passing through ;;

Mary Macdonald || Sixth Year || Gryffindor || Intangibility

[uglytoast]

[marythecontrary-blog1]

precipitantpadfoot:

Sirius chuckled at her, amused that Mary was so genuine as to cross her heart on a promise. It made his heart swell with pride for the other Gryffindor… although that could also be the onset of heartburn. Perhaps the punch wouldn’t settle with Sirius properly tonight. He would have to test that theory.

“Actually, Peter is the one with the creeper wagon. The rest of us refuse to get in. I wanted to spray paint ‘free candy’ on the side, but Remus wouldn’t let me. But never mind all of that. How many consecutive cups of this punch do you want to see Santa drink before he throws up in his hat?”

Mary rolled her eyes. “You leave poor little Peter alone,” she commanded with a stern gaze in Sirius’s direction. “You’re all much too mean to him, using him as a scapegoat for your creepy ways. Tell me the truth, Sirius; is the van secretly yours? You asked him to hold it for you, didn’t you?” 

She laughed, shaking her head. “Do I have to watch the actual vomiting? Either way, nine. If you can handle it.” 

[marythecontrary-blog1]

phaedra-rosier:

Phaedra refilled her cup, overhearing Mary’s comment. “I haven’t seen anything that isn’t alcoholic, if that’s what you’re looking for. That… didn’t seem to be the idea. But I’m sure we can find something, if you don’t want alcohol.”

Mary chuckled, shaking her head. “Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past James and his friends to have completely wiped the party of anything not meant to get them completely wasted. Wouldn’t want to slip and drink some water or anything crazy like that.” 

[dadpeach]

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[marythecontrary-blog1]

precipitantpadfoot:

Sirius’s smile dropped just a bit. Perhaps his tone hadn’t come across as joking enough. 

“You know what? I’m going to give you restricted marauders-and-friend’s only access. Just this once, because you’re so agreeable.” He reached under the tabled the punch bowl was set up on, pulling the table cloth out of the way to reveal a few cases of water and soda. “What do you want to drink this holiday season, little girl?”

Mary watched him with slightly widened eyes, somewhat shocked at the hidden stash. “I... was following you right up until I started to expect you to drive a windowless white van.” Still, she reached out and grabbed a water bottle from the pile. “I’ll guard your secret with my life,” she promised, crossing her heart with her index finger as she spoke. 

[marythecontrary-blog1]

precipitantpadfoot:

Sirius, who had just filled and drained his own cup in one go, did a 180 degree turn so that he was facing the speaker. He gave Mary a smile and lightly clapped her on the shoulder. “You won’t dehydrate, love,” He told her with a lilt to his voice. Or was that a cough? He was trying to hide the fact that, perhaps, a chaser was in order. He and James should have thought this through. 

“There’s water in the toilets if you find our refreshments lacking.”

Mary looked over at the other Gryffindor, narrowing her eyes at him. “Very funny,” she remarked, though her tone spoke volumes of just how un-funny she really thought he was. “I don’t really relish the idea of being face first on the dance floor at any point tonight, so can you point me toward something non-alcohol in a sanitary container, please?” 

[precipitantpadfoot-blog]

As it turns out, dressing up in outrageous costumes is becoming sort of a thing for Sirius. Not to say that he doesn’t enjoy it, really, but were he more sane or perhaps less dedicated he would probably be second guessing himself at the moment. There are only so many times a year one should be climbing into fake sacks of fat , but at least this time we wasn’t painting himself green. That was a plus, and also there was the fact that he also would get to don a wig and beard to rival Dumbledore’s.  But the beard! It was so itchy!

Not that any of the teachers would be finding out about this night. 

No matter all of that. Sirius Black was putting on a Santa suit. Father Christmas would be going around, holding a menorah in one hand and a bottle of booze in the other. Judeochristian inclusivity, and happy holidays to those who don’t celebrate. Maybe he would wear a pentacle around his neck for the Wiccans?

“It won’t matter anyway,” he grumbled to himself, pulling at the fake hair on his chin. “It’ll all come off once I’ve had enough whiskey.” 

“Here, here!” A voice called out to him, and Sirius blanched.

He shouldn’t have chosen to get dressed in a public bathroom.

[marythecontrary-blog1]

Antlers tilted sideways, Mary chuckled as she stumbled into the bathroom, looking for a quiet place to smoke. The party was getting busy, the room filling with more and more people, which played at her anxiety. She’d just been looking for a lone toilet, but seeing Sirius dressed the way he was... 

Well, that was always enjoyable. 

“You look like the holidays threw up on you,” she pointed out to him as she walked over, pushing herself up so she was sitting on the counter near him. Her cigarettes were tucked away in her pocket and she left them there for the time being. At least with Sirius, she didn’t feel like fading away. “Your beard is crooked,” she added, just to see how he’d react. 

[marythecontrary-blog1]

Mary leaned over the punch bowl, sniffing mildly before leaning back with a grimace. “Is there any real punch in here?” She stirred it with mild interest, empty cup still in her other hand, mumbling under her breath now, “I’m going to die of dehydration at this party.” 

[marythecontrary-blog1]

Mary’s Holiday Party Outfit

[secretritual-blog]

She kissed demons and slept with ghosts because living with the dead felt more like home.

zoë perez, excerpt from “sleeping with ghosts” (via secretritual)

[lorelaiscoffee]

[wnq-anonymous]

You silly little girl, you think you’ve survived so long survival shouldn’t hurt anymore. You keep trying to turn your body bulletproof. You keep trying to turn your heart bomb shelter. Stop, darling. You are soft and alive. You bruise and heal. Cherish it. It is what you were born to do. It will not be beautiful, but the truth never is. Come now, you promised yourself. You promised you’d live through this.

Clementine von Radics, “There is the Worst and Then There is More,” Mouthful of Forevers (via wnq-anonymous)