Tuesday, July 1st, 1986
Sirius can barely hear what they're saying. Only one word sticks- Innocent. He feels that word wash over him as the chains noisily fall away from his body. He stands in the middle of the cavernous room, unbidden and unrestrained. He can feel the tingle of the air rustling his clothes, his hair. Then the press of a wand-every carving and every ridge still so familiar- into his hands which are dangling uselessly by his side. He almost feels the darkness siphon out of his mind, turning to see the Dementors vacating the room. His mind is completely his own once more.
Sirius feels almost lightheaded with the suddenness of it all, the sharp contrast compared to what his life had been for the last few years. It's as though everything has sharpened, come into clearer definition for the first time in a long time. He can see the courtroom emptying, most of them paying him no attention. But there's only one person he cares about seeing.
He turns to his right to see Mary. Mary-his breathtaking and vibrant Mary- deep in discussion with Remus, his old friend gently trying to push her towards the centre of the room and she's wringing her hands anxiously, biting her lip. As soon as he looks at her she turns to face him, almost as though he'd called her name tucking her hair behind her ear.
He meets her gaze, studies it, the familiar features he loves so well, the ones he thought about for years; the brown eyes, and curves and gait, and immediately tries to smile. He can see her. He's close enough to go over and touch her. He is allowed to. The muscles in his face are weak from lack of use, but as soon as he smiles, her whole face beams, the anxiety wiping away.
Without any further hesitation she vaults herself over the row in front of her and hurries towards him, her long skirts whipping around her ankles. She's beside Sirius in mere seconds, her long arms wrapping around him, the only thing keeping him upright as he starts from the shock of being so close to another human being, so close without violence. He freezes, but only for a moment. The smell of her sweet, fragrant perfume washes over him like a wave. He gathers her in his arms and buries his face in her neck forgetting momentarily just how filthy he is. She keeps a hand on his lower back to steady him as he clings to her.
He tries to take a breath, and finds he can't. Something close to a sob is building in his chest, in his throat, and he clings to Mary desperately hoping it will stop it. He holds on tightly, opening his eyes every few seconds to stroke her arms, her waist, her hair, all to assure himself this isn't a particularly cruel and vivid hallucination. Sirius notices she is shaking too, and when he pulls back just to look at her, her eyes are bright with tears.
Mary traces his face with her small hands, staring deep into his eyes. His forehead rests against her own as he holds her face carefully in his own larger calloused hands. It's as though the world has stopped, if only for a moment.
All he can see is her. All he can feel, smell, touch, is her.
Finally, she speaks. She only manages to choke out one word. But one word is enough. One word somehow seems to convey longing, pain, the anger, fear and love all at once.
"Sirius."
It's more than enough. He buries his face in her mane of hair once more, and finally lets himself break down in her arms.
Her arms stay tightly wound around him, and he doesn't want her to ever let go of him again.
He doesn't know how much time has passed as they cling to one another in the emptying, cavernous room, but he feels a gentle, yet persistent tugging at his sleeve. They break apart enough to see who it is, arms still wrapped around each other, and both their faces wet with tears.
Remus is smiling, hovering beside them, somehow looking delighted and apologetic at the same time in a way that only Remus Lupin could manage.
"I hate to interrupt, but…" he trails off awkwardly before continuing once more. "I heard some of those nasty reporters say they would wait for you in the atrium. I figured you two might not want to see them again, but I don't know how else we can-"
Mary stiffens, and swivels her head towards the door. She spots someone else over Sirius' shoulder, and her eyes light up with an almost wicked gleam.
"I can handle it." she replies. She pulls herself away from Sirius, far enough so only her hand is grazing his own and he's embarrassed to realise the mere act of that hurts more than he thought it would. He instinctively wants to hold on to her again and not let go, but he doesn't want her to feel like he's forcing her to be near him.
Mary wipes the tears away from her face with her thumbs then unties her hair and shakes it out. As she wraps her hair tie around her wrist her gaze is set on someone by the door. Sirius turns to see it's Everard, one of the more senior officials of the Wizenmagot.
"Wait, Mary, what're you-" Remus starts to ask. Mary puts a hand on his forearm, but doesn't tear her gaze away from where the Wizard is methodically packing up his things.
"Don't worry about it Remus. I've got this" She squeezes Sirius' hand before walking away, confident and determined. The two of them watch as she approaches the man, and he starts when he realises who has approached him, glancing over at them nervously before reluctantly focusing on Mary in front of him.
He can't hear what they're saying, but he can see Mary gesturing towards the main doors before Everard shakes his head, a guilty expression on his face. He tries to move away, to brush her off, but Mary smoothly sidesteps him, blocking his hasty exit.
"I'm so sorry." Remus speaks suddenly, and Sirius turns to him. His friend is leaner than he's ever seen him, and his pale face is stricken with regret.
"Don't." Sirius dismisses, reaching for Remus. It's not quite as comforting as hugging Mary, but the presence his only remaining friend, his remaining Marauder brother, brings him a different kind of solace. "It could've just as easily been you." He wouldn't wish the experience on anyone, but especially not Moony. Remus hugs him back, gripping him tightly.
The pair of them look back to see Mary say something that makes the elderly Wizard pale spectacularly. He hurriedly speaks to his assistant, who scampers off without a word. Sirius can see Mary say the words ' Thank you' and Everard feebly jerks his head in acknowledgement. Mary strolls towards them with a smirk as the man exits through the double doors, looking smaller than he had before.
He itches to reach out to her as soon as she's close, to feel the comfort of her presence, but as soon as she reaches him, he doesn't have to do anything. She moves into his arms, wrapping her own around him, her body aligned with his, but managing to still look at Remus.
"Piece of cake."
"What did you do?" Remus asks shrewdly, glancing back at the direction through which the man had disappeared.
"I arranged a portkey."
"For when?"
"Now of course. His assistant has gone off to get it sorted."
"That's...illegal." Remus points out, though he's smiling.
"So is imprisonment without a trial." she retorts, and Sirius feels something close to a laugh bubbling in his throat at how she manages to make that sound cavalier and bitter all at once.
"How did you get him to agree to that? Everard is a known stickler for the rules. He'd never have agreed to that."
"Maybe not under normal circumstances," Mary agreed. "But I may have implied that there were a few things I would mention to journalists if he didn't provide us with an alternative, discreet way out of here." She doesn't elaborate any further, but winks.
Sirius laughs, the warmth of it making its way through his body like sunlight. Mary smiles at him, obviously pleased. The assistant soon hurries back with a small cardboard box. He looks a little confused, but hands it to Sirius directly without much preamble.
"That's due to depart for the coordinates provided in precisely two minutes." he instructs, and nods at Sirius in acknowledgement before heading off in the direction of his boss.
Silence lingers. The room is empty now, and although it doesn't feel as cold or desolate as it had earlier, he still can't wait to leave.
"Where to?" he asks eventually, and Mary smiles up at him before speaking even softer than before.
"Somewhere safe."
They all place their hands side by side, and Sirius closes his eyes tightly as the sickening lurch of the portkey whizzes the three of them away. It seems to last an age, and he holds on to Mary's arm tightly as he resists the urge to empty his stomach of what little contents it does have.
Finally, they land.
His head is pounding, his stomach lurching, and his legs are so weak that he is barely held up by both Remus and Mary, so he keeps his eyes firmly shut as they gently lower him to sit on the ground. He can feel hard soil and grass beneath his fingertips, and a pleasant breeze ripples over them, softer and warmer than the bitter northern winds than rattled the towers of Azkaban.
He still feels like there's a possibility that he may faint, so he pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his head on them. It's so quiet he figures they must be in a field of sorts, so they're definitely not in London. Sirius hadn't really considered that Mary or Remus may have left London, as they'd both technically been living there that fateful Halloween. When he focuses, he can hear a bird singing in the background, and the sound of a nearby stream running.
The mere sound of water reminds him of just how unclean he is, it's been years since he had a proper shower. He longs to just stand under a tap and let the water run down his body, finally getting the knots out of his hair, the buildup of dirt and grime from his skin. He realises Mary and Remus are still having a conversation, so he tunes back in to see what they are saying.
"...I can handle that. Can you run to the apothecary and get some things?"
"Of course, of course. Anything in particular?"
"Anything you think he may need. I doubt they provided any sort of adequate healthcare while he was there ... so perhaps some long-term healing potions and remedies?"
"Shall I go to the nearest one, or..?" Remus sounds slightly wary,
"Best not, I think. Would you mind using the floo to go somewhere a bit further? You never know who may recognise you, and we wouldn't want some sodding reporters finding us out here. I don't want to get sent to Azkaban for murdering someone, not now anyways."
"That would probably be best," Remus agreed. There's a slight pause before Mary responds, and Sirius can hear the distinct clinking of coins.
"Here, this should cover it."
"Oh, Mary, no, I can pay for-"
"We both know that isn't true," Mary corrects softly. "Besides, I'd say they'll be fairly costly."
"But I want to help, and I-"
"You are helping," Mary presses. After a pause, and with a distinct tone of irritation in her voice. "Please just take it already Remus." There aren't any further protests from him, and the only sound that follows is the soft clinking of money changing hands.
"After that, do you want me to check on-"
"Yes," Mary interrupts hurriedly. "Yes, please. I mean, they should be alright there for quite a while, but if they're not…" the anxiety in her voice makes Sirius crack an eye open. He can see her biting her lip again, and Remus is stroking her upper arm reassuringly.
"I can take care of it," he reassures Mary, his voice smooth and gentle. "Just focus on Sirius, yeah?
"Okay, if you say so. But if there's a problem-"
"We'll be fine." he assures her. When he speaks again his voice is lower. "Any thought to how you'll…?" he trails off meaningfully, an eyebrow arched. Confused, Sirius closes his eyes again as a new wave of vertigo rushes through him.
"Not a notion," Mary laughs, though there seems to be an undercurrent of fear there. "We'll see how it goes. I'll send you a Patronus once it's all clear?"
"Please do." Footsteps, and then Sirius feels a slight pressure on his shoulder, and it's only because it's so familiar that he manages not to flinch. "See you later Sirius."
"See you Moony." he replies after a beat, and the retreating footsteps pause.
"Definitely Padfoot." Remus responds after a moment, his tone so fond it leaves Sirius feeling warm inside. As the footsteps fade away, Sirius feels Mary lower herself onto the ground beside him. She doesn't speak for a long time, and neither does he. He focuses on the smell of her perfume that wafts towards him with the wind, and the sound of nature rustling all around them.
He moves his legs so that he's sitting cross-legged, and Mary gently rests a warm hand on his knee. He opens his eyes fully for the first time to see her sitting in the same position next to him, running her right hand through the soft blades of grass next to her. He looks around to see that they are sitting in a field of wildflowers. The sheer amount of flowers accompanied by the bright blue sky above them is almost overwhelming after so many years in the dark, dank prison cells of Azkaban, and he has to look at the ground again to centre himself. He runs a hand through a patch of soil near him, focusing on the feel of the fresh earth.
"We're in Ireland." he manages eventually, watching the soil run through his dirty fingers. He can hear a bee buzzing near his ear and almost flinches from the sound.
"Good guess." Mary replies softly, and he looks to his right to see her smiling softly at him. "How'd you know?"
"Dunno," Sirius shrugs, scratching his head. "I guess I just figured if you ever left London, you'd come back to Ireland.. Do you.. Do you live here?" his voice sounds rusty from lack of use, and it makes him feel a little embarrassed.
"I live in a house just through the trees there." she points towards a nearby cluster of trees. "It's near enough to a Muggle village, so I figured it would be safer to arrive here instead."
"Really?" he can't help but be surprised. He never thought Mary would leave London, she loved it so much when they left Hogwarts. They'd spent countless days and nights wandering through the Muggle and Wizarding parts of the city, exploring the different neighborhoods and learning about the different subcultures. It had been one of the happiest periods of his life. Carefree and bursting with joy.
"Yeah.. Sort of a long story really. But I've been living mainly in the Muggle world for a few years now. We're not too far from Kenmare though, if we need anything." As they'd been talking she had gently pulled a few daisies from the grass and begun creating a daisy chain of sorts. It's something he's seen her do numerous times throughout their years at Hogwarts, gathered together down by the lake, or in the numerous parks and gardens throughout London post-Hogwarts.
He doesn't miss her saying we , and it makes him smile. He doesn't want to assume that necessarily means him, or that he can even stay with her, or even assume that she still… wants him. But he pushes it out of his mind for the moment, even if it makes him nervous. Sirius fondly remembers his trip to Kenmare when he was in secondary school, it was one of the main Wizarding villages in Ireland. The memory is a little bittersweet of course, being the last time Mary had seen her own mother before she had been killed.
Sirius studies Mary for a moment as she concentrates on looping each daisy together. She looks older than he remembers-which she is of course-but there are some very fine lines around her eyes, and a slight crease between her brows that are only noticeable as he once knew her face so well. There even seems to be a few stray silver hairs by her temples. Her left sleeve is still pulled down to her wrist, despite the warmth of the day, and the memories it brings makes him frown.
She looks up and catches him staring at her. She quirks a brow: "What?"
"You look tired." he admits, almost without meaning to, and she looks back down at her lap, where flowers are strewn across it.
"Yeah, I suppose I do," she sighs, fiddling with the petals on one of the daisys. "Didn't really sleep much last night. Too nervous."
"I know the feeling," he replies dryly.
She looks at him for a moment, studying him before she suddenly drapes the daisy chain she had been making over his head. It hangs haphazardly over his knotted and tangled hair like a crown. She smiles softly, almost teasingly at his sudden appearance and surprised reaction.
The simplicity, the sweetness of it all makes him feel a little overwhelmed, and he reached out and grabs Mary's hand without realising. It's more unsettling than he thought it would be, freedom. It's as though his emotions had been muted all these years, and now they're all slamming up into him, vying for dominance. He doesn't know what he wants, what to do, what to say.
Thankfully, he doesn't have to. Mary seems to understand at least some of it without him saying anything. She uses their joined hands to tug him down until they're both lying in a prone position, curled towards each other. Staring into her warm brown eyes, he's reminded of all the times they had lain this way over the course of their relationship, all the times he had woken up to her next to him. Under the warmth of the sun, or tangled in the sheets together, or under the starry Scottish skies.
He feels angry, and sad and relieved all at once, and judging by the expression on her face, she feels along the same lines. He knows the separation over the years must have hurt her too. He doesn't know the extent of course, but he vows to find out the truth as soon as he can. She yawns, before smiling at him again. He wants to be closer to her, closer to her warmth, her radiance, but he's aware that he isn't exactly looking his best, and doesn't want to put her off.
"Wake me.. If you need to." she mumbles, and he almost laughs at how suddenly sleepy she is. Looks like some things truly don't change. Her eyelids are dimming slowly, and he finds himself copying her without realising. The sound of her slow breathing lulls him to sleep too. Surrounded by flowers, under a sunny sky, he falls asleep next to the only girl he's ever loved.
For the first time in over four years, he sleeps without nightmares.
Sirius wakes up with a start to the feeling of something wet on his leg. He props himself up on his elbows, and looks around him, bewildered. The summer sun is still high and bright in the sky, so he can't have been asleep for long. Either he or Mary were shifting around in their sleep though, as their legs are now tangled together, and her arm is draped over his thin torso. She is still fast asleep, so he doesn't move any further to risk waking her. He doesn't want to move away from the comfort of her touch either.
A small whine catches his attention, and he looks down to see a dog sitting at their feet, his head cocked to the right as he watches them. Like many times before, he wonders if dogs can sense that he himself, is a dog part of the time. This dog is black and white, with pointed ears- the type that often herds sheep. He looks healthy, and well-groomed, a sharp contrast to Sirius' own Animagus which reflects his currently filthy appearance.
The dog ducks his head and licks at Mary's ankles. She shifts slightly, rolling to her right, brushing against him as she does so. The dog whines again, sounding impatient, before licking her ankles again. She wakes up laughing-the sound like music to Sirius' ears-as she pulls her feet away from the dog. She sits up part way, her brown hair tumbling past her shoulders, blades of grass running through it and looks around with mild confusion before smiling at him in recognition.
"Hey." she greets sleepily, relief evident in her tone, resting her head against his shoulder. She smiles at the dog and he rushes forward, moving close enough for her to stroke his head and ruffle his ears gently. After a moment he settles down beside her, his head resting on his paws with a wary gaze, watching Sirius closely.
"Hey yourself." he replies. "Er, there's a dog here."
"I've noticed." she strokes the dog's head again. "This is Madra."
"Madra?" he queries, the name unfamiliar and almost foreign sounding. "Wait, is he yours?"
"It's an Irish word. It means dog." she shrugs. "Yeah, I've had him for almost two years now."
"You got a dog?" he asks, astonished. Although she'd always had a fondness for his own Animagus form, Mary had owned cats as long as he'd known her. She'd even temporarily lost her kitten on their first journey on the Hogwarts Express.
"Calm yourself," she rolls her eyes affectionately. "I also have numerous cats, don't worry. I haven't changed that much. Besides, I missed having an old mutt around the place." she looks almost regretful after she says this last part, as though worried he'll take it the wrong way.
"Good to know." he winks at her, and she chuckles, as though glad to see him acting like himself. He puts a hand out to the dog hesitantly, and the dog sniffs him for a minute before seeming to decide he doesn't pose any looming threat.
"Want to go inside?" she asks, looking away from him as she adjusts her hair. She sounds almost nervous, so he gives her a moment to gather herself and focuses on gently petting the dog.
"I'd like that." he replies, and she lets out a breath, flashing him a shaky smile.
"Right," she nods resolutely before getting to her feet, she holds out a hand to help him up, and he takes it, even though he feels more energetic than he has in a long time. They walk together towards the trees, and it strikes him just how odd it is to see Mary acting… nervous, around him. He's never seen her nervous, not regarding him at least. The dog, Madra, leads the way, glancing back at them every few metres or so as if to check they're still coming with him.
As they pass through the trees, the air is noticeably cooler here. The dappled sunlight pokes through the leaves, intermittently lighting up the flora and twigs of the forest floor. It's beautiful and peaceful, and reminds him a little of the woods near Potter Manor. It makes him feel almost homesick-for both the memories there, and the life he'd once had. That forlorn, homesick feeling crawls under his skin-the same one that settled in every June on the Hogwarts express, and didn't disappear until he saw James' laughing face once more each Autumn. It makes him wish he could turn into Padfoot and just run through the forest. Things always feel easier to deal with in dog form.
But at the same time, he does want to be here, with Mary, her slim hand in his, by his side. He wants to be near her, he wants to relearn everything he can about her-if she'll let him. Sirius wants to try to heal what they can between them. He doesn't know what she's feeling right now, but he can imagine it's overwhelming for her too.
As the distance between the trees grows they reach a broad clearing surrounded by a myriad of trees and flowers. In the midst of all this is a cottage that looks as though it's straight out of a children's story book; almost like something he remembers James and Lily reading to Harry. The dog happily bounds forward, stopping at the back door and wagging his tail expectantly.
"You live here?" he asks, taken aback. The sprawling, peaceful environment is a long cry from the compact, central, urban apartment they once shared.
"Yeah. It used to be my grandmothers. She passed away before I went to Hogwarts, but we used to come here sometimes. To get away." She leads him down a pathway towards the door where Madra is waiting, deftly stepping over sprawling weeds and stray branches as she walks.
"She was your mother's mum so?" Sirius queried, recalling the woman who Mary resembled so well. She smiles softly at the mention of her maternal figures.
"Yeah, she was a Muggle actually. She was wonderful. When my mother died, I inherited this house, and it felt.. safer out here." She doesn't look at him as she says this, focusing on the tiny key strapped to her wrist instead, her hands shaking ever so slightly.
He wonders what, or who, she's been hiding from.
The boiling water beats a staccato against his head and chest. He feels like laughing as the fresh, warm droplets coat his skin. He feels more alive under this faucet than he did for the entire four years in Azkaban.
Sirius watches the dirt swirl down the drain, and starts to scrub his body clean. Tattoos he hasn't seen in years resurface beneath the layers of grime and filth. It takes him much longer than he expected, his skin cracking and peeling from the force of his efforts. He doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry, but once he can see the skin between his toes, he starts on his hair. It takes four washes before he can run his fingers through it, and he finally turns off the shower.
He steps out to grab a towel that Mary had left on the counter, and is surprised to see a collection of potions and pastes there. One seems to be for his teeth, another for his skin, his hair, along with a variety that seem to be for improving nutritional deficiencies, his bones and even one for mind healing. He wraps a towel around his waist and lets the rest of his body air dry as he takes the recommended dose described on each bottle.
By the time he turns to look in the mirror once more, he doesn't recognise himself.
His hair is longer than he'd ever kept it, tumbling past his shoulders. His skin is clean, almost sickly pale, adorned with tattoos and healed scars. He can see his collarbone poking out, and feels almost sick when he realises just how thin he is. He's got more muscles than he did when he was playing Quidditch though. He runs his tongue over his teeth, and is pleasantly surprised at how normal they feel. He notices a folded set of clothes on top of a basket next to the door. Judging by their muted grey and earth tones he guesses they might be Remus' clothes, and feels like a school boy playing dress up once he pulls them on.
Sirius finds Mary sitting at the bottom of the stairs, the dog curled at her feet, looking at her adoringly as she strokes his long, shaggy coat. He sits beside her, his bare feet next to her own socked ones.
"You look good." she comments after observing him for a moment, her voice as soft as her eyes.
"I look like Remus." he responds, picking at a stray thread in the shirt. More for something to say that any real issue with the clothing provided.
"Yeah, like I said, good. Looking like Remus is definitely an improvement." he looks up, startled, and notes the cheeky look in her eyes. He almost leans in to press his lips to hers; an old, forgotten reflex. But he forces himself to stay still, and speaks instead, his tone carefully light.
"Never figured Re was your type." he remarks.
"Eh, not too picky." she shrugs, winking at him. He smiles so she knows he isn't taking it seriously.
He had been surprised by the lack of personal photos or decoration in Marys room on his way down. He hadn't even glanced at the other doors on the floor, feeling as though he'd be intruding if he had. But she had always been fond of developing photographs she'd taken; of the group, of their adventures, of flowers and animals she thought were cute. The room didn't look like hers without it. But he doesn't comment on that.
"Thanks for all the potions. They helped."
"I'm glad." she smiles at him. "Remus stopped by," she adds as she stands up slowly, stretching as she does so.
"But he had to go check in on someone." It wasn't a question. Not really. But he remembers overhearing them discuss someone while he was recovering from the Portkey.
"Yes," she nods. "He did." As she turns around her eyes meet his briefly, but she looks away again before he can even begin to decipher the look on her face.
She doesn't provide any more information so he doesn't ask, doesn't push the issue. She sits on the back of the sofa, running her hand over a wrinkle in her skirt, and he watches her twitch for a moment. He doesn't know how to fill the silence, and doesn't know if he wants to either. He wants to hear what she has to say. What she wants. He wants to know how she's feeling.
Even if he could put words to the tumultuous feelings roaring inside him, he doesn't know if he wants to. He's had enough time alone with his thoughts. Slowly, he stands up and moves towards her, and she immediately turns her body so she's facing him more directly. He's never paid this much attention to her every move and gesture, even before they'd gotten together, but he'd never felt as unsure of himself, of everything-as he does now. He normally acts on impulse, trusting his gut instincts. But this is too important. Mary, who's here in front of him at last, bright and strong and yet oddly fragile at the same time, is far too important.
He takes in his surroundings for a moment. They're standing in a bright, airy sitting room; comfy couches are draped with throws, the walls and shelves are filled with paintings and photographs. It looks so much like… home. He even recognises some pieces from their old flat-a wicker chair, a chest they would keep full of soft blankets and pillows, a few paintings of Mary's, and a rug he'd found in Camden.
He can feel her looking at him, and he shifts his gaze towards her to catch a smile on her face. He reaches for her hand, and she holds it tightly.
"Hungry?" she asks.
"Oh Merlin, yes."
"C'mon, I can make something." she stands up fully, but doesn't let go of his hand, tugging him along with her.
He follows her into a cramped, but bright kitchen. The dog follows them in, sitting at Sirius feet as they both watch Mary assemble a sandwich and place in it a frying pan. When she sits back down her knees knock against his, and he feels the itch to be closer to her once more. But he doesn't move. He can't. Not until she knows what he wants.
"So-"
"I was wondering-"
They both attempt to start speaking at the same time, and smile awkwardly at each other when they both stop once more. She gestures for him to continue, and he remits, only because this question has been nagging him from the moment they got here.
"Harry."
At the simple utterance of the boy's name, his godson's name, James' son's name, her whole face lights up. She reaches for his hands, enclasping one of them in her own smaller ones.
"Harry, he's wonderful. He's, oh Sirius, you'd love him. He's clever, remarkably funny. He's just like James, to look at except you know-"
"The eyes, yeah, I remember." he stares at their hands, he doesn't want to talk, he just wants to listen. To hear her talk about Harry. He wants to know everything he can.
"He's sweeter though, he's… sensitive." there's something in her eyes akin to guilt, and it throws him for a moment. "Very sensitive."
"Does he-" he stops, clears his throat, ignoring her peculiar reaction for a moment. "Does he, know who I am?"
"Yeah, I told him about you. Even before we knew you'd be getting a trial. He knows plenty of stories of Moony, Padfoot and Prongs."
"Does he…" he stops, looks around the tiny kitchen as though he's expecting him to pop out of the woodwork. He spots a pair of small blue shoes in the corner spattered with mud. "Does he live here?"
"Yeah." there's that funny look in her eyes again. Guilt maybe, or even a touch of fear? He doesn't know what he's said to make her look like that, but his brain scrambles for an idea to fix it. She speaks first though. "Harry lives here now."
"Now?" he doesn't miss that. "He didn't always?" his tone sharper than intended.
She leans back, her hands loosening their grip on his as she speaks. "No, not always." She pulls away completely, away from him, turning towards the hob to check on the sandwich cooking there. He immediately feels her loss, and scrambles to try and fix it, to try and bring her back.
"Sorry, I-" his voice is gruff as he tries to explain, to apologise for the way he spoke. To bring her back to him.
"No need." she holds up a hand as if to silence him. When she turns back around and sits down, there's something tired, almost resigned in her expression.
"Harry has only lived here for about a year and a half. When they took you away-" her voice breaks, and she clenches her fists, inhaling deeply. She starts again. "When they took you away, I was distraught." she avoids his eyes for a moment, as though admitting her feelings makes her weaker in some way. "I didn't actually leave the Ministry until I was forced to, and then-" she pauses once more. And Sirius knows there's a lot that isn't being said in that silence. Mary looks frustrated as she visibly struggles with how to articulate what she needs to.
"It's okay." he says gently, reaching for her hands. She clasps his own straight away, and meets his gaze once more.
"By the time I was able to get in touch with Dumbledore regarding Harry, he informed me that he had acted unilaterally and placed Harry somewhere safe, somewhere secret, somewhere away from the Wizarding World."
"You've got to be joking?"
"Sadly, no. Remus and I.. discussed it, and well, he was keen to follow Dumbledore's orders, as Dumbledore almost always... knows best."
"You still think that?" he asks. His own feelings for someone he would have once considered a role model are more than a bit muddled at the moment.
"No, definitely not."
He looks at her for a moment, her mouth pressed into a thin, sharp line. She looks so annoyed it makes him worry about where it was he had placed Harry. Monty and Fee had died before getting the chance to meet him, and as far as he knew James and Harry had been the last remaining Potters. So it must've been with Lily's family..
"No." he gasps, the realisation like a slap to the face.
Mary nods, her jaw set and eyes blazing. She darts up again to remove his food from the hob, but her movements don't hold the same tenseness they did the last time. But Sirius on the other hand-he's seething.
He opens his mouth to speak, but doesn't quite trust himself to. He's not particularly fond of the sound of his own voice anyways. It sounds hoarse and desperate and almost frightening.
When Mary sits down again, he watches her closely. Her dark hair is pushed away from her face, which looks almost like he remembered. But there's evidence of sleepless nights and a face wound tight with worry that he knows can't solely be from his pending trial.
"I don't know if you want to…" she trails off, before finishing in a firmer tone. "I don't know if you want to hear this yet Sirius," the sound of his name in her voice sends a jolt through him. "You must be feeling overwhelmed."
Try as he might, he can't quite deny that. It's somewhat bewildering to compare this cosy little kitchen and idyllic cottage with the cell that he woke up in. He can almost hear the brutal crash and echo of the waves if he strains his ears, and part of him worries that he's going to open his eyes to find that this has been a particularly vivid hallucination.
With more caution than he can recall ever using in his previous life, he replies to Mary's concern.
"You may be right." he hesitates for a moment before stretching his arm out to take a hold of her hand. She immediately opens her hand to clasp with his, and that makes him feel even more certain of his choice. "Maybe that can wait for another day. I just need to know that he's happy."
"He is." she vows, her hand squeezing his gently. "I promise you that."
"That's enough for now."
A part of him, the reckless, stubborn part of him feels like protesting vehemently at this decision. Better to find out now, better to know the full details of what had happened to his little godson. But that kind of thinking was part of what got him here in the first place.
26 years old and nothing to show for it but a rap sheet and an an array of emotional issues and trauma.
Looking at Mary's concerned face, he knows he made the right decision in that regard at least. He trusts that she'll tell him everything he needs to know; when he asks.
Instead, he tucks into his sandwich. Maybe it's just in comparison to the food in Azkaban, but it feels like the best sandwich he's ever eaten. Warm and comforting, almost as pleasant as the feeling of the soft summer sun on his face.
"Sirius," begins Mary cautiously when he pauses for a moment. She's over by the sink, filling up the kettle. It doesn't escape his notice that she's doing it the Muggle way, and he wonders if it's just habit or if she's nervous for some reason.
"Yep?" he watches her turn around, and she looks inexplicably nervous.
"This may sound stupid. But I just wanted to check. I just wanted to make sure you're comfortable, and I-" she glances at his face before looking back down. "You're happy staying here, yes? With.. me?"
Oh.
It was a question he had simultaneously been looking forward to getting over and dreading. He had been avoiding really thinking about it, because of course, why would Mary want him here? This was a lovely, peaceful little life that she had for herself. Why would she want an ex-convict here, ruining all the tranquility that she had built up. He hadn't been even able to consider whether or not she still, you know, wanted him. It had been almost five years.
Strictly speaking, she didn't owe him anything. Judging from what Minnie had said, she had worked to even get him the trial in the first place. She didn't owe him anything more. But where else would he go? Remus was always an option of course, and the streets would be better than Grimmauld. The truth of the matter was he didn't want to be anywhere else in the world but by her side, but he didn't want her to feel obligated, not in the slightest.
"If you don't-" he stops, not entirely sure what he wants to say.
"I want you here." she blurts, his head jerks up sharply at that proclamation. She hastens to continue, to explain herself. "If you want to be here, that is. If you're comfortable. I know it's different from what you're used to, or perhaps you want space. But personally, I'd be happier with you here."
"So would I." the smile that he can't quite hold back makes his face feel funny, stretching the dormant muscles in his face. "I'd like that a lot."
They go back into the garden shortly afterwards, their journey leisurely and uncharted. Mary tells him the name of some plants he doesn't recognise, and in one corner the smell of flowers is almost intoxicating. They pass by a pond at one point, and he catches a glimpse of their reflection-Mary, cloaked in blue with her hair loose around her face looking like a mirage as she leads the way and him, looking more like a ghost, a mere impression-before the ripple of a fish swimming close to the surface scatters the image.
"That's the pathway to the village," she points, and just past her shoulder he can see a small sign saying 'Máire's Cottage' next to bright flowers that are high enough to reach his shoulders.
"Máire?" he repeats.
"No, like Maura. It's the Irish version of my name."
"Oh, that's odd."
"I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that I don't actually go by Mary MacDonald anymore."
"Huh," he isn't entirely sure what to say to that. She'd been Mary MacDonald as long as he'd known her, or just Mary really. Máire sounded like a different person.
"I use my mum's surname now." There's something tight and controlled in her face as she speaks, which is horribly familiar to him. "Máire Tyrrell."
Sirius hasn't forgotten the things Mary had told him about her father. So he doesn't question this choice in the slightest. He feels a flare of anger at the mere thought, so he can't begin to imagine how she felt whenever she was called by the name he had given her. Máire Tyrrell sounds like a complete stranger though. Idly, he wonders if that was part of the reasoning for the change. The memory of her hand shaking as she unlocked the door, not two hours ago still lingering in his mind.
"That sounds different." he comments softly. "Understandable of course. But is there any reason why?"
She takes a step closer to him, and he can see the scatter of light freckles below her brown eyes. She's biting her lip as though she's trying to stop herself from saying something, and he can't help but feel irritated at the secrecy even if he knows he has no right to know the details of every facet of her life.
"Yeah, you could say there's a few reasons." her voice sounds further away than the metre between them. The tension in the air is palpable, and as ever Sirius wants nothing more than to get away from it. He'd never been good at handling tension. He'd usually run from it. Unintentionally he casts a glance at the pathway towards the village.
"I like the flowers." he comments idly, gesturing at the small purple-blue flowers that adorn the pathway. A fat little bumblebee bustles over to a small cluster, moving to and fro with ease.
"Funny you should mention." Mary replies faintly, a look on her face that he really doesn't like. It almost looks like she's trying to avoid a blow and he wonders what on earth can make her feel this way. Instinctively he reaches for her, his hand brushing hers before she pulls away.
His stomach drops.
Mary stares at the ground for a moment, an expression that looks like a curious mix of recklessness and fear. She peers up at him, eyes intense as though she'd about to fling herself off a cliff. He hasn't seen her look like this since one horrible winter day when they'd all been ambushed in Diagon Alley.
He swallows back the memory of James, so alive and ferocious and full of fight, and focuses on the now. Focuses on Mary. What on earth could make her look like that? Like she was preparing to fight?
When she finally speaks, her voice is stiff, disjointed, her fingers clutching at the loose sleeves of her light summer cloak.
"Harry's only lived here for a year and a half."
"So you said."
"Right, of course." she runs a hand through her hair, loose tendrils waving back and forth in her wake. "This delay wasn't something I liked, nor was it.. Something I had planned on." she stares at him then, her hands twitch for a second. He wants nothing more but to grab one of her hands and tug her to him. To hold her, to guarantee that everything would be alright.
But he's supposed to be careful. Cautious. He doesn't want to.. Push her. To pressure her at all. But whatever this is that's trying to make its way out of her looks so sodding painful he wants to go with his first instinct.
She lets out a deep breath.
"I wasn't able, I wasn't well enough to fix it, to go and get him, to fight for him." Idly, Sirius wonders if the guilt in her voice is about more than just Harry.
"Mary," he tries, his voice little more than a croak. "It's okay-"
"No, it's not!" her voice is unexpectedly shrill, and a bird flutters away in fright. She watches it go with an expression close to envy.
"Mary, we don't need to-"
"No, Sirius, you don't understand." she bites her lip. "I wasn't able because..because.." She looks so small and fragile now that fuck it, he bridges the distance between them and takes her into his arms. His concern about her wellbeing overriding his fear of rejection. He's Sirius fucking Black goddamnit, and he isn't going to let something like caution stop him from being there for the woman that he loves.
To his resounding relief, she doesn't push him away, but just holds onto him even tighter. Her arms wind around his waist like he's a life preserver, and his heartbeat eases back to a normal beat. She feels so right in his arms, that all he wants to do is hold her closer, tighter, and say fuck it to whatever it is that she feels she needs to tell him.
After several long moments, she pulls back to look at him. Her dark, achingly familiar eyes are bright with tears that he doesn't quite understand. She reaches a hand up between them, and for a frightening second he thinks she's trying to push him away. He starts to let go of her, only to freeze once more when she shakes her head. Instead of pushing him away, her hand is curling up to a silver locket around her neck. It's dainty and silver, the chain so thin you almost wouldn't notice it.
With slightly trembling fingers, she tugs it open and speaks, her voice full of conviction.
"Sirius, we have a daughter."
For a moment, her words don't register, blowing past his mind like leaves on a winding path. Instead he's stock still, his mind empty and spinning like a Quaffle soaring out of reach. He blinks, once, twice, to see Mary's face staring up at him. He looks down to see the locket, tucked into its oval sides are two little photographs.
A small, awkward looking boy with a sweet smile under a familiar shock of black hair. Even though he'd known, the resemblance to Prongs still makes his heart stutter and a lump swell in his throat. Round glasses are perched on his nose, and he waves shyly in the photographer. Harry.
The other photo brings forth a tumultuous wave of emotions. A girl of maybe two or three, dark curls surrounding her face as she giggles at a familiar dog poking his head into the frame to give her a massive slobbery kiss on her cheek. It feels like some kind of bewitchment, seeing his own features mingled with Marys on a toddlers face. All apart from the eyes. The piercing blue, unwaveringly innocent bright blue eyes that are simultaneously overwhelming familiar and foreign to him.
A daughter.
A daughter.
A daughter.
Mary's words echo through his mind, and he feels dizzy from the fluctuation of his emotions in response. Shock, joy and fury clash and clang, and he doesn't quite know what to settle on.
Instead, he mumbles like an idiot. "A daughter?"
"Yes," Mary's smiles, her eyes shining bright with both cautious joy and unshed tears. "A daughter."
"I-I-" he stumbles over his words, feeling slightly delirious. "Her name, what?"
"Violet."
He looks back to the violets that dot the pathway near them, their colour bright and flickering like candlelight. He feels slightly light headed, and he clutches at Mary, his fingers tight on her own. She steers him towards the riverbed, gently pushing him towards the grassy bank beside it. He lands clunkily on the grass, his hands reaching out to grip the sharp little blades of grass.
The sun feels heavy and harsh on his face, and for a moment he feels like he doesn't know where he is. If he's up, down, or floating. With a pang he wonders if this is how James felt when Lily told him about Harry. That lovestruck idiot had looked so stunned he had been momentarily worried than she actually had stunned him. Before his face burst into a smile so wide it looked liable to split him in two.
No, Sirius doesn't quite feel the way James did. There's an inescapable feeling of loss that accompanies this life-changing utterance. It's undeniable, and he feels like his feet have been swept out from under him once more.
This day is starting to feel more like a century than just one day. A small, distant part of him that he had long thought lost reminds him of whispered conversations under the bedclothes with Mary, their skin as bare and exposed as the words dancing on their tongues. Wishes and hopes for a child, just like this one, for a small little being of wonder and joy. Theirs.
He's filled with a sudden longing, an almost hunger to see that picture again. That sweet, smiling little girl who just couldn't possibly be his. He looks up to see Mary crouching before him, the locket still held in her hands. Trembling slightly, he reaches for it and Mary hands it to him without hesitation. He drinks in the image of his daughter. Of this little girl he doesn't know, and couldn't in his wild dreams begin to fathom before today.
His mind, already fuzzy and very bewildered, tries wildly to do the math. Mary seems to read his mind, or perhaps that's what she's thinking about too.
"She turned four last month."
"When?"
"The 18th."
June 18th. Peculiar. His cousin Narcissa and Regulus were around then too. All right around the summer solstice. A significant day in Wizarding culture, and he wishes Remus were here to tell him the meaning of this. The spiritual significance.
He can't bear to say Regulus name out loud, so instead he chases that last, listless thought. "Remus-that's where he is, isn't it?"
"Yes, he's checking on her and Harry. They're staying with a friend of mine today. I figured it might be overwhelming if.."
Right, of course. If he was a fucking basket case it may have frightened the children. He keeps looking at the picture. Two children, so unalike in disposition, but if he squinted he would have almost thought it was him and James in miniature. He couldn't tell if this was a blessing or a curse quite yet.
"Sirius?" Mary sounds tentative. "Are you alright?"
He looks up at her, resounding love and awe thundering through him at the mere sight of her face. The mother of his daughter.
"Tell me," he manages, hoarse and raw. "Tell me everything."
Mary smiles softly, and when he reaches for her, he feels nothing but certainty when he listens.