Bravery can be dangerous

The summer night air is warm, and the quiet hum of crickets fills the silence as Mary strolls through the streets with Jenny. The dim streetlights cast long shadows, and the old skirt Mary wears—one Jenny had grown out of and handed down—is swishing around her knees. It feels cool, edgy even, and paired with her scuffed boots, she feels like she owns the night.

Jenny, with her sharp grin and confident stride, chatters on about her boyfriend, her plans, and whatever else crosses her mind. Mary listens, occasionally tossing in a comment, but mostly enjoying the way Jenny seems to carry a kind of effortless energy. She's so cool in her leather jacket with her shaggy hair, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips.

“You’re gonna miss me, kid,” Jenny teases, nudging Mary with her elbow.

“Obviously,” Mary replies, grinning back. “You’re the most fun person in this entire town.”

Jenny laughs, a rich sound that seems to echo in the empty streets and makes Mary feel giddy. “Damn right I am.”

They turn a corner, and Mary catches sight of a group of boys loitering near a lamppost. They’re loud, laughing, and the kind of crowd that might have made Mary tense up at the start of the summer. But not now.

Yesterday, one of them had whistled at them, and without a second thought, Jenny had marched right up to him and punched him square in the nose. Mary still feels a spark of admiration at the memory of his shocked face. She wonders what it would feel like to do the same to Mulciber if he dares to so much as look at her wrong. It would be satisfying she decides.

The boys glance their way but don’t say a word. Jenny doesn’t even acknowledge them, and Mary mirrors her confidence, keeping her head high as they walk past.

“You see that?” Jenny says, a smirk tugging at her lips. “They didn’t even try anything this time.”

“Because they’re scared of you,” Mary replies, laughing. “You’re terrifying.”

“Damn right I am.” Jenny glances at Mary’s outfit and adds, “And you’re looking pretty badass yourself. That skirt works on you.”

Mary feels a flush of pride at the compliment, a little giddy. She doesn’t always feel cool, but tonight she does.

A little further down the road, they run into Jenny’s boyfriend, a lanky guy with messy hair and a leather jacket. He grins when he sees Jenny put out her cigarette, pulling her into a kiss.

Mary quickly looks away, her cheeks burning. She’s kissed before—Sirius, a couple of other boys—but never like this. Jenny and her boyfriend kiss like they’ve got all the time in the world, like there’s no one else around. It’s passionate, and Mary can’t help but wonder what it would feel like. Would she like it?
She dares to glance back for a moment, watches the way his hand lazily rubs circles on her waist, her fingers twisting in his hair, her chest pressed against- Mary looks away again, cheeks flushed, rubbing her thighs together uncomfortably. Woah. They're both kind of...

When they finally pull apart, Jenny laughs at Mary’s obvious discomfort. “What’s the matter? Never seen two people in love before?”

Mary rolls her eyes, her cheeks still flushed but she’s smiling. “Whatever. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.”

Jenny grins. “You’re such a prude. Go have fun at that fancy boarding school of yours. And don’t let anyone mess with you, yeah?”

“I won’t,” Mary promises.

Jenny lights a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating her face, and waves Mary off. So cool.

As Mary walks the rest of the way home, she feels a mixture of things—embarrassment, amusement, and a strange kind of excitement. Tomorrow, she’ll be back at Hogwarts. Back with her friends, back to the castle that feels more like home than anywhere else.

She pulls the skirt up slightly, admiring how it sways as she walks, and thinks, This year’s going to be good. She can feel it.

-

The train compartment is bustling with noise as Mary settles into her seat, her bag carelessly tossed beside her. Lily is already there, sitting primly with her prefect badge gleaming on her chest. Next to her is Marlene, who has her feet kicked up on the seat opposite, casually tossing Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into her mouth.

Sybill is perched on the edge of the seat, her oversized glasses sliding down her nose as she talks animatedly and fiddles with a tarot card. Across from her, Peter is listening intently, a fond smile on his lips as she predicts his timetable. Mary watches the exchange with an amused smile—Peter’s leaning a little too close, and Sybill’s laughter is soft but genuine.

Sirius and Remus sit at the far end of the compartment, Sirius lounging like he owns the place, while Remus flips through a book. At first glance, they seem worlds apart—Sirius all swagger and Remus all quiet composure—but there’s a subtle warmth between them. Mary notices how Sirius leans closer than necessary to point something out in Remus’s book, how Remus’s lips quirk into a smile at Sirius’s comment.

James is the last to arrive, his hair more windswept than usual, as though he’s been perfecting the art of looking effortlessly cool. “Ladies, gentlemen, and my dearest Lily,” he announces grandly, dropping into the seat beside Lily.

“James,” Lily says with exaggerated patience, not looking up from her book.

“I missed you over the summer,” he says, flashing his most charming grin. “It was lonely without your wit and—”

“Save it,” Lily interrupts, snapping her book shut and glaring at him. “Honestly, don’t you ever get tired of this?”

James looks momentarily taken aback but quickly recovers, turning to Marlene. “... Right.”

Marlene snorts. “Yeah, keep trying, Potter. Maybe by the time we’re thirty, she’ll give you the time of day.”

Mary stifles a laugh and turns to Dorcas, who’s been sitting quietly beside her. “So, how was your summer?”

Dorcas shrugs. “Uneventful. My parents are obsessed with my brother’s wedding, so I spent most of it dodging planning conversations.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Mary teases.

“Speaking of thrilling,” Marlene cuts in, “guess who’s wearing the shiny prefect badge this year?” She gestures dramatically at Lily and then at Remus, who holds up his badge with a small, sheepish smile.

Mary claps her hands. “Of course! I can’t think of two better people to keep us all in line.”

“You don’t need a badge to keep us in line,” Sirius quips, smirking at Remus. “You’ve been nagging us for years.”

“Someone has to,” Remus retorts without missing a beat.

“See? Perfect prefect behavior,” Marlene says, grinning.

As the train rumbles along, the group falls into easy conversation. Mary chats with Dorcas and Marlene about their summers, trading stories about mischief and lazy days. She can’t help but notice how the compartment feels like home—loud, chaotic, and full of life.

Sirius leans over to Remus again, and Mary catches the way Remus ducks his head, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. She files that away with a private smile, thinking there might be something there. Across the compartment, Peter offers Sybill a Chocolate Frog, and she accepts it gratefully.

By the time the train nears the station, Mary feels fully immersed in the comfort of her friends again. Whatever challenges this year brings, she knows she’ll face them with this lot by her side.

-

The stands are packed, the roar of the crowd echoing through the air as Mary leans forward, eyes trained on the action. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, clad in scarlet and gold, zooms across the field. Marlene is darting between the Ravenclaw Chasers, expertly dodging Bludgers as she clutches the Quaffle. Sirius is on the other side of the field, swinging his bat with his usual dramatic flair, and James is diving after Marlene to keep her back free.

“I don’t know how they can call this fun,” Lily mutters beside her, her arms crossed but her eyes grudgingly following Marlene’s movements.

“You mean the part where they’re twenty feet in the air or the part where Bludgers are trying to knock them off their brooms?” Peter asks with a grin.

“Both,” Lily deadpans, though there’s a flicker of pride in her expression as Marlene scores.

“GO MARLENE!” Mary screams, jumping to her feet and waving her scarf. Dorcas is shouting beside her, her voice hoarse from cheering. Remus, sitting a little further back, claps politely but keeps his commentary minimal.

The game is intense, the Ravenclaw team putting up a strong defense. Emmeline, a strong presence in blue, weaves through the Gryffindor team with strategic precision. Even Mary, loyal to her house, can’t help but admire her skill.

“She’s good,” Peter says, echoing Mary’s thoughts as Emmeline blocks them from scoring again.

“She’s fantastic,” Mary agrees. “But Gryffindor’s better!”

As the game nears its climax, James grabs the Quaffle and barrels toward the goalposts. Marlene’s right there beside him, her sharp passes keeping the Ravenclaw team off-balance. Sirius sends a Bludger flying toward a Ravenclaw Chaser, clearing the way.

“And Potter scores!” the commentator yells.

The Gryffindor seeker, a seventh year called Frank Longbottom, catches the snitch just a bit later.

The crowd erupts as the whistle blows—Gryffindor wins! Mary jumps to her feet, dragging Peter and Dorcas with her as they all cheer.

“Come on, let’s get down there,” Dorcas says, tugging Mary’s sleeve.

They rush down from the stands, weaving through the throng of students until they reach the field. Marlene’s feet have barely touched the ground when Dorcas throws her arms around her.

“You were amazing!” Dorcas gushes, squeezing her tight.

Marlene grins. “Of course I was. We won, didn’t we?”

Sirius is already on the ground, his broom propped against his shoulder as he talks animatedly with Remus. Mary notices how Remus leans in closer than necessary, and Sirius seems to be smiling just for him. When Remus mutters something, Sirius’s laugh is softer, more private.

James strides up to Lily, still flushed from the match. “So, Evans, what did you think of my goal?”

Lily sighs but relents, “It was… decent.”

James clutches his chest as if she’s struck him, smiling dreamily and staggering back dramatically. “She compliments me, and I might die on the spot.”

Lily rolls her eyes, but there’s a tiny smile tugging at her lips as Marlene ruffles James’s hair in mock congratulations.

“Oi, Crouch!” Sirius calls out, noticing a tall Ravenclaw player sulking nearby. “Better luck next time, mate.”

Barty Crouch Jr. glares at him, muttering something about Gryffindor’s “ridiculous tactics,” but Mary barely pays him any mind. Her eyes meet Emmeline’s instead.

“Hey, Em'!” she calls, jogging over. Emmeline looks up, her expression calm but her brow damp with sweat. “You were brilliant out there. Honestly, you carried the whole Ravenclaw team.”

Emmeline’s ears turn pink, though her voice remains steady. “Thanks, Mary. You lot deserved the win, though. Marlene’s a nightmare to defend against.”

Mary grins. “We’ll let her know. See you around!”

She heads back to her friends, who are already making their way toward the castle. The Gryffindor common room is sure to be chaos tonight...

-

The Gryffindor common room is alive with excitement as the team bursts through the portrait hole, their victory in the Quidditch match still fresh in the air. The room erupts into cheers and applause, everyone shouting, clapping, and crowding around the victorious players.

Alice Fortescue, the seventh-year Gryffindor Quidditch captain, stands on a table at the front of the room, beaming with pride. She raises her hands for attention, and the noise slowly dies down.

"Alright, alright, listen up!" Alice calls out, her voice strong but warm. "I just want to say how proud I am of this team—" She gestures toward the rest of the team, including Marlene, James, Sirius, and Remus, who are all grinning widely. "—and how much we’ve worked together to make this happen. We’ve earned this win, and I couldn’t ask for a better team. You guys are absolutely brilliant."

Frank Longbottom, who had been hovering nearby, nods proudly. "We were real champions!" He claps Sirius on the back, and Sirius just chuckles, slightly out of breath. "Nice work, mate."

Sirius winks, clearly enjoying the attention. "It’s all about keeping them on their toes, Frank."

The common room erupts into applause once more, and Alice laughs, nodding her agreement. "Alright, enough of the speeches! Let’s celebrate!"

Music begins to play from the corner of the room, and the crowd starts to dance and mingle. Mary and her friends join the throng, laughing and shouting over the music. She catches Dorcas’s arm as they head to the makeshift dance floor.

As the music picks up, the energy in the room becomes more electric. People are dancing and laughing, and Mary can feel herself letting go, enjoying the moment, even as Dorcas leaves her side to find Marlene. The adrenaline from the game still buzzes in her veins, making her feel freer, wilder than usual.

She’s about to grab a drink when a familiar face appears in front of her—Gideon Prewett, a tall, dark-haired Gryffindor from a year above, and one of the more charming students in their house.

"Hey there, Mary," Gideon says with a grin, his voice smooth but playful. "Great game today, hm?"

Mary smiles, amused. "Sure thing, Gideon."

Gideon chuckles, stepping closer. "Our team was real good," he teases, his eyes twinkling. "Sirius is one hell of a Beater."

"Yeah, he is," Mary agrees, laughing, but as Gideon takes a step closer, she feels an excited flutter in her chest.

He notices her hesitation and leans in slightly. "How about we grab a butter beer and maybe talk about the game some more?"

Mary looks over at her friends briefly, but they’re busy with their own conversations. She shrugs, feeling the weight of the night’s excitement mixed with curiosity. "Sure, why not?"

Gideon leads her to a quieter corner of the common room, away from the main crowd. They talk about the game, the match, and some of their teammates, but it doesn’t take long before their conversation turns to more casual flirtation. Gideon’s smile widens as they laugh at some inside joke, and then, without warning, he leans in closer, his breath warm on her cheek.

Before she knows it, they’re kissing, soft and quick at first, but with more urgency as it goes on. Mary’s heart races, a combination of excitement and nerves coursing through her. She pulls back for a moment, grinning, though she’s a little breathless. "You’re a good kisser," she teases, her voice light but sincere.

Gideon smirks, clearly pleased. "I could say the same about you." He moves closer again, but this time it’s more deliberate, slower, and the kiss deepens, more intense than before.

Mary slides her fingers into his hair, the way she saw Jenny do it, caught up in the rush of the night, the celebration, and something more. She's delighted as his hands find her waist and his lips part a little. Fun. Definitely fun.

When they finally pull apart, both a little flushed, Mary’s lips feel tingly, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. "Well, that was fun," she says softly, a little breathless.

Gideon chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Definitely," he agrees, eyes still lingering on her. "You’re a lot of fun, Mary."

She grins. "I know."

-

Mary walks briskly through the corridor, the faint echo of her footsteps filling the air. The halls are crowded with students heading to their next classes, but she’s in a bit of a rush to get to the bathroom. As she walks down the corridor, she notices the familiar group ahead of her—Snape, Mulciber, and Avery. She tries to stay unnoticed, but as she walks past them, Mulciber’s voice cuts through the air.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Mulciber sneers, his gaze fixed on Mary. “How about we pick up where we stopped, hm?”

Mary stiffens, the words causing a brief flare of irritation to rise in her chest. She’s tired of this. She remembers Jenny from the summer, how the older girl had punched that obnoxious guy who had whistled at them, and suddenly Mary feels a rush of confidence. Without thinking too much about it, she flicks her wand from under her sleeve, murmuring a quick charm.

The result is instantaneous—Mulciber, who had been smirking arrogantly, suddenly bursts into uncontrollable laughter, unable to stop himself. He starts squirming, trying to stifle the tickling sensation coursing through him. His face is twisted in desperation as he stumbles and gasps for air.

“What the hell?! Fucking- stupid mudblood?!” Mulciber manages to choke out between fits of laughter. His laughter is unnerving, wild, and loud, drawing the attention of several passing students.

Mary stands there, arms crossed, watching with a satisfied grin as Mulciber writhes. She hasn’t been this empowered in a while, and the look on his face is incredibly satisfying. She feels a surge of satisfaction.

“You’re not so tough now, are you?” she mutters under her breath, already turning away, satisfied with her quick bit of revenge.

But as she turns to walk away, she doesn’t notice Filch lurking around the corner, ready to catch students misbehaving. The caretaker’s sharp eyes zero in on the scene, and before Mary knows it, he’s grabbing her by the arm.

“Oi! You there! What do you think you’re doing?” Filch hisses, his face twisted in a sneer.

Mulciber’s laughter hasn't died down, but the look on his face is filled with a mix of disbelief and irritation. He glares at Mary but doesn’t seem to want to cause any more of a scene. Instead, he’s only too happy to let her take the fall.

Filch yanks both of them along the hallways and into Professor Slughorn’s office. Mary tries to stay calm, but she’s feeling the weight of what she’s done. She had acted impulsively—sure, Mulciber deserved it, but the detention was unavoidable now.

Slughorn looks up from his desk, surprised but amused by the scene that’s walked in. Filch sets them both down in front of him, mumbling about students who can’t behave themselves.

“Ah, MacDonald,” Slughorn says, raising an eyebrow. “And Mulciber... Interesting condition you're in.” He mutters a quick spell to stop Mulcibers 'suffering'. "What brings you two here?"

Mulciber scowls but doesn’t protest, still a little shaken from the hex. Both students start talking over each other, but Slughorn raises a hand, effectively cutting them off.

“I’m going to give you two detention.” Slughorn announces before sending Mulciber to wait by the door. Then he continues with a smile that’s almost too wide, “I must say, your little display back there was very impressive. You managed to disarm Mulciber quite thoroughly.”

Mary blinks, surprised by the compliment, her face reddening slightly. She hadn’t expected Slughorn to recognize her ability. “Uh, thanks, Professor,” she mutters, feeling awkward.

Slughorn leans forward, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. “Tell me, Mary, have you ever heard of the Slug Club?”

Mary blinks again, a little taken aback. She’d heard of it, of course. Lily had mentioned it a few times. Apparently, it was a select club, and Lily was already part of it due to her excellent Potions skills.

“I—uh—I’ve heard of it,” Mary admits, her mind racing. She’s not entirely sure if she belongs in a club like that, the idea of joining was never that intriguing, she assumed it would be full of nerds.

Slughorn chuckles and waves her off. “You’ve got a spark, my girl. You’ve got the potential. And I like seeing students who show initiative. So, what do you say? Consider it, hmm?”

Mary hesitates for a moment. She hadn’t expected this at all. A part of her wants to say no—she doesn’t feel like she fits the mold of the typical Slug Club member. But something about the invitation is intriguing. Being part of something exclusive sounds... interesting. Plus, she'd be with Lily.

“Sure,” Mary says with a shrug, offering a small smile. “I’ll think about it.”

Slughorn beams at her, clearly pleased. “Wonderful! Now, as for the detention...” His smile falters for a second. “Well, that’ll be two hours of cleaning up the potions classroom. Can’t say I’ll miss you during that time, but we all have to do our part, eh?”

Mary nods, accepting her punishment without complaint. Detention isn’t ideal, but the idea of the Slug Club lingers in the back of her mind. Maybe this year will be different. Maybe she’ll find her place somewhere new.

As Slughorn dismisses them, Mary and Mulciber exchange a few last tense glares, and then she leaves, her mind buzzing with the unexpected turn her day has taken.

-

Mary walks into the dimly lit room with Lily by her side, feeling a bit out of place. It’s the first Slug Club meeting, and she can already sense the air of 'stuck-uppedness' hanging over the group. The round, polished table is full of students from different houses, all with their own sense of confidence and poise. It’s strange—she’s not used to being part of something like this, and for a moment, she wants to turn around and leave.

Lily is already sitting down at the table, and Mary slides into the seat next to her, feeling a small sense of comfort at the familiar face. The Hufflepuff guy next to her offers a polite smile, and Mary nods in return, trying to settle into the space. She picks up her spoon and scoops up a bit of dessert. The plate of chocolate mousse in front of her looks delicious, but it feels oddly formal here. Almost like she’s supposed to act differently, like she’s supposed to impress someone.

Slughorn is at the head of the table, of course. He’s talking to various students, making sure to check in with everyone at least once. He’s an odd man, a little too invested in his students' personal lives, asking questions that border on being a bit too personal. Mary glances around the table, trying to keep her thoughts to herself, feeling like she’s just another face in a crowd of familiar strangers.

She notices a few faces she recognizes: Alice Fortescue, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, some other older students she’s seen around but doesn’t really know. And then her eyes land on someone who immediately makes her pause.

Regulus Black.

She doesn’t have to be told who he is. The striking Black family features are immediately obvious. His dark hair, shorter than Sirius’s, his sharp cheekbones, and those piercing eyes. Everything about him screams Black. But there’s something in his eyes that’s different from Sirius’s. Sirius is animated, full of life, even in his quieter moments. Regulus, however, carries a coldness in his gaze. A serious, almost calculating expression. The exact opposite of Sirius in many ways.

Mary’s heart skips a beat when their eyes meet across the table. There’s a brief moment of silence, like they’re sizing each other up without saying a word. Regulus’s frown deepens, and Mary scrunches her nose in response, her instincts immediately telling her to show some defiance. The tension lingers for a second, then they both turn their attention away, pretending the moment didn’t happen.

She isn’t sure why she feels this strange sense of discomfort. It’s just Regulus Black, after all, someone she’s only heard bad things about from Sirius. But something about the whole interaction rubs her the wrong way. It’s as if Regulus knows something she doesn’t—or maybe he’s just as uninterested in her as she is in him. She doesn’t know why, but she feels an odd sense of unease.

The conversation at the table shifts to lighter topics, and Slughorn continues his rounds, making sure to flatter everyone in the room. His voice is warm and jovial as he moves from student to student, making his way around the table, his thick fingers brushing over their plates as he offers compliments and questions.

Mary tries to focus on the conversation with Lily, but her mind keeps wandering back to the interaction with Regulus. Something is off about him, but she can’t put her finger on it. Maybe she’s just reading too much into it. After all, she barely knows him.

The meeting goes on, but the feeling of unease lingers in the back of her mind. As much as she tries to be part of the conversation and enjoy the night, she can’t shake the thought that the more she tries to fit in, the more out of place she feels.

-

The Gryffindor common room is buzzing with the usual chatter and laughter, but Mary is focused on one task at hand: putting eyeliner on Sirius. She’s perched on the edge of the couch, one knee tucked under her, while Sirius sits next to her, eyes closed in exaggerated concentration as she carefully applies the makeup. James lounges nearby, watching with a mixture of amusement and mock indignation.

"You’re a damn artist, Mary,” Sirius says, grinning as she finishes.

Mary raises an eyebrow. “I’m an artist, am I?”

Before Sirius can respond, she pulls a tube of lipstick out of her bag with a playful grin. “Let’s see how you look with a little color,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

Sirius immediately recoils. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure it’ll look brilliant!” Mary teases, waving the lipstick in his face.

Sirius pulls his face back dramatically. “No way. I’m not wearing lipstick. I don’t want to look like a girl.”

“Oh, come on, you’d look stunning,” Mary teases, already unscrewing the cap. “Just a little bit.”

James snorts with laughter. “Actually, you’d make a pretty girl, Pads. A very pretty girl.”

Sirius glares at James, then turns to Remus who has just entered the room with Lily, looking perfectly calm as usual. Sirius jumps up immediately, as if he’s been given a sudden burst of energy. “Remus! Tell me the truth—” He waves his hands dramatically. “Would I make a pretty girl?”

Lily rolls her eyes amused, crossing her arms. "What is it with you two recently?"

Sirius gives Remus a pleading look, and Remus raises an eyebrow in confusion but obliges, giving him a slow once-over. "Honestly?" Remus says, a slight smirk on his face. "You’d probably look better than half the girls at Hogwarts, Pads."

Sirius beams as if he’s just been given the highest compliment, and James bursts out laughing.

Lily huffs fondly and turns to Mary. “Where’s Marlene? She’s not usually one to miss out on this kind of madness.”

"Oh, she’s off with Dorcas again,” Mary says, playfully pouting. “I guess I’m being replaced now. That’s it, I’m starting a campaign to get my best friend back.”

Lily raises an eyebrow, though she’s clearly amused. “Oh? Really? I didn’t think Dorcas was interested in stealing Marlene from us.”

“I think she might be,” Mary adds dramatically. “And I’m getting jealous, honestly.”

Lily shakes her head, laughing, and sits down next to her. “Well, I’ll have to keep an eye on her then.”

James grins and leans toward Mary. “Speaking of people who’ve been spending time together,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye, “have you noticed Peter and Sybill? They’re practically joined at the hip now.”

Mary raises an eyebrow, but she can’t suppress her grin. “Oh, I've noticed too, it's cute.”

Remus chuckles as he settles onto the arm of the couch, giving a soft nod. “Yeah, they make a pretty cute pair. Didn’t think I’d see the day, though.”

“I’ll admit, it’s a bit surprising,” James says with a grin, looking over at Peter, who’s busy adjusting his bag. “But they’ve definitely got something going. They’re always together.”

Mary laughs softly and glances over at Sirius, who’s now sulking about the fact that he’s not getting the confirmation he wanted about being a pretty girl. “So, no lipstick then?” she asks teasingly.

Sirius sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “No lipstick. But I’m telling you, I’d make a fantastic girl.”

James just shakes his head. “We’ll take your word for it, mate. Now let’s get back to something important—what’s everyone doing for the holidays? Anyone else stuck at Hogwarts besides Padfoot and Moony?”

“Well, you’ve got me again,” Mary says with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll be stuck here with Sirius and Remus.” She turns to James, giving him a mischievous look. “Are you sure you’re not inviting us to your place for Christmas next year?”

James grins, eyes twinkling. “I’ll make it happen, I swear. It’ll be a proper Potter-style Christmas.”

Mary laughs and shakes her head. “We’ll see about that.”

As the conversation drifts, the group continues to banter, the excitement of the holidays lingering in the air.

-

The Slug Club Christmas party is in full swing. The room is filled with the sounds of laughter and music, a mix of students trying to enjoy themselves while maintaining a veneer of sophistication. Mary is standing near the drinks table, in her lovely dress and fun makeup that's wasted on quietly sipping from a glass of fire whiskey and looking for any way to escape the incessant boasting of her date, Thomas. He hasn’t stopped talking about his Quidditch accomplishments since they arrived, and Mary’s patience is running thin. Where has Lily gone off to?? She lets her eyes wander through the room.

Her attention shifts when she notices Regulus Black standing by the corner of the room, his posture stiff, eyes scanning the crowd. His presence is hard to ignore. He’s not trying to mingle like the rest of the students; instead, he’s just standing there, aloof and out of place. Mary feels a sudden pull of curiosity and heads toward him, hoping for at least some brief distraction from her date.

As she approaches, she notices the clear liquid in his hand. "Aren’t you too young for that crap?" she asks, her voice light, though her gaze is sharp.

Regulus doesn’t look immediately fazed. He turns to her slowly, his expression unreadable, not a trace of humor in his eyes. His voice is calm, detached as he responds, "This is water. Aren’t you too young for that?" His tone isn’t a challenge—more like a statement of fact, delivered with cool indifference.

Mary smirks, an eyebrow arched. She shrugs casually and takes another sip of her drink, eyeing him curiously.

Mary studies him for a moment. There's an awkwardness in the way he stands, the way his eyes flicker around the room but never quite land on anyone for too long. She almost expects him to crack some cutting remark, but instead, he just remains silent.

She breaks the silence, her voice casual. "You’re not here to socialize, are you? Bit too... rigid for a party like this." Her words are a little pointed, though she doesn't mean them to be cruel.

Regulus meets her gaze, his expression unchanging, though there’s a brief flicker of something—a hint of annoyance, perhaps, or maybe just discomfort. "Maybe I prefer to avoid the charades," he replies quietly, his voice flat.

Mary watches him for a beat, intrigued by how he isn’t playing along with the typical Slytherin bravado. Instead, he seems to be standing apart from the scene, almost detached from it. She can’t quite figure him out as she searches his eyes for the 'Mama's boy' Sirius always described.

"Charades, huh?" she says, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sounds like something I’d say."

Regulus looks at her for a long moment, then looks away, his gaze distant. The tension between them hangs in the air, thick and awkward, neither knowing quite how to fill the silence.

She doesn't mean to, but the thought just slips out. "So, what's your deal, anyway?" She doesn't expect an answer, but she finds herself waiting for one.

Regulus meets her gaze again, and this time, there’s a slight shift in his posture—more defensive, more stiff. "What's my deal?" he repeats, his voice colder now. "I don't see why it’s any of your business."

Mary, sensing the slight shift in his demeanor, shrugs nonchalantly. "I didn’t ask for your life story. Just wondering why you're over here by yourself."

He looks at her for a moment longer, his eyes hard, but there’s no malice in his gaze—just a quiet, palpable distance. "I don't need a date to have a good time," he says, a little too quickly. "Not everyone is as desperate for attention as some people."

Mary raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "Right," she says, smirking. "You sure have a funny way of showing it." Her tone is playful, though there’s a hint of challenge in it now.

Regulus glances down at his drink, his fingers tightening around the glass. For a second, there’s a flicker of something—maybe just irritation—but it’s gone before Mary can read it.

He doesn’t answer, and Mary’s half-tempted to turn away, but she holds her ground. Instead, she teases him. "At least you could try to have some fun. Don’t you get tired of looking so serious?"

Regulus flicks his eyes up to hers, and for a moment, it seems like he’s going to retort with some sharp remark. But he just shakes his head, a dry laugh escaping him. "You're one to talk," he says, not quite a smile, but something like it in his voice. "You’ve been hiding behind that drink all night."

Mary grins, raising her glass slightly. "Guess we’re both hiding, then."

There’s another pause, a strange tension settling between them, both of them aware of it but neither willing to acknowledge it. The air between them is charged now, but neither knows what to say.

"You..." Mary begins, but the words die in her throat.

Regulus stands there for a moment, his face flushed slightly, but he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at her for a second before turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the crowd without a word.

Mary stands there for a moment, staring after him, her mind racing. She doesn’t know what just happened, but one thing’s for sure—she’s not sure what to make of him anymore.

-

Mary storms out of the common room, exasperated. It's the Christmas holidays, and the castle feels even emptier than usual with most students away. Just her, Sirius, and Remus left behind, and it's starting to drive her mad. She doesn’t really mind the isolation, but she’s almost certain now that something is going on between the two of them. She’s caught them making up excuses to hang out, getting a little too comfortable with each other. Not like she cares—she’s known for years now that Sirius is gay, and if that’s what makes him happy, she’s happy for him. But Merlin, it’s a different story when she has to watch them constantly. The third wheel status is getting old fast.

She decides a walk might clear her head and heads out into the cold, the chill air cutting through her, sharp and crisp. As she rounds the corner of the castle, she spots someone else—Regulus Black. He’s standing off by himself, looking like he’s trying to avoid everyone, a little too stiff, his usual aloofness now tinged with an odd kind of tension. Mary’s irritation grows. She’s not in the mood to let anyone have peace right now.

She marches up to him without hesitation, calling his name. "Black!"

He startles slightly, clearly surprised that she’s even bothering to approach him. "What do you want, MacDonald?" His voice is cold, though there's a defensive edge to it now. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he looks away, clearly attempting to avoid her gaze.

She smirks, crossing her arms over her chest, if she wasn't so pent up she'd feel bad for taking her frustration out on him. "Why aren’t you at home with your adoring family? Don't you miss them?" The words are biting, a little more pointed than she intended, but she’s frustrated, and Regulus seems like an easy target.

His eyes snap back to her, his brow furrowing, but there’s something beneath the surface that makes his reaction sharper than usual. "My family’s none of your business," he retorts, his voice tight. "And you don’t know anything about me, so don’t act like you do."

Mary doesn't back down, the fire in her rising. "I don't need to know anything about you to figure out that you’re just a pompous little prick hiding behind that snobbery of yours." She tilts her head, meeting his glare with one of her own.

Regulus takes a step toward her, his expression darkening. "Maybe I prefer it this way," he mutters, before adding with a sneer, "At least I could go back if I wanted. I'm wanted."

The words hit harder than she expects, it's an obvious quip at Sirius and, for all her frustration, she still cares deeply about her friend. She clenches her fists at her sides, jaw tightening. "You think you’re so much better than everyone, don’t you? Just because you’ve got your little pureblood pedigree, doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone else."

Regulus’s lips curl into a snarl, and before she knows what’s happening, they’re both lunging at each other, landing in the snow. It’s not a fight—they’re both too angry for that, too frustrated—but it’s messy, hands pushing and shoving, trying to provoke each other more than anything. It’s a brawl more than anything else, a tangle of limbs and words.

In the heat of the moment, as they’re struggling to get the upper hand, she lands on top, successfully straddling his hips. They stare at each other for a moment, breathing heavy from the brawl, and before either of them can process what just happened, they're kissing, unsure who leaned in first, fierce, driven by the anger still bubbling beneath the surface.

They pull away just enough to snap at each other, hissing insults through gritted teeth. "You’re such a bloody idiot," Mary spits, though the words don’t seem to have the same weight now that she’s tasting him. "You think you can just—"

Regulus cuts her off, his voice low and harsh as he rolls them over. "Shut up. You’re just as stupid as everyone else, acting like you know anything about me."

Another kiss, quick and desperate. Her fingers twist in his hair, she doesn't remember putting them there. She hisses against his lips, "Just imagine what your parents would say—kissing a 'mudblood', you-" and he shuts her up with another kiss.
They pull apart again and lay there in the snow, both panting, neither of them knowing what just happened, but both of them unwilling to break the tension that still hangs between them.

Mary wipes her lips with the back of her hand, her heart racing in her chest, mind spinning. She sits up, her eyes darting away from him. “You’re insane,” she mutters, but there’s no venom behind the words anymore, just a last hint of frustration and confusion.

Regulus looks at her, expression unreadable, his lips still slightly swollen from the kiss, but he doesn’t say anything more. Without another word, he turns and walks away, his steps quick and purposeful.

Mary sits there, snow swirling around her, trying to collect her thoughts. Her mind is a whirlwind of emotions she doesn’t know how to untangle. She looks down at the snow beneath her feet, her breath coming in shallow bursts. It was stupid. It was reckless. But for some reason, she can’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the last time she’d be caught up in something with him.

Sighing, she turns to head back to the castle, her heart still pounding in her chest.

-

The Gryffindor boys' dormitory is a cacophony of activity, but Mary feels oddly at ease amidst the chaos. Peter is off with, his now girlfriend , Sybill, leaving Sirius and Remus curled up together in Remus’s bed. It’s strange, seeing Sirius so soft and content, but also kind of sweet. She's glad they got together, even more glad that they stopped sneaking around, even though they were so obvious, and finally told them. Mary props herself up on James’s bed, a little removed from the couples, and tries to focus on twisting the ring on her finger to keep her thoughts from wandering. Specifically, to him—the boy she absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about.

James sits on the edge of the bed beside her, groaning dramatically. "I just don’t understand it, Mary," he complains, flopping back so his head lands dangerously close to her knee. "I’ve tried everything! Compliments, flowers, witty banter! She’s the love of my life, and she won’t give me the time of day!"

Mary rolls her eyes, giving him a gentle shove. "You sound ridiculous, you know that?"

"Do I?" he shoots back, looking up at her with his best pitiful expression. "This isn’t just some crush, Mary. I love her. Love! The kind of love they write about in songs and books."

She snorts, brushing her hair out of her face. "That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?"

James sits up again, groaning as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You don’t get it," he mutters. "Lily is... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, kind. She makes me want to be a better person, y’know? She’s the only person who’s ever made me feel this way." He turns to her, eyes wide and pleading. "You’re her best friend. Can’t you talk to her for me?"

Mary stares at him for a long moment, caught between exasperation and pity. "James," she starts, her voice firm, "she doesn’t like how full of yourself you are. Maybe start there?"

"I’m not full of myself," he protests, affronted. "I just... have confidence!"

Mary smirks. "The same kind of confidence that makes you hex Severus Snape every chance you get? Yeah, Lily loves that. He's an absolute git, yes, but Lily somehow still quite likes him."

James flinches but doesn’t argue. Instead, he flops back onto the bed with a groan. "Fine. I’ll stop hexing Snivellus. I’ll—ugh—I’ll be nice."

"That’s a start," Mary says, amused. She hesitates for a moment, then sighs. "Alright, alright. I’ll talk to her. But only because I can’t take your whining anymore."

James bolts upright, his grin so wide it’s almost blinding. "You will? Merlin, Mary, you’re the best! I knew you’d come through for me!"

"Don’t get too excited," she warns. "If she’s not interested, I’m not going to push her. Got it?"

"Got it," he says, nodding vigorously. "I owe you one, Mary. You’re brilliant. A saint, really."

Mary snorts, shaking her head. "I’ll remember you said that when you inevitably make things worse."

Across the room, Sirius and Remus break away from their whispered conversation long enough to glance over. "What’s all this about?" Sirius asks, his voice muffled by Remus’s shoulder.

"Mary’s going to work her magic on Lily for me," James announces proudly.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Good luck with that, mate. Lily’s immune to magic."

"Not funny," James grumbles, but he’s smiling despite himself.

Mary leans back against the headboard, letting the banter wash over her. It’s easy to get lost in these moments, surrounded by the noise and warmth of her friends. But no matter how hard she tries, her thoughts keep drifting back to Regulus. To the way his lips feel against hers, the way he tastes like mint and trouble.

She pushes the thought away, forcing herself to focus on James’s rambling instead. Regulus Black is the last person she should be thinking about right now. Or ever. Besides, she has a date on the weekend to focus on.

-

The dormitory is quiet when Mary steps in, the late afternoon light casting a golden glow through the windows. Lily is sitting on her bed, legs crossed, a heavy book resting on her lap. She’s frowning at it, her brows knitted in concentration, occasionally tapping her quill against the page in frustration. Marlene is off with Dorcas again, leaving the room unusually serene—a perfect opportunity.

Mary approaches cautiously, sitting on the edge of her own bed. "Hey," she starts casually, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "What’re you working on?"

Lily doesn’t look up. "Potions," she mutters.

"Sounds thrilling," Mary says dryly, earning the smallest twitch of a smile from Lily. Encouraged, she leans forward. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. Something not... potions-related."

Lily glances up at that, curious. "Oh?"

Mary hesitates. Subtlety, she reminds herself. "Well, I was just thinking... you know, James has been trying for ages now, and maybe..." She trails off, searching for the right words. "Maybe you could give him a chance? Just one date?"

The reaction is immediate and fiery. Lily slams the book shut, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Her face flushes red, and she glares at Mary. "Oh, not you too!" she snaps.

Mary blinks, startled. "Lily, I didn’t mean—"

"You didn’t mean what?" Lily cuts her off, her voice rising. "You didn’t mean to joke about it? To rub it in? Well, congratulations, it’s not funny anymore!"

"I’m not joking!" Mary protests, genuinely confused. "Why would you think that?"

Lily’s hands tremble as she grips the closed book tightly. "Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? A big joke? James Potter’s endless teasing, trying to embarrass me in front of everyone—"

Mary interrupts, her voice firm. "Lily, he’s *not* teasing. He really likes you."

But Lily isn’t listening. She’s pacing now, her frustration spilling out in a torrent. "You don’t get it, Mary. You wouldn’t. You’re—you’re so pretty, so effortless. You’ve got a new date every week, and everyone adores you." Her voice wavers, but she keeps going. "And me? I’m just the chubby, plain girl who’s easy to make fun of."

The words hit Mary like a Bludger to the chest. She stares at Lily, her mind racing. How had she never realized Lily felt this way? Guilt wells up inside her. She stands, crossing the room to gently place a hand on Lily’s shoulder. "Lily," she says softly, "that’s not true. You’re beautiful."

Lily huffs, shaking her head. "Don’t patronize me, Mary."

"I mean it," Mary insists. She reaches out, taking Lily’s hands in hers. "You’ve got this amazing hair that looks like fire. And your freckles? Absolutely adorable. And your smile? God, Lils, it lights up a room. You’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and you’re so much better than you give yourself credit for. And you’re brilliant—smarter than all of us put together. James sees that. I see that.""

Lily’s eyes fill with tears, and she looks down, biting her lip. "You don’t have to say that."

"I’m not just saying it," Mary says firmly. "And I know James thinks it too. He’s not joking, Lily. He’s... well, he’s a bit of an idiot, yeah, but he’s completely serious about you."

Lily sniffs, wiping at her eyes. "You really think so?"

Mary nods, pulling her into a hug. "Of course I do. And James does too. He’s not joking, Lily. He’s a right prat half the time, sure, but he’s serious about you."

Lily sniffles against her shoulder, her anger giving way to quiet vulnerability. "It’s just hard to believe," she murmurs.

"I get that," Mary says, stroking her friend’s hair gently. "But you deserve someone who sees how amazing you are. Whether it’s James or not, don’t sell yourself short."

They stay like that for a while, Lily gradually relaxing in Mary’s arms. Eventually, she pulls back, wiping her eyes. "Thanks," she says quietly.

"Anytime," Mary replies, offering her a small smile. "Now, let’s get rid of that Potions essay. A game of chess to lift the mood, hm? You'll feel better once you've beaten me fair and square like always."

Lily chuckles weakly, the tension in the room lifting just a little.

The chess game is nearly silent except for the occasional clack of pieces and Lily’s contemplative hums. Mary leans back on the bed, watching as Lily frowns at the board, plotting her next move. The tension from earlier has dissolved into a peaceful quiet, and Mary almost feels relieved.

Then Lily breaks the silence. "Even if James is serious," she says, moving her knight, "I won’t go out with him. He’s horrible to Severus."

Mary glances up sharply, her pawn halfway to its next square. "Oh, come on, Lily," she mutters, dropping the piece with a soft thud. "Snape’s no saint either. He’s an ass, just like his friends."

Lily’s head snaps up, her green eyes flashing. "Don’t," she says sharply. "Don’t start judging him because of Mulciber and Avery. That’s not fair."

Mary hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. She doesn’t want to argue with Lily, especially not now, but something inside her bristles. "It’s not just his friends," she says quietly, carefully. "It’s him too. He... he’s not innocent, Lily. Not by a long shot."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Lily asks, her voice softer now but still defensive. "Severus is my friend."

Mary exhales, staring at the chessboard as if it can somehow give her strength. She doesn’t want to share this, but Lily had opened up earlier, been vulnerable. Maybe it’s only fair. "It’s Mulciber," she starts, her voice low. "And Snape. Last term, Mulciber cornered me in the hallway, said disgusting things, and—" She swallows hard, her voice faltering. "He grabbed me."

Lily gasps softly, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, Mary," she breathes.

Mary quickly shakes her head, rushing to finish before she loses her nerve. "I fought him off, got away. But Snape was there, Lily. He just stood there. Didn’t say a word, didn’t try to stop him. Just... watched."

Lily stares at her, horrified. "He watched?"

Mary nods, her throat tight. "And when Mulciber and Avery called me a Mudblood, he didn’t care. Didn’t even blink. That’s your friend, Lily."

Lily stands abruptly, the pillow, formerly on her lap, falls to the floor as she moves around the bed to Mary. She pulls her into a tight embrace, her arms strong and comforting. "Why didn’t you tell me?" she whispers, her voice breaking. "Mary, you should have told me."

"I didn’t want to make it a thing," Mary mumbles against Lily’s shoulder, feeling small and vulnerable. "I didn’t want anyone to know."

Lily pulls back just enough to look at her, her expression fierce. "You should have told me," she repeats, brushing a strand of hair out of Mary’s face. "I would’ve done something. I will do something."

Mary blinks, startled. "Lily, you don’t have to—"

"Oh, I do," Lily interrupts, her voice sharp with determination. She steps back, crossing her arms. "Severus and I are going to have a little chat. He needs to understand that this—this behavior—is unacceptable."

"Lily," Mary starts to protest, but Lily’s resolve is unwavering.

"No, Mary. This isn’t something I can ignore." Lily’s eyes are stormy, her jaw set. "He needs to know what his inaction means. What it’s doing to people. To.. people like us. Muggleborns."

Mary looks at her friend, her chest tight with gratitude and a twinge of fear. She knows Lily means well, but she’s not sure how Severus will react—or what it will mean for their friendship. Still, she manages a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Lily."

Lily softens at that, sitting back down. "You don’t have to thank me," she says gently. "I’m your friend. That’s what friends do."

Mary nods, her heart feeling a little lighter. They return to the chess game, but the air between them is different now—closer, stronger. And for the first time in a long time, Mary feels like she doesn’t have to carry everything on her own.

-

The library is quiet, the air thick with the usual scent of parchment and ink. Mary is seated at the edge of their usual table, doodling idly in the margins of her Herbology notes while Dorcas quizzes Benjy on charms theory. Remus and Emmeline are in a whispered debate over an Ancient Runes translation. Across from Mary, Lily is buried in her Arithmancy textbook, her quill scratching furiously against the parchment. Despite her apparent focus, Mary can tell something's off—Lily’s posture is too stiff, her brows furrowed deeper than usual.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Mary glances over at her. "How'd it go?" she asks quietly.

Lily exhales sharply, her quill pausing mid-stroke. "Fine," she mutters, though her tone suggests otherwise. After a beat, she adds, "I didn’t tell him everything, just… enough. But he didn’t really get it." She shrugs, trying to seem indifferent, but Mary knows her better than that.

"Figures," Mary replies, keeping her voice low. She doesn't want to say 'I told you so,' but the words hang unspoken between them. Lily doesn’t respond, only flipping a page of her book with a bit more force than necessary.

Before Mary can say anything else, the library doors burst open, and James and Sirius stride in, their grins as wide as the Great Hall itself. The disruption earns a glare from Madam Pince, but Sirius doesn’t seem to notice—or care.

"Alright, that’s enough studying for one day," Sirius declares loudly, heading straight for their table. His eyes land on Remus, who looks up with an exasperated sigh that’s undermined by the small, fond smile tugging at his lips. "I’ve been abandoned for far too long. C’mon, Moony."

Remus rolls his eyes but starts gathering his things. "You’re impossible," he mutters, though his tone is warm.

"That’s why you love me," Sirius retorts, taking Remus's arm and steering him toward the exit.

James lingers behind, his gaze landing on Lily. His grin falters slightly when he notices her sour expression. He clears his throat, taking a step closer to her. "Rough day, Evans?" he asks lightly, a teasing edge in his voice.

Lily doesn’t look up from her book. "You could say that."

James tilts his head, thinking for a moment before a mischievous glint appears in his eyes. "Well, did you hear about the wizard who invented the Knockturn Alley broom? He really swept the competition!"

The table falls silent. Even Sirius, halfway out the door, glances back with an incredulous expression. "Really, Prongs?" he calls. "That’s your move?"

But then, to everyone’s surprise, Lily snorts—a small, involuntary sound that quickly grows into a soft, genuine laugh. She covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head. "That was awful, Potter."

James stares at her, utterly stunned. His mouth opens, but no words come out. For a moment, he looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe. Then, as the realization sets in, his face lights up with unrestrained delight. "You laughed!" he exclaims, his voice a little too loud for the library.

"Quiet down, Potter," Lily scolds, but there’s no real bite to her words. There’s even a trace of a smile lingering on her lips.

Mary watches the exchange with amusement, her chin resting on her hand. She glances at James, who’s positively glowing, and then at Lily, who’s trying—and failing—to keep her usual stern expression. Maybe, just maybe, James actually stands a chance now.

-

The streets of Hogsmeade are alive with activity, students bustling from shop to shop, arms laden with bags of sweets and trinkets. Mary strolls alongside Tony, her hands swinging by her sides. He’s nice—charming, even, in a sweet, unassuming way. They’d spent the morning in Honeydukes, filling small paper bags with chocolates and sugar quills, and now they’re wandering aimlessly, the crisp air nipping at their cheeks.

Tony spots a group of his friends near the Three Broomsticks and pauses. "Hey, Mary, do you mind if I say hi? I won’t be long."

"Go ahead," Mary says with a shrug, watching as he jogs off. She leans against a nearby wall, pulling a sugar quill from her bag and biting into it absentmindedly. The quiet moment feels nice—until it doesn’t.

A hand grabs her arm, yanking her sideways into the shadowed mouth of an alleyway. She barely has time to gasp before her back hits the cold stone wall, a familiar face looming over her.

"Regulus?" she blurts, wide-eyed. His expression is as severe as ever, jaw tight, his stormy gray eyes narrowing at her. "What the hell—?"

"Smith?," he spits the name like it’s poison. "Really? That prat?"

Mary blinks, taken aback. Then, her brows draw together. "Excuse me?" she says, crossing her arms despite the way her heart races. "What’s it to you who I go out with?"

"He’s an idiot," Regulus snaps, his voice low but heated. "You can do better."

Her lips twitch with the beginnings of a smirk. "Oh, I see," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You’re jealous."

Regulus freezes, his mouth opening as though to retort—but no sound comes out. A faint flush creeps up his neck, reaching the tips of his ears.

Mary stares at him, her smirk fading into genuine surprise. "Oh my God," she murmurs, her tone almost disbelieving. "You are jealous!"

"Shut up," he hisses, glaring at her, though the effect is ruined by the way he shifts uncomfortably, refusing to meet her eyes.

She can’t help it—she laughs. "That’s—wow. That’s rich, coming from you. Aren’t I the ‘mudblood’ you’re so ashamed to even be seen with?" Her teasing softens as she leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Or maybe that’s not the whole truth, hmm?"

His flush deepens, and he clenches his fists at his sides, his sharp features caught somewhere between frustration and embarrassment. "You’re insufferable," he mutters, but his voice lacks its usual bite.

Mary tilts her head, her grin widening. "And yet, here you are," she quips before standing on her toes and pressing her lips to his.

He stiffens for a split second before kissing her back, his hands finding her waist. It’s messy, heated, and charged with the kind of tension that’s been simmering between them for months.Mary slides her fingers into his hair, pulling the now familiar locks and swallowing the just as familiar noise he lets out with her own lips. She gasps against into his mouth as his cold hands slide under her jumper, shaky fingers moving up her back to the clasp of her bra. She can't help but giggle against his lips, feeling his fingers clumsily struggle with undoing it. He pulls away as she giggles, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. They’re both slightly breathless.

"Tony who?" Mary mutters with a sly smile, and Regulus groans, covering his face with one hand.

"Stop talking," he says, his voice muffled—but he doesn’t let go of her for a while.

-

Mary bounds through the halls of Hogwarts, her O.W.L.s results clutched tightly in her hand. Her heart feels light, excitement bubbling within her. The grades aren’t perfect—she knew they wouldn’t be—but they’re solid, above average in most subjects, and she can’t help but feel proud of herself. She’s come a long way from her first year, when she didn’t care half as much about her studies.

Madam Pomfrey’s office is just as she remembers it—warm and quiet, with a faint scent of herbs and potion ingredients in the air. The door is slightly ajar, and Mary knocks lightly before pushing it open.

"Madam Pomfrey?" she calls.

The matron looks up from her desk, her sharp but kind eyes softening when she sees Mary. "Ah, Miss Macdonald. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mary strides in, practically glowing. "I got my O.W.L.s results," she announces, handing her parchment over with a grin. "I wanted you to see."

Pomfrey takes the parchment, her gaze skimming over the marks. A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "These are excellent," she says, looking up at Mary. "You should be very proud of yourself."

"I am," Mary admits, cheeks flushing slightly. "I worked hard for them. Well, mostly. I could’ve done better in Defense Against The Dark Arts…"

Pomfrey chuckles. "Potions is always tricky. But your marks in Herbology and Charms are outstanding, and Potions isn’t far behind. If healing is still what you’re aiming for, you’re well on your way."

Mary’s grin falters slightly as she shifts on her feet. "Do you think I can do it?" she asks, her voice quieter. "I mean, really do it? Be a healer?"

Pomfrey’s expression softens even more. "I know you can," she says firmly. "You’ve got the intelligence, the determination, and the heart for it. Keep working hard, and you’ll get there. But," she adds, her tone turning thoughtful, "it’s always good to keep an open mind. There’s no rush to decide your entire future right now."

Mary nods slowly, taking her parchment back as Pomfrey hands it to her. "Thanks," she says. "I think I’ll… I’ll think about it a bit more."

"Good," Pomfrey replies. "And whatever you decide, know that I’ll always be here to support you."

Mary leaves the office feeling lighter, her O.W.L.s results carefully tucked into her bag. As she walks back to the Gryffindor common room, she lets her mind wander. Healing still feels like the right path, but maybe it’s worth exploring other possibilities too. After all, the future is wide open—and for the first time, she feels excited about figuring it out.

-

Mary and Marlene race down the stone steps, their shoes echoing loudly in the chaotic din of the courtyard. A knot of students has gathered in a semicircle, jeering and gasping at the spectacle in front of them.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Marlene mutters, grabbing Mary’s arm to keep pace. “What’s he done now?”

They push through the crowd, catching sight of Sirius lounging against a pillar, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Peter hovers nearby, looking half-impressed, half-anxious. But it’s James who steals the attention, his wand raised, and Severus Snape dangling in the air like a rag doll, his black robes flapping as if in mockery of his dignity.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Mary hisses. She glances at Marlene, who grimaces.

Lily is there too, a fiery look of disapproval on her face as she marches up to James. "Put him down," she orders sharply, her voice cutting through the noise.

For a moment, James hesitates, his triumphant grin faltering. But he lowers his wand, and Snape crashes to the ground in an unceremonious heap.

Snape scrambles up, his face red with humiliation, and turns to Lily. His voice is sharp, biting, like the snap of a whip. "I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

The words seem to echo, heavy and poisonous, silencing the crowd.

Lily’s face freezes, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second before hardening into a mask of cold fury. Mary feels her stomach drop as the insult hangs in the air, corrosive and irreversible.

James, meanwhile, is livid. His wand flicks up again, and Snape is yanked back into the air, flailing. "Apologize," James growls, his voice shaking with barely contained anger. "Now."

Snape sneers but says nothing, his pale face flushed with a mixture of fury and shame.

“I mean it, Snivellus,” James continues, his voice louder now, drawing more attention. "Say it, or I'll de-pants you right here in front of everyone."

Lily’s voice cuts through again, trembling but resolute. “Leave him alone, Potter!” She doesn’t look at James, doesn’t even glance back as she turns on her heel and storms off.

For a second, James falters, lowering his wand just a fraction. But then his face hardens again, and he glares up at Snape, who is still dangling. “You’re a lucky git, Snape,” he mutters before finally releasing him. Snape lands with another graceless thud, muttering something under his breath as he gathers his robes and stalks off, pushing through the crowd.

Mary and Marlene exchange a look before hurrying after Lily, who’s already halfway across the courtyard. They catch up with her just as she disappears into the cool shade of the castle.

“Lily!” Mary calls, her voice tinged with concern.

Lily slows, but she doesn’t stop, and when Mary gets a good look at her face, her heart sinks. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, her jaw tight as if she’s holding back a scream.

“Lily, wait,” Marlene says, grabbing her hand gently. “Just—breathe, okay?”

Lily stops abruptly, turning to face them. “It’s over,” she says flatly, her voice cracking slightly. “We’re done. I can’t—he called me that, and I can’t pretend anymore.”

“Good riddance,” Marlene says fiercely, folding her arms. “You don’t need someone like that dragging you down.”

Mary nods, placing a comforting hand on Lily’s shoulder. “She’s right,” she says quietly. “You deserve better than-”

"Lily!" James's voice calls out as he rounds the corner, almost slipping. Lily quickly turns away, not wanting anyone to see her tears. Mary and Marlene exchange a look but quickly turn away, deciding to give the two some space.

As the two enter the common room a few hours later, Lily flushed and mumbling some excuse before disappearing into the dorm, James smiling and glasses crooked on his nose, their friends grin. Must've been a good 'talk'.

-

Sirius had been going on about wanting to teach Snape a lesson for insulting Lily, but it seems like whatever he has pulled of ended in a mess. From one day to another the usual lighthearted banter between him, James, and Peter has grown sparse, and Mary feels the tension in the air every time she passes them in the hallways. The boys act as if they’re avoiding each other, or perhaps more accurately, avoiding Sirius.

It’s as if a chasm has formed between them in the blink of an eye. One minute they were the tight-knit group, and the next, it was like something had torn them apart.

That afternoon, Mary heads to the hospital wing to assist Madam Pomfrey, something she’d done often since her OWLs. It was a small comfort, a way to keep busy, and it allowed her to focus on helping others when her own worries felt like too much.

As she walks into the dimly lit ward, she spots Remus lying in one of the beds, his face pale, his usual warmth replaced with a tightness she can’t quite explain. He looks worse than she’s ever seen him during one of his "sickness" episodes. His usual calm demeanor is shattered, replaced by a combination of exhaustion and discomfort, like he's struggling to even keep his eyes open.

Mary hesitates before sitting beside his bed, feeling the weight of his silence pressing down on her. "Hey," she starts softly, offering a small smile. "How are you holding up?"

Remus glances at her, his lips forming a tight, strained smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "I’ll be fine," he mutters, trying to sound reassuring but not quite pulling it off. His voice is hoarse, tired.

She studies him closely, noting the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands clutch the blankets like he’s holding on to them for dear life. It’s more than just physical illness; something is definitely bothering him. And whatever it is, it’s affecting him deeply.

"Remus," she says gently, her hand hovering just above his. "You know you can talk to me, right? About whatever’s going on." She doesn’t push him, though—she knows better than to force him to open up if he’s not ready. But the silence between them is unbearable, and she can’t shake the feeling that the tension with the boys is tied to something bigger.

He shakes his head slowly, a tight, pained expression crossing his face as he hisses out. "I.. hate him," he confesses quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fucking hate him..."

Mary feels her heart ache. They were.. so in love. "Things can get better. You just have to talk it through with him."

Remus gives a small, bitter laugh, though it sounds more like a cough. "Fuck no." He shifts slightly in his bed, wincing at the movement, but he presses on. "He fucked up." He looks down at his hands, clenched into fists at his sides.

Mary sits in silence for a moment, processing what he’s said.

Mary can’t stand to see him like this, defeated and broken, so unlike the confident, kind-hearted person she’s always known. She wants to help, wants to take some of the burden off his shoulders. It can only be bad.

"So," she begins, trying to lighten the mood a bit, "I hear you’ve been playing a lot of chess lately. Got any new strategies up your sleeve?"

Remus looks at her, the faintest spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. "You know, I’ve been thinking of trying a new tactic," he says slowly, his voice a little steadier now. "But I think I’ll need a good opponent to make it work."

Mary grins, relieved to see the familiar glint of humor return to his eyes. "Well, I’m always up for a challenge," she teases, standing up from the bed. "But I think you might need to be a bit healthier before I start worrying about my strategy."

Remus chuckles weakly, his body still tense but the smallest bit of light returning to his face. "You’re right. But maybe when I’m better, we can see if your strategy holds up against mine."

"Deal," Mary replies with a wink. She pauses at the door to leave, but looks back at him. "And hey, I’m here, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone."

Remus looks at her, his expression softening. "Thanks, Mary," he says quietly. "Really."

As she leaves the hospital wing, she can’t help but think about the weight of the situation. The tension between the boys, Sirius’s isolation, and Remus’s anger—it’s all connected, and Mary knows that if things don’t change soon, their group will be fractured beyond repair. But for now, all she can do is be there for Remus, try to distract him, and hope that the rest of their friends will find their way back to each other before it’s too late.

-

Mary and Regulus lay side by side on the cold classroom floor, catching their breath after a playful moment of physicality. The room is quiet, save for her rambling. She can’t help herself, words tumbling out as she tries to process what’s happening with her friends, with the tension growing between them.

"I don’t know what to do!" she says, running a hand through her hair, frustration rising in her voice. "Sirius must’ve done something really bad if they’re all acting that way... Why won’t anyone tell me?"

She doesn’t notice at first, but Regulus’s fingers have found their way into her hair, his touch light and absent-minded. She talks on, her words trailing off as she watches him—he doesn’t seem particularly concerned, and she wonders why. She expects him to offer something reassuring, some kind of opinion, but when he speaks, it’s with a small, cynical laugh.

"Not surprised," he says, the words cool, almost dismissive. "Sirius is still a Black. It was only a matter of time before he snapped out of his rebellious phase and turned his back on his blood traitor friends."

Mary’s stomach tightens, and she shifts, pushing herself up onto her elbows to look at him. "What?" she asks, incredulous. "What are you talking about? That’s ridiculous!"

Regulus merely shrugs, his face unreadable, and Mary’s heart sinks. She knows something is off, but hearing it come from him—so casually—sends a sharp pang of betrayal through her chest.

She sits up fully now, a wave of anger quickly replacing the confusion that had settled over her. "Are you seriously saying that? You’re calling Sirius and James and all of us blood traitors? You’re not even pretending to be different from your family anymore, are you?" Her voice shakes with a mix of disbelief and hurt.

Regulus turns his face away from her, his expression hardening, and for a moment, the silence is deafening. The only sound is the soft rustle of their clothes on the floor, the soft thrum of her heart as she processes the depth of what he’s just implied. He doesn’t meet her eyes.

"Regulus, I’m muggleborn," she says, her words slow, measured. "And you’re insulting me with that crap. I thought... I thought you were different. I thought maybe you could change, that you could see past all that Pureblood nonsense. But you're just like the rest of them, aren't you?"

She feels the sting in her chest as she says it, a heavy weight settling over her. She thought she could help him—change him, somehow. But the realization hits her like a slap in the face: he is his family. She shouldn’t have been so naive.

Regulus doesn't respond. He doesn’t even look at her, eyes downcast.

"You're just like your family," she repeats, voice shaking. "A Death Eater in the making. I won't be your dirty little secret. Because that's what you think of me, no? Of my 'kind'?" The words taste bitter on her tongue, but they’re true, and Mary can’t pretend she doesn’t know that anymore. Regulus confirms her words by not arguing against, just turning his head away. She can’t keep pretending she could change him.

Rage and hurt flood her all at once, and she pushes herself up, stumbling to her feet. Regulus remains on the floor, his eyes still cast downward. There’s nothing left to say, nothing to fix this.

Her chest tightens as she looks down at him one last time, her thoughts spinning like a whirlwind. She knows, deep down, that she deserves better than this. She knows her worth.

"You don’t deserve to be in my life," she says through gritted teeth, a mixture of anger and sadness thick in her voice. "I don’t care who your family is, but you’re nothing like what I thought you were." She doesn’t wait for him to respond. She’s already storming out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallways.

The door slams behind her with a finality she can feel deep in her bones.

-

The ride back home for summer vacation is quieter than usual. The once vibrant and carefree energy in the train compartment feels noticeably absent. Mary sits with Lily, Marlene, Dorcas, and Sirius, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. She can feel the tension thick in the air, an unspoken weight hanging between everyone.

Sirius is staring out of the window, his usual mischievous grin nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t engage much in the conversation, only offering monosyllabic responses when someone speaks directly to him. Mary feels a pang of sympathy for him. She knows that something has gone wrong, that whatever’s happened with Remus has taken a toll on him. But she doesn’t know what happened, and no one is willing to speak about it. The whole situation feels too raw, too uncomfortable to discuss.

Lily, Marlene, Dorcas and her try their best to keep the mood light, chatting about what their families have planned for the summer. Mary nods along, forcing a smile when they talk about the exciting things they’re looking forward to—Marlene's summer in the countryside with her family, Lily's visit to the beach with her parents, and Dorcas's long-awaited trip to Italy. Mary can’t help but feel a little envious, though. Her own summer plans seem tame in comparison. Jenny is still going to be around, but... after everything with Regulus, she’s not sure what she’s going to do or how she’ll feel.

"I’m just glad I’ll be away from school for a bit," Marlene says, grinning. "This year’s been a bit much, hasn’t it?"

Lily laughs lightly, though it’s more out of habit than genuine amusement. "Definitely. But I’ll miss the library. Weird, right?" She smiles at the thought of the books and her quiet space, but it’s a fleeting moment. "At least I’ll have time to relax."

The conversation shifts, the group trying to find things to talk about that don’t involve the awkward tension hanging over them. Mary catches herself glancing over at Sirius, but he’s still staring out the window, lost in thought. There’s a tightness around his shoulders that wasn’t there before, and for a moment, she wishes she could do something to make it better.

But she knows, like the others, that it’s not her place to pry. Whatever’s happened between Remus and Sirius, it’s something they’ll have to work out themselves. Still, it feels wrong to be sitting here like this, the weight of the silence so loud in the small compartment.

"Anything exciting for the summer, Mary?" Dorcas asks, attempting to lighten the mood again.

Mary shrugs, though a small smile plays on her lips. "I’ll probably spend a lot of time with Jenny. You know, the usual. Catch up on things. I’ll think about what I want to do with my future."

Lily perks up slightly at that. "You’ve been talking about becoming a healer, right?"

Mary nods. "Yeah. I think that’s the direction I want to go in. I just have to figure out what steps to take next. I’ll have time to think this summer."

There’s a pause in the conversation, and Mary’s eyes flick to Sirius again. She wants to say something, to ask if he’s okay, but the words don’t come. She’s never seen him like this—so withdrawn, so distant.

Marlene, sensing the shift in energy, chimes in, trying to keep things light. "Well, whatever you end up doing, I’m sure you’ll be amazing at it. You’ve got that healer vibe, Mary."

Mary laughs softly, appreciating the sentiment, but the moment still feels off. There’s only so much she can do to keep the mood up when the air around them feels thick with unspoken words and unresolved tensions.

The train ride continues, the compartment filled with conversation that’s just a little too forced, everyone pretending that things are normal when they’re clearly not. And for a moment, Mary wonders if anything will ever go back to the way it was.