Smotherer

[Mary MacDonald] [Gryffindor Alumni] [Flourish&Blotts Employee] "And every demon wants his pound of flesh But I like to keep some things to myself I like to keep my issues drawn It's always darkest before the dawn."

[hushed-lion]

Leave My Body // Remus & Mary

[libera-lupus]

Her lips parted as she began to speak at last, but the warm relief that he felt at her movement was quickly diminished and turned into ice at the inhuman scream that escaped her lips, tortured and broken and altogether alien in the black night. More animal than witch, the chilling sound echoed down the empty street, threatening to break Remus’ strong facade as he leaned over the anguished girl, feeling helpless and powerless against the battle she was obviously still fighting in her mind.

“Mary, Mary.” He whispered, his voice breaking as he shook his head with a frown, eyes wide as he lifted his hands away from her slowly, resting the urge to lift the girl into his arms and off from the cold, blood-stained pavement. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for letting this happen to you. I would never hurt you, I promise. All I want to do is help. You’re going to be okay. Everything will be alright.”

Looking over the girl’s broken form in the dim lighting, he bit his lip, breath catching at the brutality, feeling nothing less than disgust and loathing towards the monster who had dared do such a thing to her, the act unspeakable. Someone who allowed himself to care for very few in his life, Remus was not about to let someone he truly cared about go without a fight.  Justice would surely be served in due time, though at the moment, there was something that mattered much more than any revenge, and that was the beautiful girl that lay bleeding on the sidewalk, an angel whispering apologies for a devil’s crime.

“I need to get you to the hospital, Mary. They can take care of you there.” He stated with as much confidence as he could muster, her injuries extensive, needing to be looked after by a professional with more knowledge of healing than himself. However, the nearest infirmary was miles away, and apparating in her current state could easily stop her already weak heart in an instant. 

Knowing the value of each passing minute, he lifted his wand, his brow furrowed as he took in the largest of the injuries, mind running spells and incantations quickly. He wasn’t a professional, though the werewolf had had plenty of practice over the years in his own life, and could cauterize bleeding and mend a bone when he was only half-conscious himself, trusting enough in his abilities to be beneficial for Mary at the moment. All of this happened within a split second, the decision the only one that seemed to make sense, Mary’s time running out.

“I’m going to heal the main breaks on your legs and stop some of the bleeding before you lose too much blood. Afterwards, we can apparate to the hospital. You’re going to be fine, I promise.” He whispered, lifting his wand above her legs before carefully murmuring the incantation that would snap her bones into place once more. There was no pain potion available, but it appeared that she was far past the point of physical pain at the moment, a dark and grim reality. There was no glory to be found on the sides of streets under dim street lamps.

[hushed-lion]

Bits and fragments of Remus' words actually registered in Mary's mind, the others were unintentionally lost in the unconscious fog creeping its way through her mind. Speaking was a difficult task for the witch at the given time, her throat was rubbed raw from screaming and usually there were no words deemed important enough to use the remains of her energy on; though when she caught some of Remus' words she couldn't help but speak again. 

"No, no, no, no..."

The word was mumbled haphazardly though with conviction. He shouldn't be sorry, these events did not happen because of him and it wasn't his job to protect her. For now the only person she could fathom to blame was herself and it was a deadly thing that would slowly gnaw at her sanity over the years.

The hospital? No she couldn't go there, they would call her family and inconvenience them. The doctors would be frantic in their efforts to save her life, but who said she wanted that? Maybe this was fate's design, a brutal death for a quiet creature, a sign for the others of what monstrosities the Death Eaters would do. It wouldn't be a completely terrible demise, one that truly didn't happen for not. No information was given no matter how many cracks in her skin were created, so that was a small victory Mary allowed herself. She wouldn't die alone, Remus was by her side. She wanted to reach out and sooth his worried features, wanted to tell him the pain faded along with her blood, but no such words were possible now. The sun was setting and so it pulled Mary's time along with it.

Remus spoke again but Mary heard less and less of her words, everything around her sounding more like muffled static as blackness creeped along her vision. The snapping of her bones was heard but not felt, past the point of any sensation she was, it all blurred into one grey area with no light at the end of the tunnel.

Shallow breaths that were barely detectable kept on, oxygen filtering into battered lungs as Mary struggled to keep her eyes open and focused on Remus. Oh how she had missed him, war times kept her locked inside usually with no time for visitors, though her friends were always in the forefront of her mind. He was here now and that counted for something, right? Fighting the dense wave of unconsciousness was proving more and more difficult as time went on, so with whatever energy was left in Mary's broken bones, she moved her hand forward, slender fingers attempting to grasp his before time ran out.

[hushed-lion]

Sleepsong // Dorcas & Mary

[doeofthemeadowes-deactivated201]

The nurses had assured her that Mary wouldn’t wake until morning, all due to heavy muggle medications. Prior to the hospitals policy, a code of conduct the witch had failed to look at when entering, all visiting hours were closed to Mary’s ward due to the sensitive nature of the patient. A patient they blatantly knew nothing about if they insisted in keeping her surrounded by muggle doctors and not highly trained healers.

At the announcement Dorcas had bitten her own tongue to hold back any snarky quip there idiocy deserved, and instead nodded passively with no sign of thankfulness in her pale eyes. It was for that reason, under the guise of a glamour charm, she was sitting beside her friend’s bedside silently; a book in hand portraying a startling white rabbit and a cute blonde girl.

For all there security, muggles truly knew nothing of seeing through weak dilution magic, yet another reason Mary had to be moved.

Her ankles were crossed and propped up on the bed beside the girl’s waist, from there Doe was leaning back within a wholly uncomfortable plastic chair. On occasion Mary would twitch in her restless sleep, eyelids’ flicking from where they were closed in a sign of subconscious activity. A patch-work doll of broken bones and scarred skin, Doe had paused to take in every cut and bandage littering her friend’s prone form. She’d been warned at the lobby that quick movements and unrequested touches weren’t allowed. Something about scaring the patient in her fragile state. Yet, Dorcas had taken the other girl’s hand in her own - her touch familiar to when she comforted the younger witch back in Hogwarts.

The darker cocoa complexion of the Mary’s skin contrasted startlingly against Doe’s alabaster; interlocking fingers never letting go no matter how much she moved, the only movement of her own being the swipe of her thumb along the girl’s bruised knuckles softly. Gentle words whispered in the air once Dorcas was sure no nurse would interrupt, the lilting accented tones bringing a security to the fairy-tale she was reading aloud to the unconscious girl – ever so patiently waiting out the deep hold of sleep. 

[hushed-lion]

Each inhale of breath would prove rather painful if not for her deeply numbed state. The witch was not unfamiliar with muggle healing and hospitals, she was in fact a muggle born so policies and natures were completely normal to her. Often she could feel the slight unease of her friends when they entered the room, unsure of just what every wire and tube was room and if it was doing any good. Still she did not speak, but they were reassured that it didn't hurt anymore and everything was fine.

A funny statement actually, "everything is fine". It was a go to phrase, kept in Mary's back pocket for times of reassurance; though often when she used it to consult herself, she found the words lacking in truth.

She was alive, that was one brownie point she allowed herself to recognize; but pieces of Mary were missing now, major pieces. She could no longer have children, a large ugly C was branded on her chest, her mental sanity was questionable, and no longer did she have the desire to speak. Bigger and bigger pieces of Mary MacDonald could only be chipped away for so long until there simply was nothing left.

The current images that were passing through her unconscious mind were the ones that played on repeat like a bad movie. At the moment, she was at the diner, quiet and alone as she contemplated just where she would live now that her apartment had burned to the ground. Just a few more seconds and that front bell would ring and Amycus would stroll in, forcing her mind to relive every second of torture. But oh, now that was odd. Still she sat but the scenery around her changed dramatically, dull diner walls were replaced with grey trees and a darkening sky, the ground below her now lush green grass.

There was a soft voice in the distance, calm and familiar to Mary. With curious eyes she glanced around, noting that she was now wearing a light blue dress and something was moving closer. Millions of questions shot through her brain but there was no one to answer them and she would not speak them aloud. So, with whatever curious faith Mary had, she began to walk through the darkened fields of what she would soon find out to be Wonderland.

Dorcas' story had shut away the routine nightmares and traded them for a familar children's story. A blessing in disguise; Mary's movements became less panicked, her breathing evening out as she listened on.

[psych-facts]

You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy.

Andrea Gibson, "The Nutritionist" (via psych-facts)

[hushed-lion]

Sleepsong // Dorcas & Mary

Not even various rounds of heavy medication could take away the phantom pains that haunted the young witch as she lay immobile in bed. The breaks in her bones prevented much movement, and paired with the wires moving was an infinitesimal thought that rarely registered in her mind. She had lay and hung in the same spot for days during her capture and once again she was motionless; her bones aching in agony and pleading to be free.

Roughly 90% of Mary's time was spent in a medicated sleep, "for her own good" they said, but they didn't know. The professionals didn't know how those two figures lurked in the corners of her mind and struck fear in her heart, but not for her own sake, for the sake of those who visited. Still she was concerned for the safety of her friends, simply being around her was a hazardous fact that no one could say was false. Innocent people in that small muggle diner had lost their lives trying to stand up for the girl as she was yanked out onto the street. As much as she tried to put the blame on Amycus, it was her fault; right?

Sometimes when the woman was awoken the muggle police would be present, serious expressions as they questioned her about just what had happened. They got the same response everyone did, silence.

Even if Mary could find the will to speak there was no point in telling the police force just what had happened. The people who had mangled her body were magic and there for untraceable.

The radio on her bedside played haunting melodies throughout the day, though now, like most times, she could not hear it. It was dragging well into the night and Mary's eyes were closed, disturbing images flashing behind her lids as her tattered body lay tucked in blankets that could not hid the cuts and mangled flesh.

[hushed-lion]

If you were a library book, I would check you out.

Cheesy pickup line or not, it still earns a quarter of a smile from the witch.

[therealcassmoney]

the lamb and her protector | mary & marlene

The note clutched tightly in her hands she walks into the London Bridge Hospital. It had taken her a long time to read Mary’s handwriting, which scared her. Her writing was normally so well done, that it blew Marlene’s chicken scratch writing out of the water. But now? Marlene wasn’t able to read her writing very well. She was scared… and a scared Marlene McKinnon could also be a dangerous one.

Heading to the front desk, she slaps her hand down on the counter. “I need to see Mary MacDonald now. Right now.” Her voice is hard edged and she grits her teeth, trying to keep her emotions in track. No one wants to see Marlene when she flies off the handle. It wasn’t a pretty sight. And she didn’t want to loose her cool in front of strangers. No. She had to remain calm. 

Why was Mary in the hospital? Had something bad happened to her? Marlene’s heart is pounding, the worry making her antsy and the endless questions racing through her head. Scenarios rush through her head and she’s scared, so scared. Mary MacDonald was one of her best friends, so sweet, so kind, wouldn’t hurt a fly. She vowed to protect her from any harm… but if any harm actually came her way… she was going to lose it.

She ignores the looks that she receives as she bounds down the hallways, not even bothering with the lifts, which will always scare her and intrigue her at the same damn time, and uses the stairs, heading up to were Mary’s room is. Looking through the window of the room, she has to take a step back, her breath catching in her throat, tears burning her eyes. “Mary?” She sees wires, so many wires and sees something moving on what looked to be some sort of screen. She’s never been in a muggle hospital before. But those wires must not be a good thing.

She takes a few deep breaths, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the tears. Once she’s composed herself at least a little bit, she enters the room, her eyes never leaving the woman in the bed, looking so small… so small. “Mary? Hey, it’s… Marls…”

[hushed-lion]

For the umpteenth time that week, time was whizzing by without Mary's notice; minutes turning into hours as she lay in a drugged sleep. Surgery was long, trying to undo what Bellatrix had done was impossible but they had to repair her stomach and womb to an acceptable state and get the excessive bleeding to stop. Neat stitches lined their way across her abdomen, the skin colored string found in many places along her body. Stitches on her arms and legs, back and head, no space was free from repair. 

And Mary didn't feel a thing.

Grateful she was for muggle medicine, so powerful it could tug your subconscious into a coma like state and reduce your feeling to nothing. Such heavy sedation isn't recommended for all, but for someone enduring as much physical trauma as she, it was a necessity.  

The intensive care unit was fairly quiet save the beeping of various machines and nurses whispering on break. People had come and gone from her room, Mary had someone convinced Remus without words to get some rest in the family waiting room; her mother and father had visited while she was sedated, signed some paperwork and then left. They wouldn't return, that much Mary knew; it was the only pain that broke through her medicated haze.

Heavy lids soon pulled themselves open, the medication wearing off for just a bit and allowing Mary into the world of reality for awhile, though she desperately preferred the coma like state. Glad she was for the blankets, the hid her unsightly skin and the branding mark in the middle of her chest. Coffee hues stayed fixed on the alabaster wall directly in front of her, never wavering as thoughts clouded her mind. 

"Mary?"

She blinked, a bit confused by the voice, had she imagined it? No, there it was again. With snail like motions she shifted her head, turning to the left to view a familiar blonde. Oh how glad Mary was that she was under heavy medication, if not she would have burst into tears at the mere sight of her friend looking so scared. She wanted to tell her it was alright and not to worry, but for some reason the witch had not spoken a word since she entered the hospital, common for victims of sever trauma.

Instead of words, a quarter smile was offered up for a brief second before her face fell neutral again, her left hand turning right side up despite the IV imbedded in her skin, an offer.

[truthdevil]

[hushed-lion]

Tattered Frames // Alastor & Mary

[aurormoody]

Alastor was used to the feeling of standing out in a crowd. His height and unfriendly expression made him easily recognizable in any environment. But in the muggle hospital, pale and sickly in its entirety, punctuated only by faded colors that painted a false and ineffective picture of happiness to comfort the patients in their pain, he couldn’t be missed.

The enchantment in his identification soon allowed them to let him pass, but suspicious looks followed him all the way across the room he was told MacDonald was in. He wondered if the strong smell in the air was an attempt to cover up the persistent stench of death and disease that always lingered in that sort of place. If it was, it failed miserably. Disinfectant and foul smelling soup only exacerbated the aura of rottenness the whole place seemed to exhale.

He spotted Mary Macdonald’s frail body, lying on the hospital bed even before he entered the room. There was a tube attacked to her hand, one of those awful muggle cures that seemed as invasive as the torture itself. She hardly even looked conscious, but nothing in her expression suggested peacefulness and it would have been foolish to expect otherwise. They would never have allowed her to escape without making sure that she was permanently damaged somehow, without taking what they wanted from her.

He sat in a chair near the bed, waiting for her to regain consciousness and avoiding looking directly at her face, as if there was something indecorous about seeing someone so vulnerable. She blinked, seemingly awakening from her sleep, and Alastor remained silent for a while, unsure of what to say. Instead, he found himself reaching for her hand, tapping it instead of holding it in his own in an attempt of reassurance.

“You’re a tough one, MacDonald.” He would have to make her relieve those memories, to fumble around in her head for clues about what had happened, but it was what it took to see those bastards rot in Azkaban, it had to be done.

[hushed-lion]

The sudden yet light tap upon her hand created a mild panic inside of Mary. Part of her wondered Amycus was back to finish the job, and the other half of her knew there was nothing worse that could be done; besides, any sudden movements were out of the question. The beeping of the heart monitor sped up momentarily but eventually settled again, the gruff voice to her right was a familiar one that she knew would bring her now harm.

Alastor Moody.

With difficulty she shifted her head, an immediate ache beginning again but she endured all the same. Slowly she blinked at the familiar man, taking in his features and the charmed ID that was obvious to her but not the others. It was nice to be in the presence of friend again (silently she plead with Remus to depart and get some rest), but then again a lump of guilt rose steadily in her throat.

The guilt stemmed from various roots but the most prominent one was the fact that simply being near her could endanger others. Alastor was potentially in danger by being in the same room as her, the helpless patients were in danger as well if the Death Eaters sought her out again, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

That fact burned in the back of her throat, swelling emotions and raising her body temperature by a fraction. A shuddered breath was taken in, lungs pressing again shattered ribs for a few seconds before the carbon dioxide was expelled, though ill thoughts still remained.

Tough? Was she truly or was she simply... durable? For a while she simply blinked at him, the battered features of her caramel skin remaining neutral and giving no hint of the pain she was in. Undoubtedly Alastor had questions and Mary had answers, getting her to speak would prove to be the most difficult part.

Fragile fingers shifted, repeating the same tapping motion on the back of Moody's hand to simply tell him thank you.

[brotherstories]

Visit Original Link

[hushed-lion]

Far away mold and us Darkness looms, looms here Death is near, you stop rustling

Singled out, no hope Myself blinded, more than enough And I submissively stepped out the door

[hushed-lion]

Kolnidur // Sirius & Mary

"She doesn't talk, like at all."

"Well with the state that she's in, would you?"

They thought Mary couldn't hear them, but she heard every word. The chatter of daily gossip was a regular thing around the hospital, especially in the intensive care unit. In some ways the whispers that carried through the alabaster walls were justified, being surrounded by so much misfortune simply begged for comic relief. So they chattered on while patients came and went with urgency.

The witch had under gone a major surgery when Remus rushed her in, a procedure to get her body stabilized again and the excessive bleeding to cease. From there on out they had her under close watch, various wires and tubes delivering medicine, oxygen, and blood. Muggle healing took much longer than the professional witches and wizards, but Mary was in the system now and there was no way she could even fathom gathering the strength to get out of the building. Her parents had dropped by once, scolding the unconscious girl before telling the doctors to send them the bill, and then they never came back.

Mary hadn't expected visitors and part of her didn't want them. They would see her, tears would swell in their eyes and her already bruised heart would suffer even more. Mary endured the pain to keep them all safe and would do it all again without question. Her body was fragile but her will to keep going and protect was stronger than any force of nature.

Slowly she began to awaken, heavily bruised eye lids lifting in mild confusion, the first few minutes of consciousness were always blurred between reality and nightmare; but eventually she made out the plain walls and static of the nearby radio they keep on a low volume to compete with the beeping of the heart monitor. They nurses were right, however, she didn't speak. There was simply nothing to say; the only sounds that came from Mary were ones of distress in critical times.

Forward she lurched with a violent cough, flicks of blood streaming from her lips, the sound alerting a near by doctor. With urgency he entered the room, tugging a nurse with him to get Mary settled again, pressing a cloth to her mouth as he gentle pushed her backwards to lay against the mattress. With panic her chest rose and fell, breaths difficult to fathom past the crimson that streamed steady for a few more seconds then ceased.

Another round of medicine later, Mary was staring out the window to her right, rain splattering against the glass as it poured from the grey clouds overhead. Oh god she was tired, limbs cracked and broken, the skin of her chest now branded with a large 'C', but still she could not find it in herself to sleep, it was even worse than being awake.

[hushed-lion]

Mare, where are you? Are you okay? I haven't heard from you in a while... starting to worry me. I miss you. - Marls

It caused quite a scene actually, an Owl perched at the front doors of the hospital with a letter addressed to one of the patience, refusing to leave. After a good hour of staring and whispering, one person bucked up to snag the letter, finding that the Owl meant no harm. Luckily they'd just awoken Mary, her mind was foggy but she was conscious enough to understand what was going on.

The familiar handwriting brought on a new type of pain, pinging deep within her chest. Marlene.

Oh, she missed her dearly; but what could she say? 'Hi, my house burned down, I was kidnapped, tortured, and responsible for the deaths of innocent muggles?' 

It was the truth, but the truth was a little hard to muck up at this point in time. The letter back would be in Mary's handwriting, but it was highly illegible.

Marlene,      

         Don't worry about me. I miss you too. I'm at London Bridge Hospital. 

                                                                                     Mary.

[hushed-lion]

Do you have any regrets?

Honestly Mary can’t tell who asked the question; a slew of doctors and nurses were filtering into her room at the moment, bustling around with urgency. Someone said something about another surgery, someone else said blood transfusion. It all simply sounded like static but that question rung out clear as day.

Any regrets?

Running.

[hushed-lion]

You should rely on your friends more, Mary. I'm sure they'd be happy to help.

Only conscious a few hours out of the day, someone always manages to bombard the witch with questions. Most times she does not answer, and she will not answer now.

Still she sits hooked up to various machines and in states of unconsciousness she’s plagued with questions, voices, and nightmares. Rely on them? She wants to protect them not thrust them in harms way. And oh what would they think of her? “Mary can’t take care of herself, we always have to look out for her.”

She didn’t want that, she didn’t want to be a burden. Mary just wanted to go back to sleep. So with the quiet ticking of the heart monitor she slipped back into sleep.

[hushed-lion]

Leave My Body // Remus & Mary

[libera-lupus]

Walking down the hard concrete of the sidewalk, the early fall breeze whipped past Remus’ face, the cool air running through his thin sweater easily. The sun had set over an hour ago, and all had taken to their homes, the lights that burned inside just barely visible behind closed drapes. 

He rarely visited this section of town, filled with it’s large, stately manors and finely manicured lawns. The neatness of it all was almost eerie, not a thing appearing to be out of place on the dark street, lit occasionally by a tall lamp, offering a faint glow of light close to the front of each home. No, this was not the place for a wolf.

Remus had been walking the solitary path as a part of his scouting work for the Order, although that assignment had been given when the sun still stood high in the sky, hours ago. Time seemed to pass so easily when he was on his own, and Remus quickly found that he didn’t mind the assignment. Walking and monitoring was simple. It was repetitive and easy, and gave purpose to each of his movements. Any time that could be spent away from his lonely, constricting flat was preferable. 

Until now, he hadn’t observed anything out of the ordinary. The occasional crack erupted by the street, a Pure-Blood apparting back home, he supposed. Movement within the cavernous homes seemed few and far between, too muffled and indistinguishable to prove useful. Beyond that, he didn’t have anything questionable to report, and had figured that coming back home would have been acceptable before then, though there was something that prompted him to continue, an instinct he would later be very happy he followed.

Two street lamps down from where he walked lay something interesting. A dark mass, too vague to make out at this distance, lay still in front of one of the large manors, the occupants yet unknown to Remus. Squinting slightly, Remus glanced to each of his sides and around his back, grateful that he had been the only one on the lonely street at the moment, and moved with purpose now, his curiosity taking over. It was only after he moved closer, and the mass took a broken human shape, that this curiosity turned to concern. The smell of fresh, metallic blood hung in the air, sickeningly strong to the werewolf’s heightened senses. Something was wrong.

Closer to a run now, Remus closed the distance between him and the figure easily, eyes dark and hardened as he came to rest on his knees, the faint light from the lamp illuminating a face, to his horror, he found he knew well. The girl’s chocolate skin and raven hair were unmistakable, even beneath the dried blood, her petite body contorted in an impossible way.

“Mary,” Remus whispered, eyes wide as he tried to comprehend what he saw, willing it to be a flaw. This girl was so different from the women that sat in Order meetings, so impossibly brave and determined, healthy and strong. She had last been seen four days ago, the facts matching up too well for his liking. If she was alive, it was only just barely, so broken and still in the clear autumn night. Reaching out a pale hand to her neck, he pressed two fingers gently against the surface, waiting desperately for the telling signs of a pulse. Never before had time seem to pass so slowly, until he finally detected a faint, weak pulse.

“Mary, can you hear me?” He spoke quickly, unsure yet if she was still conscious or not, death on her lips, threatening to take the beautiful girl before her time. He fleetingly hoped his voice sounded more confident than he felt. “It’s Remus. Remus Lupin, from the Order. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now; you’re going to be alright.”

[hushed-lion]

Remus' warm touch went unnoticed, his attendance along the empty street didn't register in her mind at all. In and out of consciousness she floated, teetering on the edge of a cliff. She could easily be pushed, plummeting down into death's metaphorical trenches; but somehow her body wasn't willing to let go, even though her mind had already made its decision.

So much blood surrounded her body, creating a malicious pool for which the Death Eaters loved, filthy crimson where it belonged. The white dress she adorned out of mockery had long lost its pure color, stained red with streaks of dirty black. She was meant to be a message, to show the Order and the other muggle borns just what would become of them; they expected her to instill fear if she ever recovered. Mary would do no such thing.

If the witch could actually hear Remus, see his face twisted in such distraught, it would break her heart and she would would tell him: "it's alright, it doesn't hurt." All her life she tried to please others and keep them happy; please parents that would never truly love her, please the others to keep them from lashing out, and keep her friends with those bright smiles that she loved. With times of war it was harder to keep positivity flowing, but now she was the source of discomfort and worry for Remus, and that's something she never wanted.

"D-don't touch me..... Don't touch me!", she spoke with a whisper at first that morphed into a full blown scream. It took what miniscule amount of energy she had left to yell those words, but she believe Remus to be another Death Eater come to resume the torture yet again. Part of her withering body wanted to crawl away, to somehow escape those evil clutches that would only inflict more pain, and the other half invited the devils in the flesh to simply finish the job. But alas, Mary could do no such thing, her body could not move, her bones shattered to impossible lengths; so instead she lay there in fleeting agony, unaware that she was in the company of an old friend.

Mary rather adored Remus, the two could always be found talking quietly at a large party, speaking of current events or a new fact they had found tucked away in a dust book. His company she enjoyed, his voice was sweet and his nature kind, similarities to be found between the two souls.

With a chest that barely rose and feel, the broken ribs pressing down on her lungs, Mary continued on pulling in struggled breaths, actually managing to open her eyes a small amount. Beneath bruised eye lids her brown orbs glanced around, trying to look upon the face of her new attacker, but she was greeted with no such person. There sat Remus Lupin like a shinning light of hope in a tsunami of agony. Mary had no words, talking was as difficult as staying conscious, moving was out of the question so she simply started, her gaze lingering on a familiar face as the edge of her vision began to fade to black once again.

"I'm so sorry."

[ohhelga]

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” ― Charlotte Brontë

4k graphic giveaway (x); morrelled

[capstiles-deactivated20140602]

[hushed-lion]

Strength: both a gift and a curse.

[hushed-lion]

Tattered Frames // Alastor & Mary

There it was again, that irritating ringing; or was it more like a buzzing?

The noise was infinitesimal at best, but Mary still heard it each and every time her eyes struggled open and her consciousness surfaced. There was beeping to be heard as well, though she didn't notice it accelerated every time she woke: a heart monitor. In truth, Mary didn't know where she was at all. The witch remembered the past week up until Remus found her inches from death on the sidewalk. She remembered screaming at him an hoarse voice not to touch her, and then nothing. 

If her eyes would stay open for more than a moment, she would recognize the alabaster walls of a hospital room. She would take in the smell of various chemicals and notice the IV in her arm, the stitches littering her body and the recently removed tube from her throat.

When her mind did surface from the deep and thick fog swirling within her body, Mary could hear the whisper people as they moved around the room, though no voices were familiar. She could have sworn she heard the irritated voice of her mother, but she wasn't sure. The phrase "lucky to be alive" was heard often and if Mary was able to do anything other than lay there, she would have scoffed.

She wasn't lucky, she was damned.

Death was in her immediate grip but somehow she'd slipped through the cracks. The majority of her still wanted that peace that came with death, only a fraction of herself knew that the pain had to be endured.

Now she blinked, once, then twice; her eyes opening for the first time in hours, squinting as they took in the unfamiliar surroundings with caution.