a lion still has CLAWS.

yeah, i repair myself when you're not there mary macdonald xxii. activist. red lipstick and tea enthusiast.

[dorkussm]

i got kicked out. this is what happened. there are some really important additions to the post as well. also, the defending of pedophilia after the fact by a member in the group – if you’d like screenshots pls let me know.  i hope y’all leave this mess as multiple people have come to me ( and others ) after this telling me about their negative experiences as well. 

[macdnald-a]

carrowing:

This was the part of the assignment Amycus hadn’t wanted. He had been fine keeping tabs on Pettigrew. He was fine even disguising himself and mingling among the less desirables from time to time, but he knew full well that the minute you put a face the the enemy it was harder to blast them into oblivion. That was exactly what he was doing now. Sitting among them, making up bullshit about some hard times, and listening to what the war effort was doing to innocents. Children. Mothers. If Amycus listened hard enough, he might’ve started to think they didn’t deserve it. They couldn’t do anything to change their circumstances, after all, but it was their fault for not trying harder to be on the winning side. It was their fault for rebelling. It was their fault for stepping out.

When Mary had arrived, Amycus had been something that must’ve been close to anxious. If anyone was going to realize who he was, it was likely to be her. Instead, she approached him afterwards and smiled and asked for his name. She was pretty. It was a shame that she was another step on his ladder to help the cause. “Lewis,” He fumbled to remember, but smiled at her sympathetically, as if this had all been rather draining. 

“It was a bit of a downer, but it’s nice to know there are people out there who feel the same way I do,” He finally managed after thinking on his words. He managed to play it off in a way that sounded nervous rather than like he was making things up on the spot. He had gotten his hands on a beer bottle and settled in a corner to observe everyone leisurely, not expecting to be jumped by Mary Fucking MacDonald out of nowhere. “You’re uh…you’re the girl who runs this place, yeah?”

New members were probably the hardest part of these meetings. On one hand, you wanted to make sure that they felt welcomed, that they felt heard and supported, but on another, there was so much risk involved. The fact that the groups were open to strangers was something Mary knew to be potentially dangerous, but she wasn’t going to make them completely private to avoid any risk. Nothing had gone wrong thus far, after all, not with the support groups. They were an untainted part of RED, not yet ruined by Death Eaters.

“Lewis,” she repeated, sticking out her hand. “I’m Mary.” She observed the other for a moment, her thoughts racing --- her head seemed to never be quiet, her thoughts always going faster than her body ever could. She tried to remember what he’d told, bits of sentences said in his voice coming up. It was good that he’d come --- it was good that all of them came. Solidarity was key in times like these, as was conversation.

Nodding along to his words, she gave him an empathetic smile. “I get how you feel. The meetings become a little less ... tiring after a while, especially once you get to know more people and everything,” she explained. Mary hoped, secretly, in an incredibly cheesy way, that this would all somehow help forge friendships. “And I am. The woman, actually --- I don’t think I classify as a girl any more.” The latter part of her sentence was said with a slight wink, even if the word girl had rubbed her the wrong way slightly. “So, if you have any questions or comments, I’m your gal --- or woman.”

[hestiathemuggleborn]

questioned || OPEN

[macdnald-a]

hestiathemuggleborn:

“Of course I do,” Hestia said, the words rushing out like an exhaled breath, a prayer. She squeezed Mary’s hand again, trying to convey her confidence and support to her friend. “I know you will be.” Hestia wished she had skills at Divination or the ability to see the future so she could offer the other woman something tangible. The fact that Mary wanted reassurance from her at all touched Hestia. Mary was so strong and capable. She was a force of nature. That she would accept comfort from Hestia warmed the younger girl, made her feel valued.

“Things will get better,” she said firmly. Hestia didn’t fool herself. She knew that the next few years would be difficult. The Death Eaters would not go quietly. But the Order would not give up. RED would not give up. And they would triumph. They had to. 

“Besides, we’re survivors, all right?” Hestia added with a smile, nudging Mary with her shoulder. Mary was not only a survivor, but a fighter. Her struggles made her stronger, more determined. Hestia admired the woman who had taken her setbacks and used them to propel her forward. It was what Hestia tried to do as well.

Mary smiled, though softly. She was so tired, in that moment, her small question of whether she’d be alright seeming to have woken up all the doubt that had been quiet today. It weighed on her much heavier than usually, all of the sudden, and she wished to be home, buried in her bed, a bottle of some strong liquor by her side. That was not to say that Hestia wasn’t comforting --- she was just not numbing. The younger witch awoke emotions in Mary, whereas alcohol put them to sleep. “Thank you,” said, not really knowing what else to say. 

She shrugged, rubbed her finger with one from another hand. “They have to,” she said, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could deal with things going as they would. “And they will.” There was a lack of faith in her voice that she despised, but at least she tried to be optimistic.

Mary let her lips curl in a small grin, nudging the other back. “Hell yes, we are,” she said. And that was the only thing she was sure of --- that she was a survivor, that she wouldn’t let anything knock her down enough for her to not get up again. She saw that in Hestia, too; the way she was comforting Mary now, when she was being framed for murder was on its own proof that she had incredible strength and kindness that she didn’t see in many these days.

[macdnald-a]

jemxpotter:

“A little bit of both, honestly. I didn’t realize what a foul mouth she had until that moment, and then I knew I’d made the right choice.” He grinned as he said the words, but they weren’t really true. He had known from the moment he met her that he had made the right choice, and he would have waited forever just to have the chance at the life that he was living now. A life where everything was turning out right for them somehow, even in the midst of so many other things not going how they wanted. 

“It’s almost impossible to avoid saying any swear words. How can you possibly not? I mean, do people like that really exist because I have questions for them.” His farther had always been as foul-mouthed as James was, and if he was being honest, he was surprised that his own first word hadn’t been something that would make the house-elves blush. His mother - she had always tried to restrain herself, which had only made it funnier in the long run when she slipped and said something so foul everyone in the vicinity had needed to laugh. “I just need to get him to the point where he understands the word no. Right now he just thinks it’s a game and does things just to go against us.” 

He pressed a hand to his heart, thinking of a world where his son didn’t make it to a Quidditch team. “I think I’d have to trade him for someone else if he didn’t make it. There’s a Potter legacy there that can’t be broken. Very serious things.” Harry could never play Quidditch and it still wouldn’t change how James felt about him, but he wouldn’t be James if he didn’t make a joke about it all. “Mary Macdonald has a fear? That in and of itself is shocking. I was starting to think you were invincible or something.” 

She let out a laugh. “Hearing Lily swear is a beautiful yet rare occurrence.” For Mary, swearing was like a second nature, something she did with such ease that she barely even noticed it when she did it. “That was a bit late to realise that though, wasn’t it? Maybe it’s better to realise that someone’s right for you before you conceive a child with them,” she teased. She was pretty sure James had known before Lily had gone into labour, but she liked playing along. 

Mary nodded in agreement. “Those people are inhuman,” she said. She thought of her parents, too. While they never swore much, they had done so quite colourful a few times. Her mother, especially, was capable of letting a long stream of Spanish swears slip from her mouth, only to turn a bright red after. Mary had thought it scandalous as a child, now found it endearing. “And there’s a few people enabling him too, I’m sure. I’m not saying any names, but seriously? Black is a great colour.” A grin spread on her lips. “And me, maybe, a little. I have little filter when I’m not working --- it’s a problem.”

She laughed. “I’ll take him, if he doesn’t. Show him what unconditional love is and all when his Quidditch-obsessed father could not.” Mary didn’t mean it, of course: she thought James and Lily were wonderful parents, and that Harry was a rather lucky kid. “Don’t tell the press --- I like having a reputation of being invincible.” She let out a soft chuckle. “But I’ve got plenty of fears, don’t worry. Fire’s one of the biggest though, used to be my Boggart for a long time.” She thought of what it now was, her stomach tight. She’d only encountered her new one only once --- Marlene’s dead eyes staring up at her, blood covering her skin --- and didn’t want to think about it, especially not with James near. “It’s because our neighbours’ barn burned down when I was a kid. Thought it’d happen to our farm too, but it never did.”

[macdnald-a]

doxcas:

She always thought about how if times were different ( if she were different ), she’d have greeted Mary with a hug, that maybe if she wasn’t so emotionally damaged & detached due to occupation and circumstance, she could’ve smiled, openly been as friendly as she wanted to be. As she could’ve been. There was so much that COULD’VE BEEN – but she wondered, would she have done anything different now that she truly knew what she was losing? What she could’ve had? Dorcas knew the smart answer was no, knew that a younger her would say no – she did what she had to do. But was it enough? Did it feel good now? No. It didn’t. Soul sickness followed her, even if it was worth it in the long run, would Mary ( or her ) even survive long enough to see the work she put into this war actually pay off?

What could’ve been weighed on her like a second, no, third life. Possibilities haunted her as much as the horrible things she’d done did. Especially to people like Mary. “There’s more body parts than just breasts? I’ve been reading some outdated biology books, then.” For now, she felt content, she had to live in the now, even if just to have this conversation with Mary. 

At the book sale, Dorcas could completely understand – she loved books. Adored them. Fell into their pages, losing herself in story after story as a release. Her eyebrows raised, wanting to the deets. “Which shop?” Scoffing, she almost let out a bitter laugh but rolled her eyes instead,“the rumors are terrible and cruel, but honey, most of them are true - as the GREAT Taylor Swift says. They’ve really really loved throwing your name under the bus even more than usual due to recent events.” Mary definitely knew what she meant, so she didn’t clarify further, “I’ve actually needed some new reading material if you’d care to show me where it is or do I know it already? Do they have books in different languages as well or just English?  You always find the most intriguing bookstores, quite impressive how you’re able to find those nooks and crannies.”

There was something about Dorcas that made Mary want to know her better. She was something of an enigma, a friend that she didn’t know as she would like to. It wasn’t as if she was suspicious or didn’t trust the other, it was just that there seemed to be so much ROOM in between them that they could fill with a deeper friendship than they had. Mary knew better than to try and push such a thing, believed that friendships had to grow organically, and so she enjoyed every moment she got with the other. Besides, it wasn’t as if it was she was blaming the other for their level of closeness; Mary liked distance, didn’t mind it, thought it better, wise. With people dropping dead as flies -- her thoughts jumped to Marlene -- it was better not to get too invested.

Not that she could stop herself from doing so, either way. She didn’t do things halfway, after all.

“Were they books written by fourteen year old boys who think that seeing breasts is a religious experience?,” wondered Mary, a small grin curling her lips. She was more of a butt-person herself, in all honesty. “But there are a few, yes. If you need some biology lessons, you should ask my brother, aspiring surgeon and fan of being a know-it-all.” Not that she planned on mingling her wizarding life more with her family life, but it was nice to bring Gabriel up in conversation.

“I actually dunno what it’s called, but it’s one here, next to Florean Fortescue’s? It’s really nice. I love old books.” She wasn’t a sentimentalist, not really, but reading books that had been read by others before her was something she thought incredibly intriguing. To know another pair of eyes had read those words, to know that they had maybe cried or laughed at certain parts ... it was nice to think about. It made her feel less lonely, somehow. “I’m trying not to pay too much attention to it,” she said, mind flashing to articles that had mentioned her name. “They’re just looking for someone to blame. There’s enough positive messages out there, though, so it’s alright.” It really wasn’t, but there wasn’t much she could do about asshole journalists. She had learned that a few years ago. “Oh, we can definitely go together, yeah! But you’ll have to stop me from getting any more books --- I’ve got no self control. And yeah, they have some different languages for sure; I got a few books in Spanish, and I’m super hyped about it.”

[macdnald-a]

marleymicks:

Marlene could feel the cold sweat of familiar discomfort dripping down her spine.  Still though, she grinned in spite of herself at the smile from her long-time friend, one corner of her mouth hitching up higher than the other.  Mary was probably the one person in the whole fucking world, aside from James and Lily, who would probably see through her facade as Eliza the fastest.  Her best mate, a friend she loved with all her heart…it hurt, not to wrap her in a bear hug and scream “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me” but at the same time…

Mary was alive, and safe.  That was all that mattered, really, in the long run.  “Yeah, well, it was that or ‘hippogriff tits’ and hey, it just doesn’t have quite the same punch does it?”

Marlene pushed some of “Eliza’s” curls out of her eyes, frowning slightly as she mock-inspected herself for damage.  “I dunno; pretty sure you might have cracked something.  Oh, no wait – that’s just the butterbeer.  Nothing a good old Reparo can’t cure, really.  So…er…sorry about that.  You out by yourself?” 

She wasn’t sure what made her say it – and in fact, she almost instantly regretted it.  Still, though, while she knew Mary was tough, she’d feel better knowing her best friend wasn’t on her own.

“That one is pretty neat, too,” she said, saving hippogriff’s tits for future use in a corner of her mind. She was intrigued, by this conversation, that was something she couldn’t deny. To talk with a stranger about which swears worked better in the middle of a street in London was not something she did very often, after all. “But I agree, it doesn’t. I’m sure another situation will call for hippogrif’s tits soon, and you’ll be able to use that then.”

At the other’s question, however, Mary felt queasy --- who asked someone if they were out by themselves? It could be a come on, she supposed, but it was something someone would say in a bar or a club, not on the street. Paranoid worry filled her up before she could stop it. She could feel it flow through her veins like a thick, poisonous mud.

“Hush, it was my fault. Don’t apologise,” she said, her tone still conversational despite the worries swirling in her head. Was this what she had become? Someone who tried to seek the meaning behind everyone’s words, worried that there was some double meaning?

She supposed it was better to be careful and paranoid than to be reckless. “I’m meeting a friend in a minute,” she replied. It was a lie, but she didn’t care much --- she didn’t owe this stranger the truth. “But right now it’s just me.”

[macdnald-a]

remusxsrsly:

Remus was finding himself become more and more anxious as the night went on, and for no reason other than the movie night. He had been planning on asking Mary for weeks now, but he never came up when they hung out and he couldn’t even bring it up until the day of. He was so excited for her, even though he knew she must be freaking out. After the last event- Mary was going to be on edge for a majority of the night, and she had every reason to be. Remus hoped he could help her through some of it, even if it was just standing there telling people to leave her alone. He smiled at that thought, as if he was some kind of body guard. 

He finally got the guts to text Mary about whether or not she would be at her own event, but there was neither here or there and he would just have to make whatever happened happen. He smiled as her snarky child response, before making his way in that direction. The area was already busy and becoming more and more hectic as he pushed his way through people just to find the woman holding a phone in one hand and an anxious look on her face. He brushed her arm with his hand, holding her elbow for the slightest moment just to let her know he was there. 

“Busy?” Remus asked with the gentlest smile he could muster up without feeling like a puppet and letting out a deep breath. “This even looks to be a pretty big hit,” He continued, relaxing his shoulders as he looked around to see crowds of people gathering around the child drop off and ‘drive in’ like set up. “Not that anyone didn’t think it wouldn’t be.” Lupin reminded her with a smile down at her again. 

“Are you allowed to wander? Or is this like a station? Do you need help with anything?” He suddenly started rambling. he didn’t want there to be any awkward silences, or like he wasn’t interested in the event in the slightest. He just didn’t want to be a bother if she needed something done without him being in the way. 

The moments she waited for Remus were ones filled with a weird sense of anticipation she couldn’t place. He wasn’t the first familiar face she would come across that evening ( many acquaintances and friends had already said hi ), so this tension did not make sense to her at all. It wasn’t like she had much time to dwell on it, though, with her worries about the event overshadowing any confusing things going on in her head. RED kept her mind moving, constantly, and while it was good, it was also incredibly tiring.

When she felt his hand brush her elbow, she jumped slightly, due to the built up anticpation and stress swirling through her body. She let her phone slip in the backpocket of her jeans and grinned at Remus. “Always,” she replied. She let the words hang in the air for a moment, before giving the other a quick hug as a greeting. Somehow, she felt a little calmer now that such a familiar face was near her, her shoulders sinking a little. She felt her phone buzz, but let it be.

“Thank you. I’m glad people seem to be liking it,” she said, glancing around for a moment. Mary thought of whoever had hacked her previous event, imagining them hacking this event. She wondered what they’d do --- show gorey pictures of murders or incriminating photos of her or threats. Shaking her head to literally rid herself of the thoughts, she looked back at Remus. “I just hope it keeps going well.”

Expressing her worry was something she preferred not to do --- Mary liked to come off as a director who was calm, optimistic and in control. She wasn’t as much as she liked to be, though, and there were only a handful of people who she allowed to see her endless pit of worries ( and even then, she only allowed them to see just a small part ). “I’m kind of just moving around, seeing if anyone needs anything, solving issues when they come up, that kinda thing, so I’m really just all over the place.”

[macdnald-a]

tdtnk:

“The Churro-easters!”   Ted affirmed with a wide grin and bright eyes, his body perking up,   “Alright, let’s go! I’ve got an artist, he’s good.”   the man stood up, no signs that he was backing out of this. It was a game of chicken. It was always intense between him and Mary, and he was ready to go as far as the needle touching skin if he had to.

“That sounds like an organisation that I’d join,” she said, dead serious. She would, just for shits and giggles. Mary needed more of those these days, after all. “If he’s not as good as the one who did this ---” She flashed the Phoenix tattoo on her wrist. “--- I’m going to fight you. But let’s go. I’ve been wanting to get a second tatoo for ages.”

[macdnald-a]

remusxsrsly:

Remus knew Mary a bit too well sometimes it seemed, though it was times like this were he just couldn’t read what she was feeling. He didn’t want her thinking she had pried a compliment out of him or was making this situation awkward, Remus was just so terrible at voicing opinions on things related to feelings. He knew how dumb it was, especially to Mary, but he had had the same issues when it came to his best friends and he wasn’t seeing himself changing any kind of soon future. “Am I mentioned a lot in said diary?” Remus grinned, laughing a tad before shrugging only slightly. “Im just saying, you like to hind some times unless its bashing me.” He said, holding his hands up in a fake surrender before offering her a light shrug and brush of his elbow. “I’ve got all the time in the world, Macdonald. Give me a time and a place, and at least a cup of hot chocolate, yeah?” 

Truth was, Mary didn’t keep a diary. She had tried to journal, many times, but had never been able to stick with it longer than a week. She was just not made for documenting her life. Mary preferred relying on random notes and her memory, saw no use in pouring her heart out in some notebook. But the fact that she didn’t journal didn’t matter in that moment, as their conversation was merely playful and teasing, based on a small white lie that she assumed Remus didn’t believe. “I have pages upon pages devoted to you,” she said gravely. Maybe, if she kept a diary, he would be mentioned a lot --- she didn’t really know what she’d write about. “Me, bashing you? That doesn’t sound like me at all.” Mary let out a soft laugh, head shaking. “Alright. I’ll text you a time and place first time tomorrow --- I didn’t bring my planner. I’ll make you hot chocolate, too, if that’s what it’ll take.”

[pencap]

i left home a child      and came back to trumpeting heralds                               and parades in my name                                and historybooks with my face on the front cover––      a hero.    i left home a child      and came back a hero      but no one seems to see that a hero is a warrior      and a warrior must first be born of war.   and i see too many children         chasing after my footprints with joy         wearing armour like blankets and helmets like crowns         laughing with eyes bright as the faraway glint of sniper scopes.   and i do not want to leave a legacy      of bloodstains and bruised knuckles      and teeth clenched around burning bullets.   and i do not want anyone else to leave home a child      and come back a hero tasting blood on every passing wind and regret on every shaking breath.   but i left home a child      and came back a hero      and only a hero––   ––not the historian who writes the legends      or the god who writes the stars  and i do not have it in me to stop the next warrior      who leaves home a child           and comes back a hero.

the hero’s lament ( j.p. ) || home, legacies and regrets for anonymous  (via pencap)

[macdnald-a]

wixes from the order + she used to be mine      @doxcas​ , @alicelngbtm​ , @hestiathemuggleborn​  @alrightcvans​  , @emmie-vance-the-puff​ , @marleymicks​

[macdnald-a]

It’s called RED because all blood is red, no matter what status you give it. Mary came up with the name even before the idea of RED came into her head: she was just thinking about the terminology, about the theory of blood statuses, and the slurs that came with it, and she was like well, damn it, we all bleed red.

She started RED when she was nineteen, about a year after she was kicked from Hogwarts. It started out small, honestly: she made some flyers and spread them among Order members and acquaintances, but she started spreading the word more and more. She approached a muggleborn at Hogwarts through Minerva McGonagall, and started spreading the word at Hogwarts. She went to her sister (a journalism student & all around computer whiz) to get a website started, as well as a few social media accounts.

The word kept spreading, and RED is now three years old, and has a few donors that donate every month, has set up three shelters and is growing stronger. She has people working with her now, managing the social media and website with her as well as organising events and support group meetings all over the country.

Some of the donations go into her pocket (this is something she makes people aware of when they donate), so she can live somewhere and eat a little, but most of it goes to RED and their cause.

[macdnald-a]

DATE: 23 March LOCATION: Parents Night Out STATUS: Closed for @remusxsrsly 

RED had started because of her, and so part of Mary was part of it, the two undeniably linked as if they were mother and daughter. And so, like her, RED would not be beaten down, not by someone trying to mess up her events or the threat on muggles and muggleborns constantly increasing. Mary would not give the people opposing her organisation what they wanted, and had organised another event. It was smaller than the last one, sure, but one that seemed right to host at this time, what with parents most likely more worried than usual.

While both parents and kids got to relax for an evening, Mary was on edge. As she had still not hired herself a social media director ( it was on her to do list, but she wasn’t sure who she could trust with the task ), she was constantly hopping from making sure the protections were still in place to tweeting updates and responding to questions online. The nagging feeling that this was another recipe for disaster didn’t leave her, though, even if she was incredibly busy. Just as she was about to report some asshole for tweeting something nasty, her phone buzzed as texts from Remus streamed in.

[ LOOPY → MARY ] you’re obviously gonna be at the movie thing tonight right? [ LOOPY → MARY ] are you by the screaming children or the movie showing [ LOOPY → MARY ] i will scream to find you- please answer [ LOOPY → MARY ] thanks 😂

She smiled softly, her lips curling up a little. As she finished blocking the tweeter, she thought of a quick reply, her fingers hitting her phone’s screen as if she was a professional 

[ MARY → LOOPY ] i’m just outside the place where we gathered the demons [ MARY → LOOPY ] i mean kids

While she didn’t have much time to just relax --- someone had to be on watch, after all, making sure everything ran smoothly, and she trusted no one with that job but herself --- she wasn’t going to tell Remus to just bugger off. She wouldn’t do that, not to a friend, especially one like Remus.

[macdnald-a]

DATE: 21 March LOCATION: Muggleborn Supportgroup Meeting STATUS: Closed for @carrowing

The meetings drained her. It wasn’t in a bad way, but she still ended up feeling rather heavy after each one, her head filled with stories of fellow muggleborns ( and on occasion, halfbloods and purebloods ). It was good, to have a space for people to talk about these things, to not shove them under the rug, but it also brought up things Mary’d rather just leave under the rug to collect some dust.

Today’s meeting had been especially draining. With the memory of the crimes of February tenth still so fresh on everyone’s minds. Records had been killed, muggleborn kids had been murdered --- it caused a feeling of solemn determination among, but others seemed to be drained of faith. Mary wasn’t sure where she stood. She knew she’d never not be determined, that she’d sooner die before losing her fight, but faith was something she’d been struggling to hold onto for a long time now.

The moments after meetings were usually spent drinking something with those who wanted to stick a little longer. Sometimes they ordered pizza, other times people brought snacks --- there was a certain sense of community there that made Mary feel slightly warm. Her fingers were wrapped around a beer bottle, her other hand holding her phone -- she was typing out a quick response to an email -- before shoving it in a back pocket and approaching the newest member of this particular group. “Hey,” she said, smile curling her lips. “I think I ... forgot your name, I’m rather shit at them, sorry. What was it again?” She left a small pause for him to answer, and added, “Did you have a good time?”

[macdnald-a]

doxcas:

Truth be told? She felt awful for Mary.  

There were a few personal attachments that Dorcas had managed to maintain in regards to other people, her admiration for Mary MacDonald being one of them. Her mind, her drive, her fight, her hustle – she could only imagine what it was like to be her now, especially after the accident the RED event. The whole Wizarding world had held a spotlight on her and instead of getting the proper, pure, recognition she deserved –  it was tainted with an accident. Things like that happening is what had kept Dorcas in the shadows her whole life, she doubted her own reputation in society enough, her place, she didn’t need the world to do so as well. 

Some articles picked the situation apart, some people whispered more and more about the Muggleborn who’d been expelled from Hogwarts, having her event run amuck. Some were impressed she was still showing her face. Some in the the ranks didn’t know what to think. Bumping into her was chance on a street like this, but welcome. Salazar knew she’d have to get better at reaching out now that she was going to be seeing Mary more often. 

“I can’t believe you’d talk about Morgana’s tits that way to a stranger,” Dorcas looked down at the bags Mary was holding, raising an eyebrow before looking back at her. “Is there a Christmas coming I don’t know about or did you win the lottery?”

As Dorcas’ face and voice entered her head, Mary found herself relaxing slightly. While bumping into someone was hardly the worst thing to do nowadays, she had dreaded a confrontation of sorts with an on edge parent, or worse, some kind of asshole who felt like they were owning Diagon Alley. There were a few of those these days. She assumed they were fighting the wrong fight.

It made her paranoid, walking in such a public space. While Mary put herself out in the world daily -- be it online or physically -- it would never stop but be an unnerving thing. There was a mark painted on her back, both because of RED and the Order, and the world was not made for people like her. Rebels. Mudbloods with a voice, with fight, with power. Public crimes weren’t a rarity, they happened, and while she tried not to assume that they’d happen to her, headlines of terrible occurrences still haunted her when she was in Diagon Alley. She supposed it was better to be wary than be naive these days.

“What makes you think I was going to say tits? Maybe I was gonna say toes. Or teeth! There’s more body parts than just breasts, Meadowes, get with the times,” she said, grinning a little at her friend. “I’m just running errands. And there was a sale at the second hand bookshop, and what can I say? I indulged. I’m not perfect, even if the rumours say differently.”

[macdnald-a]

luctalkalot:

“We weren’t,” she sighed, wiping away a fake tear.  “but she was.. she was just always there.  At every event, every party – she was there yelling about whatever her current cause was.  It was inspiring really, that someone was so willing to take up and fight for someone else’s pain.”  Decent people were so god damn easy – a few tears, a sob story of admiration and Mary’d be eating out of her hand all night long.  She looked down, deliberately refusing to make eye contact.  She wasn’t blinking much, and she didn’t want it to appear strange.

“I just…” she trailed off, wiping at her eyes.  “You know I’m adopted, right?” She whispered.  She had to tell Mary the truth to get her to trust her, but damn it she didn’t want to.  She had spent half a lifetime ignoring the worst part of herself.  She would find a way to explain it away once this forced encounter was over.

Mary nodded. She got that --- she’d known plenty of people who’d died that she had not been close to. To miss their presence in places they’d usually be was eerie, odd. While it was an undeniable part of war, it was something she had never learned to grown used to. “Oh, yes, I remember some of her speeches. She was quite inspiring. It was nice to share a cause with her,” she said. She wasn’t entirely sure what she should say --- she was quite lost when it came to this whole situation herself, in all honesty. “I’m sure she’ll be missed widely.” 

She nodded again, letting her brains work for a second. She had a feeling she knew what this was leading up to, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions, wanted to hear it from Lucinda’s tongue herself. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said. “What does that have to do with all this?”

[sickly]

I don’t have to forgive to heal. This anger has healed me in more ways than forgiving a person ever could.

A person heals in different ways | n.b (via sickly)