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@m-illeadh
Mary ||
“Pstt -- “ Lily tiptoed towards her friend’s bed, unsure if the other girl was sleeping or just reading under the covers. She did know everyone else was asleep, so she had to be quiet.
“Mary -- Mary, Mary -- “ Her voice was a sing song whisper.
“Are you awake?”
An opened packet of sweets dangles from her mouth, two piping mugs of tea in her hands. She can’t tell quite what it is, but he seems strange today, and Mary doesn’t like it one bit. No chance to protest is offered; she’s all but lifting his hand and looping his fingers through the handle of his cup, as she sits beside him and puts a hand on his knee. Sweets drop into the gap between their legs. “I know you’re not one for talking, but I’m here if you want me to be.”
The mug, pushed into hishand, is hot.
He’s surprised to findthat his fingers are cold, and a little stiff—ordinarily, he radiates heat likehe’s been storing it, soaking it up. In the lethargy of his ennui, he hasn’tmoved for hours. He curls both hands around the tea and stares into it moodily.If he drank it down, he wondered, what would the tea leaves spell for him?Nothing good, he suspects.
“Actually, I’m told byseveral reliable sources that I talk too much.”
It’s a deflection; heknows what she means, and she’s right. Though Sirius’ mouth might work a mile-a-minuteon any given day, he clams right up when it comes to taking about feelings. It’s hard and it’s personaland it’s not fair when he barely understands the things sloshing around insidehim. How can you put into words what you yourself can’t comprehend?
He doesn’t want to admitthat there’s anything wrong, or that there’s anything to talk about. So hetakes a mouthful of his tea—strong and sweet—and hums his thanks before hesnatches the sweets up, and peers inside the bag.
“Ooh,” he says. “Fizzing whizbees.”
But his shoulder bumpsagainst hers, half a moment later, as he holds the bag of her own sweets out toher to share. It’s a close to a thank youas he’ll manage.
⚯ : Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?
Random Headcanons
I really like the idea of Remus wearing glasses for reading, and then maybe aging into needing them full-time by 40. He would prefer glasses to contacts, if for no other reason than the fact that you have to continually replace contacts.
@m-illeadh
“Yes,” he says, answering an unspoken question. His tone is a little flatter than usual, a little less exuberant. He doesn’t turn around from where he’s crouched on the shore of the lake, fingers plucking up the occasional pebble to flick into the water with a scatter of ripples. “My mother does need to work on her tone.”
He’s not entirely sure who it is that’s approaching, but whoever they are, they can’t have missed the howler that had landed on his plate at breakfast. He’d left it, pretending merrily that it wasn’t even there as other students eyed its smoking corners warily. When it had finally burst open, and Walburga’s shrieking voice had echoed through the hall, he’d simply carried on his conversation with James, determinedly. Pretending not to hear a word.
And if he’d slipped away from his friends right after breakfast, so what? Even he needs some alone time now and then again. He’s not brooding. He doesn’t brood. He turns his head, finally, to see who’s approaching.
“Huh,” he says, as he sees Mary. “Thought for sure you’d be Remus. Or maybe Regulus, come to gloat.” He flashes her a grin, lazy and sharp-edged, and not-quite-right. Pushing himself to his feet, he brushes his hands off on his trousers, and then sticks them in his pockets.
“You bloody well better not be here to sympathise, MacDonald.”
‘ what do you think i should do ? i need someone to tell me. ’
It takes a long moment for Sirius to even react to the words. He looks at her for a long moment, then turns his head – as though expecting to see someone behind him. Remus, maybe. He’s the type of person people ask for sensible advice.
Finding nobody there, he turns back to her, a mildly incredulous look sketched across his face.
“ —- and you’re asking me?” Hands rise, fingers spread, warding off the responsibility of making someone else’s choices for them. “Bold move. I dunno, MacDonald. Have you tried running away from the problem?”
“Accidents happen.”
“Accidents? Merlin letting himself get trapped in an oak tree, that was an accident. This?
This is a catastrophe.”
Sirius sweeps his arms across the desk -- man, it feels good, he’s always wanted to do the dramatic desk-sweep -- sending damp papers flying, along with notebooks and pens, a heavier thud from a textbook hitting the floor. He’s having fun. Hamming it up all the way, his anger not believable for a second, he leans over the table, eye-to-eye with her, jabbing an accusatory finger in her direction.
“We had one shot, MacDonald! One shot! And now, we’re --”
Sirius looks down at a piece of paper stuck to his hand.
“ -- oh, never mind. This is all James’ stuff you spilled your drink on.”
He sits, like nothing had ever happened, and retrieves the sheets of paper covered in his own looping handwriting, shoving James’ damp belongings to one side. His wide grin is fixed on his face, shit-eating, fully aware of the scene he’s just caused and the people staring his way.
“Anyway.” Innocent. Face of an angel. “What were you saying?”
”I’ve missed you so much.”
Emotional Sentence Starters | Accepting
“Mare – “ there’s absolutely no hesitation as she pulls the blonde in for a hug. And maybe it’s a little tighter than normal, but it is with good reason – Mary had been out for ages, so long, Lily had thought – thought for sure she had lost her.
And while Mary doesn’t know it, and Lily doesn’t know exactly what happened, there’s a sort of comradery in the hug that goes beyond friendship. They are sisters now, sisters because of similar circumstance.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” she whispered, pulling away. She would never ask if Mary was okay – she knew she wasn’t. She would never tell her it was over; because she herself had been attacked almost a year ago, and it never felt over.
“ does that hurt? ”
‘ HONESTLY ? ’ remus asked as she wrapped up the laceration on his forearm , making a face && shaking his head . ‘ not really NO . ’ he said , clearing his throat as she patched him up . it was a decidedly bad thing when he could say that he had had wounds much deadlier than this . this ? this was nothing . though he was hardly inclined to go around BOASTING about such things . tilting his head he glanced over at her && smiled . ‘ believe it or not , i’ve looked worse . ’ touching the bandage carefully , remus rolled down the sleeve hiding it from view . . || meme || accepting || @m-illeadh
