Following the funeral, Lily snapped out of her torpor. She was on fire, thrumming with energy, driven by righteous anger. Mary admired her enthusiasm, although she had never been less invested in the Order. She dragged herself through meetings and plodded through duties, barely able to focus on her assigned tasks. Her mind circled back to Sirius over and over, until even Dung noticed her distraction.
"You alright?" he asked after she had completely missed his question. Marlene had come along on their recruitment mission today, and she too looked at Mary with barely concealed curiosity. The three of them were crammed at a booth in a dingy Muggle pub, waiting for another of Dung's acquaintances to meet them to discuss joining the Order.
That bloody phrase should be illegal, Mary thought, forcing the worry from her face.
"I'm fine." She rubbed her eyes, then met Marlene's gaze, shrinking under the force of her friend's determined stare.
"It's Sirius, isn't it?" Marlene frowned at her through a curtain of fluffy blonde hair. "Want me to hex him? Or want me to seduce him and steal his clothes and his wand so he has to run through the streets naked?"
"Fuck's sake, Marlene," Dung muttered.
"Don't be jealous, Gus."
Mary chuckled. "Gus?"
Marlene shrugged. "Dung's a bloody stupid name."
"I think it fits him," Mary said, ignoring Mundungus's indignant look. "Anyway, stealing Black's clothes won't work. He loves being naked too much to be bothered by it."
"That doesn't surprise me." Marlene took a large sip of her pint and patted Mary's shoulder. "Well, talk to him, or whatever you've got to do. You two are good together – I don't want to see you split up, even if I'd love to shag both of you."
"Fuck's sake, Marlene," Dung repeated, slopping some of his beer onto the table.
"What?" Marlene mopped up the spilled beer with a napkin and nudged Dung. "Look at them both. I can't help it."
For a moment, Mary's laughter drove her worries from her mind.
When she got home that night, swaying from the multiple pints she had consumed, she sat on the edge of the bed and shook Sirius awake. Her heart pounded, but the memory fluttered at the edge of her mind, begging to be released. The Pensieve sat in the bottom drawer of her dresser – she had shoved all the shorts and trousers into the drawer above it to make room. The spell to extract a specific memory rattled in her head and tingled her fingers. She was ready.
"What?" Sirius opened his eyes and blinked at her, yawning.
"I want to talk to you." She stroked his hair, smoothing a lock from his forehead, then bent to kiss him. There was a hint of firewhisky on his lips.
"Talk to me when I'm not sleeping." He narrowed his eyes and added, "Unless 'I want to talk to you' is a new way of saying you want to shag, because if that's the case, I'm wide awake."
She sighed and shook her head. "No, I actually want to talk to you. I've got to tell you something that I've been hanging onto for ages…" She twisted a strand of hair around her finger, feeling her heartbeat speed up.
"Mmm, I'm too tired." Sirius rolled over, and a moment later the sound of steady, slow breathing filled the air. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Mary stripped off her clothes and pulled on her favorite old t-shirt she had stolen from Sirius, then crawled into bed. As she fell asleep, she replayed the conversation in her head, feeling more discouraged each time she recalled Sirius's sleepy dismissal.
The next day dawned clear and cold. They were due to guard a protest – an event organized by a group dedicated to opposing the Death Eaters using nonviolent means. Last year the Death Eaters had attacked a protest hosted by the same group, resulting in the death of five people. Mary dragged herself out of bed, dreading what the day would bring.
All six of them were stationed at the protest, along with many of the other Order members. Mary and Lily were tasked with guarding the alley beside the magical menagerie. A bitter wind tugged at their coats as they leaned against the side of the building, scanning the street in front of them for anything suspicious.
"It's completely unjust, arresting that couple," Lily was saying, eyes blazing with righteous anger. "There's no real evidence – it's just paranoia and prejudice. I'd be up there protesting, too, if we weren't doing this."
Mary tried to follow Lily's tirade about the reason for the protest. It was something to do with demanding the release of a couple who had been arrested for suspected Death Eater involvement, except the evidence was sketchy at best – coming and going at odd hours and strange guests at the house. Mary agreed that this shouldn't be enough to land anyone in Azkaban, but it wasn't clear to her why this particular organization was leading the protest. She thought they were about Muggle-born rights, which didn't make sense – unless the accused people were Muggle-born? Lily would know, except at this point it would sound silly to ask. Sighing, Mary pulled her jacket more tightly around herself and nodded to assure Lily she had been listening.
Shoppers hurried by, clutching bags as they rushed to the next destination, eager to get out of the cold. Down the street, the protestors were assembling on the steps of Gringotts. Mary squinted to make out the words on several cardboard signs, but they were too far away to see. Her eyes drifted to Madam Malkin's where Sirius was tucked beside the building with James. She remembered his moody silence this morning as they had gulped coffee and toast. Was he more willing to talk to James, or was he leaning against the robe shop smoking a cigarette with that unfriendly expression that discouraged even the most trivial questions?
"I think the attack is going to be more subtle than we're anticipating," Lily was saying, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "People in disguises, or maybe they're going to come from a location we're not expecting…"
Mary felt a pang of guilt when she realized she hadn't absorbed any of Lily's words. She studied her friend, noting the pale skin and feverish glint in her eyes. She lost her parents two weeks ago, and I've been too caught up in my relationship problems to even pay attention to how she's doing. An absurd urge to hug Lily seized her, with Chocolate Frog wrappers and crisps bags crunching under their feet and the chants of the protestors mingling with shouts and laughter from the shoppers, while any minute a swarm of Death Eaters could descend and throw the scene into a full panic. Instead, Mary settled for a light touch on Lily's shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
Of all the useless fucking questions.
Lily shot her a quizzical look. "Yeah, I'm fine. We're not talking about me – we're talking about the protest. Haven't you been listening?" She frowned and tilted her head, her eyes boring into Mary's. "Doesn't this drive you mad? It's been eating me up inside all week."
No, what drives me mad is trying to open up to Black when all he does is shut me out. What eats me up inside is not being able to help him when he's struggling because he won't tell me what he's struggling with.
"Yeah." She swallowed back the worries that had become a constant refrain in her head. "Me too."
The frenzy of the protest grew, voices increasing in volume and intensity as more people joined the crowd on the Gringotts steps. Mary shuffled her feet and rubbed her hands together, wishing for the warm circle of Sirius's arms. Her thoughts drifted to their morning: desperate, hungry kisses and fingers sliding over slippery skin as the heat of the shower engulfed them. But afterwards he had walled himself up again, zipping up his jacket and disappearing into the shelter of his moody silence.
"Look!"
Lily pointed at the protestors. Shrieks rent the air, and people jostled and pushed past each other. Mary's fingers tightened around her wand. She scanned the area, her thoughts of Sirius forgotten as adrenaline flooded her body. More screams mingled with the crash of spells, and then she spotted several masked figures on the roof.
"Split up." Lily pointed at the street beside them. "I'll take this one, you take the next one over."
We're not supposed to split up, Mary thought idly as she sprinted toward the next street. Frantic people ran past her in the opposite direction; a middle-aged woman bowled into her, sending her sprawling. Two boys scrambled around her, faces white with terror. A spell whizzed past them and hit a shop window, filling the air with tiny shards of glass. As Mary struggled to her feet, she heard a crash and threw herself sideways. Something stirred her hair as it whooshed over her head. She shot off a spell from the ground, then pushed herself to her feet and looked around wildly for the attacker. There he was, not on the roof but standing mere feet in front of her, a masked figure with his wand pointed straight at her heart.
She didn't stop to think. There was no time to think – how many times had Moody told them that? Even a second's hesitation could be deadly. This man was trying to kill the protestors, and had almost killed those two boys, and was about to kill her. Her wand and her mouth acted before her brain had time to catch up.
The spell lit the alley with a blinding green light and hit the Death Eater in the stomach. It was impossible to hear anything over the shouts and spell fire, yet Mary swore she heard a soft gasp as his body absorbed the spell. For a moment a faint green glow spread from his torso to his limbs and the top of his head, before it faded and he slumped to the ground. Mary rushed over and stood beside him, heart pounding. The breeze plucked at his robes, lending an eerie sense of movement to his otherwise still form. Mary peered closer, magic crackling in the air around her and thick in her lungs. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to cry. She wanted to sprint through the streets and fire off spells until all of the fuckers were dead.
A shriek and a crash from the alley behind Mary shattered her reverie. She sprinted around the corner, firing a spell at the roof, and almost ran straight into Lily.
"Get that one," Lily urged, pointing at a building down the street where another Death Eater aimed spells at the protest. Mary darted past, propelled by a consuming energy. Magic flooded her body and tingled in an aura around her. Static lifted strands of her hair; heat tinged her skin. She shot off another killing curse that missed its mark and took the paint off the side of the shop. Power roiled beneath her skin; she raised her wand to try again, relishing the hum of magic. She was unstoppable, invincible, emanating power.
Then a woman ran past, herding the two young boys Mary had seen earlier. One of them sported a split lip; the other had tears coursing down his cheeks. They rushed by and took cover in a nearby clothing shop, but their presence broke Mary's trance. Bloody hell. She remembered the still body and swallowed back a mouthful of bitter bile.
A spell rushed toward her, and she threw up a shield charm in time to absorb the impact with a ripple. The figure on the roof shot another spell at her; she dodged sideways and aimed one back at him — a red Stunner this time.
We're meant to Stun them, she reminded herself. We're meant to Stun them. The words became a chant, the rhythm guiding her spells until the rooftop figures Disapparated. After they disappeared, she heard another scream and saw James and Sirius sprinting toward them.
Mary kicked the side of the building in frustration, then leaned back against the freezing bricks, her head pounding. Remus and Peter joined them, and their voices rose and fell, but she absorbed none of it.
"Come on," Sirius said, putting a hand on her shoulder. His face was grave and pale; a thin scratch stretched across his cheek. "Let's get out of here. They've all left, and the Aurors will be here soon."
They returned to the flat, crowding around the living room to gulp down firewhisky and comb over the battle. Bits and pieces pierced Mary's mental fog: several of the protest leaders had been killed; James or Sirius had stunned a Death Eater who had fallen to his death; Remus had Stunned another and his unconscious body had been trampled. She didn't know whether the two boys and their mother had been injured, or whether the body she had left in the alley by the menagerie had been identified. She sipped her drink and nodded and watched the clock until it was a reasonable time to go to bed.
The silence of the bedroom was oppressive without Sirius's soft breathing, and she lay there staring at the ceiling and replaying the day over and over. Shouts and shrieks echoed in her mind, but they didn't quite drown out the intoxicating whisper of that taste of power.
Sirius came to bed later, stinking of cigarettes and firewhisky. He stretched out in bed without touching her, his breathing heavy in the silence. She could just make him out in the near darkness – his gaze was fixed on the ceiling and his face was clouded with the unspoken emotions. Her hand inched toward him; their fingers brushed, then intertwined. Neither of them acknowledged the gesture.
"Today was…" she began.
He didn't reply. She sensed an answer in his silence, the weight of today's casualties and tomorrow's repercussions and the endless march of duty and patrols and the constant unspoken question of when this damn war would be over. Finally he sighed, and his fingers tightened around her hand.
"Yeah."
It was one syllable, spoken in a hoarse whisper, yet it was an acknowledgement. Sirius was still closed off, but maybe acknowledging the distance was the first step to bridging it. Mary squeezed his hand and thought I love you. She considered broaching the subject of the Pensieve again, but then she felt the warm tingle of magic return to her fingers. Pulling her hand away, she rolled over, ripples of Dark Magic coursing through her. Could Sirius sense it? Heart pounding, she drew mental walls around herself, then let thoughts of Dark Magic consume her, keeping her mind whirling until she slipped into a fitful doze around dawn.
She awoke the next morning with a feverish prickle behind her eyes. When she stumbled into the kitchen, she found James seated at the table, a vacant expression on his face.
"Morning," she murmured, pouring herself a mug of coffee and taking the seat across from him. "You alright?"
He started, blinking several times before his ubiquitous grin slid onto his face.
"Fine. Just…" He ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. "I'm fine." His eyes narrowed as he peered across the table at her. "Are you alright?"
She took a large sip of coffee to buy herself time. The hot liquid scalded her tongue, but she gulped it down anyway. "I'm fine."
She remembered a fragment of conversation from yesterday. We got one on the roof with a Stunner, Sirius had said. Dunno if it was me or Prongs, but it doesn't matter – he fell and didn't get back up. Now Mary studied James's face, wondering if killing someone with a Stunner elicited the same tantalizing rush of power. She doubted it, based on James's stricken expression – but then again, it might not have been his spell after all.
Tendrils of magic crept up her arms, sending rivulets of sensation through her body. Could James feel it? Mary drank the rest of her coffee in a few painful swallows, then muttered a hasty goodbye before retreating to her bedroom to get ready for the day. As she showered and pulled on her clothes, and later as she and Marlene skulked around shops all day, the prickle of magic remained. I'm going mad, she thought, employing all of her Occlumency skills to banish it from her head. It was no use – it wasn't just in her head. It had infected her whole body. She sighed, then resigned herself to the madness, trying not to admit to herself how much she liked it.
She stumbled through the week. Sometimes time raced by – minutes and hours and entire afternoons slid smoothly into each other. Other times, time stretched out, so that her Order duty took an eternity. Her thoughts were either fuzzy or dazzlingly clear. One night she and Sirius split a joint, and even that felt different. The marijuana smoke curled around her face and seeped into her mind, melding with the Dark Magic and bubbling inside her until she had to grip the duvet to moor herself to reality, to keep the power from consuming her.
Every night she tried to talk to Sirius, but he rebuffed every attempt. She sensed the walls between them cracking as they clung to each other, their sighs and gasps filling the dark room, but after Sirius rolled away and enveloped himself in the duvet, the walls reformed.
One night when he reached for her, his lips already trailing soft kisses along her neck, she pushed him away.
"I want to talk to you," she said, scooting sideways to avoid his roving hands.
"Let's talk after. I won't be able to concentrate." He moved closer to her, slipping his hand under her shirt. His light touch filled her with desire, but she gritted her teeth and pulled away again.
"No, Black. We have to do it now." She rose from the bed and retrieved the Pensieve from the bottom drawer of her dresser, setting it on the bedside table on top of an old Witch Weekly issue. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the tip of her wand to her temple and concentrated on the memories she needed. One at a time, she drew her wand away, dropping filmy strands of memory into the Pensieve one by one.
"The fuck are you doing?"
She sat down on the side of the bed and nodded at the Pensieve. "Well, you know I don't like to talk about my problems."
He gave a derisive snort. "Seems like that's all you want to do lately."
She ignored the condescension in his tone and pressed on. "Dorcas reckons it makes Occlumency harder, when I have difficult memories that I haven't really talked about with anyone. So she thinks I need to talk about, er…" The words caught in her throat. She swallowed and started again. "The thing that happened with Mulciber. And if I have to tell someone about it, I'd rather tell you than anyone else."
He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the Pensieve, and a current of panic rippled through his body – Mary could sense it in his clenched fists and his rigid limbs.
"I know what happened with Mulciber, Macdonald."
She sighed. "I know, but I've never actually talked about it, and I guess sharing the memory helps me protect it. Except I've been meaning to do this since the summer, and I haven't worked up the nerve, so Dorcas borrowed the Pensieve from Dumbledore. And…" She twisted a curl around her finger. "There's something else, too, that I think you should know about, but again, I'm too cowardly to tell you, so I've thrown that into the Pensieve as well. And then, maybe after you view my memories, you could put a couple of your own in for me to see, if you like–"
"What, is this some sort of ploy to get me to open up?" Sirius was on his feet, anger blazing in his eyes. "Are you just trying to paw through my head again? I'm not fucking doing that, Macdonald."
Heat flooded her face. She sprang up, hands shaking as she faced him.
"Of course it's not a ploy!" How could he be angry, when she had opened her mind to him, poured her most painful memories into a bowl and trusted him to look at them? "I said you could share some of yours if you like – I never said you had to!"
"I don't get your sudden fascination with talking about our feelings."
"I told you, Dorcas said–"
"Did Dorcas tell you to use Legilimency on me to go through my bloody thoughts?"
His words sent a stab of guilt through her, mingling with her anger. "I'm sorry! I've already told you – that was a mistake. I thought we were past that – you said…"
But she trailed off, because he had not actually said he forgave her. They hadn't talked about it – they had simply waved it away and gone to bed.
"I don't want you going through my thoughts, Macdonald, and I don't need to go through yours. I thought we trusted each other enough without bothering with all of that." He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with shaking fingers. "I need a fucking drink." He reached for a half-empty Ogden's bottle on the dresser and took a sip.
She rolled her eyes before she could stop herself. "You always need a drink these days."
His eyes widened, and he took a step back. "Fuck you."
"Am I fucking wrong?"
The cigarette trembled between his fingers. "You're going to stand there and judge me when you and Wormtail ate an entire fucking cake the other night? Is that any better than getting drunk? Or what about getting so stoned that you can't smell Dung? Or…" A mean glint flashed in his eyes. "What about Melanie? When's the last time you had a go at her about her drinking?"
Mary felt the wind rush out of her, as though she had been punched in the gut. "What does Melanie have to do with anything?"
"I'm just saying, maybe you should have a look at your own mum before you judge me."
"You're an arsehole." Tears pricked her eyes; she blinked them away, but the nasty gleam in Sirius's eyes intensified.
"Don't be so bloody dramatic, Macdonald." He took a drag on his cigarette and flicked a bit of ash onto the floor, a sudden infuriating calm settling over him. "What else did you want to show me?"
Mary swiped furiously at her eyes. "What?"
"The other memory you wanted to show me – that you were too much of a coward to tell me. What is it?" His lips twisted into a sneer. "Did you shag someone else?"
"What?"
He shrugged, but his nonchalance did not mask the suspicion in his eyes. "What else would you be too afraid to tell me?"
Her voice hardened. "Is that really what you think of me? I say I want to talk, and you immediately assume I've shagged somebody else? Who–"
"How should I know? Maybe Dung–"
She made an indignant sound, but he plowed on.
"Gideon or Fabian, or maybe both. Moody, even – he seems like he could get a bit wild in bed. Or Pete, maybe…" His lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Nah, not Pete. But I bet you'd go for Benjy – he's short, but he has the sort of hair you like–"
"Shut up, Black." Mary was vibrating with rage. Magic hummed in the air, ready to explode any moment. "I'm not going to fucking stand here and listen to you accuse me of sleeping around. I'm leaving."
The sharp edges of his mirthless laughter jarred Mary's ears. "Where are you going?"
"I haven't decided. Maybe I'll go shag Mundungus again. Or maybe I'm off to have a fucking threesome with the Prewetts. We'll see where the night takes me, Black." She stomped from the room, slamming the door behind her.
She rushed through the kitchen and toward the door, scooping up her shoes in one hand and pulling on her jacket with the other. A dim, flickering light caught her eye, but she had no time to examine it as Sirius came barrelling after her, the liquor bottle still clutched in his hand.
"If you think I'm going to chase after you like a pathetic little puppy dog, you're going to be very bloody disappointed." Sirius shook the firewhisky bottle as he spoke, spattering the ground with droplets of alcohol. Mary thrust her arm through her jacket and yanked up the zipper, resisting the urge to throw her shoes at him.
"I'm leaving so I can get away from you, genius." She jammed her shoes onto her feet without lacing them. "Why the fuck would I want you to follow me?"
The twinkling light attracted her attention again, and her heart sank when she realized what it was – James and Lily sat in the living room beside a tree decked with fairy lights and Christmas ornaments. "It's December first. We're ruining James's favorite time of year, you selfish fucking arsehole."
She strode out the door and closed it behind her before Sirius could see the tears pouring down her face. Hands shaking, she pulled her wand from her pocket, but she stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"What's wrong?" Lily's face was creased with concern. "Where are you going?"
Mary sighed and shook off Lily's touch. "I'm going to stay with Peter."
Lily grabbed her arm. "But why?"
"Ask Black," Mary said, scowling. "Although it might be a waste of time – he probably won't fucking talk to you, either."
Lily pursed her lips. "He's just preoccupied. I'm worried about him–"
"I'm worried about him, too! But he'd rather get pissed and throw ridiculous accusations at me than tell me what's wrong." A fresh wave of fury washed over her as she remembered the sneering suspicion in his voice. "I've got to get out of here. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned on the spot and Disapparated before Lily could respond.
The magical boundary surrounding the cottage whispered around her, plucking at her hair and tickling her skin as she trudged up to the door and knocked. Peter opened the door, his face creasing with concern when he noticed her tears.
"What–?"
"Can you let me in?"
He lowered the wards with a flick of his wand and she stumbled inside, tripping over a pair of trainers beside the door. Peter steadied her, and when he pulled his hand away, his fingers came away red.
"You're bleeding."
She eyed the shallow cut on her arm. "I must've splinched myself. I wasn't exactly in a great state of mind to Apparate all this way." More tears rolled down her cheeks; she brushed them away before she felt Peter's warm hand on her shoulder.
"Mary, what's happened?" His face crumpled. "Has someone–"
"Everyone's fine." She swallowed back another wave of tears. "I've had another fight with Black, that's all. Can I stay here tonight?"
Peter nodded, then started for the stairs. When she remained there, watching tiny droplets of blood splash onto the floor, he put a hand on her back and gently steered her up the stairs and into his bedroom. He guided her to the bed, then rushed around shoving dirty laundry under the bed and Vanishing bits of rubbish.
"Peter, I'm a fucking mess." She gestured at her tearstained face and disheveled clothing. "I'm not even wearing a bra. You don't have to hide your dirty laundry from me."
His cheeks reddened as he finished jamming a magazine into a dresser drawer. "Right. Can I see that cut again?"
He peered down at the scratch, then Summoned a bottle of dittany and poured some onto the cut. It stung and smoked before the skin began to knit together. She ran her finger along the new skin, then sank back against the pillows.
"Thanks. Sorry to just barge in like this." The adrenaline was fading, leaving her feeling foolish and dramatic. She could have just slept on the sofa – it had been presumptuous to show up at Peter's house with no warning and expect him to drop everything to comfort her and care for her injury.
"Don't be silly." He sat down across from her and fiddled with a loose strand on the duvet. "Do you want to talk about it?"
A wry smile lifted her lips. "You know the answer."
"Yeah, I dunno why I asked." He flicked his wand again, and a moment later a plate of biscuits soared through the open door. A brilliant smile broke over her face as she smelled the cinnamon and nutmeg emanating from the biscuits. "I figured you'd want to eat your feelings." He handed her a biscuit, his fingers brushing hers as she took it.
She stared at the biscuit, tears welling in her eyes and dropping onto Peter's duvet. "Peter, you're such a good friend, feeding me biscuits and not laughing at me when I have fucking frosting in my hair, and putting dittany on my cuts. And Black's always such an arsehole to you, and I always go along with it, and…" Her words dissolved into a sob.
"Hey." Peter pulled her into a hug. When he released her, he pointed to the untouched biscuit in her hand. "Eat that, otherwise I'm going to kick you out of the eat your feelings club."
She laughed and took a bite. "You would never," she muttered through a mouthful of biscuit.
"You're right – it'd be so much more pathetic if I was the only member." He took a biscuit and bit into it, studying her as he chewed and swallowed. "Do you want a drink?"
She recalled her snide comment about Sirius's drinking; the drops of firewhisky spattering the floor; his retort about Melanie. "No thanks."
He frowned. "Do you want to smoke?"
She thought longingly of the little zippered pouch that contained her marijuana and rolling papers, forgotten on her bedside table. "I didn't bring any."
"I have some – I bought it from Dung the other day." He grinned when he saw her dubious expression. "Don't worry. I told him I'd be smoking it with you, so he gave me the good stuff."
"Good. I swear, the rubbish he gave you last time was half nettle leaves he stole from Dorcas's greenhouse." She finished her biscuit and watched him roll a joint on the bedside table.
"Quit watching me," he complained, shifting sideways to block her view. "I feel like you're judging me."
"I never judge." Sirius's words echoed in her mind: You're going to stand there and judge me when you and Wormtail ate an entire fucking cake? Suddenly, absurdly, she was crying all over again.
"Fucking hell, Mary, I've never seen you cry this much." His eyes were wide and his mouth was set in a thin, worried line as he handed her the joint. "What did he say to you?"
She shook her head and lit the joint, closing her eyes as she held the smoke in her lungs. It burned away some of the sadness, replacing it with a floaty, detached feeling. As she exhaled, her tension eased and her shoulders slumped. They passed the joint back and forth in silence until smoke filled the air and the tears dried on her cheeks. Then Mary stubbed it out on the edge of the biscuit plate and lay back on the bed, heaving a huge sigh.
"He accused me of cheating on him." Her eyes were fixed on the water stained ceiling, but her mind filled with Sirius's wild eyes and trembling hands.
"What? With who?"
Mary gave a mirthless laugh. "Half the Order, basically. He thought maybe Dung–"
Peter snorted with laughter, then clapped his hand over his mouth. "Sorry – no offense to Dung–"
"I was offended! He also suggested Benjy – that was the most reasonable one, I suppose – and then he accused me of having a threesome with the fucking Prewett brothers."
Peter grinned. "Marlene would be jealous."
"I'm surprised he didn't add Marlene to the list." She wrapped a curl around her finger, enjoying the distance the marijuana gave her. What had enraged her earlier was now mildly funny. "Aren't you going to ask me if it's true?"
"If what's true?"
"If I cheated on him."
"Of course not. I know you wouldn't." He stretched out beside her, his arm grazing hers. "He says all sorts of awful things when he's hurt, but he never means any of it. You know that."
"I know. And I'm not much better, to be honest. I, er, may have said he drinks too much."
"Well, at least what you said is true." He turned his head to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Bet he hated that."
She grimaced. "He was bloody furious. Of course he was – I have no business judging him. He shouldn't have to feel judged around me. And of course he's been drinking more. He's going through… well, I'm not sure what exactly he's going through, because he won't bloody talk to me. That's what the whole row was about. And I'm just worried…" More tears burned her eyes, blurring the ceiling. "I'm worried eventually we won't be able to get by without talking, and we'll have a row big enough that we won't make up, and I dunno if I can fucking take it."
She rolled sideways to face the wall. Tears streamed down her face and soaked the pillow beneath her. His fingers rested on her shoulder, and his hesitation made her smile through her tears. He was so tentative, afraid to overstep, when Mary was the one who had shown up uninvited and strewn biscuit crumbs and tears all over his pillow.
"It's okay, Mary. You'll make up. Padfoot would be a wreck without you." He didn't pull his hand away.
"But what if we don't?" She couldn't banish the image of Sirius's cold, distant eyes and the hunch of his shoulders as he rolled away from her. "And what if…" Another thought pierced the haze in her mind. "What if we split up, and I have to stop being friends with the rest of you?" The tears fell faster now. The marijuana had blurred her thoughts but sharpened her pain. She ached, curling in on herself and sobbing until Peter's voice reached her through her tears.
"Hey. Look at me."
She didn't move.
"Mary Veraminta Macdonald, roll over and look at me."
Somehow the sound of her fake middle name shook her out of her daze. She turned over and looked at him through swollen eyes swimming with tears. He touched her shoulder, and the brush of his fingers was a lifeboat saving her from being swept away in her sea of sadness.
"You are going to make up with Pafoot, but for the sake of this argument, even if you do split up, we're always going to be friends." His lips curved into a sheepish smile. "Who else is going to be in the eat your feelings club with me?"
"Moony?"
His laughter washed over her, warm and familiar, driving more of her sadness away. "Definitely not Moony. I've had to bully him into eating."
She rolled your eyes. "You've never bullied anyone in your life."
"I can be firm when I need to be." His stubborn gaze faltered under her scrutiny, and his sheepish smile returned. "Well, I suppose it's more nagging than anything. But sometimes it works."
"I worry about him. James and Lily, too – I don't think they're eating much these days." Mary sighed. "At least nobody has to worry about us wasting away to nothing."
Peter nodded. "Silver lining."
She rubbed her eye. When she pulled her finger away, it was smeared with mascara.
"God, look at me. I'm sorry." She peered at the pillowcase and groaned. "There's makeup all over your pillow, and tears, and probably snot. Fuck, I'm a mess."
He cast a dismissive glance at the pillow, then grinned and shook his head. "You're not a mess. There's no frosting in your hair, so I think you're doing okay." He shifted sideways to pull his wand from his pocket and conjured her a handkerchief. When she took it, she noticed it was embroidered with the initials PPP in pale pink, curly letters.
"For Peter Penelope Pettigrew?" she asked, tracing the letters. "That's adorable."
"Fucking hell, I dunno why they always come out like that." Peter scowled at the handkerchief and shook his head. "Sirius conjured me one like this as a joke once, and the image stuck in my brain, so now they're all like this."
Mary dabbed her eyes. "Well, at least it cheered me up a bit." She gazed across the room and spotted a bit of bright blue flannel peeking out of the hamper. "Can I borrow a pair of your pajamas? That might cheer me up, too."
He chuckled and got to his feet. "Sure. Which ones do you want?" He opened a drawer and began to hold up various pajama sets. "Narwhals… Kneazles… unicorns… dragons… oh, these ones are new. I couldn't stop laughing when my mum gave them to me – she must've thought I'd gone mad."
Mary giggled as Peter held up a pair of pajamas printed with little rats ice skating, knitting sweaters, playing checkers, and nibbling wedges of cheese.
"Those are perfect – it's like they were made for you. I'll take those and the Kneazles, please." Mary pushed herself into a seated position, sniffing and wiping away the rest of her tears.
He raised his eyebrows. "You want to mix and match? That's a bit chaotic, don't you think?"
She gave a wet laugh. "My entire life's a bit chaotic right now, Peter."
He shrugged and tossed her the pajamas. "Fair enough."
She stepped into the bathroom and stripped off her tracksuit bottoms and Sirius's old Queen t-shirt. The flannel pajamas were soft against her skin and carried the clean, fresh scent that clung to all of Peter's clothing. When she knocked and returned to the room to see Peter clad in the other half of the pajama sets she wore, her face split into a smile.
"I thought it might balance out your chaos a bit," he said, gesturing at the rat-printed top and Kneazles-patterned bottoms. He sat down on the edge of the bed and surveyed her outfit. "I figured we could look stupid together – except you don't look stupid at all. You look kind of adorable, actually." He looked away and began fiddling with the button on his pajama top.
"I bet Black would say I look sexy wearing these, for some reason that only makes sense in his strange mind. He's funny like that." She laughed, but the laughter caught in her throat and twisted into a sob, and then she was crying again. God, I'm pathetic, she thought as she pressed her hands to her face and lay back on the mattress.
"It's alright, Mary." Peter's voice was tentative and unconvincing. "Do you want me to go so you can get some rest? I'll sleep on the sofa–"
"No." The thought of stretching her leg out and finding only cold sheets was more than she could bear. "Please stay." She patted the mattress beside her.
A mixture of emotions flashed across his face. His eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed with color. For a moment, Mary thought he was going to refuse. Then he flicked off the light and stretched out beside her, holding himself apart as though afraid to invade her space. She felt a light touch on her shoulder, and then he began to rub slow circles on her back.
"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I hate seeing you sad. I wish there was something I could do – I wish I could help."
She sighed, trying to force all the sadness and tension and worry from her body. "You are helping, Peter. This is helping."
He pulled his hand away, and there was a creak of springs as he adjusted his position. "Alright. Good."
She already felt the absence of his touch. "Will you keep rubbing my back? That was nice – unless it's too weird."
There was a moment of hesitation, and then his fingers resumed the soothing motion. "Of course it's not weird – unless you start making noises like the ones James makes when Lily rubs his back."
She chuckled, stirring a stray curl with her exhalation. "God, no. Those sounds are bloody pornographic."
She closed her eyes, relaxing into his touch and sinking into the mattress. As she drifted to sleep, she had a fleeting thought of Sirius, alone in their bed with only a bottle of Ogden's for company. Then she pushed the thought from her mind, focusing only on the softness of the flannel and the warm, puffy duvet around her.
Sunlight peeked through the curtains as Mary nestled close to Sirius. She buried her face in his chest and draped her leg over his, sliding her hands under his shirt to trail her fingers along his back…
Her eyes snapped open to reveal Peter, cheeks flaming. She pulled away, a laugh bubbling from her chest.
"God, I'm sorry." She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "I was half asleep and thought you were Black… Fucking hell, that's embarrassing."
He blinked at her in silence for a moment, and then he shook his head and grinned. "Nah, it's okay. At least you don't own pajamas with ice skating rats on them – now that's embarrassing."
She laughed and glanced down at the bed. "There are biscuit crumbs all over your sheets." She started to brush them away, but Peter shooed her hand away.
"It's fine. I'll clean it up, and we can agree not to talk about this again. It didn't happen. We had a very cool and not at all embarrassing evening."
She had the urge to throw her arms around him, but held back in case there was any lingering awkwardness after the unintentional groping. "You're the best. I suppose I'd better get ready for the day – do you think Dung will notice if I show up wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday?"
He laughed. "I'm pretty sure Dung wears the same clothes for days at a time, but you can borrow a jumper or something if you like. It'll be too big and look ridiculous – but actually, you'll probably manage to pull it off somehow." He slipped out of bed and went to the dresser to find her a jumper, and Mary sank down onto the bed, feeling the weight of the day settle onto her shoulders.
Sirius slunk into the manor house, a scowl etched onto his face. His head pounded from the bottle of Ogden's he had finished off while he waited for Mary to return to the flat. The warmth of the house enveloped him, but it did nothing to dispel the anger and hurt he drew around him like a cloak.
"Hi, Padfoot."
Remus emerged from the living room, closely followed by Dumbledore. Sirius grunted a reply.
"What're you up to?" Remus asked, frowning as he surveyed Sirius's surly expression.
"I'm supposed to be patrolling with Fabian, but he didn't show." Sirius rubbed his temples. He hardly had the energy to get through the day, let alone to deal with a missing patrol partner.
"He's been reassigned," Dumbledore said as he hurried past, robes swishing. "I needed him to go to Hogsmeade instead – Rosmerta's reported some concerning activity. Sorry, I meant to tell you. You can patrol on your own for the day – unfortunately there's nobody else." He rushed out the door and Disapparated before Sirius could reply.
Sirius nodded. "Right. Thanks for that, Dumbles."
"I'll come with you." Remus took his jacket from the coat rack in the hall and wound a scarf around his neck. "I'm off today."
Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Don't you want to go home and sleep? You look half dead."
Remus smiled wryly. "I am half dead. But you don't look much better off, and I'd never forgive myself if you got captured or killed because you're too hungover to hear a Death Eater sneaking up behind you."
Sirius rolled his eyes but couldn't muster a coherent response.
"Let's go," Remus said. "No chain smoking, though. Maximum of three cigarettes or I'm Vanishing the entire fucking pack."
They Apparated to Malfoy Manor, and Sirius draped the Invisibility Cloak over them. He lit a cigarette, glancing over at Remus and raising his eyebrows. Remus sighed and held up a finger.
"That's one."
"Yes, I can fucking count, thanks." Sirius took a long drag on the cigarette, wondering what Mary was doing right now. He blew out a mouthful of smoke, wishing his head would stop throbbing.
"Should I bother asking what's wrong, or are you just going to snap at me to mind my own fucking business?" Remus leaned sideways to avoid the smoke.
Sirius took another deep drag, contemplating Remus through the cloud of smoke. "Did Macdonald stay at yours last night?"
Remus frowned. "I only got back this morning – I haven't been home yet. Why would she stay at my house – did you two have a row?"
Sirius flicked a bit of ash with so much force that his whole cigarette went flying. "No reason. I'm just fucking asking, alright?"
Remus picked up the smoking cigarette and handed it to Sirius, lips pursed with distaste. "You know, I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but most of your problems could be resolved if you two would just talk to each other."
Sirius sprang to his feet, glowering so hard it hurt his face. "You're right. I don't bloody want to hear it. Come on, let's do a circuit." Maybe it'll divert your attention enough that you stop fucking hounding me.
They circled the grounds, peering through the gate at the house and trying not to step on each other's feet. After Remus tread on the hem of the cloak for the third time, Sirius plopped down and lit another cigarette.
"Sod this. You're too bloody tall, and I'm too hungover for this, and there's nothing moving in there except the fucking peacocks." He turned his head to exhale a stream of smoke, ignoring the two fingers Remus held up. "This is all such a bloody waste of time. We're not going to see anything – they're not going to just parade about out in the open, not after…"
His voice trailed off. Not far off was the stretch of grass where the Death Eater had lay sprawled in the grass. A disconcerting combination of dread and desire filled Sirius's chest. He took a long drag on the cigarette, imagining the smoke burning away the lingering remnants of the Dark Magic.
Remus waved away the smoke, his brows knitting together. "Not after what?"
Sirius shook his head. "Nothing."
They sat in silence as Sirius smoked the cigarette down to the filter and ground it out on the frozen ground. The wind rattled the gate, startling them both, and Remus chuckled.
"You know, this is a perfect opportunity for a heart-to-heart."
Sirius scowled at him. "No it's not."
"Prongs would think so."
Sirius laughed in spite of his foul mood. "Prongs thinks every time is a perfect opportunity for a heart-to-heart." He lit another cigarette and studied the burning tip. "I'm about half a bottle of Ogden's too sober for a heart-to-heart."
Remus lifted the edge of the cloak to let in some fresh air. "It doesn't have to be a heart-to-heart. You could just tell me what's gone wrong between you and Mary."
"Or you could just fuck off and stay out of my business." His head throbbed and his stomach twisted, and he longed for Mary's cool, soothing fingers running through his hair. Instead, he was stuck with freezing air and peacocks and Remus "I don't know how to mind my own business" Lupin.
"Well, I suppose I will, since you asked so nicely." A wry smile lifted Remus's lips. "If you don't want to talk about it, how about a hug?"
Sirius burst into laughter and almost dropped his cigarette. "Fuck you."
He shrugged. "I've been told I give good hugs."
Sirius inched backward. "If you hug me, I'm going to fucking punch you."
"You know, I don't see why you're so anti-hug when you once told me you don't believe in personal space."
Sirius took a drag on his cigarette, hoping the smoke would burn away the rest of his misery. "I'm not anti-hug. I'm just not convinced anyone who's built like a broomstick can give a good hug."
Remus laughed, stirring the smoke that had gathered around his face. "That's a bit rude."
Sirius shrugged. "Yeah, well, what do you expect? It's me." He flicked a bit of ash onto the ground and shifted his position. "You know, I might be persuaded to talk about my bloody feelings if you'd tell me about the sexy werewolves you've been shagging."
"I would if there was anything to tell." Remus got to his feet and stretched. "Come on, let's do another loop around. I'm half frozen. And after we finish here, want to go for a drink?"
"God, yeah." Sirius sighed with relief at the prospect of a generous pour of firewhisky. "No hugging, though. I don't want your fucking pity hugs. If you even look like you're thinking about hugging me, I'm punching you, and I'll probably break you in half."
Remus glanced sideways at him and raised his eyebrows. "I doubt that. I'm stronger than I look. But even though you're such a huggable ray of sunshine, I think I'll manage to hold myself back. Now pick up the pace – I don't like the look of that one peacock."