Bravery can be dangerous

Mary, now 14, stands in front of her bedroom mirror, carefully applying a coat of lipstick. It’s dark red, bold, and striking—the kind of color her mother would never approve of. But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? She smirks at her reflection, enjoying the feeling of doing something her parents would disapprove of. The summer has stretched long and hot, and in its warmth, Mary has found herself slowly shedding the girl she used to be.

She’s not a little kid anymore. Her parents still treat her like she’s one of the younger kids, but she’s beginning to feel older. She’s starting to feel the change, inside and out. Puberty, they say. Her dad tells her it’s just a phase, just frustration. But the frustration feels real. She’s frustrated with her home life, with the way things feel like they’re always the same—too many rules, too many expectations, and too many people telling her what she should and shouldn’t be.

Her dad is always the one telling her she’s too emotional. Her mother tells her she should be careful about how she dresses, how she acts, how she talks. It all feels stifling. The words "it’s just puberty" echo in her head. She rolls her eyes at herself in the mirror.

It’s not just that. It's the boys. She can’t walk down the street without hearing the crude remarks and catcalls. She knows it’s nothing new. She knows it happens to a lot of girls. But it makes her skin crawl. They look at her like she’s some kind of thing for them to comment on. And it makes her mad—so mad.

She takes a deep breath, smearing the lipstick on a bit too thick in her haste. It’s the first time she’s ever worn it out of the house. She secretly pocketed it at a shop with her neighbor Jenny a week or two ago. She’ll have to touch it up later, but right now, she feels ready.

The sound of a knock at the door interrupts her thoughts. “Mary, come on. Jenny’s waiting for you downstairs,” her mother calls from the other side.

Mary grabs her bag, ignoring the flush creeping up her neck. She doesn’t feel like the sweet little girl who used to tag along with her mother to the grocery store. She’s something else now. She heads downstairs, feeling like she’s stepping into a new version of herself.

Jenny Chandler is waiting at the door, one eyebrow cocked as she looks Mary over. “You finally decided to wear it, huh?” Jenny says, nodding toward Mary’s lipstick with an approving grin. Jenny is a few years older than Mary, and in Mary’s eyes, she’s effortlessly cool. Jenny smokes, drinks, and does whatever she wants. Jenny doesn’t care what people think. And, for some reason, Mary wants to be just like her.

They head out, walking through the neighborhood. The warm evening air wraps around them like a thick blanket, and Mary tries to pretend that she’s not nervous. Jenny’s talking about something she’s heard from a friend—another one of those “cool” things that Mary’s never quite done before. It’s a little rebellious, a little dangerous, and exactly what Mary wants to be part of.

Behind the playground, Jenny pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, and Mary bites her bottom lip. Jenny grins knowingly.

“First time, huh?” she asks with a smirk. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got to live a little. Here, take a fag.”

Jenny takes a cigarette from her pack and lights it, offering one to Mary. She hesitates, staring at it for a moment before accepting. She’s seen Jenny smoke countless times, and it seems like the thing to do. She inhales, trying to look casual. But it tastes terrible. It burns her throat, and she almost chokes. She coughs but quickly tries to hide it behind a fake grin.

“You okay?” Jenny asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, fine,” Mary replies, pretending to be unaffected, but her voice cracks. She takes another drag, holding it longer this time, though it still feels wrong.

Jenny doesn’t seem to notice, and Mary feels a fleeting sense of pride that she’s managing to fit in. She’s trying so hard to be cool, to be someone she’s not sure she understands. But in this moment, she doesn’t care. She’s doing it. She’s living on the edge, just like Jenny, just like the older girls she’s seen at school.

Mary grins to herself, running a hand through her long dark curls. Her lipstick might be smudged, and the taste of smoke still lingers on her tongue, but for once, it feels like she’s starting to get it.

She feels confident enough to flip off the dumb whistling boys they pass on the way to the record store.

-

Mary steps into the train compartment, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement as she meets her friends again. Her eyes scan the group—Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, Sirius, Remus, James, and Peter—spread out across the seats, chatting and laughing like no time has passed.

She feels different this time. Different in a good way.

Her hair is up in a messy bun, a few strands loosely framing her face, and her makeup—bold, dark eyeliner, a hint of eyeshadow, and red lipstick—makes her feel like she’s someone else. Someone confident. Someone unbothered by what anyone thinks.

"Look at you, Mary!" Marlene exclaims, her eyes widening in approval. "You look... different. In a good way, I mean."

Mary grins, a flicker of pride washing over her. "Yeah, well, things change," she says nonchalantly, though inside, she’s buzzing. She’s not the same girl she was last year. She’s confident, bold, and not letting anyone tell her what to do.

Sirius raises an eyebrow from across the compartment. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he says with a playful grin, his voice teasing. "Mary’s finally joining the ranks of us troublemakers."

Mary rolls her eyes, dropping into the seat next to him, feeling the heat of his gaze on her, but she doesn’t flinch. "Don’t get too excited, Black. I’m still too good for your trouble," she jokes, nudging him with her shoulder.

Sirius smirks, leaning closer with a glint in his eyes. "Oh, I’m sure you’ll come around," he says, his tone flirtatious but not necessarily serious. "You can’t resist the dark side forever."

Mary laughs, rolling her eyes again, but it feels good—this lightness, this back-and-forth banter. It feels like power, something she’s only just starting to understand.

Sitting back in her seat, she catches Lily’s eye. She’s sitting across from Remus, nose in a book as usual, though she glances up and smiles warmly at Mary. "Looking good, Mary," Lily says, her voice filled with genuine warmth.

"Thanks," Mary replies with a grin. "It’s a new year. Time for new things, right?"

Lily nods, clearly not seeing how much her words have made Mary feel proud. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not about needing validation anymore. She’s learned that she can be whoever she wants to be.

James, sitting next to Lily, leans over, his grin wide as he pipes up, "So, we’re all set for next year, right? I’m talking pranks, mischief—basically wreaking havoc."

Lily raises an eyebrow, not amused. "You mean you’re set for next year, James. I’ve already told you, I have no interest in your pranks."

James doesn’t seem deterred. "Oh, come on, Lily. A little fun never hurt anyone." His grin widens, but Lily is back to reading her book, clearly uninterested in entertaining his charm.

Mary chuckles, leaning back in her seat. "James, maybe it’s time to face the facts. Lily’s just not into you," she teases, a playful glint in her eyes. "It’s not the end of the world."

James sighs dramatically. "I don’t know why you’re all so obsessed with this," he says, gesturing to the whole compartment. "She’s practically playing hard to get. It’s basically a compliment."

Sirius grins, looking at Mary. "You know, Mary, I think you’re a bit more my type than James’s," he says, his voice low and teasing, his eyes locking onto hers with a mischievous smile.

Mary raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile of her own. "Oh, really? What makes you think that?" she replies, giving him a look that says she’s having fun with the flirtation but not taking it seriously. Still, there’s something in the way they interact that feels... different. Like a game, but one she’s willing to play.

"You’ve got this whole ‘don’t care what anyone thinks’ thing going on," Sirius says, leaning back in his seat, still grinning. "I like that."

Mary laughs, looking away to hide her blush, though her smile doesn’t fade. "You’re not so bad yourself, Black," she says, teasing but also admiring his confidence. It’s different, this side of Sirius. He’s got a way with words, and she’s starting to understand why people are drawn to him.

Remus glances Sirius's way, then looks back out the window. Marlene and Dorcas exchange knowing looks, but they don’t interrupt, content to watch their friends play this silly game of flirtation. James, however, is still pouting about Lily’s lack of interest in his jokes, but he doesn't seem bothered enough to let it stop him.

For a moment, the conversation drifts, but Mary’s mind is buzzing. She feels good. Confident. Not just because of her makeup, but because she knows—really knows—that she can handle herself now. She can laugh, flirt, and stand her ground. The whole world feels a little more open, a little more hers to explore.

-

Back at school, Mary walks through the halls with a new kind of confidence. It’s not just the makeup and clothes anymore—it’s something deeper, something more raw. She feels the eyes on her, the whispers from boys in the hallways, the crude comments, but now, it doesn’t make her feel small. It doesn’t make her shrink back.

She’s learned to fight back.

She walks with her head high, ignoring the way some boys linger at her shoulder, muttering things under their breath. Last year, she might have felt uncomfortable, unsure of herself, but not anymore. Now, she meets their gazes head-on and if they say something about her, she doesn’t hesitate to retort.

"Oi, sweetheart, you know you look good in that skirt," one of them calls from a group of Gryffindor boys.

Mary stops, turning her head slightly. She eyes him, a smile spreading across her face, but it’s not a kind one.

"Yeah? And you look like a prick, but I’m not commenting on that, am I?" she shoots back, voice dripping with sarcasm. The boy’s face drops, and his friends snicker awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

She keeps walking, feeling a rush of satisfaction as their laughter fades behind her.

In the corridors between classes, the catcalls still follow her—boys telling her she’s "hot," asking her out, or calling after her with lewd comments. And every time, she turns around, giving them a glare, a scoff, or a middle finger.

"Fuck off," she mutters to one who dares to call her a "babe." The boy’s face goes red, and he looks away, chastised by her blunt response.

Mary’s always had the ability to fight back, to call out the nonsense she sees. But now? Now it’s a part of her. She doesn't shy away. She stands up, faces them down, and refuses to take their bullshit. And when she says “fuck off,” she means it.

She’s not going to be ashamed of herself, not anymore.
And if boys want to objectify her, well... she'd rather sexualize herself on her terms than let anyone else control it.

She’s hiding behind her sass, her bravado, pretending she doesn’t care when, maybe, she still does. But it’s easier to pretend she’s unbothered than to show how everything, the boys, the comments, the pressure, makes her feel.

So, she keeps up the act.

-

Mary twirls her quill between her fingers, leaning back in her chair in the stuffy Divination classroom. The air smells faintly of incense and something floral—lavender, maybe?—and it’s almost enough to make her yawn. She squints through the thick haze of smoke at her textbook, barely paying attention to the lesson.

“Tea leaves are fascinating, aren’t they?” whispers the girl next to her, Sybill Trelawney.

Mary turns to look at her, amused. Sybill’s enormous glasses magnify her already wide, eager eyes, and her blonde curls seem to have a life of their own, bouncing as she tilts her head.

“Fascinating?” Mary repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Not the word I’d use, but sure.”

Sybill giggles, a high, lilting sound. “You just don’t see it yet. There’s a whole world hidden in the leaves. Secrets, warnings…” Her voice drops dramatically. “The future.”

Mary hides a grin, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “If you say so.”

On her other side, Emmeline Vance gives a small laugh, her voice quiet but warm. Mary glances at her, noting again how tall Emmeline is, even sitting down. She has a calm energy about her, contrasting Sybill’s excitable chatter.

“You’re not buying into all this tea-leaf nonsense, are you?” Mary teases, nudging Emmeline with her elbow.

Emmeline shrugs, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a shy smile. “It’s kind of interesting, don’t you think? Like… what if she’s right? What if tea leaves can tell the future?”

Mary snorts. “If they can, I’d like mine to predict an end to homework.”

That earns her a genuine laugh from Emmeline, and even Sybill smiles, though she still looks vaguely disapproving at Mary’s skepticism.

As the lesson continues, Mary finds herself liking her new seatmates. Sybill might be eccentric, but she’s funny in a way that makes Mary think her friends would get a kick out of her. And Emmeline, with her quiet confidence and easygoing nature, is nice to talk to—though Mary does notice that Emmeline always seems just a little flustered when she looks directly at her.

After class, as they pack up their things, Mary slings her bag over her shoulder and turns to Sybill. “Hey, I think you’d like my friends. You should meet them sometime.”

Sybill beams, her large eyes lighting up. “Really? I’d love to! Do you think they’d want their fortunes read? I could—”

“Maybe don’t lead with that,” Mary interrupts with a laugh. “But yeah, I’ll introduce you. You too, Emmeline.”

Emmeline’s head jerks up in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Mary says, grinning. “Marlene’s mentioned you before. Says you’re a bloody menace on the Quidditch pitch.”

Emmeline blushes, scratching the back of her neck. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t be so modest. You’re clearly good if Marlene’s still complaining about you,” Mary says, nudging her again.

As they leave the classroom, Mary walks ahead, chatting easily with Sybill. Emmeline lingers just a step behind, watching Mary with a quiet fondness she doesn’t dare voice.

-

Mary pushes open the library doors with a dramatic flourish, earning a sharp glare from Madam Pince. She mimes an apologetic shrug but doesn’t tone down the wide grin on her face as she strides inside. She’s late—very late—but she couldn’t care less. Her heart is still doing little flips from her earlier conversation with Sirius.

She likes him. She really likes him.

The thought sends a jolt of excitement through her chest. Does she love him? Probably not. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn’t matter—she’s young, and this is her first real date, and maybe, just maybe, her first boyfriend. The thought is thrilling.

She spots her study group in the far corner of the library, huddled around a pile of textbooks. Lily sits in the middle, looking far too focused for Mary’s liking, her brow furrowed as she scribbles notes. Dorcas leans back in her chair, chewing the end of her quill, while Benjy Fenwick whispers something to her that makes her snicker. Emmeline is quietly reading, and Remus seems genuinely engrossed in the material.

Mary slides into an empty seat with a flourish, her grin widening. “Guess what?” she announces, barely keeping her voice down.

“Nice of you to join us,” Lily says dryly, not looking up from her parchment.

“Lily, focus! This is important!” Mary insists, her excitement bubbling over.

That gets Lily’s attention. She sets her quill down and raises an eyebrow. “Alright, what is it?”

Mary leans forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sirius asked me out.”

The reaction is immediate. Dorcas lets out a low whistle, Benjy’s eyebrows shoot up, and Lily blinks, clearly caught off guard.

“Sirius Black?” Lily asks, as if she might’ve misheard.

“Yes, Sirius Black,” Mary says, her grin practically splitting her face. “He asked me to Hogsmeade this weekend. Can you believe it?”

Lily exchanges a look with Dorcas, her expression unreadable. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“You suppose?” Mary repeats, mock-offended. “This is huge! My first date, Lily! Aren’t you happy for me?”

“Of course I’m happy for you,” Lily says quickly, but there’s a note of hesitation in her voice.

“Yeah, congrats,” Benjy chimes in, though he looks more amused than anything.

Mary doesn’t notice the tension. She’s too busy chattering about how nervous and excited she is, how Sirius had been so unexpectedly sweet when he asked her. She barely registers the way Remus’s quill stills mid-scribble, or how Emmeline’s gaze flickers to the table as if she’d rather be anywhere else.

“I told Marlene already, of course,” Mary continues, grinning. “She said it was about time he grew up enough to ask me. What do you think? Do you think he’s, y’know, serious?”

“About you or in general?” Dorcas quips, earning a laugh from the table.

Mary laughs along, brushing it off. She doesn’t expect Sirius to be serious, not really. But right now, it doesn’t matter. She’s giddy with the thrill of it all—of being seen, being wanted.

Lily nods along politely, though she still looks skeptical. “Just… be careful, alright? You know what he’s like sometimes.”

Mary waves her off. “Oh, please. I can handle Sirius Black.”

Remus doesn’t say anything. Neither does Emmeline, though her knuckles are white where they grip the edge of her book.

-

Madame Puddifoot's is a vision of lace, pink ribbons, and heart-shaped confetti. The tiny tea shop feels like it was designed with an overly romantic twelve-year-old in mind.

Mary and Sirius sit at a small, frilly table near the window, surrounded by other couples whispering sweet nothings and giggling into their teacups. The air smells of sugar and rose petals.

“This is…” Sirius begins, gesturing at the excessive decor with a slight grimace.

“A lot?” Mary finishes, raising an eyebrow.

“More like a crime scene,” Sirius mutters, leaning back in his chair. “Seriously, who thought this much pink was a good idea?”

Mary stifles a laugh, pretending to sip her tea. “I thought you were supposed to be a hopeless romantic,” she teases.

“Hopeless, sure,” he replies, smirking. “Romantic? Not if this is the standard.”

Their commentary quickly devolves into a game of spotting the most over-the-top couple in the room. They make up ridiculous backstories for their fellow patrons: the Hufflepuff girl with the massive bow is secretly a spy; the Ravenclaw boy with the bouquet of enchanted roses practices kissing his hand in the mirror.

Mary finds herself relaxing more than she expected. It doesn’t feel like a date in the way she imagined—nervous, formal, stiff. Instead, it feels like hanging out with a friend who she just happens to flirt with a bit.

By the time they leave Madame Puddifoot’s, they’re both laughing. The crisp autumn air is a welcome change from the shop’s cloying sweetness. Sirius shoves his hands into his coat pockets, glancing at Mary with a grin.

“Next time, I’m picking the spot,” he declares.

“Next time?” Mary teases, tilting her head.

“Assuming I survive the embarrassment of today,” Sirius quips, making her snort amused.

They wander down a quieter side street, their laughter fading into comfortable silence. Mary’s not sure how it happens, but one moment they’re walking, and the next, they’re standing in the shadow of an alleyway.

Sirius looks at her, his expression uncharacteristically nervous. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Mary feels her cheeks heat up, but she smirks to cover it up. “Obviously.”

He grins at her response, and before she can think too much about it, he leans in and kisses her.

It’s clumsy, hesitant, and entirely unfamiliar. Mary freezes for half a second before deciding that kissing is fun. Her hands find their way to the lapels of Sirius’s coat, pulling him closer as they both stumble a little.

Sirius pulls back briefly, his grey eyes searching hers. “You good?”

“Shut up,” she says, grinning, and pulls him in again.

They lose track of time in the little alleyway, the rest of Hogsmeade forgotten. For now, it’s just them, tangled in laughter and kisses, and Mary decides she doesn’t mind this dating thing at all.
It's fun.

-

Mary sits cross-legged on Sirius’s bed, a small compact mirror balanced precariously on her knee. She leans in close to Sirius’s face, eyeliner in hand.

“Hold still, Black,” she mutters, her voice half amused, half exasperated.

Sirius grins but obeys, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “Are you sure this won’t make me look ridiculous?”

“Trust me,” she says, smirking as she lines his eyes with practiced precision. “You’ll look like a rockstar. Bowie would be jealous.”

Across the room, James and Peter are watching the spectacle with matching expressions of incredulity.

“You’re letting her put makeup on you?” James asks, leaning back against his bedpost with a dramatic sigh.

“She’s an artist,” Sirius retorts without missing a beat. “I’m her canvas.”

Mary snickers, pausing her work to shoot James a smug look. “Besides, eyeliner makes his eyes pop.”

Peter snorts, but James sighs again, even more theatrically this time. “I’d let Lily put eyeliner on me in a heartbeat if it meant she’d date me.”

“That’s because you’re desperate, mate,” Sirius quips, earning a loud laugh from Peter.

Mary finishes the final line with a flourish and leans back to inspect her work. “Perfect. You’re officially a heartbreaker.”

Sirius winks at her, but before he can respond, the dormitory door creaks open. Remus steps inside, a stack of books in his arms.

Sirius’s entire face lights up. “Moony!” he exclaims, sitting up so abruptly that Mary tumbles off his lap and onto the bed with a surprised yelp.

“Oi!” she protests, swatting at him halfheartedly.

But Sirius doesn’t notice. He jumps up, pointing to his newly lined eyes. “Check it out! Mary made me look like a proper rockstar!”

Remus raises an eyebrow, setting his books down on his trunk. “Very edgy,” he says dryly, though there’s a flicker of something fond in his tone.

Mary rolls her eyes, propping herself up on her elbows. “Honestly, Moony, I think he likes you more than me,” she jokes, her voice light and teasing.

Sirius flops dramatically onto Remus’s bed, grinning up at him. “Maybe I do.”
Remus rolls his eyes at the theatrics, a slight flush on his cheeks as he pointedly avoids looking at Sirius, splayed out on his bed.

Mary laughs, shaking her head. “Great. Go ahead and steal my boyfriend, then.”

Her tone is playful, and James and Peter burst out laughing, but Remus’s smile falters just slightly. It’s so subtle that no one else seems to notice, but Mary catches it—just for a second—before he quickly schools his expression into one of bemused indifference.

“Hard pass,” Remus says, though there’s a slight edge to his voice.

Mary tilts her head, curious, but doesn’t press the matter. Instead, she leans back against Sirius’s pillow, shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of the scene.

“Fine. He’s all yours, Moony,” she teases, throwing her hands up.

Sirius laughs, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. “Sorry, love. You’ve been replaced.”

Mary smirks, reaching for her eyeliner again. “Don’t tempt me to draw something ridiculous on your face while you’re distracted.”

Sirius instantly sits up straighter, mock-seriousness in his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

-

It’s a Friday afternoon, and the common room is unusually quiet. Mary is sitting on one of the armchairs, idly flipping through a book but not really reading. She can’t focus. Her mind keeps wandering, and her eyes flicker over to Sirius across the room, his posture tense as he stares out the window.

They had been awkward for days now.

Sirius stands up suddenly, running a hand through his messy hair, looking lost in thought. He turns toward her, and the air between them feels heavy.

"Mary, we need to talk," he says, his voice tight.

Her heart skips a beat.

“Okay,” she says, putting the book down, her tone cautious but trying not to sound too frustrated.

He takes a deep breath, and then it spills out. “I don’t think I like you the way you think I do.”

Mary stares at him, her chest tightening. Her first instinct is to feel angry but then she sees the way he avoids her eyes. It’s not what she expected, but it feels like the most honest thing he’s said to her in a while.

“Okay,” she replies flatly, crossing her arms. "What, you’re just going to break up with me over this? After everything?"

Sirius flinches, but his frustration bubbles to the surface. “It’s not like I didn’t try, okay? I thought maybe I could make myself like you like that, but... it didn’t work. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself. But I can’t keep pretending.”

The words hit harder than she expected, and for a moment, she’s angry—livid even. “So, what, I’m just a project to you? You thought you could just try and make it work?” Her voice rises, a defensive bite to it.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Sirius protests, running his hands through his hair again, clearly frustrated with himself. “I just didn’t know how to deal with it, alright? It’s—” He stops himself, looking almost vulnerable for a second, before he looks at her again. “I like guys, Mary. I thought I could just... ignore it, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

The words leave her breathless. All the anger fades from her, replaced by a weird feeling of disbelief.

She nods slowly, the realization hitting her all at once. “You’re... gay?”

He hesitates before answering, but nods, the weight of it all sinking in. “Yeah.”

Mary feels her lips press into a thin line. She knows she’s supposed to be angry, hurt, but all she can really feel is a strange sense of relief that he’s being honest now. It stings, sure, but she wasn't exactly expecting them to last anyway...

"Okay," she says quietly, letting out a slow breath. "That... explains a lot, actually."

Sirius, now looking slightly embarrassed, rubs the back of his neck. “I never meant to hurt you. I just thought... well, I thought maybe I could convince myself, you know? But I can’t do that to you.”

She shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Honestly, Sirius. I was never really in love with you either. I mean, it was fun, and yeah, you’re a great guy. But... I think we were just bored, and we wanted something to feel.”

His eyes soften. “Yeah. You’re right.”

The awkward silence that follows doesn’t last long. After a moment, she leans back into the chair and lets out a soft, dry laugh. “At least it wasn’t some dramatic tragedy.”

Sirius chuckles, clearly relieved, and comes over to sit next to her on the arm of the chair. “No, I guess it wasn’t. We were never gonna be Romeo and Juliet, were we?”

Mary laughs more freely now, looking up at him. “You’re lucky we weren’t,” she teases, “Or we’d both be dead by now.”

He grins, a genuine smile. “I’d never have the heart for it.”

They fall into a companionable silence, neither of them angry anymore, just sitting together.

“You know,” Mary says after a beat, her voice light, “If you want, we can still be friends. It’s not like I’m going to kill you for not fancying me.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow, looking at her playfully. “You sure you’re not secretly plotting my demise?”

Mary snorts. “Not at all. I’m too busy getting my eyeliner just right, don’t you know?”

He laughs again, and the tension from before finally disappears, leaving them just... comfortable.

“So,” she says, nudging him lightly. “Friends, then?”

He grins at her, a little shy, a little relieved. “Yeah. Friends."

Mary hums. "What'll we tell the others?"

Sirius grins mischievously. "Oh, we'll come up with something..."

-

Christmas at Hogwarts is as always quiet. Mary stays behind with Sirius, like last year, but this time Remus joins as well. The two boys are frequently caught up in their own world, and while Mary doesn’t resent them for it, she can’t help but feel like a third wheel.

After lunch one day, she decides to take a long walk outside, the crisp air a welcome distraction. As she rounds the courtyard, she spots a small group standing near a bench. It’s Emmeline Vance, Benjy Fenwick, and Hestia Jones, all bundled in scarves and laughing about something.

“Mary!” Benjy calls out with his usual enthusiasm when he notices her. “Wandering aimlessly, or are you actually looking for us?”

Mary grins as she approaches. “Wandering. But I’ll pretend I was looking for you if it makes you feel special.”

Hestia smirks. “Clearly, you needed better company than Black and Lupin.”

Mary laughs. “Obviously. Those two are practically joined at the hip lately. I needed a break.”

“Fair,” Benjy says with a grin, patting the spot next to him on the bench. “Join us, then. We were just talking about Quidditch. Emmeline here is trying to convince us Ravenclaw will crush everyone this year.”

“I don’t need to convince anyone,” Emmeline says, her tone calm but carrying a hint of amusement. “It’s just a fact.”

Mary sits down, smirking at Emmeline. “Big talk for someone who barely said two words to me all last year.”

Emmeline’s cheeks flush slightly, but she holds her ground. “I didn’t think I had to say anything. You already know I’m good.”

Hestia laughs, clapping Emmeline on the shoulder. “She’s right, you know. Emmeline’s scary good. Gryffindor should be worried.”

Mary narrows her eyes playfully. “I’m not worried. Marlene and Sirius can handle you.”

Emmeline raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking up in a small, almost awkward smile. “We’ll see.”

Mary can’t help but grin.

“So,” Mary says, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Are you lot just going to talk about Quidditch, or do you have something more interesting planned?”

“We’re full of surprises,” Benjy says with a wink. “Stick around, and you’ll see.”

Hestia snorts. “What he means is, we’ve got absolutely nothing planned and are hoping you’ll entertain us.”

Mary laughs. “Lucky for you, I’m very entertaining. What’s your story, Hestia? You play Quidditch too?”

“Keeper,” Hestia says with a grin. “Though not nearly as good as Emmeline, apparently.”

Emmeline rolls her eyes. “You’re good, Hestia. Stop pretending you’re not.”

Mary watches the two of them banter, amused by their easy dynamic. She feels herself relaxing into the conversation, enjoying the change of pace from her usual crowd.

At one point, she leans toward Emmeline with a teasing smile. “You know, for someone as calm as you are, you’re surprisingly competitive. I think I might have to keep an eye on you.”

Emmeline flushes slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just Quidditch,” she says, her tone almost defensive. “I’m not that competitive.”

“Sure you’re not,” Mary says with a grin.

Emmeline’s lips twitch, like she’s trying not to smile too much. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Hestia and Benjy laugh, and Mary can’t help but feel a strange warmth in the moment. It’s nice to be around people who don’t expect anything from her, who just enjoy the conversation for what it is.

Eventually, the cold starts to creep in, and the group begins to disperse. Mary waves goodbye, her spirits noticeably lighter as she heads back to the castle. Mary smiles to herself, thinking she wouldn’t mind running into them again soon.

-

Herbology is always more fun with Marlene. Mary leans over the table, pretending to focus on the potted Venomous Tentacula in front of them, while Marlene flicks a bit of soil at her. Mary retaliates by nudging Marlene’s elbow, causing her to smear dirt across her cheek.

“Girls,” Lily says sharply from the other side of the table, her hands carefully pruning her plant. “Do you mind? Some of us are actually trying to pass this class.”

Mary grins, grabbing her wand to clean up the mess. “Relax, Evans. We’ve got it under control.”

Marlene snickers. “Yeah, totally under control. Right, Mary?”

“Absolutely.” Mary winks, and they both dissolve into quiet giggles.

Across the greenhouse, James Potter is loudly demonstrating the "proper" way to trim the Tentacula to a group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. “See, it’s all in the wrist,” he says, flourishing his wand dramatically.

Lily groans, not even looking up from her work. “He’s going to lose a finger if he keeps that up.”

“Better a finger than the whole hand,” Mary quips, and Marlene snickers again.

Sure enough, James’s showmanship backfires as one of the Tentacula’s vines snaps out at him. He yelps, jumping back, and Sirius’s laughter echoes through the greenhouse.

“Brilliant, mate,” Sirius calls. “Lily’s definitely impressed now.”

“I’m fine!” James says, brushing himself off and trying to look nonchalant. “Totally fine.”

Mary smirks, catching Lily’s exasperated expression. “How’s that wrist action working out for you, Potter?”

James glares at her but doesn’t respond.

As the class winds down, Bertram Aubrey—a tall, broad-shouldered Gryffindor from their year—approaches Mary. His perfectly combed hair and confident smile have always struck her as a little over the top.

“Hey, Mary,” Bertram says, standing a bit too close for her liking.

She raises an eyebrow, brushing soil off her hands. “What do you want, Aubrey?”

“I was thinking,” he says, clearly unfazed by her tone. “Next Hogsmeade weekend, you and I should go out. Butterbeer, a walk around the village, you know, something nice.”

Marlene gives Mary a wide-eyed look behind Bertram’s back, and Mary bites her lip to keep from laughing.

“Hmm.” She taps her chin dramatically. “You think so, huh?”

Bertram grins, certain he’s got this in the bag. “Of course. I mean, why wouldn’t you?”

Mary shrugs, deciding there’s no harm in saying yes. “Fine. Why not?”

“Great!” Bertram says, looking smug as he strides off, already acting like he’s won something.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Marlene lets out a low whistle. “Look at you, getting asked out in Herbology. Didn’t even have to try.”

Mary smirks, grabbing her bag. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

Lily sighs, shaking her head. “Just don’t turn it into another circus act like Sirius, please.”

“Don’t worry,” Mary says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ve got this under control.”

“Right,” Marlene says, elbowing her playfully as they head out of the greenhouse. “Totally under control.”

-

Mary adjusts her bag over her shoulder as she waves goodbye to Sybil and Peter near the common room. Sybil had been particularly chatty, predicting something about the alignment of stars and Peter’s luck in their next Charms class. Mary had smiled, nodded, and humored her, but now she was glad to be on her way.
Mary strolls toward the library, her thoughts drifting to the study group waiting for her. Lily, Remus, Emmeline, Dorcas and Benjy were probably already deep in some literary discussion, and she couldn’t wait to interrupt and share a bit of gossip she’d overheard from Peter.

But the easy rhythm of her thoughts falters when she spots them: Snape and his usual group—Mulciber, Avery, and a couple of others—loitering near the stairwell. Their laughter carries down the hall, sharp and unpleasant. Mary turns up her nose. Ugh, how pleasant. She grips the strap of her bag and keeps her head high, determined not to acknowledge them.

“Macdonald!” Mulciber calls out, his voice mockingly cheerful. “Headed to another date? Or did Bertram dump you this time?”

Mary ignores him, her footsteps quickening.

“Oi, don’t be rude!” Mulciber’s voice grows louder, and she risks a glance over her shoulder. He’s broken away from the group and is following her, his long strides closing the distance quickly. The others don’t follow—they don’t even look concerned. Avery lights a cigarette, blowing the smoke lazily into the air. Snape glances in her direction but quickly turns away, his expression unreadable.

Mary rolls her eyes. “Go away, Mulciber,” she says sharply, her voice steadier than she feels.

He doesn’t. “What’s the rush? I’m just trying to have a conversation. You’re always so quick to run your mouth—why not now?”

She rounds on him, spinning to glare. “Leave me alone,” she snaps.

But Mulciber’s smirk only grows. “You know, you’ve got quite the reputation, Macdonald. Dating half the school, dumping them just as quick. What’s next? Maybe you need someone who knows how to handle you.”

Mary’s breath catches, a wave of nausea washing over her. “Screw you,” she spits, turning to walk away.

She barely gets two steps before a rough hand grabs her arm, yanking her back. The force nearly makes her stumble, and when she looks up, Mulciber is towering over her, his grip tight and unrelenting.

“Let go of me!” she shouts, struggling against him.

“Don’t be like that,” he says, his voice a mockery of sweetness. His hand tightens, fingers digging into her arm as he leans closer. “I’m just being friendly.”

Mary twists and kicks, her heel connecting with his shin. Mulciber curses, but instead of letting her go, he slams her against the cold stone wall. The impact knocks the breath out of her, and for a moment, panic takes over.

None of his friends move to stop him. Avery looks away, his face carefully blank. Snape doesn’t even flinch, staring at the floor like he hasn’t noticed a thing.

“Get off me!” Mary yells, her voice trembling with anger and fear. She thrashes wildly, her bag slipping from her shoulder and falling to the floor with a thud.

Mulciber’s smirk wavers for a fraction of a second, his composure faltering as she scratches at his arm. It’s enough. She twists sharply, breaking free of his grip, and bolts down the corridor, not daring to look back.

Her legs carry her as fast as they can toward the Gryffindor common room. Her lungs burn, tears blurring her vision as she practically stumbles through the portrait hole, mumbling the password through her gasps.

The dormitory is blissfully empty. Mary collapses onto her bed, her chest heaving as she buries her face in the pillow. Hot, angry tears spill over, soaking the fabric as she trembles.

Her arm aches where Mulciber grabbed her, and the memory of his sneer—his hands—sends another wave of nausea rolling through her.

She hates him. Hates him and every single one of his friends who stood by and did nothing.

She cries until her body gives out, exhaustion pulling her into a restless sleep.

---

The morning light filters into the dormitory, soft and golden, but Mary doesn’t feel its warmth. She lies in bed, curled up under the blankets, staring blankly at the wall. Her stomach churns, a pit of nausea and unease settling deep in her gut.

The events of the previous day replay in her mind in relentless, vivid detail. Mulciber’s sneer. The feel of his hand on her arm. The way no one stepped in.

A knock on the bedpost startles her. “You’re still in bed?” Marlene’s voice is loud and full of energy as she peeks past the curtains. “You’re going to miss breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry,” Mary mutters, her voice hoarse.

Marlene frowns and steps closer. “You alright?”

Mary nods, though the motion feels heavy. “Just… feel a bit off. Probably coming down with something.”

Marlene squints at her, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t press. “Well, if you’re skipping, I’ll dedicate today’s mischief to you.” She flashes a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe I’ll switch the sugar and salt in the tea service. Classic, but effective.”

“Have fun,” Mary replies weakly, a small, forced smile tugging at her lips.

Marlene hesitates, then pats her shoulder. “Get some rest, yeah? Let me know if you need anything.”

As Marlene leaves, Lily appears at the door, her brow furrowed in concern. “Mary?”

Mary shifts under the covers, peeking out at her friend. “I’m fine,” she lies.

Lily steps closer, her arms crossed. “You don’t look fine. Did you go to Madam Pomfrey yet?”

"No,” Mary says quickly, her voice sharp enough to make Lily pause. “It’s just… a headache or something. I’ll sleep it off.”

Lily doesn’t look convinced, but she nods slowly. “Alright. But if it gets worse, promise me you’ll go see her.”

“I promise,” Mary says, though she has no intention of keeping it. She hasn't been to the hospital wing once this year, hasn't helped sorting potions, or give out bandages, nothing. She's been too busy with friends, boyfriends and mischief. She feels a bit guilty.

Lily sits on the edge of the bed for a moment, studying her closely. “You’d tell me if something was really wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Mary’s throat tightens, and she looks away. “Of course.”

Satisfied, or at least pretending to be, Lily squeezes her hand. “Feel better, Mary.”

When Lily finally leaves, Mary pulls the blanket over her head, her chest tight with the weight of what she isn’t saying. She feels sick, but not in the way her friends think.

She knows she should go to class, knows she can’t hide forever. But for now, the thought of facing the world—and possibly seeing Mulciber or his friends again—is unbearable.

She closes her eyes, willing herself to forget. But the memories are stubborn, clinging to her no matter how tightly she wraps herself in the safety of her bed.

-

The next morning, the weight on Mary’s chest feels heavier. She tosses and turns, avoiding the thought of class, of her friends, of facing the world again. Her body aches, her stomach tight and twisted in knots, but the real pain is somewhere deeper. She doesn’t feel strong anymore. She doesn’t feel confident.

Lily’s voice breaks through the quiet of the dormitory. “Mary, we’re not doing this again.”

Mary groans, trying to pull the covers over her head, but Lily’s firm hand yanks them back.

“You’re going to Madam Pomfrey. I’m not letting you stay here for another day, not without checking in with her."
Mary sighs, knowing she can’t fight this battle. She wishes she could, but she’s too tired to argue. She doesn’t want to get out of bed, doesn’t want to face anyone. Still, with no other choice, she drags herself up, forcing her legs to move toward the hospital wing.

Mary stands in front of Madam Pomfrey’s office, her hand frozen on the doorknob. The hallways of Hogwarts are always so vast, but today they feel especially cold, echoing with each step as if everyone can hear the way her heart is beating out of her chest.

She hesitates for a moment longer before she pushes the door open.

Madam Pomfrey doesn’t look up right away. She’s sorting through a set of medical supplies on the counter, her movements deliberate. “Well, well, Miss MacDonald,” she says, her voice warm but neutral. “Surprised to see you here. You haven’t needed my help in quite a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Mary mumbles, almost under her breath, her eyes fixed to the floor.

Pomfrey hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t stop her work, letting the silence settle between them for a moment. Then, in a much softer tone, she asks, “What brings you to me today, dear?”

Mary’s breath catches in her throat. She knows she should say something, anything, but the words don’t come. Instead, tears sting at the back of her eyes, and before she can stop them, they start to spill down her cheeks, the weight of everything pressing on her chest.

“Hey,” Pomfrey says, her tone shifting instantly. She sets aside what she was holding and moves over to Mary with practiced ease, her presence calm and reassuring.

Mary tries to pull herself together, wiping at her eyes, but the tears don’t stop. She shakes her head, as if that will make the pain inside her go away. “I—I don’t know why I’m crying.” Her voice cracks, and the guilt only makes it worse. “I… I don’t want to be like this.”

Madam Pomfrey doesn’t rush her, doesn’t ask for details she knows Mary isn’t ready to give. Instead, she gently guides her to a chair and sits down beside her. “You’re not the first to feel this way,” she says quietly. “And you won’t be the last.”

Mary sniffles, glancing up at Pomfrey, trying to gather her composure. “I just feel... like I’ve lost everything. I’ve worked so hard to feel confident, and now…” She trails off, her fingers curling into the fabric of her robes.

Pomfrey gives her a knowing look, her expression soft. “Confidence is not something that’s gone, Mary. It can be shaken, but it doesn’t disappear. It’s like a muscle, and sometimes, it just needs a little rest before you can strengthen it again.”

Mary looks at her, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I’m falling apart. Like everything I’ve done to make myself feel strong isn’t real. Like I’m nothing but a… a lie.”

Pomfrey places a steady hand on her shoulder. “That’s not true. You’re still you, Mary. All those little things you’ve worked for—the courage to speak up, to walk with your head high, to take up space—those things aren’t just a mask. They’re part of you.”

Mary swallows hard, fighting the tears that threaten to come again. She looks at Madam Pomfrey, feeling exposed in a way she’s never allowed herself to feel before.

“I just don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she whispers.

Pomfrey’s gaze softens, her voice gentle but firm. “You won’t. But it takes time. And in the meantime, it’s okay to lean on the people who care about you. You don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

“I don’t want to make them worry,” Mary says quietly, almost too softly for Pomfrey to hear.

“Then don’t,” Pomfrey replies with a small, reassuring smile. “But let them in. Let them help. That’s what friends are for. You can’t do everything by yourself, Mary.”

Mary nods, the tears starting to slow. She feels a little lighter, a little less heavy with the weight of everything.

Pomfrey pats her hand gently, then rises to her feet. “Now, I’m sure there’s a nice cup of tea with your name on it somewhere, yes?” She winks at her. “Maybe even some time to rest. You’ve been through a lot today. It’s okay to take it easy.”

Mary smiles softly, the smallest flicker of relief in her chest. “Thanks, Madam Pomfrey,” she says quietly.

The matron nods, a reassuring smile on her face as she moves back to her desk. “You’re welcome, Mary. Don’t forget, you’re stronger than you think.”

Mary hesitates for a moment, watching Madam Pomfrey return to her work. She feels a glimmer of that confidence starting to find its way back into her heart. Maybe it’s not gone after all. Just buried, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

-

The train is rocking gently as it speeds toward the station, and the warmth of the compartment feels comforting after the events of the past few weeks. Mary sits across from Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas, a little quieter than usual, but there's a sense of calm settling over her that hadn't been there when she first entered the train. The weight on her chest isn’t entirely gone, but it’s lighter now, easier to bear. She’s in a better place, and that feels good.

Sirius is sprawled out on his seat, legs hanging over the edge as usual, while James and Peter are engaged in one of their usual, loud discussions about Quidditch. Remus is reading quietly, always the calm in the storm.

“I swear, I think they’ll make me prefect,” James says, grinning with a hint of smugness in his voice. “I’ve got the experience. I’m practically a role model.”

Lily rolls her eyes. “Right, James. A role model for what? You’re lucky they’re even considering you.” She smirks, though there’s a glint of teasing affection in her eyes.

“I think they’ll pick you, Lily,” Mary says, smiling. “You’d be perfect for it.”

Lily blushes slightly, but doesn’t say anything more on the topic, her face settling into a look of pride. “Thanks. I don’t know if I want it, though. Seems like a lot of responsibility.”

Marlene chimes in, “But it’d be fun! You’d get to boss us all around.”

“And who wouldn’t want to boss you around, Marlene?” Remus teases, looking up from his book.

“Shut up, Remus,” she shoots back with a playful glare. “You’re just jealous.”

Mary can’t help but laugh, but it’s quieter than usual, and she’s more interested in listening than speaking. The conversation shifts, and soon they’re all discussing their O.W.L.S.

“We’re taking them next year, right?” Dorcas says, glancing at the others. “That’s so soon.”

“I’m terrified,” Mary admits, her voice a little dry. She runs her fingers along the edge of her seat, thinking about the pressure that’ll come in fifth year. “How are we supposed to balance everything? We’ve barely had time to breathe this year.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Sirius says, looking over at her. “We’ll figure it out. We’ve got plenty of time.”

Peter nods in agreement. “We’ll all pass. We’re Gryffindors, we don’t fail.”

“Don’t be so confident, Pete,” James says with a smirk. “Some of us are actually going to study for them.”

“Yeah, sure, James. You just keep thinking that.” Sirius snickers.

Mary feels her spirits lift as the group chats about the future. There’s a sense of camaraderie here, a shared understanding that they’ll all help each other through whatever comes next. Maybe the O.W.L.S. will be tough, but they’ll do it together. They’ll find a way, as they always do.

She shifts her gaze to the window for a moment, watching the scenery blur past. Jenny is probably already waiting for her at home, eager to hear all about what’s been going on. Mary feels a little twinge of excitement at the thought of seeing her again. There’s a comfort in Jenny’s presence, something familiar and safe. She can’t wait to tell her everything.

“Well,” she says, breaking the silence, “I’m excited to get home. See Jenny again. It’s been too long.”

“You and Jenny are still close?” Marlene asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Mary replies, her tone lighter now. “We’re good. I’ve got a lot to talk to her about.”

Lily looks at her curiously, but doesn’t ask more, as the conversation moves on.

Mary feels the old sense of uncertainty she’d had earlier fade a little more with each passing minute. She’s not entirely sure what’s next—what the summer will bring, what changes she might go through—but she knows she’s stronger now. And she knows her friends are here for her. That’s enough for now.

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to take this newfound confidence with her into the next year. She just needs to be brave.