* / macdonald, mary.
knuckles connect to wood and mary immediately wished that she hadn’t. the feeling of dread that had been swirling in her stomach grew, and she almost turned on her heel and left, to apparate back home and forget about this. but she stayed, waiting in front of the closed door anxiously, hoping it was remus ( @moondefined ) who’d open the door, and not one of his roommates. and when it was him who opened the door, she let out a breath of air she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “hey, re,” she said, bouncing on her feet a little, before adding the words no person enjoyed hearing. “we need to talk.” much more she didn’t say, because she couldn’t — her throat felt closed up, and she still thought about leaving, or changing the topic, pretending that she’d come to talk about anything but what she was there for. her mind flashed back to benjy’s funeral, and daisy’s face, and she knew she could not — she could not die without remus knowing the truth, even if it would make everything ten times WORSE. she didn’t know if doing this made her a horribly selfish person, or just human, but mary had long ago accepted that she could not fight this war and be a good person at the same time. apparently that applied to these things now, too.
MAN OF DESTRUCTION ! a monster who never dared to mask the true nature beneath something as weak as sheep’s skin . you know what you are, but you don’t know just how badly you’re about to validate the worst parts of yourself as you peek through the hole in the door . it’s a war, after all --- there’s no such thing as too much caution as irises so dark they’re almost black look through the distorted glass to see her . fidgeting, bouncing on the balls of her feet ; she almost appears anxious ? remus doesn’t know what to make of it, but he opens the door for her without hesitation . a smile dares to tug at his lips but then --- we need to talk . red flags begin waving in his head and the words are like a neon sign blinking DANGER, a perilous red at the forefront of his mind . proceed with caution, young wolf . but he steps to the side and opens the door wider for her to come in --- it was mary, what did he have to worry about ? her presence had always been enough to bring him ease .
❝ uh --- sure . come on . ❞ head cants towards the empty sitting room beyond the doorway and long strides take him to an old couch, overstuffed and riddled with stains darkening the fabric . he’s the picture of calm before the storm as he leans back against the couch, brows knitting together as he looks at mary and dives straight to the point . remus had never been the type to prolong ripping off the bandaid . if something was wrong, someone was hurt, he wanted to know . ❝ so what’s up ? is something wrong ? everyone okay ? ❞
