Mary would like to say she remembered what she did when she heard the news. She would like to say she handled it well, maybe cried a bit, but collected herself and set out to tell Dumbledore off.
The truth is, she doesn’t. She remembers the owl, sure. It’d been a while since she’d last gotten an owl, as her friends all had phones and they respected her wish to step away from the magical world and her landlord’s wish to stop having birds fly around, so she’d known that whatever was in the letter in the owl’s talons must be important.
Despite everything, she’d felt hope when she’d gotten the letter. Was Lily finally free? Was she out? Was Harry? Was James? Was the war over, after all this time? Those were the thoughts running through her mind, such a brief moment of hope before it really sunk in that there wasn’t a high chance something good would’ve happened. Someone would’ve called her, instead of making her wait for an owl.
The Hogwarts seal on the owl only made her more worried. None of the news from Dumbledore in the past…three years, if she’s being honest, has been good. In the beginning, sure, it was hopeful, but then there was just the weekly, and then monthly updates, and those had stopped sometime in 1980. Mary had replied to them, asking Dumbledore politely to stop informing her of the war. She’d heard enough of it from her friends, and they were more kind with the delivery than the stupid owl who kept breaking her window.
Marlene’s letter had been first. I hope this letter finds you well, Dumbledore had started off with. It didn’t, because Mary had already heard the news from Lily. She sent a thank-you for the letter anyway, the first time she’d pulled herself together in days, but let Dumbledore know she could be told by her friends instead. If she’d felt like it, she would have sent a request for the muggle money it took to repair the window, but she didn’t feel anything for a while after that.
Dorcas’ letter was only a week later, and the owl had to walk to her, where she sat on her sofa and where she’d been for the last week. The news about Marlene was still tearing her up inside. Marlene . Marlene wasn’t supposed to die, but if she did, at least it was with her family. She fought bravely, Mary knew, but somehow the thought didn’t comfort her as much as she thought it should. It was just a reminder that this poor girl, barely 21, was forced to fight at all. It never should’ve been her in the first place, but what could Mary do about that?
She hadn’t thought anything of Dorcas’ letter, because why would she? She’d only figured it was a response from Dumbledore, delayed a bit by war things.
The news made her jaw drop.
Dorcas.
If Marlene simply wasn’t supposed to die, Dorcas was supposed to live forever. She’d been an unstoppable force, and according to this letter, well…she’d been stopped. Again, it wasn’t a comfort that Dorcas had to be stopped by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself, because she shouldn’t have been fighting him in the first place. Mary hated that Dorcas had to be the one to fight so bravely, to defend her girlfriend because nobody else would.
She didn’t respond this time, not trusting herself to not sound angry when she picked up the pen and paper. Pen and paper, not a quill and parchment, because it was 1981 for crying out loud, and nobody but wizards still used those.
That was in early August, so by November 1st, when Mary got the letter, she’d begun to recover. Slowly. By building herself up, piece by piece, she’d been learning how to live knowing her best friend and her best friend’s girlfriend were dead. It hadn’t been easy, by any means, but when was her life ever easy?
So, one can assume Mary wouldn’t hold on to that brief moment of hope for long, given this history. For once in her life, she hopes she’s wrong about something. About this. It is just plain, boring news, and maybe Dumbledore forgot to take her off the mailing list?
I hope this letter finds you well, Dumbledore had started off, and apparently that was all it took. That reminder. There weren’t many people left to kill, and any of them would’ve been equally as gut wrenching - except the one who would’ve been so much worse - so Mary just went straight to shock.
Mary doesn’t remember reading past that line, but she knows what happens after it.
She wakes up from the haze on the floor, tears already stained on her face, sticky and clearly many. She wakes up with the knowledge that Lily is dead, and James too, and Peter, and Sirius to blame, and Lily is dead. She wakes up with that piece of information playing on a loop in her head. It hits her that she doesn’t really know what to do with it. Check it with someone? Yes, she has to do that first. Check with someone.
She calls Lily - and James, by extension - first. She’s who she cares about, really. Lily doesn’t pick up, so Mary tries again, and again, before finally accepting that maybe they’re out of the house they haven’t left in months.
She calls Peter next, because maybe they’re all at his flat. It’s possible, isn’t it? Maybe the war is over, and this is one of their pranks. Yes, that must be it, she thinks, until Peter doesn’t pick up either.
Oh, God.
This is around when she starts to accept it. The death. The betrayal. The betrayal makes her the most angry, because Sirius Black? Betray James Potter? It’d be like saying Sirius Black cut all of his hair off, and never grew it out again. It just didn’t make any sense. It wasn't who he was.
But here it was, in fancy script, saying exactly that (and then some);
I think you may know Sirius Black, too (many of our paintings are huge gossips, and I can’t deny I know of your history), so I feel it is my duty to inform you he’s been convicted on 12 counts of murder of muggles and treason, along with the murder of Peter Pettigrew.
In a different part of the article, there was a newspaper, detailing every single bit of the story. Mary pores over it, then reads it again, and again, and again. The smiling faces of James, Lily and Harry taunt her from the cover, and Sirius’ mugshot grins manically on the other side. None of it makes sense.
Sure, she’s known that Sirius’ family was part of them. Everyone did. Mary, however, had been there when Sirius had cried over them, during those few months when they’d dated and the years as friends after. Sirius and Mary had a special sort of bond, one neither of them knew what to do with, but they acknowledged, and that was part of why they worked so well and so terribly together. Mary understood Sirius, though, and that was more than he could ask for. Now, she couldn’t understand why he’d go back to them, and leave his real family. It didn’t add up, but it hurt nonetheless.
Oh, but it probably hurt Remus more.
Remus.
She counted them off on her fingers. Who else was there to call, but Remus? Lily? James? Peter? Sirius? Dorcas? Marlene? There wasn’t anyone else to call, that was the truth of it, so she dials Remus’ number quickly, tapping her foot impatiently.
He doesn’t pick up on the first try, making Mary’s heart drop to the floor. Had Dumbledore forgotten to add him, then? Luckily, she calls again, still holding out a small bit of hope.
“Hello?”
Mary feels so relieved, she would have cried, if she hadn’t already let out all her tears.
“Hello? Hello, Remus, is that you?”
She has to make sure. She can’t afford it if it isn’t Remus, and she ends up telling some muggle about this magical war, or even worse, if it’s Sirius.
“Mary? Hi! I just got back - where the hell is everybody?”
Right. His missions. Of course he’d only just get back, now that the war has only just ended. Oh, the war has ended. It feels so freeing to say it, before remembering what it took.
“You haven’t heard…”
He knows less than she does about the war, for the first time since it started, and there’s nobody else but her to tell him. Besides Dumbeldore, but who knows what that senile old man is up to now.
“Jesus Christ, Mary, what?!”
“Remus…something awful has happened.”
Sometime while she is explaining, she hears Remus fall to his knees, and assumes that’s what she did, too. It’d explain her position on the floor, at least. How else are you supposed to react when your whole world is falling apart?
_____________________________________
It’s rainy at the funeral, just like it’s been for the last 8 days since October 31st. It makes sense, it really does. Lily is gone. Mary can barely imagine a world with sun in it again, now that the brightest thing in her life is gone, so actually seeing the dreaded thing might be too much.
“Mary,” Remus greets, outside the cemetery gates. His eyes are red and swollen, his body thinner than it usually is. At least at Hogwarts, Remus had a practically unlimited supply of food and friends to get him to eat it. Now? Well, he’d have to be the one to buy it, and all of his friends were either dead or in jail. All of them but Mary.
“Remus,” she responds softly, sure that she can’t look much better. She’s been a wreck ever since that letter. It was a miracle she was able to pull herself together for this, truly.
“Why’d it have to be us left?” Remus says, his voice dangerously close to a sob. Mary has seen Remus Lupin cry before, no doubt. During that awful 5th year, when everything with Sirius had gone down - Mary still wasn’t sure what that was about, but now certainly wasn’t the time to ask - Remus had spent many days and nights with the girls, sobbing his heart out over Sirius or his friends or blubbering about things Mary didn’t understand. Lily was usually the one to comfort him, so Mary was never far away.
She should have known. She should have known. Yet, it’s still hard to believe. Sirius Black, the boy who betrayed his best friend and boyfriend would betray again, even if all was forgiven. It’s still unbelievable. It just isn’t like him. While they dated, Sirius had been as loyal as a dog. It’d caused problems within their group, due to this. Mary couldn’t say the same for herself, and all those glances she cast at Lily, but she couldn’t imagine Sirius betraying them in this way again.
Maybe his family had won him over again. After all, they were who he was loyal to first, so it’d make sense then, wouldn’t it? Did that mean it was all a lie? All those years of love, and friendship, for the Dark Lord?
If she was so torn up over it, she didn’t want to imagine what Remus must be thinking. He knew him better, despite Mary’s connection to him. Remus had something deeper than a simple connection with Sirius, something neither of them could ever really pinpoint. Seeing them together, Mary would go as far to say soulmates. The romantic kind, not like the platonic James and Sirius. It was something entirely separate, and for Sirius to be able to fake it? Throw all of it away? It was unbelievable, but she’d have to believe it, because the proof was right in front of her.
“I know,” she says, trying to stay strong. “It should’ve been them that lived, not us.” It'd be more depressing if they were lying to themselves, really. But this? Their only comfort? It's the truth.
If they weren’t where they were, and he was in a happier mood, Remus would have bitten back with something like, ‘speak for yourself!’ But they were, and he wasn't, so he doesn’t, just bites his tongue and eventually reaches the grave with Mary, arm in arm.
The graves are joined, Mary realises with a sick feeling.
“That’s so touching,” a woman comments beside her, looking at the grave. “They were so in love, it’s only fitting.”
Mary wants to slap her. Not because she’s wrong, and that’s the worst part of it. She isn’t wrong. Lily and James were so in love. It was fitting.
It should be me.
That was what Lily had promised, wasn’t it? That they’d grow old together, and get a conjoined grave, be buried under some huge oak tree, and leave themselves to the elements? Well, Lily hasn’t any of those things. Grow old or leave herself to the elements, given the large box that presumably contains her body, and the one next to it, that Mary could guess contains James. She's not under an oak tree, just a boring old cemetary, and she's in the wrong conjoined grave. Fine - maybe not the wrong one for her, but it feels wrong to Mary at least, and it's not like she could ask Lily at the moment.
Mary can’t blame him for it, or her, for choosing James. James was so good. James was kind, and sweet, and so male. So public. It wasn’t Mary’s fault she wasn’t, and Lily knew that, yet Mary could feel the blame for it every time they spoke to each other.
“Not here,” Mary whispers, grabbing the hand that was slowly creeping up her thigh.
“Why not?” Lily responds, just as quietly, a mischievous grin - oh, that grin - shining on her face. “We’re in the back of the class. Nobody can see us.”
Mary removes her own hand, so Lily keeps her hand on Mary’s thigh, tracing patterns and flowers and words Mary can't decipher on it with such delicacy Mary can barely feel it there. But she can. She knows. It’s a constant reminder, something nagging her brain, reminding her this isn’t safe, someone could turn around, someone could see them.
Truly, they got away with more than you’d expect. While Remus and Sirius could barely sit next to each other - not for lack of Sirius’ trying - Mary and Lily could practically sit on each other’s laps, and nobody would bat an eye. They were just two gal pals, nothing more. This was the impression they fought to sustain. Just super close, touchy, best friends. They could wander through the courtyard holding hands, pretend to feed each other food during meals, and sure, people might whisper, but it only took one hex from Lily to shut down the really insistent ones.
Until it didn’t.
“Just a bunch of queers, you two,” Mulciber says, sneering, getting closer and closer to them. “These fucking muggleborns, infecting this school in too many ways, you are.”
“We’re just friends,” Mary defends. Beside her, Lily isn’t nodding along, like she usually does.
“Friends don’t do all of…that.”
“Well, we do. Sorry if your friends don’t care enough about you to show some affection once in a while,” Mary shrugs.
“Affection? You two are entangled at every party, all over each other, that’s more than affection.”
Lily was gripping her wand, her hair somehow redder than normal, her green eyes shining defiantly.
“Lily, don’t, he’s not worth it over some stupid rumours,” Mary insists, adding extra emphasis on rumours to really show that that’s all they are.
“What? Too scared to defend your girlfriend?” Mulciber smiles smugly at this, like he’s made some deep revelation.
Lily mutters something under her breath, something Mary recognizes as the Bat Bogey Hex, one of her favourites, and most common. Mulciber blocks it with a simple shield charm.
They’re backed against a wall, in an alcove that used to be a sanctuary. It used to be their sanctuary. That hex was one of the last of Lily’s defences, now that they can’t run.
“Expelliarmus,” Mulciber whispers evilly, and as predicted, Lily’s wand flies out of her hand and straight to his.
“I’ll break it, I will,” he promises, grinning madly, his eyes a scary shade of black.
“Please don’t,” Mary says quietly, from behind where Lily stands in front of her.
“Give me one good reason why not to,” he shrugs, toying with the wand, Lily’s eyes getting sharper by the second.
He places it between his hands, gripping both sides of it, and for a second, Mary truly thinks he’s going to break it, before Lily springs into action. With both of his hands occupied with her wand and his, he doesn’t have time to bring his hands up to his face, where Lily is beating him to a pulp. Good ole' muggle fighting.
Looking back, it was one of Mary’s fondest memories, although not at the time.
“Lily!” she screams, rushing over to her, pulling her off the already bloody and soon to be bruised Mulciber, and grabbing her wand for her. Mary’s own wand is back in her dorm. After that day, she doesn’t leave without it again, but she was more naive back then.
“Let me go!” Lily shouts, trying to wriggle out of Mary’s arms, but Mary knows this body like it’s her own. She knows all of Lily’s soft spots, where she’s ticklish, where she can hold on and never let go. So, she doesn’t. She drags Lily back to their dorm, through secret passageways galore to avoid being spotted, Lily struggling all the way.
“Mary!” she seethes, as Mary finally plops her down on her bed, collapsing on her own from the effort. “Let me go back there and tear his fucking face off.”
“That won’t help, you know?” Mary sighs. “That pretty much just confirmed what he thought we were doing. What we are still doing, so we can’t risk anyone knowing for sure.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Well, maybe because we’re already hated by half the school, and I don’t need more slurs whispered at me as I walk through the hallways?”
“It’d be worth it. For you,” Lily says, and a stab of guilt shoots through Mary.
“I’m not saying you’re not worth it,” Mary clarifies, but oh, those green eyes look so pained by this entire conversation.
“But you are. That’s exactly what you’re saying.”
“I don’t mean to, really. It's just...it’s complicated, that’s all.”
They lasted another month, and then summer came, and then a letter. Letters really weren’t good for Mary, were they? A letter detailing all of the reasons Lily didn’t think they would work out anymore, why they’d fallen out of love (had she fallen out of love? Can you, if you never say I love you?), and why they should still be friends.
Of course, Mary did love Lily. Loves Lily, even now, so many years later. It’s impossible not to love her, so it just makes sense that Mary would fall victim to that, too. Because she loved her, she agreed to stay friends with her. She listened to her talk about James, listened to her gush about James in the way she’d never gushed about Mary because she couldn’t to anyone, listened to her say she loved everything about James that Mary wasn’t. It stung, sure, but she loved her.
It was hard not to love James, too, and maybe that’s why they worked so well together. Mary wasn’t easy to love and she knew it, but loving James came easily to people. Heck, she’d even heard a rumour Sirius’ brother loved James. James Potter was the most charming, charismatic man she’d ever met. If it was anyone else, Mary would’ve despised him, but it was James. James, who always defended her, even if Lily wasn’t around. James, who may have been a jerk a few years ago, but had matured past that and shown it in a thousand ways. Mary half-loved him herself, but maybe that was only because Lily did.
So, they were James and Lily. Lily and James. Hogwarts sweethearts, perfect for each other, the best trope out there. Professors had made toasts at their wedding, saying they’d known it all along. James’ mum had praised Lily to the stars, proclaiming her a perfect match for her son. Mary had even made a speech, as the maid of honour, repeating her observation about how easy it was to love them, and looking back on some of James’ silliest stunts through the eyes of Lily’s best friend. Lily had cried. Mary had too, but less so about the speech, and more so about the fact that they’d never have a speech like it.
Definitely not now, at least. Mary had still been holding out a small bit of hope back then, before Harry was born, and before she detached herself from the war and the wizarding world as a whole. You-Know-Who had kinda ruined that hope by killing her, making what they were final.
“Are you okay?” Mary asks Remus, because he truly looks so close to breaking down that it’s breaking her own heart. She’s always liked Remus, even if he took some of Lily’s time. He was never rude to her, and was less unruly than the other three boys he was friends with.
Remus chuckles, and Mary truly is worried about him. Running his hands through his slightly greasy hair, he just chuckles again in response. It’s unnerving, and does nothing to appease Mary’s concerns about his sanity, although she can’t say hers is much better.
Dumbledore arrives soon, to make a speech representing all of the Order, and express gratitude for her sacrifice. It’s a load of bullshit, in Mary’s opinion. He should’ve been the one fighting, the one to be sacrificed, not Lily. She had so much to live for, and not enough time to even live.
“Do you know what happened to Harry?” Mary whispers to Remus, as they both pretend to comprehend and agree with what Dumbledore is saying.
“He’s with Lily’s sister, or so I’ve been told,” Remus says, scoffing. Even sad, Remus has a judgemental side. Mary admires that about him.
Mary scans the crowd, to see if maybe Petunia has arrived. Surprisingly, she finds her, all the way in the front with a little bundle in her arms, far from where Remus and Mary sit in the back. If anything, Mary is surprised that she can even recognise her, given that she’s only seen Petunia in photos and waiting at the train station for Lily. Then again, they have that similar face that only sisters seem to share. The same nose, although it fits Lily’s face more. The same look in their eyes, despite the different colours and shapes. Mary could have guessed this was the infamous Petunia from a kilometer away.
“He shouldn’t be,” Mary says worryingly. From what Lily has told her over the years, Petunia is a cold, resentful woman, who has hated Lily since the summer she came back from first year. Sure, she has had her good parts, but they seemed to have died somewhere in the fifth year or so, coincidentally when Mary and Lily had started dating.
“I asked Dumbledore for him, you know?” Remus says, looking back at the small child in Petunia’s arms.
Looking at him, Mary can understand why Dumbledore denied him this request, but she doesn’t mention his bedraggled state out of the small bit of kindness left in her heart.
“I’m guessing he refused?”
“He shouldn’t have. I would’ve pulled myself together, baby-proofed our flat, done everything it took to keep him.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t. He doesn’t trust me with him, I know it,” Remus confesses, then gives Mary a funny look. “Did Lily ever tell you how I got these scars?”
“She kept it to herself,” Mary answers.
“Well…that was good of her,” is all he says to that, but Mary doesn’t push.
“She was good.”
“That she was,” Remus agrees half-heartedly. “That she was.”
Dumbledore finally finishes his speech with the words, ‘the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. ’ It’s a bit dramatic, in Mary’s opinion, but it’s impressive to watch the words carve themselves onto the tombstone as the coffins are lowered into the ground.
As she’s leaving, she sees Petunia again, talking with nobody else but Severus. In hindsight, it makes sense - they were neighbours, weren’t they?
“Remus,” she nudges him, discreetly pointing to the chatting pair. For a second, that action takes Mary back to their Hogwarts days, gossiping in the Great Hall. The pair take a second to register fully with him, but not long after that for Remus to get angry.
“Are you serious? Dumbledore is allowing a Death Eater here?”
Mary doesn’t care if he loved Lily too, back at Hogwarts. He’d also been a part of the multiple killings of people exactly like Lily and herself. The fact he’d even show up, it fills Mary with the first strong emotion she’s felt but grief in the last few days - anger.
A calm, old hand places itself on her shoulder, and Mary notices an identical one on Remus’ shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” Dumbledore asks, looking at them through his half-moon glasses, a knowing twinkle in his eye.
Remus doesn’t respond, which Mary figures is for the better, so she follows suit and doesn’t say anything about her plans to curse Snape out, and maybe hex him, while she’s at it.
“Don’t attack Mr. Snape,” Dumbledore warns, and Mary simply glares at him.
“Why shouldn’t I? He’s killed people like me,” Mary shrugs. “Killed people like Lily.”
This feels good, to have someone to blame that’s not a super powerful dark lord that’s already most likely dead.
“He did terrible things under your watch at school, you know,” Mary tells Dumbledore. “You shouldn’t trust him. Lily used to, and it only ended terribly for her.”
Dumbledore sighs, and Remus goes a bit white at the reminder of that day.
“I’m aware of what he did,” Dumbledore says calmly.
“Then why didn’t you stop it?”
“It wasn’t my place.”
“It was your school.”
This seems to surprise Dumbledore.
“Ms. Macdonald, I must say, you’ve grown a lot since your last year at my school.”
Mary nods.
“It was a privilege, watching you - all of you -” he nods to Remus “grow and mature.”
“Then why let us die?”
Mary would like to say she regrets it the moment the words leave her mouth, but she doesn’t. She had to say it. The thought has been in her mind since Marlene. No, since the first deaths, the very first.
“It was not my decision who joined the Order and who didn’t,” Dumbledore says simply, as if that decides it, as if that will work.
“But you decided who went on missions, didn’t you? You decided who was put in danger? Look where your decisions have led us,” Mary continues, spitting her words at, angered even more by the tranquility Dumbledore feels.
“Some things are necessary. I wish they weren’t, but some things are, some things beyond even your understanding.”
“Don’t insult my understanding, you didn’t even know what was going on under your own roof! Do you know how many names I’ve been called, how many times I’ve been hexed, how many times-”
“I know very well what goes on in my school,” corrects Dumbledore, with a firmness to his voice that reminds Mary of the lectures he used to go on about…anything, really. “I seem to remember the attack of one Miss Lily Evans on Mr. Mulciber, do you recall it?”
Mary goes silent at that, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to yell at the old man, scream at him, and maybe blame him instead of Severu-
Severus. He’s gone.
“As I told you, the portraits talk to me sometimes. They’re large gossips. I know more than you think about what goes on inside Hogwarts.”
“He’s gone,” Remus notices, at the same time Mary does, ignoring whatever Dumbledore is saying now. She didn’t even hear the crack of apparition - it must have blended in with the other leaving guests. Maybe the muggles would think it was fireworks.
“Yes, he is,” Dumbledore observes, then whisks himself away, leaving both Mary and Remus dumbstruck in his wake.
________________________
It was a beautiful ceremony, but it left Mary feeling drained, no doubt about it. As soon as she arrived back home, she collapsed onto her sofa, letting the familiarity envelop her. This is where she’s resided for the past 8 days or so, and this is where she’ll stay for a long time.
______________________
Three years later
The flat looks cleaner than it was when Sirius was living there, Mary notes.
He’s good for him, Mary reminds herself, and she tries not to feel resentful about it. She knows of Grant, yes. She’s known about their…relationship, for a while now. Remus had called her the first night he’d showed up, and explained a lot. Mary had listened, because Remus didn’t have anyone else who would, and because Mary didn’t have anyone else who would tell her things anymore.
She likes Grant, she thinks. By all means, he’s good for Remus. About three years ago, a few weeks after the funeral, Mary had visited him, and the place was a wreck. Bottles of strong liquids everywhere, every trace of Sirius cleaned out, all of it a mess. Grant has changed that, and made the place much more presentable, nobody can deny. The walls are a pretty shade of yellow, the floor is visible, and it looks like someone has vacuumed and swept recently.
When Sirius was living there, the place was always a mess, but strangely Mary prefers it that way. It seemed more suiting, knowing both Sirius and Remus. Oh, but there’s that constant reminder - she didn’t know Sirius, did she? Clearly, nobody did. Maybe Remus wants someone he can know, and that’s why he’s allowed this Grant character to come in and change everything.
Still, Mary doesn’t hold it against either of them. She’s heard the way Remus talks about Grant on the phone, and the way Grant will lovingly call to Remus whenever something happens. She’s witnessed the way their love has grown over the years of Grant living there, and how both of them have adapted for each other. That’s the funny thing that’s debated though, isn’t it? Is adaptation a product of love or survival? Then it calls into question, why would you want so badly to continue a species if not for love?
It hurts her brain to think about, so she tries to avoid the topic of love and survival. It’s still a bit sensitive for her, given the person who has neither at the moment.
He’s good for him, Mary reminds herself, when Grant reaches out to shake her hand.
“Mary, ain’t cha?”
His accent is a surprise at first - she’s only heard him in the background of phone calls, and the thick cockney apparently doesn’t translate well.
Mary nods. “You must be Grant. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I’ve ‘eard tons about you too, rest assured,” Grant smiles at her, and it makes more sense now, why Remus was able to move on so quickly. Was it quickly? No, you’re just taking forever. Why he was able to move on at all, even if not completely, because do you ever?
“Mary!” Remus says, welcoming her more formally. “What’s the occasion?”
“Well, it’s been forever, hasn’t it?” Mary shrugs, as if that’s truly the only reason.
“True it has, true it has. So, are you here for drinks? Dinner? News you can’t share on the phone?”
“Just to check on you, and meet Grant in person, but drinks would be nice.”
“It’s settled then. Grant, you wouldn’t mind, would you?” Remus asks hesitantly, before fully agreeing to head out with Mary.
“Go on then, love,” he says, and heads back into one of the rooms. Mary can’t remember which one it is, but she tries to get used to that feeling of not remembering. By the looks of things, she’s going to be forgetting a lot of things, very soon.
Remus and Mary find a nearby bar easily. “I’m well acquainted with the bars around here,” Remus explains.
“Or maybe it’s just London,” Mary replies, making them laugh before sitting down.
“So, what’s it like being back here?” Remus asks, and Mary grimaces.
“A lot dirtier,” she honestly says, but adds a bit of a joking tone to it. She’s a city girl at heart, so she’s always glamorised any sort of big city, but she’s recently realised that maybe London isn’t the city for her.
“Really? I think I’ve just gotten used to it, at this point,” Remus shrugs.
“I think that’s the only way anyone here can deal with it.”
They go silent for a few moments, before Remus breaks it, his face softening as he words turn more serious.
“Mary, why’d you come?”
“I wanted to check in on how you’re doing with Grant,” she answers, and it isn’t a lie, not a huge one.
“I can believe that, but I know you. Why else?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”
“We’re not ever going to be okay, you do realise that, right?”
Mary shrugs. Sure, she’s known that, but she hasn’t tried to confront it and live with it like Remus has. She’s kept on living her life, sure, but she hasn’t done much else but survive. She’s ready to start living again, but she doesn’t have a Grant. She has absolutely nobody, and one solution to that problem.
“You’re not doing terribly though, are you? You and Grant seem happy.”
“We are.”
“I’m not going to be, Remus. That’s the thing. I’ve thought it over, and in a hundred different scenarios, I’m not going to ever move on like you have.”
“I haven’t-”
“Maybe not completely. But you’re much further along, and at a place I’m not going to be able to get to without something very special. So I need to make sure you’re truly okay before I go and do this thing.”
“Mary, what are you saying?”
“I’m moving to New York,” Mary finally admits. She’s omitting a part of the story, but she doesn’t let him know that. Not yet.
“That’s great! But I mean, we can still talk in New York, can’t we? We can apparate and all, and write letters…you’d find a way to still talk.”
“I’m looking for a fresh start there,” Mary explains slowly, hoping that Remus won’t get mad.
“So, what?”
“A completely fresh start.”
“So you’re going to…ghost me?”
Poor choice of words. We have enough ghosts.
“I won’t know I’m doing it, if that helps,” Mary hints, and this is when it clicks for him. He was always the smartest of the boys.
Abruptly, he pushes away from the table, his long legs stretching out and pacing very quickly back and forth.
“Mary! You- you can’t, no, you can’t do this-”
“I’m sorry, I know, I’m sorry-”
“If you’re sorry, don’t do this.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Don’t I?”
“We were in love.”
What a terrifying moment, to finally admit that to someone. It's the first time she ever has.
“Me and Lily. We were in love.” It's a last resort, to tell him this.
Remus seems stunned by this confession. Mary waits for him to speak up, to say something, but he doesn’t for a while.
Eventually, he speaks. “I…had guessed at it, sure, but just never...You really were?”
“Truly. Oh, we were so in love, it was sickening. I’ve never been happier,” Mary says quietly. This entire conversation is risky, but what does she have to loose? It’s not like she’ll remember it tomorrow. But he will.
“How long did it last?” Remus asks, sitting back down slowly, easing himself into the chair as he still tries to process this information.
“It started in fifth year, in January or so,” Mary starts, and that just unleashes the flood gates. Soon enough, she’s spilled their entire Hogwarts story to him.
“So you didn’t love her when she and James were together?” Remus asks, furrowing his brow.
“Not to her knowledge.”
“What about at the wedding? Your speech-”
“I haven’t fallen out of love with her since the beginning, that’s the problem. I can’t keep living like this, waiting for her to come back when I know she can’t. I don’t know how you do it! I mean, Grant probably helps, but I don’t have a Grant. There’s nobody else left for me to love.”
“Mary…”
“Remus, trust me. I’ve already thought it all through. I ended my lease. Got the plane tickets, which leave tomorrow morning, and have chosen the perfect spell. I’ll be okay.”
Remus stays silent.
“Don’t worry about me, and I won’t worry about you, deal? This was the last thing I had to do, make sure you’re okay. And you are - okay enough, at least.”
“I’ll miss you.”
Mary would have responded ‘you too,’ if that wasn’t the exact thing she was trying to avoid. There’s a certain freedom in knowing you won’t miss someone, so Mary tries to focus on that feeling. She is going to America, isn’t she? She should start getting used to feeling free.
Mary leaves with an apology, and one last hug. One last hug. From anyone, for a while.
She goes to a hotel for the night, because if she’d stayed with Remus, she isn’t sure she’d have the strength the next morning to continue with this plan. She gets up in the morning, making herself pretty for the first time in years, so she can feel like an entirely new person even before the spell.
After checking into her new apartment (not a flat, not anymore), Mary makes sure she has it all ready. Little explanations of her new person, so she can know a bit of who she was. A fabricated life story, so she can have something to base her new person off of, and, just in case, searches the entire apartment for any remaining photos or traces of magic. There are none - she was sure not to bring any, but you can never be too careful.
Finally, with an assurance she hasn’t felt in years, and a calm she isn’t sure she’s felt ever, Mary says that one little word. The one little word that will decide the rest of her life.
“Obliviate.”
_______________________________
A few years later, maybe she’ll bump into a stranger on the street, and try to ignore the sparks that fly from his coat pocket and the latin murmur that accompanies it. Maybe she’ll ignore the odd owls that she sees everywhere, even outside of Central Park. Maybe she'll ignore the little gaps in her memory, and the strange familiarity she feels with sticks. Maybe she’ll focus on her new job as a fashion executive, with her new normal friends, and try to ignore the feeling that bright red hair and piercing green eyes gives her every time she's lucky enough to see them.
Because no matter what she does, or where she goes, it’s inevitable - inside Mary Macdonald, there will always be that small piece of her searching for Lily everywhere she goes, even if she doesn’t know what she’s searching for. It’s written into her very soul, carved into her heart, threaded through every fibre of her being.
It’s Lily. It’ll always be Lily. Always.