#thread;mary

[tonks-ted]

Starter for: Mary Macdonald @its-marymac Where: outside the Daily Prophet offices When: end of the working day

"Wotcher, Mary." Loitering by the entrance to her workplace, Ted nudged a few files in her arms and arched an eyebrow. "I need to see everything you've got there on Regulus Black." A pause, and a charming smile. "Pretty please, for an old friend?"

[bellatrix-lestrxnge]

Starter for: Mary Macdonald @its-marymac Where: the Daily Prophet offices When: middle of the day

Hoping to catch Rita unawares, Bellatrix had turned up and situated herself in the other witch's office. They were not exactly friends, but she could appreciate a manipulative mind. Sitting in a chair as though she owned the room, she had crossed one leg over the other and was passing the time by flicking through a draft copy of the next Prophet, searching for anything that could indicate Regulus's whereabouts. It was a fruitless effort, disturbed by Mary entering the room. Disappointed to see it was not Rita, she gestured to the seat next to her anyway. "You'll do. Where's Rita? I've been sitting here like a languished lemon for the best part of an hour."

[bellatrix-lestrxnge]

Starter for: Mary Macdonald @stvrdsts Where: St Mungo's Hospital When: late afternoon

It was not like Bellatrix Lestrange to grace the halls of St Mungo's Hospital. The place was filled with lowly creatures; the sick and injured who did not have enough gold to pay for their Healers to visit them privately, flaunting their ailments like unfortunate beasts. She would rather die than join their helpless ranks. Distaste marred her features into an impeccable expression, both haughty and proud, and violently determined.

Her purpose here was twofold: there were some victims of a magical accident who she needed to interview for the Ministry's records as part of her every day work. And for the Dark Lord, she would alter their memories. There was time to do it. They had been unconscious when brought to the hospital, and she was quite certain that they would not yet be completely coherent.

So here she stood by the desk to the wards, tapping her long nailed fingers atop the counter and surveying the surroundings with an aura of exquisite impatience. Eyes of sharp blue fixed upon a healer-witch bustling around. They darkened with implosive ardour, a different kind of longing suddenly filling her from head to toe like a savage wave consuming a cold shore. That mudblood. She had lost count of how many times she'd encountered little Mary Macdonald on the battlefield, but she never forgot a face, and Mary's was currently right there in front of her, staring like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped - or destroyed.

Catching her eyes, she smiled with sweet hunger and tapped her watch to indicate that time was ticking. It was indeed. Those patients would soon be waking up and she wanted to get to them before anyone else.

[r-lestrcnge]

Starter for: Mary Macdonald @maryloumacdonald Where: Hogsmeade When: early evening

The afternoon was drawing to a close, evening settling over Hogsmeade with the kind of sparkling silence that conveyed that only magical blood had built the ancient village. Rabastan had spent another afternoon in the Three Broomsticks, quietly discussing war-time matters that should perhaps have been better covered elsewhere. But he did so enjoy infuriating Rosmerta with his presence, and he took magical precautions to make sure they were not overheard.

Now walking the path from the pub towards Hogwarts, he paused in his tracks, spotting Mary up ahead. He had never forgotten the girl. He rarely forgot anyone who met his ire, though the list of his victims grew ever-longer. But there was something special about Mary. At school, she had been able to dig beneath his skin with her shameless outspokenness. He had cursed her silent once, in full view of the Three Broomsticks' patrons. But it was several years after he'd graduated, on a chance encounter in this same village, that he bestowed her with a more fitting punishment. She simply could not keep her filthy-blooded mouth shut. It had been a necessary result of her actions; a fitting and correct discipline.

Looking at her now, so close to where it had happened, he almost felt a prickle of excitement. But years had passed, and he had become colder and more secretive, no longer brimming with the foolish confidence of youth. It was with a more detached interest that he continued towards her, wondering whether his lesson still held strong or if it had faded after all this time.

"Hello, Macdonald." Pausing beside her, he lightly smiled as he studied her expression, knowing he had seen her features twisted into an agony that was unique to him, alone. "It has been a while, hasn't it?"