all the stories they already knew. When Lily talked something burned and stoked itself in Mary’s chest. She wanted to hear everything she had to say, memorizing it until she could understand.
This moment, in all of its rarity, felt like liquid gold slipping through the palm of her hand.