Tuesday, November 15, 1977
The Great Hall was as loud as ever as students piled their plates high with breakfast and chatted about the upcoming day, but Mary heard none of it. She gripped her coffee mug without taking a sip, letting the steam rise up and warm her face as she kept a watchful eye out for the mail to arrive. When the usual swarm of owls began to swoop down, delivering parcels and envelopes to awaiting students, she scanned the array of birds for her own owl, struggling to hide the hope that filled her face and the disappointment that replaced it when the last owl had dropped its package and flown away. Taking several deep, steadying breaths, she kept her eyes trained on her plate and took a sip of coffee, fighting back the wave of worry that threatened to overwhelm her.
She's fine, she reminded herself. It's only been three weeks. I've gone longer without hearing from her before, and it always turns out fine. She's probably shacked up with some new boyfriend and hasn't bothered to open her mail. No matter how many times she reassured herself, however, she couldn't help imagining all the terrifying possibilities. With all the disappearances and Muggle killings that littered the pages of The Daily Prophet, combined with the recent attack that had left everyone reeling, her mind kept presenting her with more sinister reasons for her mother's silence.
She glanced at Peter and had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking for the third time if he had sent her letter on Sunday. He sent it. I know he sent it. It's probably sitting unopened with a pile of past-due notices and circulars while Melanie sits on some bloke's sofa, drinking gin and chain smoking and avoiding reality. She knew this, and yet her mind kept filling with the image of her mother crumpled on the floor, her eyes wide and her face frozen in an expression of terror.
Shaking her head to banish the disconcerting thought, she turned her attention to the conversation around her.
"Anything I need to know about in The Prophet today?" Sirius was asking Lily. His tone was casual, but the tight set of his jaw and the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped his fork revealed his true feelings. "Is it just a load of rubbish about how Harold Minchum is going to turn the country around, or do I need to plan on getting irresponsibly drunk on a Tuesday?"
He had taken to asking something similar every morning, and Mary was grateful because it meant she didn't have to sneak glances at The Daily Prophet over Lily's shoulder or steal the discarded newspaper to read when nobody was around to ask her why she was reading a publication that she usually scorned. She suspected everyone else appreciated it just as much as she did, because no matter how much they all pretended everything was fine, none of them could escape the pervasive air of worry and unease that had spread through the school.
"You can stay sober for today," Lily said, looking up from the paper with a wry smile on her face. "Nothing much in here that we don't already know."
She turned her attention to Mary and narrowed her eyes as she noticed the remnants of a frown on her friend's face.
"What's wrong?" she asked as she folded up the newspaper and shoved it into her bag.
"Nothing," Mary said, shaking her head with more fervor than was necessary and sending her curls flying. "Just dreading going outside. It looks freezing out there." She gestured at the grey, windy morning that awaited them on their walk to Herbology and grimaced.
"The wind is really whipping, isn't it?" Sirius observed. "Everyone, keep an eye on Moony so he doesn't blow away."
"Oh, sod you," Remus muttered, grinning in spite of himself as he pushed back from the table and stood up. "Should we get going?"
Lily's eyes lingered on Mary's, boring into her as though they could extract the tangle of anxious thoughts that swirled around her brain. For a moment Mary held her breath, afraid Lily was going to ask her a question she couldn't talk her way out of, but instead she reached for her bag, then stood up and reached for James's hand. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mary followed her friends out into the frigid November day, burying her worries so she could focus on the day's classes.
Wednesday, November 16, 1977
Peter slumped down into a chair and heaved a sigh of frustration. There were various books on defensive spells and dueling spread out across the table in front of him. He had sought out an empty classroom with the vague idea of looking up potentially useful spells and practicing them on his own. However, he had realized after twenty minutes of paging through the books that this wouldn't be much help to him. It wasn't the spells themselves that he struggled with, because he knew them and could perform them in a relaxed, low-stakes situation. It was the quick reactions, the split-second decisions and the pressure of anticipating someone's next move that paralyzed him with fear. He knew hesitating could mean the difference between life or death in a duel, and yet when someone pointed a wand at him he froze, unable to decide whether to block or counter, dodge or stand his ground.
What a waste of bloody time, he thought as he stood up, ready to abandon this entire misguided idea. As he began to gather up the books, however, he heard a sound and whirled to find Lily standing in the doorway of the classroom, peering at him curiously. He scrambled to shove the books into his bag before she could see what he had been up to, but she was too quick, crossing the room and snatching Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts out of his hands.
"What are you doing?" she asked, smiling as she examined the cover of the book and opened it to skim the pages. "The way you tried to hide these books, I thought it would be something more incriminating or embarrassing than defensive spells."
He raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"
"Oh, I dunno, smutty novels? Records of illegal gambling on the outcome of Quidditch matches? A copy of Lolita?"
"What's Lolita?" he asked, frowning.
She shook her head. "Never mind. Why are you skulking around an abandoned classroom studying defensive spells when you told us you were going to the library?"
"How'd you know I was in here?"
She waved her hand impatiently. "I was going to the kitchens to get snacks, and I borrowed the Map because, well, because I'm pretty sure Snape is on patrols tonight and I wanted to avoid him, and I happened to see your name in here so I got curious." She blushed but plowed on. "I know I was being nosy, but I had to see what you were up to. So anyway, you didn't answer my question. What are you doing in here with these defensive spell books, and why are you being all secretive about it?"
Various excuses ran through Peter's head, but something about the piercing quality of Lily's gaze and the stubborn way her hands perched on her hips convinced him that it was useless to lie to her. Sighing with resignation, he took the book out of her hands and set it back down onto the table.
"I had this idea that I would do a bit of practicing on my own, to get better at dueling," he muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. "Because I'm hopeless. Absolutely fucking awful. And with everything that's been going on, and you and James and Sirius going on about wanting to do something, I reckon I'll need to get better if I want to be able to do anything useful to help. But it was a bloody stupid idea, because what I need to get better at can't really be done on my own."
Lily's eyes widened in excitement, and she put a hand on Peter's arm and took a step closer.
"I can help you practice!" she said, and her words echoed in the empty room. "I'd love to help. Not that I'm an expert or anything, but if we practice together we can both get better." Her green eyes shone with enthusiasm and she wore an earnest, hopeful smile. "It would make me feel like I'm doing something useful, rather than just going through the motions and waiting for the next attack or disappearance or whatever pathetic excuse for political action Harold Minchum comes up with next." She placed both hands on his shoulders, and there was a pleading note in her voice as she continued, "Will you let me help you?"
He wanted to refuse, wanted to scrap the whole idea and beg her not to breathe a word to anyone, because the thought of putting his inadequacies on display was humiliating, but he felt his resolve crumbling under her piercing stare. She had helped him with Charms homework when everyone else was too busy. She had partnered with him and helped him master a difficult Transfiguration spell after Peter and Remus couldn't stop laughing at some silly comment one of them had made and McGonagall had split them up for the rest of class. She had even stuck up for him once when he had overheard Olivia referring to him as 'James Potter's fat little fanboy.' She was kind, and patient, and most importantly, she never laughed at him. If he could set aside his crippling insecurity and doubts, maybe letting her help him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
"All right," he said, and a self-conscious smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "But could you maybe not mention it to anyone else?"
Her face creased with concern. "Peter, none of them would-" she began, but he cut her off.
"I know they wouldn't laugh at me," he said. "Well, Sirius would at first, but I know they'd all be perfectly willing to help me practice. I just…" His voice trailed off as he struggled to find words to describe the vague sense of dread he felt at the prospect of parading his shortcomings around for everyone to examine. He was sure others believed he scraped by with the help of his more talented friends, and while this was true, it glossed over the persistent feeling of inferiority that plagued him every time James had to help him finish an essay or Remus whispered the answer to a professor's question or Sirius hexed someone when Peter froze and couldn't do it himself. It wasn't that his friends resented helping him, but more the fact that he wished they didn't have to. But he couldn't voice any of these thoughts aloud, so instead he shrugged. "I just want to keep it quiet, if you can manage it."
Lily grinned. "Are you implying I can't keep a secret?"
"I mean, I didn't say that, but it does seem to be a bit, er, challenging for you," he said, returning her grin.
"That's fair. But I'll try really hard to keep my big fat mouth shut," she assured him. "We can try and do it on the nights James has practice, and we can meet here, I suppose. Do you want to take a walk to the kitchens with me? I'm sure the others are wondering where we've gone to, and James might be back by now."
Peter nodded and began to follow her towards the door, but before they left the classroom he put his hand on her arm to stop her.
"Hey, Evans?" he said, feeling absurdly grateful even though she hadn't actually done anything to help him yet. "Thanks."
She smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her whole face, and Peter was sure he saw a hint of his own gratitude mirrored in her expression.
"You're welcome," she said before stepping out into the corridor. "Come on, before I die of hunger."
He walked alongside her through the empty corridor, smiling to himself and feeling more hopeful than he had in a while.
Remus sat down on the pile of pillows to wait for Seven, breathing in the familiar, slightly musty scent of the reading spot and letting the dim atmosphere of the cozy room and the prospect of seeing Seven put his weary mind at ease. He had been ready with an excuse before she had even returned from Quidditch practice, and now he was impatient for her to make her own excuses and join him. To keep himself occupied, he pulled out a book and began to read, but he made it through only a few sentences before he heard footsteps and looked up to see Seven pushing aside the tapestry.
"Hi," she said, sitting down next to him and leaning in to give him a kiss. "You got here fast."
He grinned. "Well, I really wanted to see you."
She laced her fingers through his, and any trace of annoyance evaporated as she looked up at him, beaming. "Sorry I took so long," she said. "My friends were feeling very chatty tonight."
"It must be getting difficult to keep sneaking away," he said, and he felt a pang of guilt that he was forcing her to continue to lie to her friends to maintain his unexplainable need for secrecy.
She hesitated, biting her lip and tugging on the end of her braid. "Well, it was, yeah. They've, er, they've figured it out at this point. I tried to deny it, but it didn't do any good." She touched his shoulder, and the fear weighing on her made Remus feel even more guilty. "I'm sorry. If it helps at all, they're really happy for us. They think you're lovely."
This made him smile, even though his mind was whirling at this new revelation. "How long have they known?"
"Almost two weeks now," Seven admitted. "I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid it would scare you off, and that's the last thing I wanted."
She wrapped her arms around him, and the warmth and reassurance conveyed by the hug made Remus feel calmer, less panicky. He took a deep breath and swallowed back the doubts that had begun to surface.
"It's okay, Seven," he said, attempting a smile. "I'm glad your friends are happy for us. I'd really like to get to know them better. Maybe once my friends know…"
A flicker of unease crossed her face at his last comment, and he felt his breath catch in his chest.
"What?" he asked, already dreading the answer but unable to stop himself from asking.
"Nothing. It's just that…" She sighed. "I'm pretty sure your friends already know."
"Why do you say that?" He took another deep breath, trying to slow his pounding heart. You're okay. They don't know. Even if they do, would that really be so bad? You're okay.
"It's just a feeling I have. I've seen them exchanging knowing glances, and James has been sort of grinning at me for no reason. Plus, don't you think they would have started to get suspicious of how often you go to the library in the evenings?" She smiled and squeezed his hand. "They're thrilled about it. I can already tell. How could they not be?"
Remus didn't answer, as he was too busy trying to convince himself that it didn't make any difference whether or not his friends knew. He frowned as he listed off all the reasons the wave of panic building in his chest was unnecessary. Of course they'll be happy for us. It will be nice not to have to sneak off all the time. She can sit with me in the common room without it arousing suspicion. She could even come up to the dormitory so we don't always have to come here if we want a private spot. I can get to know her friends, and we can all go into Hogsmeade together, and we can hold hands in the corridors without always checking to make sure nobody's watching, and everything else normal couples do.
No matter how much he reasoned with himself, however, he couldn't ignore the unease he felt at having their relationship out in the open. Sneaking off to the reading spot and passing each other notes hidden between the pages of books and kissing in deserted sections of the library was safe and comfortable, but the idea of everyone knowing made it all feel so official and real. And despite everything his friends would say to the contrary, he wasn't sure he deserved a real, official relationship. Would Seven even want a relationship with him if she knew the truth about what he was? Somehow he had managed to shove aside these thoughts for the past month and a half, but now that their secret was most likely not a secret anymore, all of his doubts reemerged, impossible to ignore.
"Are you all right?" Seven asked, touching his shoulder. "You're not about to run out on me again, are you?"
With a supreme effort, Remus reigned in his spiraling thoughts and focused on the reassuring warmth of her touch. He took a deep breath and shook his head.
"I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere." He reached up and touched her hand, trying to emulate the sense of calm she exuded.
She smiled, and Remus could sense the relief his words brought her. As she leaned in to kiss him, the pressure of her lips against his made Remus's worries seem less pressing.
"Good," she said once she had pulled away. "Now, are you in the mood to read, or, er, not read?"
A while later they were curled together under a blanket, both aware of the time and dreading the moment they would have to leave the cozy privacy of their secret reading spot. Remus glanced over at Seven, searching her face for any visible sign of the worry and stress that lingered after last week's attack.
"How are you doing with, you know, everything?" he asked, feeling a pang of guilt that he had failed to inquire earlier. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I just want to make sure you're all right."
She moved closer to him and laced her fingers through his. "I'm fine. It's really sweet that you worry about me, but you don't need to." She hesitated and turned her head to look up at him. "Are you doing all right with everything?"
"I'm fine." He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "And you're sure you're fine? You're sleeping okay, and keeping up with your homework and everything? Practices are going all right, and the rest of the team is coping okay?"
She sighed. "It's been a rough week of practices, but everyone's doing really well, all things considered. Even James is doing better, after you convinced Lily to talk to him. And there's the Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff match next Saturday, which we're all going to watch together, so that will be nice." She sighed and draped her leg over his. "I wish you could come watch it with me. It would be quite nice to sit on the stands with you and sneakily hold hands under a blanket."
The comment took him by surprise because he had only a vague idea of when the non-Gryffindor matches took place, and with the way the past week had gone he had been unaware that a match was even coming up. He let himself imagine himself watching the match with her, draping a blanket over themselves to conceal how close they were sitting, sharing a chocolate bar and listening to her explain the various Quidditch moves and sneaking sips from Sirius's flask. Except, as she had pointed out, he wouldn't be able to watch the match with her. Next Saturday I'll be in the hospital wing recovering from my transformation. But how would she know that? He racked his brain, but he had no memory of telling her he would be unavailable next weekend. A creeping sense of panic made his heart speed up, and he forced himself to take deep breaths and react calmly.
"What do you mean, you wish I could come watch it with you?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice from shaking.
He felt her body tense, and she hesitated for a moment before replying.
"Oh, I just meant, I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with sitting with me, in case it looked suspicious," she said, and Remus detected a hint of panic underneath her breezy tone. "But if you think it's fine, obviously I'd love to watch the match with you."
He mumbled a reply, barely aware of what he was saying as his mind picked apart the implications of what she had said. Does she know? If she does know, is it really possible that she doesn't care? He turned this over and over again in his head as they kissed goodbye and he strode along the corridor back to the common room. The thoughts continued to plague him as he lay in bed, unable to quiet his brain enough to sleep. If she knows, and she's okay with it, then she would likely understand if I have to break it off. The thought devastated him, yet he would need to consider the possibility, as he had known from the start that they couldn't go on like this forever. Sooner or later he would have to make a decision, even if it pained him to do so. As he rolled over and readjusted his pillow in a fruitless attempt to get comfortable, his brain drifted to another, more troubling thought: Am I horribly selfish if I don't want to break it off?
Mary rolled over again, frowning as the creak of the mattress filled the hushed dormitory. Over the past couple of months she had spent so many nights with Sirius that the snores and rhythmic breathing of the four boys had become familiar and soothing to her, but tonight every sound grated on her nerves. She longed to drift off to sleep with the comforting warmth of Sirius's breath against her neck, but her racing mind refused to slow down. Over and over she circled back to the lack of communication from her mother and what that might mean, until she threw back the covers and padded out of the room, unable to bear it any longer.
The common room was deserted, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she settled onto her usual chair by the fire and tucked one of Remus's blankets around her legs. Lily had left a copy of The Daily Prophet on the table, and Mary snatched it up, eager for a chance to read it thoroughly without anyone asking questions. She spread it out across her lap and scoured the pages for mentions of Muggle disappearances, bodies of unnamed victims, anything that might provide a clue as to Melanie's fate. The soft crackle of the fire and the dim atmosphere of the room put her into a trancelike state, and she was so engrossed in reading that she didn't notice Remus enter the room until he stood right in front of her.
"Oh, hi," she said, looking up from the newspaper. "Can't sleep?"
He shook his head and wrapped himself in a blanket before sitting down across from her and stretching out his long legs in front of him.
Mary sighed. "Me neither." She considered saying more, but decided against it and instead returned to an article about a gruesome car crash.
"That's not Witch Weekly," Remus observed, nodding at the newspaper.
"Bloody hell, you're right," she said, staring down at the newspaper in mock-astonishment. "I was wondering why there weren't any makeup tips or articles about which type of wand wood to look for in a boyfriend."
Remus grinned. "What type of wand wood should you look for in a boyfriend?"
"Couldn't tell you," she said with a shrug. "But if you need five reasons why the world is going to shit, there are plenty in here." She tossed the newspaper onto the table and glared at it.
"I remember a while back I was just making polite conversation, and I said, 'Did you see the Prophet today?' And you gave me this look and said, 'No, why would I want to ruin my day reading that rubbish?' That's why I was surprised to see you reading it just now. I thought maybe you'd changed your mind about it, but obviously not." He flashed her a wry smile and picked up the newspaper, giving the front page a cursory glance before dropping it back onto the table.
She hesitated, trying to decide how vague she could be without seeming rude. The firelight illuminated Remus's pale face, making his scars look more pronounced than usual, and this reminded Mary that he was the sort of person who understood and respected the need for secrecy.
"I was, er, looking for something," she said, dreading his inevitable request for more details.
He seemed to sense her reluctance to share, however, because he nodded as if this made perfect sense.
"I'm guessing you didn't find it, though?" he asked.
She shook her head and curled her legs under her. "No," she said, sighing again and casting one last hopeful look at the newspaper.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
His smile was so kind and genuine that for a fraction of a second she considered telling him everything. She was far too sober for that sort of confession, however, so instead she looked at him and raised her eyebrows.
"Got any chocolate?"
He chuckled. "I don't just carry an endless supply of chocolate bars around all the time, you know."
She met his gaze, and a teasing smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Sort of like how I don't always just read Witch Weekly?"
"I suppose that's fair." He hesitated, then reached into the pocket of his cardigan and pulled out a chocolate bar. He unwrapped it and broke off a piece, then handed her the rest. "I guess I do have at least one chocolate bar on me most of the time. But you never know when it'll come in handy, you know?"
"It's good to be prepared," she said, popping a square of chocolate into her mouth. "Thanks, Remus."
They sat in silence for a bit, munching the chocolate and staring idly into the fire. Mary felt her eyes growing heavy, but she knew she would only toss and turn if she went up to bed now. She watched Remus stifle a yawn and wondered if his troubled mind was keeping him from sleep just as hers was.
"The reason you can't sleep, is it related to, you know…? Because it seems like usually it has the opposite effect and makes it so you can barely stay awake."
His face broke into a weak smile and he shook his head. "No, this is not furry little problem-related. At least, not directly."
This left her with more questions than it had answered, but as he hadn't pressed her to share more than she wanted to, she decided to show him the same courtesy. They lapsed into silence again until a log popped and made Mary jump. She and Remus looked at each other and grinned.
"Do you want to play chess?" she asked, spotting Peter's chess board resting under the table. "Maybe it'll tire us out so we can fall asleep?"
He frowned. "I don't think I have the brain power for chess, to be honest."
"Yeah, I suppose I probably don't either."
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she thought, then hopped out of her chair and felt around the edges of the cushion. After searching for a moment she pulled out a bent copy of Witch Weekly and held it up with a triumphant grin. "I shoved it into the cushion the other day when Black kept trying to steal it and read bits of it out loud in that mocking voice that drives me mad," she said in response to Remus's curious look.
"But didn't you also roll the magazine up and try to whack him with it?" Remus asked, grinning.
"I may have," she said, smiling at the memory. "But anyway, I reckon we need something sort of stupid and mindless that doesn't require a lot of thinking so we can get into the right mindset to sleep."
"And you think reading Witch Weekly is just the right sort of stupid and mindless activity?"
She didn't answer as she flipped through the magazine until she found the section she was searching for. "Right. How long is your wand?"
He raised his eyebrows. "The one I bought at Oliverander's, or the one in my trousers?"
The expression on his face was so innocent and matter-of-fact that it took her a minute to register what he had said. When she finally grasped his meaning, she let out a burst of laughter so loud that she clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid sleeping Gryffindors would hear it all the way up in their dormitories.
"Merlin, Remus, I always underestimate you. I would've expected Black to say something like that, but not you. I meant the one you bought at Olivander's." She grinned and shook her hair out of her face, noticing the satisfied little smirk on his face that struck her as very un-Remuslike.
"It's ten and a quarter inches. Why?" he said, peering at the magazine, but she jerked it away so he couldn't read it.
"You're taking a compatibility quiz to see what your best love matches are," she said, chuckling at the expression on his face. "But you're not allowed to look until the end, otherwise it'll ruin the surprise. Next question: what's your wand core?"
Remus heaved a sigh of resignation. "Unicorn hair. And the wand's made of cypress, since I assume that's the next question."
"It is, actually. And your birthday is in March, right?"
He nodded. "March 10th," he said, amused. "Do you need my favorite color, too? My preferred flavor of Bertie Botts? My favorite sex position?"
She looked up from the magazine and raised her eyebrows at him. "What is your favorite sex position?"
"I was only joking, I don't have one," he said, waving her question away. "Go on, tell me my perfect love match or whatever."
She shrugged and consulted the page. "Right, so it breaks it down into general compatibility and sexual compatibility. It says for general compatibility you'd do best with someone with a willow or holly wand with a unicorn hair core, but for sexual compatibility you should pick someone with a mahogany or chestnut wand with a phoenix feather core-"
"Well, that's a bit awkward," Remus said, grimacing.
Mary frowned. "Why?"
"Because James has a mahogany wand with a phoenix feather core." Remus flashed her a sheepish smile. "But I wouldn't imagine we'd be very sexually compatible, would you?"
"No, not unless you've taken Polyjuice to look like Lily," she said with a giggle. "Anyway, your ultimate love match uses a willow wand with a phoenix feather core." She twisted a curl around her finger and frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder what sort of wand your Seeker friend has," she mused.
"No idea," Remus said, rolling his eyes, although Mary thought she detected a slight blush under his feigned annoyance. "Go on, do yours. Let's see what sort of wand your soulmate has. Unless you've already done it?"
"No, that's what I was trying to do when Black was being a git," she said, returning her attention to the magazine page. A minute later she looked up, grinning, and said, "For general compatibility it says I should go for someone with a maple or ebony wand with dragon heartstring, and for sexual compatibility it says either a poplar wand with phoenix feather core or cypress with any core…" She broke off and started giggling. "I guess we're compatible. And my ultimate love match - I'm not going to say soulmate because that's just rubbish-"
"And this all isn't rubbish?" Remus interrupted, pointing at the magazine.
"Oh, shush, you're enjoying yourself. As I was saying, my ultimate love match has a dogwood wand with a dragon heartstring core-"
"Fucking hell, does it really say that?" Remus said, snorting with laughter.
"Yeah, why?" Mary asked, suddenly hesitant. "Who do we know with that sort of wand?"
"That's Sirius's wand, Mary," Remus said between peals of laughter.
"You're taking the piss," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "And you're going to wake up all of Gryffindor if you don't get yourself under control."
Remus took a deep breath and attempted to control his laughter. "I'm not joking. That's actually Sirius's wand. You didn't know that?"
"No, why would I? All I know is that it's 12 inches, and I only know that because he's always teasing the rest of you that his is the longest, as if that makes any difference…" She trailed off and she shook her head, laughing softly. "Anyway, this is all a bunch of rubbish anyway."
Remus reached over and plucked the magazine from her hands.
"What are you doing?" she asked, watching him trace part of the article with his finger.
"I'm doing it with Sirius's information to see if it works both ways." He was silent for a minute, then looked up and narrowed his eyes at her. "What sort of wand do you have?"
She laughed and shook her head. "Tell me what Witch Weekly says first."
Remus shrugged. "Fair enough. Well, it says he's generally compatible with someone with a hazel wand with a unicorn hair core." He glanced up at her and grinned. "Is that what your wand is?"
She sighed. "Yes, but that doesn't mean much. Everyone and their mother has a unicorn hair core, and hazel's a fairly common wand wood, I think."
Remus ignored this and continued to read from the article. "It says he's sexually compatible with, bloody hell, every wand core and about half the fucking wand wood types."
Mary burst into laughter. "Is Witch Weekly calling Black a tart? Because I'm fully on board with that."
"Apparently," Remus said, rechecking the article and grinning. "But he's difficult to actually have a relationship with, because his ultimate love match is the same as his general compatibility match, which is, of course, your wand."
"And probably half of Hogwarts as well," Mary said, although now that she said it aloud, she wasn't sure if hazel was a common wand wood. Was she thinking of hawthorn? She noticed the gloating expression on Remus's face and stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't look at me like that. You'd better not tell Black about this."
"Why? It would give him a laugh," Remus said, closing the magazine and tossing it down onto the table. "But I suppose I'll agree not to mention it if you don't start interrogating Seven about her wand the minute you see her tomorrow."
Mary grinned, noticing the self-conscious smile that crept over his face when he mentioned Seven's name. She considered confessing what they all knew, because really, what was the point in keeping it a secret, when they were all so thrilled for him? The weariness on Remus's face that mirrored her own exhaustion convinced her to save it for another time, so instead she merely nodded.
"Yeah, all right, that's fair," she said, leaning over to peer at his watch. "Merlin, it's late. Do you feel like this was the right kind of dumb, mindless activity to tire out your brain enough to fall asleep?"
"I do, actually," he said. "What about you?"
"I think I could sleep," she replied, hoping this was true.
The worries about Melanie felt vague and faraway, and nothing appealed to her at the moment more than curling up next to Sirius under the duvet and napping for a couple of hours. Stifling a yawn, she stood up and draped the blanket over the back of the armchair, then glanced over at Remus. She could see his worries weighing on him in the dark circles under his eyes and the hint of resignation in his eyes, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him and assure him that everything would be okay. But the words felt hollow and cliche even without speaking them aloud, and honestly with the way things were going, the likelihood that they were anything other than empty, false comfort was slim.
"Good night," she murmured as she followed him out of the common room and up the stairs. "Thanks for keeping me company tonight."
"Same. I hope you get some sleep," he said before pulling open the dormitory door and tiptoeing across the floor to his bed.
She shut the door behind them and padded over to Sirius's bed, slipping under the covers and pressing herself close to him. He stirred in his sleep and draped his arm over her waist, and the familiar comfort of his presence finally lulled her to sleep.
Thursday, November 17, 1977
"Back again?"
Remus had looked up from his book at the sound of muffled footsteps descending the stairs. He was not surprised to see Mary enter the common room with the same weary, anxious frown she had worn the previous night. Tonight she clutched a pillow and a small bag, as though she had prepared for the inevitable sleeplessness that would draw her down here once again. Remus watched her take the seat across from him and handed her the extra blanket before she could reach for it.
"Back again," she agreed with a sigh, draping the blanket over her shoulders and settling the pillow behind her head.
"You want this?" Remus asked, pointing at the issue of Witch Weekly that still lay on the table in front of him.
She shook her head. "Nah, I already read all the good stuff."
"You want a book? I brought two." He pulled a paperback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird from the oversized pocket of his cardigan and offered it to her, and after a moment's hesitation she took it with a grateful smile. "It won't tell you your ultimate love match or the secret to achieving perfect curls or whatever else Witch Weekly has to offer , but maybe it'll help take your mind off whatever's keeping you awake."
"There is no secret to achieving perfect curls," she said, chuckling and opening the book to the first page. "You just pile on a bunch of Sleekeazy's and hope it ends up being a good hair day."
"I'll keep that in mind," Remus said, grinning as he settled back into The Hobbit.
The common room was silent except for the occasional pop of logs in the fire and the whisper of pages turning, and Remus lost himself in his book. He had almost forgotten where he was and why he was reading in the common room at midnight instead of asleep in his bed when he heard a sigh and looked up to see Mary setting down the book with a scowl on her face.
"It's no use," she said, shaking her head and slumping further down in her chair. "I can't focus on anything I'm reading."
"Do you want to swap? The Hobbit always works for me when I need to be distracted." The words were out of his mouth before he remembered the margin notes in Seven's miniscule handwriting, and he was relieved to see Mary shake her head.
"No, that's okay. I don't think I'm in the right state of mind to read." She tucked her legs up underneath her and leaned her head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling with a forlorn expression on her face.
"Have you tried talking to Sirius about whatever it is?" Remus suggested. "I know you two don't usually like to have meaningful conversations, but it might help, and he's obviously noticed something's wrong and wants to do what he can to make you feel better."
Mary met Remus's eye and grinned at his oblique reference to a conversation earlier that evening when Sirius had noticed Mary's foul mood and insisted on bringing her up to the dormitory to "relieve some stress."
"I know he wants to help," she said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I just don't want to dump all my problems on him when I should be able to handle it on my own. Taking my mind off my problems by shagging me is fine, I know he doesn't mind that, but I doubt he wants to listen to me go on about what's bothering me when he has problems of his own to get on with."
"Did the shagging help?" Remus asked, wondering if he would feel better or worse if he had found an opportunity to sneak off to see Seven tonight. He had settled for a few longing glances across the common room which had done nothing to ease his troubled mind.
Mary considered this. "It did, at first. I felt very relaxed afterwards. I even fell asleep for a bit, but then I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep, and here we are." She gestured around at the empty common room with a wry smile on her face. "He did ask me if I wanted to talk about it, but I dunno. I don't really like talking about my problems."
Remus grinned. "Yeah, I've gathered that. I'm sort of the same way, as I'm sure you know. But maybe you should consider making an exception. Sirius really cares about you, even though he'd rather die than admit that, and maybe you'd feel better after talking about whatever it is that's bothering you."
"Maybe," she said, but Remus could tell she was just agreeing to appease him. She tucked the blanket tighter around herself as though retreating inward.
"I suppose I'm one to talk," he continued, realizing how hypocritical it was to encourage her to open up when he was even more reluctant to talk about what was on his mind. "It's easier to encourage someone else to open up than to actually do it yourself, I suppose."
"Is that my cue to encourage you to talk about what's wrong?" she asked, grinning. "Because obviously you can talk to me about whatever it is, but I get the feeling if you wanted to talk you would've already done so."
"You're not wrong."
He thought about confessing his worries about Seven, but as one of his concerns was about his friends knowing about their relationship, telling Mary about it seemed counterproductive. As for the other, more troubling issue, Remus couldn't bring himself to speak it aloud. Perhaps if he never talked about it, his suspicions about what Seven knew would never amount to anything more than suspicions.
"We've got to do something, though," she said. "We're not doing ourselves any favors, staying up like this. Transfiguration won't be fun on two hours of sleep."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Remus said darkly. "Transfiguration is bloody impossible when you're exhausted. And next Friday is…" His voice trailed off and he gave her a meaningful look, reluctant to discuss the full moon even when he knew they were the only two people in the common room. "So Wednesday and Thursday I'll be fucking useless. Probably Tuesday, too, honestly." He rubbed his eyes and tried not to dwell on just how much he needed to sleep.
"Do you want to share a joint?" Mary asked, raising her eyebrows. "Best case scenario, it makes us sleepy and we can go to bed. Worst case scenario, it makes me feel like opening my big fat mouth, which will hopefully make me feel better and make you fall asleep because you're so bloody bored after listening to me."
"Yeah, all right," Remus said, chuckling. "Either way, it's better than reading Witch Weekly."
Mary glanced over at the window and frowned. "Do you want to go to the Astronomy Tower to smoke? I know you're a prefect and it's pretty bold to just smoke a joint right here in the common room, but-"
"But it's too bloody cold for the Astronomy Tower?" Remus finished. "I think we'll be fine if we open the window. It's the middle of the night. Nobody is going to come down here."
"Oh, thank Merlin, because I didn't want to walk all the way up there," Mary said as she pulled a little zippered pouch from her bag and sat down on the floor in front of the table.
Remus watched with interest as she bent over the table and began to roll a joint, frowning in concentration. Her movements were so calculated and methodical that it reminded Remus of the way Lily looked when she brewed a difficult potion.
"You're pretty good at that," he said as she examined her handiwork and gave a little nod of satisfaction.
She looked up at him in surprise and shrugged. "Lots of practice, I suppose. I think most people here prefer to use magic to do it, but it's easier for me to just do it this way." She stood up and crossed the room to the window, then gestured for him to follow her. "You ever seen Black try to do it? Bloody hilarious. He doesn't have the patience for it at all."
Remus followed her over to the window, still draped in his blanket. He pointed his wand at a nearby sofa, sliding it across the floor until it rested in front of the window so they would have somewhere to sit.
"Oh, good thinking," Mary said, kneeling on the couch and pushing the window open before lighting the joint and putting it to her lips.
Remus knelt next to her and they passed the joint back and forth in companionable silence, taking care to blow the smoke out the window although the scent of marijuana drifted across the common room despite their best efforts. When Mary ground out the remnants of the joint against the windowsill and flicked it out into the darkness, she slumped back onto the couch and tugged some of Remus's blanket over her legs. He settled back next to her and adjusted the blanket so it covered both of them, then heaved a sigh of contentment, enjoying the languid, peaceful feeling that loosened his limbs and made his brain feel pleasantly fuzzy.
"Are you sleepy stoned or talk about your problems stoned?" he asked, glancing sideways at her.
She took so long to answer that Remus began to wonder if he had actually spoken his question aloud. He was considering repeating it when she broke the silence.
"I'm the talking about my problems sort of stoned, I think. But feel free to not listen. Read your book, if you like. I honestly think I just need to talk through it out loud so it's out of my brain. Does that make sense?"
Remus considered this for a moment. He imagined a stream of words pouring out of Mary's mouth and filling the air around them, bouncing off her hair and bumping into the sofa cushions. The image made him feel dizzy, and he blinked and focused on Mary again, realizing she was expecting a response.
"It makes sense to me. And of course I'm going to listen. Just don't be offended if I fall asleep. It's not personal."
She smiled and reached behind her to shut the window, then studied his face for a moment as though trying to decide where to begin.
"I'm afraid something has happened to my mum," she said, wrapping a curl around her finger and not meeting his eye. "I haven't heard from her in weeks. I've written her multiple letters and she hasn't responded to any of them. She's done this before, except this time I'm convinced it's different, because every other day there's another Muggle who's gone missing." She sighed and shook her head, and Remus thought he had never seen her look so defeated. "I've written to one of the waitresses she works with, and she should be getting back to me in the next day or two. If she says she doesn't know where she is…" Mary's voice broke and she pressed her hand to her face, forcibly holding back the well of emotion that threatened to burst forth.
"Merlin, Mary, that's a lot to get on with on your own," Remus said when he could force out coherent words. "No wonder you can't sleep."
"The thing is, she's probably fine. She's probably met a new boyfriend and is staying at his flat. Or she's going through a rough patch and can't put down the gin bottle long enough to open her mail. I've told myself this over and over, but I can't stop thinking, what if something awful has happened?" She pushed her curls out of her face and rested her head back against the sofa. "It's driving me mad, not knowing."
The dim light of the common room illuminated the dark circles under her eyes, and for a moment she looked much older than her seventeen years. Remus had heard Mary make wry remarks about her mother's drinking problem, but he had never really considered the toll this must take on Mary. Now he was forming a more accurate and heartbreaking picture of the girl sitting next to him as details he had thought insignificant now clicked into place. No wonder she's so tolerant of Sirius's bullshit. She's been putting up with her mother's bullshit her entire life.
"That's why you were reading The Daily Prophet last night," he observed. "That's what you meant when you said you were looking for something."
She nodded. "I checked today too. But there's nothing. That's a good thing, I suppose, but somehow it doesn't make me feel any better."
"No, of course it doesn't." He put a hand on her shoulder, wishing he could offer her better words of comfort, but the marijuana wasn't helping, and really, what could he say to a friend who didn't know whether her mother was alive or dead? "So what are you going to do?"
She shrugged and turned her head to look at him. "I guess I'll wait until my waitress friend writes back. Hopefully she'll have heard from Melanie. If she hasn't…" Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, sending stray curls tumbling into her face.
"I don't know what to say," he admitted.
"That's all right, there's nothing to say," she said, wrapping a curl around her finger and sighing. "Just talking about it is helping."
"I really think you should talk to Sirius," Remus said, holding up a hand when he saw the look of hesitance on Mary's face. "I know you don't want to bother him with your problems, but he might know what to do. Family problems are sort of his area of expertise, you know?"
She shook her head. "I can't put this on him. He's still fucked up about Nards. He won't say so, but I can tell. Telling him about this would just be selfish."
"But it's not selfish," Remus protested. "He'll want to help. He loves you."
"Don't," she said, and there was a warning in her eyes as she met his gaze. "I can only handle one emotional crisis at a time." Remus opened his mouth to argue further, but she rested her head on his shoulder, and the casual intimacy of the gesture surprised him into silence. "Talk to me about something to distract me. Anything."
He considered describing the plot of The Hobbit, or telling her about a funny prank they had played on James several years ago, or asking her which professor she would shag, if she had to choose. Seven kept intruding on his thoughts, however, and the joint had created a feeling of confidentiality between them, and it was easy to let the words spill out when she wasn't looking at him. Taking a deep breath, Remus burrowed deeper under the blanket and began to speak.
"Seven and I are together. We have been for a while, and I've been keeping it quiet, but apparently her friends have known for weeks, and judging by your lack of shocked response, I'd say you all know, too."
Mary picked up her head and turned to look at him, grinning. "We do know, yeah. And we've been trying not to let on that we know, but that's been difficult, seeing as we're a bunch of idiots, so honestly I'm surprised you didn't realize sooner."
Remus sighed and studied the pattern on the blanket so he didn't have to see the knowing smile on Mary's face.
"I guess I just wanted to believe it was still a secret. It felt so much easier when it was a secret."
"But why?" Mary asked, puzzled. "We're all so bloody happy for you. I mean, Black is definitely going to ask you a bunch of questions about shagging, which I'm sure you won't be thrilled about, but wouldn't it be easier if you two could sit in the common room together and hold hands and not have to sneak off to wherever it is you go?"
He let himself imagine this for a moment, and as much as he hated to admit it, the idea was incredibly tempting. Still, there was that other piece that he hadn't even mentioned yet, nagging at him and infecting all other thoughts.
"It's hard to explain," he said. "I guess it just feels so real, so official, if everyone knows. And I don't know if I have any business being in an actual serious relationship."
"Why not?" Mary demanded. She turned to face him, and the motion made her half of the blanket tumble forward to expose her arms, but she seemed not to care.
He shrugged, wilting underneath the force of her gaze, because how could he possibly explain the feeling of loathing that shot through him on the rare occasions he looked in a mirror, or how incredible he still found it that anyone willingly chose to be his friend?
"Are you afraid of how she'll react if she finds out, you know…?" Mary asked, leaning closer. "Because if she can't accept you for something that's not your fault, do you really want to be with someone like that in the first place?"
Her earnest indignation on his behalf was evident in her tone and in the set of her face, and Remus felt touched in spite of himself.
"That's the thing," he said, staring across the room at the fire. "I think she might already know. I think maybe she's known for a while."
"But that's good, right? Then you don't have to worry about telling her or how she'll handle finding out," Mary said, sounding excited. "Of course she doesn't care - she's a decent human being. But why do you have that depressed look on your face?"
Remus tried to smile, but his face didn't seem to want to cooperate. Now that he had confessed his suspicions to Mary, they no longer felt like mere suspicions. Breaking things off with Seven seemed unavoidable, necessary, and the thought filled him with such aching sadness that for a moment he couldn't breathe.
"She's brilliant," he managed to choke out once he managed to jar himself out of the overwhelming pull of his own emotions. "She's smart, and kind, and incredibly talented, and she works so bloody hard, and she deserves so much more than I have to offer." He sighed, remembering how it had felt to rest his head in her lap while she read to him, the way her voice had washed over him and made his exhaustion and pain almost bearable. "She deserves better than me. She deserves someone who's not..."
He couldn't bear to finish the thought, but as he glanced over and took in Mary's expression, he knew his meaning was clear. She gaped at him, eyes wide with emotion, and it might have been a trick of the light, but he thought she looked close to tears.
"Remus," she murmured, and her voice was so soft that he had to lean in to catch her words. "Are you trying to break my heart?"
He frowned, perplexed. "No, why?"
For a moment she sat there in silence, looking at him with her eyes wide and locked on his. When she gathered her thoughts she shook her head and said, "Because that's possibly the saddest thing I've ever bloody heard. Why the fuck would you ever say she deserves better than you? Any girl would be lucky to date someone like you."
A bitter, painful laugh forced its way through his lips. "You wouldn't say that if you knew what I'm capable of, what I become. Nobody who's seen what I really am would choose to be with someone like me."
She put her hand on his arm, and her face was drawn into an expression of horror. "Bloody hell, Remus, is that really the way you feel?"
"Of course it is," he muttered. "How else am I supposed to feel?"
Her answer was to wrap her arms around him and pull him into a hug. Her hair tickled his face and filled his nostrils with the scent of Sleekeazy's and marijuana, and he relaxed into her embrace, surprised at how comforting it was to have her arms around him. Slowly, tentatively, he put his arms around her, and they stayed that way for an indeterminable amount of time, finding solace in the hushed silence of the common room and the relief of sharing their burdens.
"Remus Mortimer Lupin," she murmured, and her face was so close to his ear that he felt the warmth of her breath on his neck. "You are the nicest person I know, and you're bloody hilarious, and you're not bad to look at, either, and I have no evidence to back this up, but I'm willing to bet you're excellent in bed. And all of that outweighs what happens to you once a month, because James and Sirius and Peter have seen you at your worst, and they still fucking love you. So you absolutely deserve happiness and love and steady shagging, because you're a bloody good person."
She fell silent for a moment, and Remus thought she might pull away, but instead she rested her forehead against his shoulder and sagged against him. He had expected her to cry, but she seemed exhausted past the point of tears, barely able to hold up her head or keep her eyes open. Remus knew exactly how she felt.
"Thanks," he said, and the word felt glaringly inadequate, yet what else was there to say? Her words had been a balm to his bruised and battered emotions, but he still couldn't say he agreed with her. In the light of day, when the marijuana haze had faded from the air and from his mind, would he be able to resist the urge to run away, to protect Seven at the expense of his own happiness?
"It means a lot," he added, and this much at least was true. Looking back, he wasn't sure he had ever expressed these sentiments aloud before. His friends must have guessed at his feelings, but laying his insecurities and self-loathing bare had been an unexpected act of intimacy and vulnerability, and Mary had taken it in stride. "And I hope everything turns out all right with your mum."
"Me too," she whispered, finally pulling away and looking at him with a sheepish smile on her face. "I suppose I should wait to hear back from my waitress friend before I really panic."
He nodded. "Sounds like a good plan. And I suppose I should do some soul-searching before I take any drastic action." He chuckled and gestured at how close they were sitting. "You know, if anyone woke up and saw us, they might get the wrong idea."
She grinned and shook her head, making no move to adjust her position. "Nah, everyone knows I'm not your type. From what I hear, you like a girl with a Seeker's build."
"And I suppose I'm not your type, either," Remus said, raising his eyebrows. "I don't have tattoos, or a leather jacket, or gorgeous hair for you to run your fingers through."
She tilted her head sideways to look at him. "There's nothing wrong with your hair," she observed.
"Sure, if you don't mind premature greys," he replied, and the words took him by surprise, because he had never mentioned their presence to anyone.
Mary squinted her eyes and peered closer, reaching out her hand to run her fingers through his sandy hair. "You do have a few," she admitted. "I'd never noticed before. But I think it makes you look…" She twirled a strand of her own hair around her finger as she thought. "Fuck, what's the word I'm looking for?"
"Old?" he suggested.
She laughed and shook her head, sending her curls flying. "No, you prat, not old. Black would know the word I mean, but never mind. I'm just saying, it suits you. If Seven's noticed, I bet she thinks it's sexy."
"Well, forgive me if I don't quite trust your opinion," Remus said, wondering in spite of himself if Seven did have an opinion on his hair. "Seeing as you're in love with a bloke whose favorite outfit is a red cowboy hat and Chudley Cannons pants."
"Sod you," she muttered, but he noticed that she did not correct him. "Do you fancy going up to bed?"
Remus tried to stand, but his arms and legs seemed to have melted into the sofa. Even the thought of climbing the stairs was daunting.
"I don't think I can move," he admitted. "I'm just going to stay down here for a while."
"Me too," she said, stifling a yawn. "Do you mind?"
Before he had time to reply she leaned her head against his shoulder and pulled the blanket up over both of them. The pull of sleep was too strong to resist, so Remus gave in and rested his head against the top of Mary's and let his eyes drift shut, listening to the slow crackle of the fire and the sound of her breathing. He still felt sad and worried and confused, but much less so after confessing his feelings to Mary, and he drifted to sleep, happy to have a friend he could talk to.