October 29th, 1977: Mary Macdonald

Mary is alone in the dormitory for all of ten minutes before she gets bored. It's not like she even feels like she fits in with the other Gryffindor seventh years anymore—but there's something to be said for having people around to talk to her and keep her company, even if what they're saying is all superficial. And people only ever say superficial things to Mary nowadays, which is a fat laugh since she likes to think she's become a lot less shallow over the last year—but at least that's better than being met with silence and locked doors, the way she is tonight, when everyone else is off saving the wizarding world and Mary is here, and stuck, and miserable.

She has plans with Ver halfway after the meeting with Dorcas is supposed to start, at least, so at a quarter to eight, she puts her Care of Magical Creatures essay back into her bag and steps out of Gryffindor Tower. Her friendships with the Hufflepuffs are a weird thing these days. Mary knows they talk about her when she's not there—caught them doing so on the Hogwarts Express—but the Gryffindors talk about her, too, about how she's weak and fragile and can't handle the slightest hint of danger, so it's not like she has many options of people to talk to who aren't going to turn right around and gossip about her when she leaves.

Well, Reg probably wouldn't speak ill of her behind her back. She feels a surge of affection for her—he's not her boyfriend, but he's something, anyway.

That isn't to say that she's over Marlene, or even that she's fully processed or understands how she feels about her, but maybe it's a good thing that she has someone else to put her attention on. Maybe that will be the trick to getting out from underneath her feelings for her best friend.

Ever since they had girls' night last month, Marlene has been friendlier to Mary, waving her over at mealtimes and inviting her to work in the library with Lily and James every night. It's going well, but it's also going not so well, if that makes any sense. She's glad to have her best friend back, certainly, but being with Marlene also means sharing Marlene with Lily, and Mary's jealousy has been spiking off the charts. She tries to bury it, knowing it's not Lily's fault, knowing Mary isn't entitled to Marlene any more than Lily is—but it's hard to quiet the siren in her head that blares red every time Marlene laughs at one of Lily's jokes.

It's funny that Mary is more jealous of Lily than she is of Sirius—even now that they're broken up or taking a break or whatever it is they're doing, Marlene still loves Sirius in a way she's never loved Lily. Maybe it's because what Marlene and Lily have together is something that Mary sees as attainable—as what Marlene and Mary used to have before it was stolen from her. She knows Marlene will never love Mary like she loves Sirius, and Mary, well, has gotten used to that, at least. At least she can tell the difference between fantasy and reality.

Nobody has told Mary exactly what the deal is with Marlene and Sirius and Remus, but she already knows (because Remus told her so) that Remus has some sort of romantic feelings for Sirius, and that's the only think she can think of that would lead Marlene to cut off both of them. She keeps meaning to approach Remus about it and offer her support, but, well, she's not feeling highly motivated these days to force her way back into any of the Gryffindors' lives. Maybe she'll talk to him after Remus gets back from the Order meeting, Mary tells herself. Maybe tonight will be the night. Maybe.

She meets up with Ver in the Entrance Hall, and they set off for a walk around the grounds. They can't really go into each other's common rooms, and they're much too loud for the library, so Mary and Ver's friendship is based largely on walks through the castle and meals together in the Great Hall. It's no wonder that most students end up congregating toward their housemates—Mary can tell you all about the last six-plus years of inconvenience trying to make friends with the Hufflepuffs in her year.

"How's everybody?" says Mary, because it's been a while since she last caught up with them all. "How are Greta and Gilderoy?"

"Greta's good. She and Patil broke up last week, but they stayed together way longer than anybody would have predicted when they first started dating last year, so, you know, props. Gilly still won't go out with me, but I think he's over McKinnon by now, at least."

"That's for the best," says Mary, sidestepping a tree stump. "She was never going to give him the time of day."

"Even now that she and Black are over? Everyone has been talking about it."

Mary shrugs. "I don't know if Marlene and Sirius are over or not. They're both being very, like… cagey about the whole thing. Marlene hasn't even told me what went down between the two of them."

"But she doesn't tell you most things anymore, right? Didn't you say you and the Gryffindors have been drifting ever since last year?"

Ver says it very chill and casual, but Mary immediately feels her skin crawl at Ver's words. Yeah, she admitted that to the Hufflepuffs, but she hadn't expected Ver to throw it back in her face like that. "Yeah, that's true," she finally says, "but I just thought our friendship was still strong enough for her to tell me things as big as this. I guess it's not, though."

"Well, have you told her what's going on with you?" says Ver.

That stops Mary still. "There's not a lot going on with me."

This, of course, is a lie. While Marlene has been off breaking up with Sirius and fighting with him and Remus, Mary has been having a lesbian identity crisis and coping with her decision to let all of her friends leave her behind in the dust of the war with the Death Eaters. That's not nothing—but how is Mary supposed to talk to Marlene about it? She doesn't want to make Marlene feel weirdly guilty for being a part of the Order when Mary isn't, and she definitely isn't anywhere near comfortable admitting to anyone, let alone Marlene, the way she feels about her.

"Sometimes it's not about competing to see who has the biggest secrets to share," says Ver. "Sometimes you just need to put yourself out there and see if people bite back."

"When did you get so wise?" says Mary, half snarkily but half seriously.

"What is going on with you, anyway?" Ver presses.

"Oh, you know," Mary says. She wants to confide in Ver about feeling responsible for Liz and Millie's deaths, but she's categorically avoided owning up to her involvement in their deaths even when Ver and the other Hufflepuffs have pressed her about it, and she doesn't want to dangle it in front of Ver's face when she's not willing to share the Order with her. "I feel like everyone's staring at me all the time," she says instead, tucking her hands inside her robe pockets. "And I feel like everybody's always going to see me as the gossip that I was in fifth year instead of as, you know, a real live breathing person."

"See? You can tell McKinnon that, can't you?"

"Maybe. Yes. Probably," says Mary with a grin.

"Hey, do you feel like McKinnon is one of those people treating you like you're not a—what was it—a real live breathing person?"

Mary shrugs. "Sometimes."

"Do you feel like I treat you like that?"

She's surprised to hear this coming from Ver, who isn't exactly Mary's kindest or most accepting friend in the world. "Maybe? Not when you're talking to me, but—well—I know you lot talk about me when I'm not there. I heard you, you know, on the train, and—other times."

Ver cringes. "You—yeah. You weren't supposed to be there for that."

"Obviously. Look, I know you have questions. You and Elisabeth shared a dorm. Of course you want to know, and if you think I was there… but there are just—some things that I can't talk about."

"But you were there, weren't you?" Mary doesn't answer, but by the look on Ver's face, Ver has all the confirmation that she needs. "Elisabeth was the best of us, you know? I know I'm not—not loyal or hardworking enough to really belong in Hufflepuff, but Elisabeth was. I used to hate her for that, because seeing her was like looking into a mirror and seeing who I wanted to be, but wasn't good enough to be."

"Ver—"

"No, just let me say this," says Ver urgently. "I'm just saying, whatever it was that happened to her, she didn't deserve it. And can you blame me for wanting answers? So, yes, I'm a terrible, awful gossip, and I want to know everybody's business, but—Elisabeth deserves justice, and part of that is letting people know who or what to blame. The same goes for that Millie girl, even if I don't know her."

"I know it doesn't help you when I say I can't tell you," says Mary. "But can you believe me when I say that the reason why I can't say what happened to Liz is, like—something that could be used to hurt more people if word gets out about it?"

"So you're saying you were involved."

"No, I'm saying I—know too much. Enough to know that I can't tell anyone anything, and neither can you, all right? Please, Ver. This is the one time I've ever asked you to keep anything to yourself, and I know you've said a lot about me over the years."

"But that's not fair. This isn't the same as the time I spilled the beans that you had a crush on Davy Gudgeon."

"Right, and I didn't even get pissed at you for sharing that because it didn't matter. Not like this does."

Ver gives Mary a long, considering look, and then her shoulders sort of droop and her back slumps. "All right, Mare. But I'll have you know I don't agree with this."

"I'm not asking you to understand," says Mary. "I'm just asking you to trust me."

Ver sighs. "I trust you," she says, sounding defeated. "And I'll tell the others to knock off spreading rumors."

"Thank you. Like, seriously, Ver, thank you."

xx

By the time she gets back from her walk with Ver, it's late. After everything Ver said to her, she feels like she ought to flag Marlene down and have a talk with her, but Mary's not that brave, so she looks for Remus instead and finds him sitting alone with a pile of library books and a scroll of parchment, his tongue sticking out the corner of his lips. Perfect.

"Hey, Remus," she says as she grabs a seat in the chair next to him, pulling her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Oh, hey," he says, and then scratches out another sentence.

"Do you have a minute?"

"What? Yeah. Yeah, sure," says Remus, and he sticks his quill in his ink pot and sets down the parchment on the coffee table in front of him.

"It's about Sirius and Marlene," hedges Mary, and then she pauses to let that sink in.

"Let's maybe talk up in my dorm," Remus says carefully.

Mary follows him upstairs and waits for the door to click shut before she says anything else, and then she tells him, "I know you think you have to go through this all by yourself, but like, did you forget that I already know what feelings you're having?"

Remus is still standing, but he sort of collapses onto the mattress of his bed at Mary's words. She takes a seat on one of the beds next to his (Peter's?) and says, "You can tell me, you know. You know I'm good for it."

"Yeah, I know. I don't know why I didn't tell you sooner. I've been going out of my mind not having anyone to talk to—I just—I don't know, maybe a part of me thought it wouldn't be real if I didn't talk about it."

"I get that."

"Is that what it's like for you with Marlene? Because I haven't heard you say anything about her ever since that time when…"

When Mary got drunk off her ass, kissed a half-veela, and had a sexuality crisis all over Remus. Yeah, she remembers. "I don't know. Probably. I've been avoiding thinking about it, to be honest."

Remus sighs and flops his back down onto the bed, pulling his feet up to rest on top of the mattress so that his knees point up straight into the air. He tucks his hands under his head. "Everything was going fine," he says a little shakily. "I had feelings for him, but I had it under control, and I knew what I could have and what I couldn't have, and I was okay with that. And then—at the end of last year—I kissed him."

"Just like that?"

"Out of nowhere, yeah. We've talked a little bit intermittently since then, but it basically destroyed our relationship because I lost the ability to act like everything was normal around him. And then—when I finally told myself I was going to work on it and get back with him—he told me that he needs space to figure things out. I don't know what he's so busy figuring out when it's not like he's ever given any indication that he feels the same way about me, and I don't know why the timing happened exactly when he and Marlene—did they break up? I can't keep track."

"I don't think anyone knows for sure," says Mary. "Not even them."

"And Sirius obviously told Marlene something about it, or she figured it out somehow herself, because now they're not talking, and she's not talking to me, even though I never—I kissed him one time. One time, and she's completely icing me out. I knew they were together and I was okay with that, you know? And now I've lost two of my closest friendships because I let my guard down one time."

"You can't blame yourself for everything, Remus. Sirius obviously was covering it up for at least a while there, and that can't have gone over too well with Marlene once she found out. They make their own choices, too—not everything is on you."

"Isn't it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like I made one mistake and a million other pieces spiraled out of control because of it."

Mary grimaces and wishes she could hug him without being awkward. "Listen, I know it's awful right now, but Sirius is one of your best mates. You'll get through this one way or another."

"And me and Marlene? What about that?"

"I know Marlene very well," says Mary, considering, "and I know that even though she holds grudges, she's way too melodramatic to be able to sit around in her anger for very long without bringing things to a head. I don't know where things are going with her, but I know that they're not going to stay like they are right now forever."

James and Peter come into the dormitory at that moment, so Mary hastily gets off of Peter's bed and bids all of them goodnight. Back in her own dormitory, Mary lies down with her eyes closed without sleeping and pictures Ver's suspicious, mistrustful face for a very long time.