Usi Mulciber was a married man. He contemplated this as he walked, under the cover of both night and his heavily hooded robe. While his new wife slept soundly, he walked through the streets of Puddlemere, a restless air stirring both his own reckless nature, and the whole of the village. Fliers from the beginning of term at the Puddlemere Institute had begun to peel away from walls and lampposts. They danced in the wind now, as if they knew what was coming.
As if they knew, and wanted to escape before they became a witness.
Suddenly, Usi stopped, and the breeze circulating all around seemed to stop with him. He had found her, the person he had come to see. Now he just needed her to find him, too. He waited, silent, watching, anticipating the moment she would catch his face amid the darkness.
“‘Girl’ can feel very demeaning, depending on how it’s said. I’m sure there are plenty of women who don’t feel this way, but I think the majority of us do,” Mary explained, “I know that I personally would prefer something besides it if I can’t be called by name.”
“Huh,” Robert mused, brows furrowing. “Guessin’ woman isn’t any better, is it? Maybe lady?”
“Yeah, neither of those are really ideal, although I’d probably prefer ‘lady’ to ‘woman’” Mary responded.
“Huh,” Robert repeated, taking this all in for a moment before shaking his head. “Guess I’ve never really thought ‘bout all this before. Hell, someone could shout dick head at me and I’d answer.”
Place one of these words and a character/pairing/series in my inbox and I’ll write a drabble about it.
Peter slipped on the mask he’d sworn to himself so long ago that he would never touch. The design was... well, fairly rubbish, but Peter couldn’t be picky. Not when the mask gave him the protection he needed. And if his new Lord was to be believed, it’d protect Mary as well.
One name.
It’d been all he’d been given. There were too many people he’d wanted to protect, but one had tumbled out of his mind faster than he could speak something more reasonable. He ought to have said James, or Remus, even Lily would have been acceptable.
Mary had made the Dark Lord laugh at Peter’s weakness, but his wish had been heard despite his reluctance. If he accomplished his missions properly, Mary would be spared. Her wand may be taken, she may be shamed out of the wizarding world, but her heart would continue to beat. And that was the most Peter could hope for.
“Come, we’re going,” one of the other masked males barked out, shoving Peter like the weakling he was.
It was time to prove his loyalty. Someone on the Dark Lords wanted list was likely to be out tonight, and Peter himself had confirmed it earlier, careful to make sure no one else had heard him ask about where he’d be later. In doing so, he’d locked down the mans death.
Following after the head of the mission, he forced himself not to duck his head, even as lightening brightened the midnight sky. His bones seemed to shudder as the thunder boomed, a low building sound that could be felt on the stones beneath his feet.
It reminded him of his Hogwarts days, when his mates would make fun of him for running to their dorm when it started to thunder, and in particular the times that Mary herself had gone up to the room, supposedly after having a word with his mates, and comforted him as he trembled with fear.
Peter no longer trembled nor cried from the storm raging on above him, for it was nothing compared to the war he’d been forced into. No one had asked if he wanted to take part of it. The Marauders were part of it, and he was part of the Marauders. Automatically signing him up for his death.
No one considered whether the weak hearted boy had the spine for this sort of thing. No one thought to ask whether he wanted to go on missions. He’d become a faceless soldier that no one cared whether he lived or died so long as the mission was done. He’d come to accept that slowly over the past year.
As another crash of thunder rolled over them, Peter felt the urge to be sick, his feet growing heavier with each step. He wasn’t allowed to kill yet, something he was grateful for, but knowing he’d been part of this, and having to be forced to watch it... he didn’t know if he could do it. But he had to.
It was the only way to make it out of this alive. Only way for Mary to make it out alive.
Everyone else could keep themselves safe... he hoped.
“Keep to the back, Tail,” the Death Eater sneered, making Peter slow his steps as they walked inside. Instantly, the joyous night in the pub turned to utter chaos. Screaming everywhere as spells were shot off. Peter himself had to shoot off a few stunners, forcing people to lie there unconscious and be stepped on and over by heavy boots of men who cared not whether they lived.
In the end, only one person was left unstunned, and soon enough their heart stopped entirely. But not until their life had been screamed out of them.
The next morning, as the storm slowly began to wane, Peter found himself in Mary’s home, drenched and trembling head to toe, tears pouring out of his eyes faster than he could comprehend, his body wracked with sobs.
“Are you alright?” Mary gasped, utterly concerned for him as she pulled him into a tight hug, not the least bit worried about getting herself soaked. “It’s alright, it’s alright, the storms nearly over. Did you get caught in it?” she asked, brows tugged together sympathetically.
Peter nodded, unable to make his arms move to hug her. “Th-there was, there was another attack,” he mumbled. He’d wanted to come to her the moment it’d been over, but he couldn’t face her. Instead, he’d ran in rat form all night, trying to tire himself out, to lose himself in his animal, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t escape the horror of being part of the group. And it was too late, he couldn’t back out now.
“Come on in, I’ll get the kettle going. Hang on--” she paused, grabbing her wand and drying him instantly. It didn’t stop the shivering, making her frown. “Grab the big blanket and curl up. I’ll join you in a minute, alright?” she promised with a sad smile, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
Peter nodded again and began to walk towards the couch when her voice made him pause again.
“Was it-- was it anyone we know?” she asked quietly.
And so his first lie to Mary was spoken, half lie really, since Mary didn’t. “No.” But Peter did.
“You’re her brother aren’t you? The precious King, oh how I always did hate her too cheery attitude,” the masked woman spoke, as though she could look down upon him despite being shorter than he.
Robert practically growled through his tears. He’d left Natalie alone for not even a moment. Only long enough to send out a message for help, and when he’d returned... the unthinkable was found. The one and only comfort was that it’d been silent. She hadn’t been in pain. It’d been so quick.
But he couldn’t let this go.
He’d lost too many people now. Marlene. Dorcas. Benjy. Dawn (for no matter how alive she was physically, it didn’t take an idiot to see she was dead inside). Too many others to count. James and Lily had been the last straw. It didn’t matter that Voldemort was gone. No one seemed to understand his followers were still out there, still demented as fuck, still determined to kill.
He needed his sister as far away from this fucking place as possible -- and yet he’d been too late.
“Avada--”
A spell knocked him to the ground before he got the words out, a cruel tinkle of a laugh followed. “You Order members are really losing your minds, aren’t you? Oh yes, we know. We know who all of you are,” she laughed, sending further chills down Robert’s spine as he stood, shooting off curse after curse, all of which she deflected, save for the last.
It started a fight unlike any other Robert had ever fought. He’d lost too much. It didn’t matter that Caradoc was still alive. He’d lost everything else, too many fractions of his life to keep sane. Each glimpse of Natalie’s lifeless body spurred him on until finally, the Death Eater managed to get his wand from him, leaving him defenseless, bruised, sweating, sobbing, and broken, on his knees.
“It would be too much of a mercy to kill your worthless mudblood body,” she decided, snapping his wand over her knees and tossing the pieces to the side. “Weep over her, if you must. Spend the rest of your days on the brink of insanity. Know that he will come back. And when he does, we will reign supreme once again. Until then... beware of the shadows, for they will strike when you least expect it.”
Like that, she vanished, leaving Robert to cradle his sister, sobbing and laying upon the dirty, blood soaked ground, for Caradoc to find minutes later.
Gives nose/forehead kisses; Mary, Peter tried to do it once and ended up giving Mary a bloody nose, so he doesn’t partake in that anymore.
Gets jealous the most; Peter. Mary’s so good at talking to people, and making everyone around her smile, and he’s always worried someday she’ll like someone elses smile better than his.
Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive; Mary picks Peter up, because even though he tries to be careful not to get drunk, eventually after a couple of drinks he ends up forgetting why he doesn’t want to get drunk and goes too hard again. Bless Mary’s soul.
Takes care of on sick days; Mary takes care of Peter, always. Peter tries, but he’s just not good at it, though he’ll ask Lily what he should do.
Drags the other person out into the water on beach day; Mary drags Peter, who gets too self conscious to even take his shirt off, let alone go in with everyone else on his own.
Gives unprompted massages; Peter, mostly because it’s pretty much the only thing he can manage to do without hurting her or making her situation worse.
Drives/rides shotgun; Mary would absolutely have to drive, I don’t even think Peter’s touched a car before. Closest he’s been is Sirius’ motorcycle which he is absolutely never allowed to drive, and never should be tbh.
Brings the other lunch at work; Both, depending on who works when. Mary knows Peter will forget his, and not have enough to go out, and Peter just wants the excuse to see Mary.
Has the better parental relationship; Mary without a doubt. Of course, Mary and Peter’s mum get on very well, but there’s no getting around the fact that Peter’s mum is too suffocating, where as Mary’s family are simply warm and lovely.
Embarrassingly drunk dancer; Peter. There’s a good reason he refuses to dance otherwise.
Still cries watching Titanic; Both, while curled up under a blanket together, holding each other. And then they end up laughing because by the end, Peter’s sniffles have turned into wails of despair at seeing that Rose went off to do all the things they’d promised to do together, alone.
Firmly believes in couples costumes; Mary, though Peter secretly really enjoys it.
Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas; Peter tries to, but can never afford it, so neither end up ever breaking it in the end. Instead, they stick to personal things that both end up loving more than some expensive trinket, anyway.
Makes the other eat breakfast; Both, depending on who is more awake in the morning, Peter definitely needs the reminder more often.
Remembers anniversaries; Both. Peter only forgot once, and the guilt was so strong he hasn’t forgotten since.
Brings up having kids; Peter, while stuttering so bad that Mary had to get him to repeat it three times, by which point he’d wanted to change the subject, and nearly did.
Gives nose/forehead kisses; Both, but Robert’s height means he gets more in than Mary.
Gets jealous the most; Both, Mary more silently, Robert more outwardly. Poor girl has to deal with him flirting all over the place, but Robert doesn’t like anyone looking at Mary the wrong way.
Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive; Pls, we all know who gets drunk way too often here.
Takes care of on sick days; Robert is an actual manchild, what do you think ??? He’d bring her home soup and tissues though.
Drags the other person out into the water on beach day; Robert for sure dragging Mary, if anything she should be lucky he’s not dragging her to skinny dip, which he’ll remind her of to make sure she comes out.
Gives unprompted massages; Robert, the dudes love language is touch, okay.
Drives/rides shotgun; Robert drives, though every time Mary sort of wishes he’d let her because honestly, he’s not the safest driver and its mildly terrifying.
Brings the other lunch at work; Mary brings him lunch, cause she knows he’ll get way too into flying and forget to take a break unless someone shows up to distracts him.
Has the better parental relationship; Both. Dear lord, the Kings would probably start inviting her family to their Sunday lunches.
Embarrassingly drunk dancer; Mary, barely. Robert’s had dancing lessons so it’s sort of an unfair advantage, but he always keeps her on beat, even when drunk.
Still cries watching Titanic; Both, Mary moreso though. And they always end the movie with Robert promising her he’d fit both of their arses on the door if they ended up in that situation.
Firmly believes in couples costumes; Mary, who ends up arguing with him that Adam and Eve is not acceptable while blushing the entire time.
Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas; Robert, only once, and only for something he’d slowly saved up for.
Makes the other eat breakfast; Mary, who chides him gently about wanting to go work out with only eating a bowl of sugary cereal and coffee.
Remembers anniversaries; Mary. Robert always remembers the month, but tends to get the days off by a few, and ends up having to make it up to her.
Brings up having kids; Mary and Robert fucking dodges it for as long as humanly possible.
Place one of these words and a character/pairing/series in my inbox and I’ll write a drabble about it.
Peter nuzzled closer to the warmth beside him, inhaling deeply the welcoming scents that relaxed his muscles further. That is, until, the warm object began to fidget in his arms. Thin arms pressed against his chest, soft whimpers of fear pulling him further from the depths of the sleep he so desperately needed.
But he couldn’t let Mary suffer like this.
Blinking slowly, he began to rub her back in slow circles. “Mary, Mary c’mon you’re okay,” he whispered, holding her to him even though she tried to push him away. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last that this had happened.
Ever since James and Lily had gotten married, he’d been staying with Mary more often, neither of them feeling particularly safe alone. Peter was sure his mum would be fine enough, but Mary? Mary had seen the results of the war. Had nightmares that only Peter knew how to calm down.
“Mary, it’s Peter, wake up, wake up. He’s not here. He can’t get you,” Peter whispered more firmly as Mary’s cries worsened. “You’re safe, you’re safe. No one can get you. I won’t let them,” he promised whole-heartedly.
Bit by bit, Mary began to calm in his arms, teary eyes blinking opened. “Peter?”
He let out a soft breath of relief, kissing her forehead. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”
Mary gripped his shirt, curling into his chest as she cried softly, and though Peter cringed at the wetness forming, he held her anyway. “D-don’t tell Lily, please, s-she doesn’t need to worry.”
Peter nodded, even though he worried that maybe Mary needed some sort of sleeping potion. She’d been able to manage it for so long, but with each day the war darkened, fear grew in everyone, and Peter didn’t know how to make her feel any safer than he did now. He couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t die the moment she walked out the door to go to work, or see a friend. Couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t be imperiused to kill her himself.
“It was just a dream,” he promised her, holding her tighter, and wishing he could promise that her dreams would never happen again.
