Rule #13

It’s almost embarrassing. 

Not the crying part. Besides the parents, everyone is some sort of teary, even Regulus. You’d have to be a psychopath not to get a little choked up with these adorable little rascals leaving camp. No, what’s mortifying is the urge bubbling up in Mary’s gut to grab a handful of campers, Hermione included, and keep them here forever.

Which is…well, dreams of kidnapping children? Damn, Hogwarts really has changed Mary. 

How the hell did she go from a fickle vagabond to a fond Activities Director? Now, instead of white-sand beaches, big-foot-sized waterfalls, or ancient ruins, it’s spoiled brats Mary’s going to miss—now, Mary will only admit to herself, she wants the opposite of solo. 

She wants camp…she wants Lily. 

“I’ll miss you so much, Mary,” Hermione says through a tight hug. 

“Ditto.” Mary brushes Hermione’s curls, trying not to get lost in the familiar feeling. “You’re spectacular, Hermione. Did you know that?”

She can feel Sam’s approval like a hand on her shoulder. Those were once his words, after all. 

Mary nearly turns to look and see if her brother’s ghost is there when Hermione releases her grip. She looks up at Mary with utter admiration: “You’re spectacular too.”

Then Hermione’s back in her arms, sobbing. Mary’s not doing much better. 

Though Hermione’s parents are waiting patiently for their daughter to finish her goodbyes, Mary doesn’t dare rush Hermione. She’ll hold on as long as the girl will let her. 

When Hermione does move on to her friends—giving Pansy quite the formidable pat on the shoulder, Draco a loving nod of the head, and Harry and Ron an adorable group hug—Mary stands in the parking lot invaded by parents and campers, feeling a little more than lost.

But Mary’s internal compass has never failed her before—it got her through the Serbian countryside without phone service, through not one but two sinking ships and a couple of ancient lifeboats, and it brought her back to Hogwarts after months of pretending like she would never return. 

So it’s fitting that Mary’s feet lead her right in the direction of Lily, standing by the bus with a clipboard. 

This morning Lily divided the counselors into two groups: one herding the Hogsmeade campers onto the bus and the other ensuring the parents picking their kids up are all accounted for, Lily leading the former and Mary the latter. 

Without Dumbledore and all of his negligence, Lily is slowly but surely finding her groove as the official Camp Director. There are moments, of course when Mary still wants to toss Lily in the Black Lake, but now she’d like to jump in with her after. 

Strange, that. Or maybe Mary’s well and truly obsessed. 

Maybe she always has been. 

Red hair twisted up with a pencil, Lily glances from her clipboard and waves back to a camper. Her smile is weak and tired, but it’s there. She’s holding on. 

The night before had been rough, to say the least. 

“You don’t understand, Mary! Petunia hates me already but this—this—”

“Okay, just, help me understand, yeah? What are you worried will happen tomorrow when Petunia gets here?”

“I’m worried she’ll take Harry.”

“None of us are going to let them happen, Red.”

Lily crumples with relief as if that were even a remote possibility. Mary wouldn’t hesitate to join Peter and James in throwing hands if it came down to it. 

“I’m also worried that she won’t talk to me,” Lily admits. “The last time we talked—well, my mother convinced Petunia that I’m the devil incarnate, or at least seduced by the devil.”

“Is James the devil in this analogy?”

Lily almost laughs and Mary's chest warms with the possibility. Yes, her heart seems to beat, her lungs seem to breathe—make Lily laugh. Make this better. 

But just as quickly as Lily’s eyes crinkle in the corners, her shoulders slump. “What Harry did…he needed to run away, and I’d never blame him for it, but—” She sniffs. “I once did the same thing.”

“You ran away?”

“It was after my last summer at Hogwarts. I was just so pissed because Remus had gone AWOL and I missed my friends and camp, and my sister was just—well, she was better than our dad at least. Anyways, I ran away without her.”

“Why didn’t you take her with you?” Mary says, not accusingly, but so she can understand. She couldn’t imagine leaving Sam behind, even when they were at their most hormonal, screaming at each other over bowls of Lucky Charms, trading teenager tantrums every other day.

But Sam certainly isn’t Petunia. 

“I asked Petunia to come.” Lily breathes. “She said no.”

“Then you, just like Harry, have nothing to apologize for. Tomorrow depends on Petunia and whether or not she can see what’s best for her—” Mary stops herself from saying kid. 

It’s not a simple question, who exactly Harry’s parents are.

Lily’s hands are shaking, Mary realizes, and she takes them between her own. The touch seems to ease something in Lily; if not her mind’s tremors, then at least her body’s. 

“I’m scared, Mary.”

“You can be scared and brave—isn’t that what you teach the campers?”

And though it’s slow and small, a smile blossoms on Lily’s face. 

Mary can tell that Lily’s still terrified. Even last summer, she’d always been able to read Lily’s mood based on her body language, her expressions, hell, the beat of her breath. Mary’s attuned to Lily, once out of distrust and displeasure, now out of…well, neither of them has said it yet. 

They’re taking it one day at a time. 

But in moments like these, when Lily looks like she’s crumbling under the weight of expectations, largely her own, Mary wants to steal her away like she does the campers and whisper:

I love you, Red. 

And that is something Mary isn’t embarrassed by. On the contrary—she’s amazed, astounded, and downright dumbfounded that she actually found someone. 

Someone to love. 

“Oh, it’s you.” Lily finally notices Mary. 

“Don’t sound so delighted.”

Lily smirks. “Oh, thank god it’s you, I’ve been awaiting your attention for hours, and now that I’ve finally caught it, I can breathe again!” 

Mindful of the infestation of parents on all sides, Mary leans forward and tries to be subtle. Tries to play nice. Really, it’s Lily’s fault that she gasps so loudly when Mary whispers: “What was it you said the other night, Red?”

“Ah,” Mary drags out the vowel. “I remember now. You said I was—”

“Surely you’re not speaking of private matters while we’re in the midst of professional matters.” Lily steps back, green eyes darting around them. 

As a part of Lily’s overbearing, but also, exhilarating newfound tyranny as Camp Director, she’s discarded with Rule #13, replacing the dating ban with more nuanced regulations on staff professionalism around the campers. 

Mary helped her, of course….but that doesn’t mean she can’t poke the bear, or in this case, the firefly just a little:

“Lily, do you think I should tell my boss that I’m having private thoughts about her—”

Once again, Mary is cut off, this time Lily’s hand over her mouth as she drags her behind the bus where they won’t have an audience. 

“Lily, I think my boss might be hitting on me, what should I do?” Mary bites her bottom lip.

“You’re insufferable.” 

“Again, not what you called me the other night.”

Lily’s scowl is deep but her arms are still caging Mary onto the side of the bus, the mural Pandora painted pressing into her back. 

After a look to the left, the right, Lily dips in for a short kiss. “Guess you’re multi-faceted, Macdonald.” She pulls back. “Who knew you had such depth?”

Once Mary would’ve spat an insult right back, but now she thumps her head into the bus’ cool metal, toes curling in her Tevas. “God, Red, the things you say.”

And once that nickname would’ve made Lily scream, and now, well, in the right context it still does. 

“How are you doing?” Mary’s voice grows serious, her hand taking Lily’s. 

“I have other things to worry about, so that helps.” Lily nods to the list of campers on her clipboard which is stained with more than a few tears. “But I can’t lie, I’ve got a mental countdown and I’m losing my grip every second.”

“You got Petunia to agree to come,” Mary says gently. “That was the first step.”

It had been horrible, sitting in Lily’s office the night before while she called her sister on speakerphone. Both Mary and Lily expected Petunia to hang up when she realized who exactly was calling, but whether Petunia was too stunned or too angry, she didn’t. 

Lily explained what had happened, that Harry was safe, and the sob Petunia let out was real. 

Bone-chilling. 

Lily and Mary had shared a glance then—it was one thing if Petunia and Vernon were negligent, but did Petunia actually care? 

Why on earth would she keep Harry in that environment if she did? 

Naturally, Mary has her guesses…and she’s tried to prepare Lily for the worst. Domestic abuse, like addiction, is nothing simple. By any means, they would get Harry out of that house, but Petunia? 

That would be up to her, in the end.  

“I have to start breaking up the campers' lovefests,” Lily says. “Wish me luck?”

“With that hair? You’re a walking lucky charm.”

Lily rolls her eyes, and before she walks away, she glances at her watch. Mary can’t help but do the math too. 

Five hours to go. 

******

As the bus pulls away full of campers, the engine rumbling with a loud sigh, Mary stands between Dorcas and Remus waving goodbye. The moment the bus goes under the Hogwarts sign, Fred and George stick their heads out the window with Nerf guns, spraying some sort of shaving cream and glitter alchemy. 

“One last prank,” Remus hums approvingly. 

“Come on, they’re so unoriginal!” Mary gestures to the splatter of sparkly white that Lily is standing over with a glare. “All they do is make a mess.”

Dorcas laughs on Mary’s other side. “Well, the twins are fifteen.”

“When I was fifteen, I replaced all the framed photos in my high school with headshots of the Desperate Housewives the day of the school board meeting.”

Both Remus and Dorcas turn to look at Mary, and she can’t help but grin at their awe. “I know, I know, what can’t I do?”

“Keep a job?” Remus teases. 

“Ouch,” Dorcas says in Mary’s defense, though they’re laughing through it. 

“I’ll have you know that this is my second summer at Hogwarts. And not my last.”

Remus smiles at Mary. “So you’ve decided to come back next year?”

Over conversations about Sam and Ty, Remus had heard his fair share of Mary’s ramblings on how little she thinks of the job’s pay, the hours, and one specific coworker. How much she couldn’t wait to leave come the end of summer. 

Mary didn’t mean any of it—or she thought she did. She thought a lot of things before Lily kissed her and changed her fucking world. 

“Yes, I’ll be here next summer. I’ll be here the whole year in fact.”

Dorcas doesn’t seem surprised but Remus chokes on a sip of water, covering his mouth with bulging eyes. He takes his time swallowing, screwing his water bottle shut, then leveling Mary with an amused, exasperated look. 

“You simp.”

“I’m not!”

Dorcas, the traitor, shares a knowing look with Remus. 

“I am happy for you,” Remus says sincerely. “Just surprised, I guess. What happened to your Japan plans?”

“Japan can wait.” Mary shrugs. It was more or less what Mary told Lily last week after Regulus’ creative blackmail. 

“Regulus did what?!”

“He won’t tell me what exactly is so bad about Dumbledore’s past, but yes, he’s managed to buy Hogwarts from him.” Lily’s laugh is stunned. “And he wants me to run it.”

“Well of course he does, Regulus is intelligent. You’ll be an incredible Camp Director.”

“I—” Lily swallows. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Mary stiffens, annoyed at her former self for making Lily doubt just how capable she is. “Look, Red, though I find you absolutely irritating and ridiculously controlling—”

“Wow, that’s just what I want to hear from my—”

Mary smirks, waiting for her to finish the sentence. 

“My coworker,” Lily says lamely. 

“Oh? Do you do this with all your coworkers?” Mary steps forward and wraps a hand around Lily’s back. 

When their chests brush and Lily shivers, Mary chuckles. “As I was saying, while you are the bane of my existence, that doesn’t mean you aren’t excellent at what you do.”

With their lips so close, Lily’s made speechless, and Mary practically purrs at the chance to talk without her usual interruptions. “You’re going to do some real good at Hogwarts, Lily Evans.”

“Will—will you—” Lily’s eyes flutter shut as Mary’s lips brush hers, teasing, tempting. “God, I’m trying to say something, Macdonald.”

“Then say it, Evans.” 

Only Mary won’t let Lily, she’s too busy kissing her soundly, tangling her hands in her red hair, fuck, she loves that hair, and licking into her mouth with abandon. 

“Oh, shit, please—” Lily’s on the verge of giving in, Mary can’t feel the burn under the tips of her fingers, but she manages to push Mary away. Just an inch. 

“I gotta say something.”

And because Lily looks serious, Mary momentarily drops her hands; she knows just how incoherent her touch makes Lily. She’ll allow her this reprieve. 

“Will you…” Lily’s eyes search Mary’s face, and she tries again, “Will you help me run Hogwarts?”

Mary’s chest squeezes. 

“Will you stay?” Lily asks. “Please.”

Partially because she hadn’t been expecting it, and partially because she’s too flattered for sincerity, Mary jumps at a quip: “You really want to keep working with me, Red? I can pull up your many feedback forms on my poor work ethic if you need a reminder of how incompetent I am.”

“I was wrong,” Lily says firmly. “You work in different ways than I do, and I judged you for it, I resented you for it too, I think. I’ve never been able to set boundaries like you, much less delegate my time and my responsibilities.”

Mary’s heart races, pounding up her throat and all the way into her mouth. 

“And you’re so good at what you do, I’ve learned so much from all of our projects this summer. Sure, you could benefit from more organization, taking notes, less procrastination, and generally more documentation…” Lily trails off, flushing. “But I want you by my side.”

“Professionally,” Mary clarifies. 

“Yes. I would like to—” she laughs. “Keep you as a coworker? Or I guess you’d be my subordinate technically.”

“How far we’ve come,” Mary can’t help but tease.

“Trust me, a part of me is screaming inside.”

“Why’s that? Think you might regret it?” Mary slides her hands around Lily again, this time dropping lower. 

“No—I—well—it’s—” Lily gasps and she practically attacks Mary with a kiss. When they come up for air, her voice is clear: “I think if you stay, Mary, I’ll never want you to leave.”

“And that scares you?”

“A little,” Lily admits. “But I’m going to ask you regardless.”

Matching Lily’s honesty with some of her own, Mary nods. “I’m scared too.” 

It’s an understatement—she’s terrified at the prospect of settling, of letting loose the distractions and pleasures of a nomad’s life, unattached, unbound, free. 

But she’s just as terrified of leaving this camp, leaving Lily behind. 

She can almost hear Sam laughing at her: “Go on, Mary,” he’d tell her. “You know you want to.”

And so she does. 

“I’ll stay, Red.”

Lily’s shocked expression is almost offensive. “Wait—really? Are you sure you don’t want to think about this more, I don’t need an answer right now, you can get back to me after staff wrap-up—”

“Lily.”

“Don’t interrupt me!” Lily groans, then clamps her lips together. “I mean, I wasn’t finished.”

“Okay then,” Mary appeases her, even though interrupting each other is their M.O.

Lily collects her thoughts after a few seconds. “I know you get bored easily, and you like jumping from job to job, and there are a lot of aspects of this camp that you don’t like. This isn’t what you expected your future to be; this life, this camp, and, well, me.”

Mary’s head spins because she knows Lily is getting at something deeper than a job offer, something a lot like that big four-letter word they keep dancing around. 

The thing is, Mary wants it all. 

“Let me make myself clear. I want to be here. I want to be here with you. And I certainly don’t find any of this boring.” No, Mary is much too endeared by the kids and their many quirks, and much too obsessed with Lily to ever be antsy. 

“Don’t you want to travel the world?” Lily protests weakly. 

“I’ve seen it. Doesn’t quite compare.” 

“To Hogwarts?”

“No, Red. To you.”

When Lily pulls her in for a hug, Mary can’t help but think her therapist would be proud. 

That Sam would too. 

“Hogwarts is going to be something next summer,” Remus says with a whistle, pulling Mary out of her memories. 

“Especially if you two come back,” Mary says. She’ll take any chance to guilt trip two of her favorite people to return to Hogwarts. 

Dorcas looks at their feet while Remus raises a brow. “Poppy’s supposed to be Camp Nurse next summer.”

“Poppy’s been thinking about retiring for a while, according to Lily.” Mary shrugs. “The job’s open. If you want it, it’s yours.”

Lily will undoubtedly scold Mary for offering Remus the position so casually—she’ll pull up her elaborate PowerPoint and shake Mary’s shoulders while she outlines a “proper” job pitch—but Mary knows Remus doesn’t need all that corporate fanfare. 

He needs a friend to tell him that they want him here. He needs that reassurance. 

“I’m not sure I have a reason to come back.”

“Well, fuck you, Lupin.” Mary scoffs. 

“Don’t swear, the campers are still here,” Dorcas mutters under their breath while Remus backtracks: 

“No, sorry, I mean—I don’t think it makes sense. It will only make everyone more miserable.”

Remus had long since told Mary about his unremembered childhood with the Marauders, something that was as equally shocking as it was sensible. Despite his grief, Remus fits with the four of them so easily—and why else would he and Sirius share glances overflowing with, well, history?

Those two definitely have a past, even if Remus can’t remember it. 

Mary thinks their story isn’t over yet. Damn, maybe Lily’s romantics are rubbing off on her.  

“I—uhm.” Remus looks around the parking lot, then focuses on Gilderoy leaning against a silver minivan and chatting with an…attentive dad. “I gotta talk to Lockhart, I’ll see you two later?”

Before either Mary or Dorcas can call him out on his evasive shit, he’s setting off for his least favorite counselor. Sirius, his not-so-secret favorite counselor, watches Remus walk across the lot with hopeful eyes, then promptly shifts their attention to Luna when he greets Gilderoy. 

“Oh, come on, Sirius,” Mary mutters under her breath. “This is just painful. Like a kicked puppy.”

When Dorcas doesn’t respond, Mary elbows her softly. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” they whisper. “It’s just…”

Dorcas’ expression shutters as Mei gets in the car with her dads. Or maybe it’s Marlene waving goodbye that they’re frowning at. 

First Remus, and now Dorcas? No matter what they say, the two of them are just as charmed by Hogwarts, campers and staff, as Mary. 

Mary crosses her arms and steps in front of Dorcas’ eye-line. “So: Counselor Manager? What’s stopping you from taking the job?” 

She’s not interested in hearing any of Dorcas’ hollow excuses, and fortunately, they seem to recognize that. 

“My mother,” Dorcas begins. “She worked hard, spent a lot of time and money to get me the opportunities I have. I can’t—I can’t bear the thought of throwing it all away.”

“Because you’re afraid of disappointing her?”

“I’m afraid she’s right,” Dorcas says, eyes still posed on the road Mei drove away on. “I’m afraid that if I leave swimming, I’ll lose the part of me that makes me me.”

“You once told me that this camp is a part of you. That even when you left your last summer, Hogwarts never left you.”

Dorcas meets Mary’s eye. “Yeah.”

“All I’m saying is that you can still swim here, you can still make the magic you love so much, and you can still be good at something. You’re damn good at this, Dorcas.”

Dorcas laughs. “Sirius said the same thing.”

“He has their moments.”

“I just—I’m one of the youngest, most inexperienced counselors here and yet you two want me to replace Lily?”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.” Mary scoffs. “Yes, we want you. Take it or leave it.”

Dorcas looks at Mary for a long while, then laughs. “Is it weird to say that sometimes you remind me of my grandma?”

Mary tilts her head. “Thanks?”

“I don’t know, you’re both just so down-to-earth and no-nonsense but also kind.”

“Sounds like a remarkable woman.” Mary grins. “Why don’t you call her and ask her advice?”

“What?”

“You clearly look up to her and love her, and if she’s anything like me, she’ll talk some sense into you. So go on.”

As Mary shoos Dorcas in the direction of Lily’s office, she pulls out a key. “You’ll need this to get in.”

Dorcas catches the key with a stunned expression. 

“Damn athlete.” Mary shakes her head. “Now get going.” She clicks her tongue like Lily does when she herds the horses into the stables. 

“Alright, alright.” Dorcas throws her hands up and walks away with a smile. 

Mary watches her go and feels like…maybe, she’s done something right. It’s not entirely selfless, because Mary would really like Dorcas to be on her and Lily’s team, but still. 

Sam just might be proud of this too. 

******

Just like on parent’s weekend, the last ones to leave are the Malfoys. Draco takes his time shaking hands with all the counselors, and Mary watches, waiting for her turn for a curt but courteous farewell. 

“One more to go.” Lily walks up to Mary by James’ pickup truck, once black, now a dark shade of dust. 

The sun is blazing on the asphalt, melting the entire staff in the parking lot, and without thinking, Mary reaches into her bag for sunscreen. 

“Reapply, Red. I’m not rubbing aloe on you again.”

Lily does take the bottle, but she mutters, “As if you didn’t love it.”

“I can think of other things to rub—”

“Jesus Christ, Mary.” Lily looks firmly ahead, ignoring Mary’s cocky grin. 

Narcissa, Draco’s mom, stands by her silver car with her hands clasped behind her, talking lowly with Regulus. When Draco gets to Barty and opts for a hug instead of a handshake, Lily sighs. 

“It feels weird.”

“What does?” Mary asks. 

“Doing this without Dumbledore here.”

Mary turns back to Draco, who’s now staring down Sirius with a sour expression. “I think it’s for the best, Lily.”

The day before, Dumbledore had quite the hostile exit:

“Well then, you’ve evicted me from my home and taken my life’s passion.” Dumbledore clicks his tongue. “Anything else you want to take from me before I leave?”

Mary didn’t expect Albus to act so immature during his departure, she thought he’d at least feign stoic dignity, so the bitterness takes her aback for a second. 

Regulus, however, doesn’t need time to recover. “Goodbye, Dumbledore.”

“I never should have let Lily hire you.”

“You never should have let Lily handle all camp responsibilities, you never should have obscured camp finances, you never should have—” Regulus pauses. “Well, you know exactly what you shouldn’t have done.”

Though Dumbledore’s accosted expression is more than satisfying, Mary’s heart aches for Lily’s broken one. Lily leans into James like she’s the one being kicked out. Like she’s the one at fault. 

Dumbledore looks at the small group, just the Marauders, Mary, and Regulus. Then he spins on his heel. 

“Dumbledore?” Lily steps forward, voice shaky. “I’m sorry that we have to end it this way. I didn’t want this.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

Lily’s face squishes with anger and Mary chants in her head, “Go on, Red, tear him apart.” 

She does just that. 

“Why am I doing this? I don’t know, Dumbledore, maybe because you were prepared to sell this camp to real estate scum who would tear it down? Because you depended on donations and misdistributed camp funds and lied to Remus, kept his dead husband’s words from him?! I’m doing this because I’m the one that has kept this operation together for years and you didn’t have the decency to trust me.”

Dumbledore matches Lily’s sharp tone. “I took you in when your parents kicked you out. I gave you this job when you graduated. I have been there for you, Lily, for years.” His voice wavers. “And this is how you repay me?”

“Love isn’t a transaction,” James pipes up. 

“You’ve let us all down,” Peter adds, his thumbs tucking into his tool belt, a careful gesture. “I think it’s time you go, Dumbledore.”

He does. 

And he doesn’t look back. 

“How am I supposed to just…move into Dumbledore’s house? Sleep in his room and take over his office?” Lily’s eyes are pinned on Draco hugging Harry, James just a step behind the boys, his eyes as teary as his son’s. 

Mary keeps her voice bright. “Well I think that place calls for a major redecoration, which Peter will definitely help with…and maybe if we christen all of the rooms you won’t feel so uncomfortable.”

Beneath her new layer of sunscreen, Lily’s cheeks heat. “That’s quite the idea.”

A second later, she adds: “I don’t think I’d mind it so much if you were there with me.”

Mary freezes. She had fully expected that she would stay in Ravenclaw, with a few sleepovers in Lily’s new king-size bed when the mood called for it. “Are you asking me to…move in with you?”

Her gaze bounces from the woodchips to Mary. “One step at a time, yeah? Maybe we just see how you like spending the night?”

Mary smiles at Lily’s loopholes, though she has to admit, the absence of labels—love, girlfriends, roommates, does make all of this easier to swallow. It makes all this change a little bit less of a dream and more of a reality. 

But with every second more, every next breath, the itch to say it—to scream it grows. 

I love you, Red. 

Instead, Mary shoots for something less world-shattering: “Sure, Red. Sounds like a plan.”

“Alright, Draco, we need to go now.” Narcissa guides him with a gentle hand on his back. 

“No!” Harry latches onto Draco with a sob, though the other boy is holding him back just as tight. 

Lily quickly rushes to James’ side and helps manage the kids’ adorable crisis, which leaves Mary to brave the parent, Narcissa. 

Marlene winks at Mary as she crosses to the intimidating blonde woman, her skirt and blouse pressed and spotless as if she plans to attend an interview after this. 

“They’ve become quite close,” Mary says, nodding to Draco and Harry. 

Narcissa’s smile is tight. “I can see that. It’s…good for Draco, I think.”

“Friendship?”

“He’s always had friends,” Narcissa says, voice low. “But now he has someone who understands him.”

“That is rare,” Mary agrees, surprised by Narcissa’s candor. 

“One can spend a lifetime without it and never know how much they’re missing.”

It takes a lot for Mary not to choke, because, what the hell, Narcissa? That was damn beautiful. 

Mary’s eyes find Lily’s, that internal compass ever at work. Her red hair is tangling with Harry’s as he cries in her arms, looking back at Draco with a frown that’s truly heartbreaking. 

“You’ll see him soon,” James tells Harry softly. “Firefly and I will make sure of it.”

“What if my mom doesn’t let me?” 

Lily’s quick to say, “She won’t stop you from seeing your friends, Harry.”

Harry nods slowly. When he turns to Draco, his cheeks are an angry red. “Forever?”

“Forever,” Draco says without missing a beat. 

Narcissa helps Draco and his luggage into the car, the staff in the parking lot growing quiet, a reverent silence for the last camper. 

When Narcissa closes Draco’s door, she turns back to Lily. “You’re the new Camp Director, correct?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“It’s Black now actually. My ex-husband and I have finalized our divorce.” 

There’s a chorus of murmurs from all the staff pretending not to listen, a muffled giggle from Evan. Lily and Mary had already changed the rule about no relatives at camp, for Harry and Luna’s sake, but Draco’s connection to Regulus and Sirius was certainly not common knowledge. 

“I’ll be sure to update our records,” Lily says in her best customer service voice. 

Mary peers into the windows to find the back of Draco’s blonde head, his shoulders shaking with sobs. She expects it's only Sirius’ hand on Harry’s shoulders that’s holding him back from running to his best friend. 

Narcissa lifts her chin, and in that moment, Mary can spot Sirius in the slant of her smirk, recognize Regulus in the vow of her words: “I would like to make a donation.”

******

Mary throws herself into the leather couch in Dumbledore’s house—or rather, Lily’s house now. Her sweaty skin sticks to the material, and she takes her time getting comfortable, sprawling her limbs this way and that until her head is in Lily’s lap, legs dangling over the edge. “Well, that was…wild.”

Lily looks down at Mary and blinks slowly. “I think I’m still in shock.”

Not only had Narcissa offered Hogwarts a sum five times the size of Mary’s entire net worth, but she also stated her plans to organize fundraisers in her social circle to support Lily’s “transition into authority”. One look at Regulus’ pleased expression told Mary all she needed to know. 

“It feels too good to be true,” Lily whispers, staring at Dumbledore’s empty bookshelves. “All of this does.”

With a glance at her watch, she adds, “But who am I to jinx it? Petunia will be here in thirty, and I’m sure shit will hit the fan then.”

“Hey, where’s that absurd optimism we all know and love?” Mary sits up. “Do you need me to get James to hype you up?”

Lily’s fingers run up her arm, brushing her Omnipod, the motion absentminded.

“Or maybe you want a snack before Petunia gets here?” Mary asks carefully. 

“Hm?” Lily follows Mary’s gaze. “Oh, no need to worry. I checked my blood sugar during pick-up.”

“Can you—” Mary stumbles. “I mean, would you tell me how it works? How do you track your glucose levels and take care of yourself?”

Lily goes still and after a few long seconds where Mary is certain she’s about to be told off, nods slowly. “Yeah. Of course, I will.”

“Hold on.” Mary runs to the bag she dropped at the house’s entrance and finds the notebook that Lily gave them all during staff training, which Mary had used a grand total of twice: once to doodle a hippo with an upset camper, and the other time to write a reminder to restock the illicit supply of coffee grounds. 

A coffee ban that, thankfully, Lily doesn’t plan to continue. 

“Alright. I’m ready.” Mary sits on the couch, notebook open and pen in hand. 

“Why are you writing notes?”

“You always say that note-taking is the best way to retain information.”

“Yeah, and you literally never listen.”

Mary scribbles the date on the top of the page. “Well, this is important.”

When she looks up again, Lily is watching her with a stunned expression. 

“Earth to Red?”

“Right. Yes. Okay. So.” Lily laughs almost awkwardly. “I’ve had diabetes as long as I can remember…” 

She goes on to talk about all the intricacies, the difference between hypo and hyper, how she calculates her net carbs, mainly in her head, which more than impresses Mary—she was never one for math. It’s a lesson on insulin and what makes a healthy lifestyle for a diabetic, but it’s also a lesson on Lily, on that fundamental part of her that isn’t flawed, but particular. 

Maybe Remus was right, and Mary is a simp, because, hell, she loves each and every one of Lily’s particularities. 

I love you, Red. 

It’s on the tip of her tongue, a threat that just might shatter the fragile foundation they’ve only just started to build, but Mary holds herself back. She listens to Lily talk, and at least for now, loves her quietly. 

By the time Mary’s taken up three pages of notes—half of them written by Lily herself because, in her words, Mary “doesn’t have proper note-taking technique”—a knock sounds on the door. 

“Yeah?” Lily calls out.

Peter opens the door with a solemn expression. “She’s here, Lily.”

******

They decide to meet in Lily’s office. It’s got a somewhat functioning fan and has the privacy spaces like the Lodge or the Yurt lack. But most importantly, it’s a safe space for Lily. 

She can be comfortable there—or as comfortable as possible when facing her estranged sister. 

Petunia, it turns out, didn’t come alone. When she got up at the crack of dawn and drove to Hogwarts to see Harry, she took her other son with her. They all could guess why—she didn’t want to leave Vernon alone with him. 

Peter, ever the reassuring presence, managed to convince Petunia that Dudley would be safe with Sirius and Regulus while she met with Lily. 

So while the Black siblings take Dudley on a tour of camp, while James and Pandora distract Harry with Luna and crafts, Mary and Peter walk Lily to her office, where Petunia awaits. 

“Firefly?” Peter says when they reach the door covered in camp pictures.  

“Yeah, Pete?”

“Whatever happens, you have a family. We’re your family.”

Lily’s smile is wobbly, then she takes a deep breath and opens the door. 

Peter stands guard outside but Mary walks in with her, summoning the most confident energy she can for Lily’s sake. 

The first thing Mary notices about Petunia is Lily—-she’s all over her sister, from the short, curvy frame to the button nose, not to mention those pink lips. Only Petunia doesn’t have green eyes—hers are a dark brown, unflinching and tired. 

“Hi, Petunia.” Lily stands while Petunia sits, and Mary lightly nudges her to level the playing field. 

Petunia, Mary has to remind herself, is probably scared and overwhelmed too.

That would make sense based on all they’ve gathered from Harry, based on Lily’s childhood, but there’s not an inch of unease on Petunia's face. Just pure mistrust. 

Petunia doesn’t so much as glance at Mary standing by the door, instead staring down Lily in the desk chair. “Where’s Harry? Why can’t I see my son?” 

Lily’s voice is stiff. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“It’s lucky I still live in Hogsmeade.”

The tension crackles in the air, and Mary’s attention follows Lily as she leans forward. “Do you—are you living in mom and dad’s…”

It’s a question they already know the answer to, Harry had told them his address, but it seems Lily wants to hear it from Petunia. Wants to hear that their parents died from her sister. 

“That’s none of your business.”

Mary flinches. 

“It wouldn’t be,” Lily says with a dark laugh. “If you didn’t steal my kid.”

There it is, Mary thinks to herself: Petunia’s face finally flickers with fear. “What are you talking about?”

“Harry Dursley. Was it your idea or mom’s for you to adopt him without my knowing?”

Petunia sits up, eyes bouncing to the door like she might bolt. That’s exactly why Mary’s standing by it. “Harry is my biological child. I have no idea what—”

“Cut it out, Petunia. I know, alright? His eyes, his birthday. You weren’t pregnant then. I was the one who was kicked out for being knocked up. Or have you forgotten?”

Lily catches her breath, schools her expression, and Mary almost reaches out. But she knows this next bit is something Lily has to do alone. 

“It has come to our attention that not only did you adopt my child without my consent—”

“You were giving him up regardless,” Petunia spits. “Mom and I were trying to keep our blood in the family.”

Lily plows on, though Mary doesn’t miss the way her hands clench the sides of her chair. “But you also kept him in an abusive home.”

And as quickly as Petunia’s ire rose, it backs down. “Did Harry say that?”

“Abusive is not in his vocabulary, no, but he told us how Vernon treats him. How he treats you.”

Petunia looks away from Lily then.

Most of this feels like unfamiliar territory to Mary, because while she had Sam, they never harbored distrust much less disgust for each other. Petunia makes no sense to Mary, but that expression—that ache in her eyes, that twitch of her frown. 

Mary knows that well. 

It’s what Sam wore when she sat him down for an intervention. 

It’s what she wore when her friends did the same for her. 

“Vernon’s not abusive,” Petunia says in a small voice. “And Harry is legally my kid.”

There’s a moment where Mary isn’t sure which route Lily will take—thanks to Regulus’ research, Lily and James have legal cause on multiple fronts to take custody, both because Petunia’s adoption of him was done through sketchy means, but also because they have Harry’s recorded testimony against his father’s abuse. CPS would want him to go to a relative, and luckily, Lily and James were the only ones who fit the bill. 

But Lily’s tone is soft and gentle. “Tunie.”

Petunia’s hands shake in her lap. 

“Please let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” Petunia protests.

“Maybe you don’t want my help. But Harry? He needs a safe home. Please let me give it to him.”

“I can’t—I love him. He’s my son. I nursed him, spent countless nights soothing him, I’ve taught him, I raised him. Don’t—don’t you dare ask me to give him up. He’s my child!”

“But he’s mine too.” Lily’s crying now. “And I won’t let Vernon near him again.” 

After a beat she adds, “The authorities won’t either.”

Petunia stiffens. “You’ve called them?” 

“We will after this. I wanted to give you a chance to…to run away too.”

“I love him, Lily.”

“I love Harry too.”

“No—” Petunia’s eyes are glossy, and Mary’s chest caves in at the realization that the two sisters cry the same way. Utterly beautiful, the both of them. 

“No, I love Harry, but I mean—I love Vernon.”

Lily’s breath punches out of her. “Like mom loved dad?”

It’s not the right thing to say, and Mary braces herself for Petunia’s anger, stepping forward as if she might shield Lily from her own sister’s wrath. 

“You know nothing about me, Lily. You haven’t been in my life for more than a decade.”

“Not by choice,” Lily spits, topping Petunia's tone tenfold.

Petunia sits back in the old creaky chair. She looks around at the office, expression accusing and angry. “This place was your paradise, and now I’m sure it’s Harry. I could never compete with your life here, your friends. James.”

“You didn’t have to compete with them,” Lily counters. “You were my sister.”

“Not anymore.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Petunia looks up at the ceiling, and when she finally gathers her words, her squint is just as sharp as Lily’s. “I will never condone what you did. There’s a reason to wait until marriage for sex, and you set Harry up for failure. I sacrificed so much to make sure that little boy had a proper upbringing—”

“And yet, he ran away to my summer camp because he was so scared of his parents.”

“He’s not scared of me.”

“Are you sure?”

Petunia swallows slowly. “I’d like to see him. Now.”

“Not until we’re done here. Not until I get your written agreement that you’ll cooperate. Otherwise, I’m calling the cops right now, Petunia. Don’t test me when it comes to Harry’s safety.”

“I would never hurt him.”

“But you have!” Lily shouts. “You let him grow up with that—that man.”

“That man is someone I love, Lily…” 

Mary’s racing heart starts to slow with resignation as the two of them keep going back and forth, and her ears buzz from the thick air, thick heat. 

It’s suffocating. 

And if it’s this hard for Mary, she can’t imagine what it’s like for Lily. 

“Stop it,” Mary says, summoning her mother’s voice. “Both of you need to take a breath before you say something you regret.”

From the look on Lily’s face, Mary expects it’s too late for that. 

She raises her brow at Lily, silently asking permission to intervene, and with the dip of Lily’s chin, Mary rolls her shoulders back. 

“Petunia,” Mary addresses her. “Lily’s being kind enough to explain the situation because she knew how much you’d be worried about Harry. That is the only reason you are here. Because Lily cared. The rest of us were prepared to call the cops and never let you or Vernon see Harry again.”

“How dare you—”

“I’m not done. You have two choices here, Petunia. Either you cooperate, or you don’t. If you choose the former, we’ll allow you to see Harry right now with the possibility of arranging meetings in the future, without Vernon. If you don’t, myself and all of Lily’s family will ensure that you never see Harry again. Nor Lily.”

Petunia opens her mouth to say something, but Mary’s still. not. fucking. finished. 

“And you may say that you don’t care about your sister, but there’s a reason you tried to care for her child. Deep down, Petunia, you must miss Lily.” 

To Mary’s surprise, Petunia doesn’t try to deny it. “Of course I do.”

A ‘but’ hangs in the air, and Mary isn’t interested in hearing it—Lily already knows what’s kept Petunia away, the religious values that drove the two sisters apart. 

“Then I suggest you choose wisely,” Mary says. “For Harry and Lily’s sake, if not your own.”

Petunia sits in silence, staring at Lily with an unreadable expression. 

“We’ll give you some time to think it over.” Lily stands and walks to Mary, but turns back before she opens the door.

“Who named Harry?”

Petunia looks up, her eyes like a doe in the woods. “I—I did.”

Lily blinks, mouth falling open. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget something like that, Lily?”

It isn’t until the door shuts behind them, until Lily falls into Mary’s arms, that she explains: “I always wanted to name my kid Harry. We picked out baby names when we were little. She—she named him for me.” 

A whisper of a flame burns then, hope sprouting from the ashes. 

“It’ll be okay, Red.” Mary kisses the top of Lily’s head. 

And maybe, just maybe, it will. 

******

Today isn’t about Mary. This is a day reserved for the campers, for Harry, James, and above all, for Lily. 

There are few things as painful as facing a sister, the brutal ache of thirteen years apart holding Lily, and likely Petunia, by the throat. 

So Mary should be there, holding Lily’s hand while she sits with Harry and James, waiting for Petunia to decide. Mary should be there, diffusing the tension when Petunia finally agrees to comply. Mary should be there, helping Harry face his mom after running away. 

Mary should be there when Lily and Petunia call the police together. 

Mary should be there. 

Mary should. 

But she’s stuck in Peter’s shed instead, sobbing between a pile of wood blanks and rubber ducks. The fact that today is not her day—today is the day Lily needed her—only makes Mary cry harder, her heart thrashing beneath her ribs, tormented by her own uselessness.  

It came on suddenly. Grief is sneaky like that—one second Mary’s a functioning, happy adult and the next she’s on the floor, missing a brother she’ll never see again. 

She probably should dial her therapist, or find someone to talk her through it, but her legs are shaking, a spasmic ode to her own sobs, and there’s no point. 

She’ll wait out the ache. She’s done it before. 

But like a guardian angel, a mess of brown curls sticks through the door. 

“Mary there you are—” Remus cuts off immediately. 

He steps into the shed, closes the door behind him, then sits in front of Mary. “What can I do?”

“I’m—I’m fine,” Mary insists through gasps. 

“Well you and I both know that’s a load of shit. Now tell me, what can I do? Sit here with you? Touch you? Talk about it? Talk about something else?” 

Mary’s vision blurs from all the options, and she tucks her head into her hands. 

“Take your time,” Remus says in a soft voice. “We’ve got time, Mary.”

“No, I should be with—with Lily.”

“Lily has a whole staff worth of people watching out for her; Sirius, Peter, and James most of all.”

“You—you should be with her too.”

“I’m fine right here,” Remus’ tone leaves no room for argument. “And you take your time,” he repeats. “Just focus on breathing.”

“Like it’s so fucking easy,” Mary snaps. 

“I know. I know it’s not.”

Maybe it’s that sincerity, that raw truth, that shoves the air back into Mary’s lungs because Remus does know. He knows very well. 

It takes a while for her heavy tongue to stretch and twist, granting her speech one slow syllable at a time. When Mary feels her chest ease, she tries to talk about it. To map the trail of scars bleeding anew.

“I think it was seeing Petunia and Lily,” Mary’s voice is light as if scared of the words. 

Remus hums in understanding.

“I’m so happy for her but…”

“But it’s not fair that she could get her sister back and you won’t your brother.”

Mary rubs her swollen eyes. “When you put it like that I sound like a real bitch.”

“You’re not. I’m jealous of people living all the time.”

“What do you mean?”

Remus blows a breath through his nostrils. “It’s not just that Ty isn’t alive and everyone else is, it’s that I can’t—I can’t figure out how to live without him. I’m stuck behind a window watching everyone else live and I’m…not.”

“I felt like that once too,” Mary admits. On the bad days, she still does. 

“And what’d you do about it?”

“Got high.”

Remus winces, but he quickly covers it up. “Right.”

“And then, once I got clean, I dealt with it, I deal with it,” Mary continues. “I sit with my therapist and come face to face with the source of my addiction, my depression.”

“It’s not like we don’t know what’s wrong though,” Remus says with a wry laugh. “It’s not like any psychologist can bring back what we’ve lost.”

“Not Ty, no. But they can help you find yourself again.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

Mary sucks in a breath at the question. It was one she had asked herself many a time. “Remus, you are the only person that can do this. We can all encourage you and, hell, love you, but if you don’t want to move forward, you never will.”

“I know.”

“Aren’t you tired of standing still?”

Remus’ eyes flutter shut. “It’s the first step that scares me.”

“Then start with something small.” Mary perks up. “Like taking the job at Hogwarts next summer.”

“Ah, there’s your hidden agenda,” Remus says with a smile. 

Mary laughs, though her voice is still crackling with tears. “Can you blame any of us for wanting you to stay? We adore you, Remus Lupin, and as much as you don’t want to say it, you adore us too.”

“This summer was an exception, I played the dead-husband card…St Mungo’s let me do this again. And the ER reminds me of Ty. That apartment was ours. I can’t—I can’t just leave all of that behind.”

“You might not want to hear this…” Mary starts. “But it helps. Leaving, I mean. When I finally cleaned myself up and started traveling, I started to feel like me again, and sure, I was running away from a lot of things, from the woman I became without him, but he was with me. Sam is always with me.”

“I feel Ty with me too. I’ve actually started hearing him lately.”

Maybe someone else would be concerned, would laugh at the absurdity, but Mary knows very well how loudly the voices of the dead echo. Even if Sam’s words are built on memories and grief, she’s glad for every one of them. 

“What’s Ty saying?” she asks. 

“He thinks I should try to move on.”

“Well, what if you tried?” 

Remus flinches and Mary quickly backtracks, “What? What’d I say?”

“Sorry, it’s just, he keeps saying the same thing in my head. Fuck, I’m going crazy. This is insane, isn’t it?”

“Nah.” Mary leans back onto the shelf with Peter’s collection of carabiners. “At least, if you’re insane. I am too.”

“Good company, at least.” 

Mary nudges Remus with her foot. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

For listening, for understanding, for seeing me. “For being here.”

Remus grins. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

******

When they finally get up off the dusty floor and return to civilization, finding the sky dark and starry, Remus looks Mary up and down and not so politely informs her she looks a wreck. 

So she sets off for the Ravenclaw bathrooms, skipping dinner, and luckily, manages a shower without running into the other staff. It’s not her day, it really isn’t, and she doesn’t want to give anyone else something more to worry about. 

Especially not Lily. 

So it’s quite a shock when Mary walks into her room/border-line cabin to find Lily on the edge of the bed. 

“Shit, Red.” Mary clutches her robe not unlike a damsel in a movie, the ones she writes scathing critiques of when she’s feeling snarky. “What are you doing here, Lily? You should be with Petunia and Harry—”

“Harry’s asleep in a cabin with Regulus, James, Pandora, and Luna.”

“And Petunia and Dudley?” 

“A few doors down,” Lily says. 

Mary shuffles her weight back and forth, feeling water drip from her hair down her neck. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. How—how was it?”

“As good as it could have gone, honestly. Harry was so happy to see her and Dudley, that was definitely the highlight.”

“And the cops?” 

“We’ve started the process,” Lily says, followed by a long breath. 

“Petunia did she…”

Lily’s voice adopts that rigid, clinical tone it does when she’s nervous: “She hasn’t decided what she’s going to do herself, but she’s being…agreeable about moving Harry away from Vernon into my custody.”

Mary rushes over to her, sitting thigh to thigh on the bed. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

“It’s been a long day, yes. But the important question is: how are you feeling?”

“A little hungry.” Mary gestures to her robe. “But clean.”

Mary’s voice is bright, expression easy and open, but Lily, evidently, doesn’t buy it. “Remus told me that you could use a hug. I’d like to know why. If you want to tell me that is, we don’t—we don’t have to talk about it. I could just—” Lily looks at Mary with an ardent expression. “Hold you?”

Mary deflates. “I’d like that.”

They fall together on the bed, legs tangling and arms wrapping around each other, Mary’s cheek nestling onto Lily’s heartbeat. “You know you can talk to me, right?” Lily whispers. “I’m always here to listen.”

“Today wasn’t about me, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Lily sits up a little at that, but at Mary’s whine, she lays back down. “Don’t do that, Mary. Yes, today was hard for me, but we’re supposed to be a team. You’re allowed to struggle when I’m struggling. We can get through it together.”

“You sound like you’re giving the staff a pep talk.”

“Do I?”

 Mary can hear Lily’s smile in her voice, and that makes her smile of her own accord. “Is it wrong that it turns me on a little?”

Lily’s laugh rumbles, bouncing Mary’s head up and down. “God, Macdonald. Your mind is something else.”

They settle into a comfortable silence then, and Mary lets herself sink her teeth into it. Lily makes her feel colors, the whole fucking rainbow, and this shade is new. 

This one is gentle. 

It allows Mary to sit with the ache in her chest, the knots of grief loosened with Remus’ company now unraveling with Lily’s touch. 

“You deserve this,” she hears Sam’s voice.

And maybe, Mary’s starting to believe him. Maybe she’s on the cusp of the last page, on the verge of an epilogue that promises peace and happy endings. Maybe she can let herself say: 

I love you, Red.

But that takes a courage Mary can’t summon today. So, instead, she taunts, “To think, I once thought all you could do is get on my nerves.”

Lily hums. “I’m certain I still do.”

“Yes,” Mary deadpans, eliciting another gorgeous laugh. “But you make me feel alive too.”

Lily sucks in a breath. 

Remus had been right to describe grief as a callous limbo, a few steps apart from everyone, observing but not knowing. Not really feeling. 

“You make me feel alive, Red,” Mary repeats, turning her lips to kiss Lily’s heart. 

“Mary?”

She looks up. “Yeah?” 

“I really like you.”

Mary’s breath catches. “Is that so?”

“But…”

It’s a visceral reaction, jumping away from Lily. “What do you mean ‘but’?”

“You didn’t ask for this, Mary. I—I’m going to have a kid. When we thought Harry was my nephew that was one thing, but now that—well.” Lily blows out a breath. “You didn’t sign up for all of this.”

Mary’s mouth goes dry. “It’s like you want me to give up.”

“I don’t,” Lily snaps. “But I can’t help but worry that one day you’ll regret. Regret me.”

“Have a little more faith in me.”

Lily looks down at the sheets, picking at the pills. “That’s the thing, I do. It’s me I’m worried about.”

“Well, I don’t know how to convince you,” Mary starts, mind reeling with a healthy dose of fear. “I want to spend my days with you here, on these campgrounds, running Hogwarts and sharing meals and nights and, hell, living the domestic bliss. I want to take you to Sam’s grave and I want you to meet my family. I want to bring you your room-temperature water in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep. I want to scream at you and bicker and kiss you like a madwoman after. I want to push your buttons and make you as red as your nickname. I want to help you take care of the campers, of Harry. I want to be with you, Lily Evans.”

Mary’s shaking voice betrays her desperation. She can’t lose this. She won’t lose Lily. “So can you please, please believe in us too?”

Lily sits there, legs tucked under herself, eyes wide but focused on Mary. Honed on Mary. She pops open her lips and says: 

“I love you.”

“You what?!” Mary squeaks. 

And there it is, that beautiful squint. “No, no you just said wedding vows to me, you don’t get to be shocked by this. Yes, I love you, and I’m scared to, not because you don’t deserve it but I can’t shake the feeling that something will go wrong.” 

Mary sees Lily’s hesitations for what they are, an unease built by years in an abusive home, by a kid she thought she’d never know thrust back into her life, plagued by the same nightmares. 

It’s not for a lack of love that holds Lily back, Mary understands. It’s a lifetime of heartbreak. Nearly three decades of denying herself something delicate but safe, something good but overwhelming, for fear of breaking if not herself, then someone else. 

Mary doesn’t think Lily will break her. But if she does…hell, it would be an honor. 

“I love you too, Red,” Mary says, laughing on the words they’ve both been trying to avoid. 

Lily’s eyes brighten and she crawls across the bed to Mary. “I’ll believe in us, okay? I’ll worship us like a goddamn religion, make an altar to you and me, Red and Macdonald.”

“More blasphemy?” Mary jokes weakly. “Didn’t Petunia chastise you enough?”

Lily scrunches her nose. “Too soon.” But her smile breaks through nonetheless. 

They kiss, and Mary holds Lily’s face between her palms.

She’s scared to break Lily too. She’s scared to let someone in, to love someone, when the threat of losing them lingers in her mind, a persistent pang clouding the sun. 

But this—Lily is worth it. 

This time, Mary isn’t going to run away. 

“So,” she drawls. “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?”

“I think I prefer bane of your existence.” Lily giggles onto Mary’s lips. 

A gasp in the doorway makes them both pull away. 

“Finally!” Pandora squeals, throwing her ball of yarn in the air. 

Lily covers her cheeks with her hands, grinning like a fool, and Mary can barely pull her eyes away to say, “Finally?”

“I knew this was coming. I had a dream about it.”

Lily snorts. “Of course you did.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to craft a little to take your mind off of today, Lily, and I just had this sense that you would be in Mary’s room instead of your own.”

“Did you?” Mary says. 

“Mmhm.” Pandora skips to the bed. “So you two…girlfriends?”

“Yep.” Lily grins at Mary, and it’s breathtaking, the lack of hesitation, the total adoration in her eyes. 

“Yeah,” Mary agrees. “Girlfriends.”

“Is Luna asleep?” Lily turns back to Pandora. 

“Knocked out, snuggling with Harry. She was a little overstimulated today what with all the goodbyes but I managed to calm her down with some crafts.”

“Hence why you brought the yarn to me.” Lily smiles. “Is this you gentle parenting me?”

Pandora laughs and kisses Lily on the cheek. 

Mary leans forward, grabbing Lily’s hand. “About the sleeping arrangements, I can’t help but worry that…what if Petunia tries to take Harry while James and Regulus are sleeping?” 

“Peter and the pitties are standing guard.” Pandora grabs Mary’s free hand and squeezes it. 

Lily adds, “And despite my protests, Regulus said he has no intention of sleeping tonight. He wouldn’t let me pull another all-nighter.”

“Good,” Mary huffs. Now that she knows just how much lack of sleep can affect Lily’s blood sugar, she’s not interested in tempting fate. 

“How is that good?” 

“You need to rest, Lily. You’ve got staff wrap-up and CPS to deal with tomorrow.”

Lily is itching to argue, Mary can tell, and she almost wants Red to bite, to take out her frustration in another of their famous matches. 

But she merely huffs, bringing Mary’s hand to her lips. 

“No way I can fall asleep tonight,” Lily says glumly. 

Pandora says in a sweet voice, “Well…there are other ways of relaxing you.”

******

Maybe Pandora is a pagan fairy, Mary can’t help but ask herself. 

She seems to know exactly what Lily and Mary need in order to end this long day of camper farewells and distant siblings; she reads their moods, and drags them to the Craft House, pulling out that old, beloved projector to play “The Breakfast Club”. 

The three of them sit on the giant beanbag Lily ordered for one of the Cabin Adventures a few weeks back, and snuggle under Pandora’s woven blanket. A blanket that she’ll be exhibiting in an upcoming art show, Pandora tells them casually, as if that’s not damn important news. 

Mary ends up talking over the movie, interrupting John Hughes’ masterpiece with fun facts and cast drama, and eventually, they give up, too engrossed by each other to pay the detention-goers mind. 

It sure is relaxing, Mary can’t help but think as she watches Lily and Pandora kiss in front of her. It’s downright serene when she’s in between Pandora’s thighs, Lily in between hers. 

After, Lily does indeed fall asleep, tucked between Pandora's white-blonde hair and Mary’s dark brown curls—the three of them a cocoon of warmth, holding each other.