mcvttermole:
The Leaky Cauldron was not usually where Mary could be found hanging around on a Tuesday morning, and yet, here she was. She’d spent the first part of her morning dropping the girls off at Reginald’s parents’ house for the day, leaving them with her in-laws and a very stern be good as warning ( though she had little doubt they would be ). She still wasn’t back at work full-time yet, and was using her day off to get some much-needed shopping done in Diagon Alley, deciding to drop into the Leaky Cauldron quickly for some tea and a quick bite to eat ( she hadn’t realised she’d neglected breakfast until she’d already left the house, the hollow feeling following her around for the rest of the morning ).
She hadn’t even yet made it to the counter to order when she heard someone calling her name, eyes instantly tracking in the direction of the voice to settle on someone she was fairly certain shouldn’t be speaking it with such enthusiasm. She wasn’t afraid of Emma Vanity ( no, why would she be? That would simply be absurd ), but she hadn’t spoken to the woman in years, and for very good reason. The last time they’d been in the same room together had been at Mary’s wedding ( she’d seen countless films where the protagonist objects at a wedding – she just didn’t think people really did it ). Part of her felt sorry for Emma, but another, perhaps more petty, part of her was simply upset.
“Emma.” She says, hesitating in place like a deer trapped in headlights. She opens her mouth to say something to get herself out of the situation, but suddenly Emma is inviting her to sit, and her legs seem to be obliging all on their own ( she might not like the woman, but she’s certainly not rude enough to rebuff her entirely ). “It’s been a while.” She says awkwardly, before clearing her throat to try again, “Go on, then.”
Mary Macdonald’s name never belonged on Emma’s fickle, ever-changing and long list of friendships, even back at Hogwarts. They were never friends, but the Slytherin would argue that they were never enemies either. She didn’t understand how the other woman was perceiving the situation, but to her, things were simple. To her, things were always simple, especially when she had no ties to the situation she could pretend to forget in an instant. Perhaps, the burden of remembering fell heavier on Mary’s lips, but Emma’s spirit needed reconciliation. She couldn’t stand tension and wanted everything to be alright.
Still, she regretted everything a moment later, when she realized she would have to actually open her mouth and address the situation. She hadn’t even thought of how exactly to do that. Still, she noticed the fact that the other person sitting at the table seemed more uncomfortable than her, and she was happy that she wasn’t Marry in that moment, regardless of how prettily Mary’s new surname rang. Things were long gone. Everything was gone. Perhaps all Emma wanted was to bring it back for a moment, even if just in form of a rushed apology she hadn’t even thought through.
She didn’t go on -- not for a fairly long time. She just stared into a distant wall, trying to search for a right beginning. Still, Emma wasn’t the person to hesitate for long, even if she would be wrong. “Mary, look. Things are long buried, but it doesn’t change the fact that they were unfair to you. That I... perhaps left a bitter taste into your mouth on a day supposed to be nothing but honey and rose petals and other nice things I frankly don’t even understand all that well.” The position she was in was dreadful. She bit her tongue until the taste of iron replaced much more horrible words. “Fucking hell, Mary, if you prefer it that I pretend to never see any of you again on the street, then that’s fine, but I just thought it would be better, more mature... fairer to everybody, if we talked. I might be wrong. Just say the word and I’m done, erased.”
