Work Text:
“You’re falling asleep on my shoulder
In the back of your boyfriend’s car”
Scotland is supposedly beautiful.
Mary’s eyes haven’t glanced outside of the car window once. If you asked her, she couldn’t tell you a single thing about the view.
She prefers the beauty of another.
Lily’s coated brown eyelashes spill across freckled soft cheeks. She never covers them with makeup, Mary talked her out of it in their ninth year after a bout of insecurity encouraged by jealous whispers and bored magazines.
Long, almost luminescent auburn hair spills across Mary’s shoulder. She gently takes a strand in her hand, letting it sit idly on her fingertip. The contrast in color brings a slight upward twitch to her painted lips.
She flicks her eyes between the two sights, unable to choose which to look at. Freckles, then back around to hair, only to return where she began.
There are truly far too many options of her entity to admire, Lily is nothing short of an absolute vision.
Mary has to train her eyes away from the sight of Lily’s slightly parted lips, coated in a pink lipstick that smudges toward the right corner. Away from flicking down to Lily’s dress, where her chest peeks out of her purple satin gown. Away from a prominent vein lining the right side of her neck, directly next to her relaxed pulse. It would be wrong of Mary to gaze at any of these, especially while Lily’s asleep, particularly while sitting in the back of her boyfriend’s car. She tends to feel wrong around Lily when James is around, like she’s intruding somewhere she shouldn’t.
“We’re coming home from a sermon
Saying how bent and evil we are”
They’re on the drive back to the city from Petunia’s wedding. Lily absolutely loathes Vernon, she could go on for hours about his every worst trait. In fact she has, she spouted off about him the entire way there. But Petunia matters to her, and their relationship has been quite rocky along the years. Lily was absolutely ecstatic when she first received the invite, whoever Petunia was marrying be damned. Mary was the very first one she called.
Lily was allowed to bring two plus one’s, she picked James, then Mary. James was the obvious choice, but Mary was surprised when she was invited, even if she shouldn’t have been after all of these years.
“You’re my best friend, Mar,” Lily had smiled, their faces perhaps too close as they lay on her bed. “Why wouldn’t I want you there?”
The wedding was… nice. It was very traditional, in a Catholic Church due to Vernon’s family. It was very white. And Mary doesn’t only mean the color scheme. In fact, she and James had shared a rare look when they first arrived. Person of color solidarity and whatnot.
But it cut deeper for Mary, James wasn’t stared at like a damn zoo animal. Many old women shied away from her, some making comments about her hair. “It’s so… big,” one commented under the pretense of a compliment. “You’d think you’d tame it for such an event,” another laughed. Mary only stayed quiet, her instinctual reaction would’ve been to vocally map out each wrinkle on their shriveled faces, but she’s not one to ruin the day. Not when it’s this important to her best friend. Even if she did mentally curse their entire bloodline.
Lily didn’t allow it to be brushed off. She shot them her famous Lily Evans glare, they shut up rather quickly. She then whispered in Mary’s ear how beautiful her hair is, Mary smiled, ignoring the rampant flutter in her stomach. Of course she knew that her hair was gorgeous, but then her curls sat atop Lily’s whispered trace, protective perhaps. She planted her gaze forward to the couple on the altar.
Man and Woman.
“I try to imagine what you’re dreaming
You’re muttering nonsense between steady breathing”
She now settles for Lily’s soft collarbones, accentuated by her steady breathing. James hits a soft bump in the road and Lily stirs, muttering something unintelligible. Mary finds herself back to her closed eyes, the now fluttering eyelashes. What is she conjuring in that brilliant brain of hers? Genius as it is, Mary always worries it runs a mile a minute.
She hopes Lily rests in her dreams. Peaceful. Lily once had said—during those late night conversations that feel like the weight of the world—that she feels most at peace with Mary. Like the curtains fall, and she can just be Lily.
Lily and Mary.
Mary selfishly hopes she’s dreaming of her.
Is it selfish to wish her best friend peace? She draws her eyes toward the window, watching the people and buildings and sidewalks and shadows flit past as if they’ll hold up a sign with the answer she seeks.
I have to wake you up to get out
“We’re here,” James whispers, considerate enough to not wake Lily. Of course he is.
Mary peers out the window, and sure enough, they’ve arrived at her flat. Her current dilemma is that she has to wake Lily to get out of the car. Mary has to become the villain, waking Lily from her delicate slumber. Sometimes she wonders if little instances like these are intentional on James’ part.
She can’t help herself, she sweeps Lily’s hair away from her forehead, gently lifting her head and shaking her shoulder. She’s always been gently affectionate with Lily, this is nothing new, nothing to be cautious of. Not for James at least. She ignores the burning eyes glinting from the rearview mirror.
“Lils, you gotta get up,” Mary murmurs, helplessly wishing Lily would deny her and continue to rest on her shoulder.
“Hm?” Lily sniffles, the movement shifting her button nose adorably.
“I have to get out.”
Lily peeks one eye open, peering out of the window, the glassy green shade lighting in recognition. She’s been around Mary’s flat enough to know exactly what it looks like, even while half asleep. She hums and stretches her arms above her head, bracelets jangling with the movement. Mary has to avert her eyes.
Lily hugs her goodbye, it’s cramped due to being in the back of a vehicle. Mary likes it better this way. She practically inhales Lily’s sweet pistachio perfume, a comfort only the lucky receive. The scent is so distinctly Lily, as it has been since they were just fourteen years old. Mary must have changed her perfume twenty times since then. But Lily has always been that way, if she likes you, she keeps you. Sometimes too close.
“Thank you for coming today,” Lily whispers. It feels like it’s just for them, but James likely heard. Mary pretends he didn’t.
“Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.” Mary wouldn’t miss anything for her world.
She climbs out of the car, the annoyingly pristine cherry red mustang that James received from his parents on his 16th birthday. Lily likes it, or so she says. Mary absolutely loathes it.
“Your man waves from the end of the drive ’til I’m in the house
He can be nice, sometimes”
“Bye, Mary!” James calls, waving as she climbs the pavement. He waves out of the front window, Mary returns the gesture. He doesn’t drive off until Mary unlocks her door and slips inside. He’s just that kind of guy.
There’s the telltale sound of a car door opening, and then closing again. Another opening, then closing for the last time before the car roars on its drive off. Mary tries not to feel sick at the thought of Lily transferring to the front seat.
James is nice. He is. He’s certainly an improvement from how he was in school, Lily wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t. She’s protective of her strong morals, and apparently now that James fits those, he’s the perfect candidate for her affection.
They’ve talked about it. Specifically in those late night conversations where the world bends to only their shared proximity.
** ** **
“Other nights you admit he’s not what you had in mind”
“James and I got into a row this morning,” Lily sighs, abruptly shutting her laptop and turning to Mary. She was waiting for it, sensing the tension between Lily’s eyebrows. Her mouth opening and closing, instead coming out with complaints about her newest client. Mary knows her tells.
“Again?” Mary arches an eyebrow, focused on painting the ladybug perfectly on Lily’s left ring finger. It looks more like a virus with antennas, but she knows Lily won’t be fussed. Lily is a stickler for perfection, until it comes to Mary.
They’re lounging on Mary’s bed, the room lit only by the warm golden lamp, both sitting atop her extravagant purple fluffy comforter. The first time Mary spoke aloud her thought of changing it, Lily acted as if she were considering mass murder. She likes to bury her face in it, almost inhaling the blanket. When Mary suggested she buy her own, Lily shrugged it off. “It’s yours, that’s most of the appeal.”
Mary wonders how someone as smart as Lily often doesn’t realize the weight of her words.
“It wasn’t too bad. Just… you know how he can be sometimes.”
Mary snorts, Lily tsks at the movement it causes on her nail. Mary wipes the extra she smudged on her cuticle—Lily does adore her pristine cuticles. “Arrogant, entitled, bit of a prat?”
Lily smiles, it holds a heavy edge. “It’s not entirely his fault, he just doesn’t know life without a trust fund. His parents are truly wonderful, but… he only…his worldview is different from mine. It always will be. It’s not exactly something you can learn with a silver spoon in your mouth.”
Mary hums, sounds like his fault to her. “Offering to pay through your entire life again?”
She bites at her cheek. “He’s being- he thinks he’s being kind, I should feel lucky, really. People in worse situations would kill for such things.”
Mary finishes the final nail, shifting on the bed to close the nail polish. This is one of the few times she’s remembered, her chipped white nightstand has multiple splotches of color from where it’s spilled before. She lays down, gazing at the ceiling, Lily follows. It’s their unspoken rule: ceiling time. “He’s not respecting your boundaries, Lils.”
“He just doesn’t see it that way,” she argues weakly.
“Do you remember that one time in year eleven when he asked why you wouldn’t date him, giving the excuse of how expensive whatever rose bouquet he got you was?”
Granted, he did then get the mouth-off of his life, and Lily ended up with her very first detention due to excessive public cursing.
Lily bites at her cheek, turning to gently toy with one of the coils spilling out of Mary’s scarf. Nobody is allowed to touch Mary’s hair except Lily. “He got what he deserved… and they were pretty.”
“Your favorite flowers are Marigolds, Lily.”
The room is silent for a while, only the old ceiling fan whirring above them. Her swallow is audible in the empty noise. “He knows that now.”
I’ve known that since we were eleven years old, Mary wants to say. She doesn’t.
Mary and Lily shared a dorm in school, but they didn’t get on at first. It was mostly Mary’s fault, she had a slight attitude problem growing up. She grew out of it…mostly. But eleven year old Mary had to recall the conversation with her mother who sat Mary down and gently told her to stop being an arsehole. Not in those words of course, Mary still got the gist.
“I got you a flower to apologize and be friends or whatever,” Mary had grumbled, stomping into their dorm to present a baby Lily with daisies.
Lily arched an eyebrow, reluctantly accepting the gift. “…Thanks.” Mary muttered a ‘you're welcome,’ but Lily stopped her with a warm hand on her arm. “But if you really want my friendship, my favorite are daffodils.”
Mary scoffed, resisting the urge to take back her daisies and pull Lily’s hair. But she wanted her mum to be proud of her. “Fine,” she gritted instead, stomping away to find some dumb daffodils.
Mary caught Lily in the library, gifting her with the stupid daffodils two days later, they were a bitch to get. She had to ask her science teacher and everything.
Lily giggled warmly, and Mary decided it might’ve been worth it. Until she opened that cheeky gob. “You actually got them.”
Mary arched an eyebrow. “You literally told me to.”
Lily beamed, showing both rows of teeth, a few of them crooked. “You can keep them, I don’t actually like daffodils. I just wanted to see if you would do it. I forgive you, we can be friends now.” She closed her book, rising from the chair to put it away.
Mary scoffed, following after the girl with crossed arms—the flowers still tucked carefully in her hand. “Excuse me?”
“My favorites are Marigolds, but they don’t have them on campus. My mum grows them, she says I remind her of them.” She explained curtly, sliding the book onto a shelf.
Mary didn’t quite know what to make of that. She found this girl awfully strange, it was interesting. “Shouldn’t you remind her of Lilies?” She asked as they apparently walked in tandem toward the gym class that they shared. Lily just started walking, so Mary followed. Mary wasn’t a follower, it was just on schedule anyway.
Lily shrugged. “My parents grow those too.” They passed Marlene, both waving hello to their friend as she walked in the direction of their dorm.
“That was kind of a bitch move, yknow?” Mary said, the slight upward tilt of her mouth betraying her intrigue. “Making me get the flowers when you don’t even bloody like them.”
“Oh.” Lily turned toward Mary with a frown, Mary had never seen one of those on her yet. A scowl for sure, but this was foreign territory. She decided she didn’t like it.
“I mean, it’s alright I suppose, I was rude to you first. Payback and all that,” Mary spoke, pulling Lily from her thoughts.
The girl hummed, seemingly contemplative. “My sister says all girls are vicious bitches… I don’t think I believe her.”
Mary shrugged, neutral on the subject. “Maybe your sister’s the vicious bitch.”
The red haired girl was startled into laughter, “I think she might just be. Can you pass me a daffodil?”
Mary does so without question, placing the wilting flower into her palm. Lily halts to a stop from where they stride on the grass. Mary stops along with her, but not without suspicion. Lily begins to reach forward with the flower, then freezes and quickly pulls back. “Can I put this in your hair? I think it’d look pretty.”
Mary’s favorite flowers are daffodils.
“All in all, nobody’s perfect
There may be better but you don’t feel worth it”
Lily tucks the strand of hair back into her scarf, Mary wishes she wouldn’t have. She only sighs when Mary doesn’t respond, stuck in her memory. “Can I say something kind of fucked up?”
“Always,” Mary grins, turning with her cheek resting on her hands to face the woman. She enjoys when Lily lets go of her moral righteousness—she’s truly perfected the art of shit talking, will go on for hours when prompted. But her smile drops when she takes in the heavy frown on Lily’s face, mirroring her position.
“Sometimes I think he’s the best I’ll get to have in this lifetime.”
Mary suddenly has the urge to throw up.
Mary wants to take Lily’s face in her hands.
Mary needs her chest to stop collapsing in on itself.
“Lily,” Mary begins with a sigh.
“No, I didn’t mean that. I just, he’s the perfect boyfriend. He really is,” Lily nods jerkily, shifting the covers with her movement.
“You’ve only been with him, Lils, you have no possible way of knowing that for certainty.”
Lily bites at her lip, it’s a habit she’s always had when she’s conflicted about something. Mary doesn’t think about her next movement. She just does—acting on her Lily’s hurt instincts.
She brings one of her hands toward Lily’s face, gently tugging her lip to free it from Lily’s own destruction. She quickly returns her hand to lay under her head as if it never happened.
Lily swallows, lips parting and releasing a shaky gasp. “I told myself I would never attach my worth to a man, but James just.. he makes me feel…”
Mary knows what Lily means, she always does, and the tears come along with this power. It happens often enough when the topic of James arises, she knows how to keep them locked inside. “Does he make you feel worth everything?”
Do you know you’re my everything? Mary wants to add.
Lily closes her eyes, a tear escaping those emerald beauties. Mary’s lip wobbles at the sight. She brings her hand up once again, wiping the tear away from the freckled skin. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Lily.”
Green eyes jolt open, causing Mary to realize what she’s just said. She finds that she doesn’t regret it. Lily takes Mary’s wrist in her own hand, trapping it before her fingertips can leave her cheek. “How? I… How do you see me, Mary?”
Mary doesn’t dare blink, Lily doesn’t either. Her finger travels and Lily slacks her grip to allow it. She traces the dip under Lily’s eye, then careful to pet wet eyelashes. She caresses the moles lifting against fields of freckles, the upturned slope of her nose, and finally down to her pink tinted plump lips.
Mary rests her finger there, then peers back up to meet Lily’s eyes. Lily’s lashes flutter once, twice. Her lips begin to part, almost allowing Mary’s finger begins to slip through the veil. Mary’s heart pounds against her chest, begging for its freedom. As if it were reaching out for Lily.
Then it all stops. It ends when Lily closes her mouth abruptly, turning her body to face the wall. The only view is her back, long hair spilling across the bunched up t-shirt that she borrowed from Mary’s closet.
Mary doesn’t register her tears until she tastes one on her lips.
Lily leaves soon after. She received a call from James.
“That’s where we disagree.”
** ** **
“You always wanted to raise a baby by the lake
Maybe they’ll grow up and never make the same mistakes”
“God, it’s beautiful today,” Lily sighs in awe, her eyes locked into the colorful reflection of the sky projecting onto the rippling waves in the lake.
Mary hums in agreement, laying back onto her towel on the grass. Her hair is out and curls free, she’ll probably ruin the definition in the water later anyway. But she‘s focusing on her tan currently, this winter shade is clinging quite stubbornly. When she announced this, Lily decided to lay in solidarity with her—despite having to put on four layers of sunscreen to not burn to a crisp.
Mary’s not fussed about the sight of Lily underneath the sun. Not the sun hung in the sky at least.
Sirius, Remus, Marlene, Peter and James all reside in the lake, seemingly having the time of their lives. Marlene, James, and Peter seem to be having some sort of splashing war, while Sirius is attempting to tackle Remus under the water. Both of their rings glint in the light as they cackle in each other’s faces. Their faces speak of happiness that Mary may never know the sound of.
Lily begins humming along to the song playing faintly on the radio, she’s always had the most beautiful voice.
“Don’t you find it utterly insane that Sirius and Remus are engaged?” Mary asks with a bewildered smile, turning over and popping a strawberry into her mouth.
Lily grins, replacing her humming with tapping her finger along her knee to the beat. They both watch the couple as Remus pretends to dunk Sirius under the water, only to dip down and snog him last minute. “I think the phrase 'idiots in love’ was made for those two tossers.”
“Jesus, I remember them dancing around each other in school. And now they’re having a proper wedding.” It truly is jarring, it feels like yesterday and forever ago that they were all stupid teenagers high on heavy emotion and trying to make sense of it—only to realize you never truly will.
Perhaps it comes later down the line, when they’re all old and grey. Or maybe they’ll wish they allowed themselves to just feel. Life is never a sure thing, but in this one they’re lucky enough to keep one another. Maybe there’s another universe where Mary isn’t quite lucky enough. She should be grateful for this one, she is grateful. She only wishes… she only wants.
Mary could dream up every possible timeline, she only hopes she isn’t constantly wanting in each one of them. Wanting is a fickle feeling, devastating when you know you’ll never have. She hopes there’s a life where she is not burdened with the weight of fruitless desire.
Lily smiles, it’s filled with love. “The fuckers deserve it.” Her eyes roam from the engaged couple to the scenery, gaze switching from the bright, clear sky, back to the glistening sparkle of the lake, then the grass once again. It lingers there. “Do you think they’ll…,” she begins, eyes flicking from Mary, to Sirius and Remus, then to the grass again. What is it about the grass? It is quite green today.
“Do I think they’ll what, Lils?” Mary asks, trying to see what Lily’s envisioning in the field.
She’s silent for a while. “Do you ever think about having children?”
Mary’s stomach plummets at the question, along with a strange flutter in her chest and an unexpected longing lingering somewhere inside of her. “Ah… I’m- I’m not sure, Lils.”
She has. It’s usually been in passing, or something she told herself was either eventual or not at all. She’s not sure if she’s the motherly type, or if that’s only fear speaking.
When she shifts her gaze back toward Lily, she finds Lily’s gaze roaming across the grass and around the rippling water. Almost as if she sees a child running free in nature. If she looks hard enough, Mary could even see the footprints in the grass.
She waits a moment, allowing Lily her fantasy.
“I think you’d make a beautiful mother, Lily. Honestly, I don’t think there could be anyone better.”
Lily’s lips part in a shaky breath. “Motherhood is such an unsure thing, I mean anything could happen. And there’s Petunia who was so bitter toward me as we were growing up, and not to mention Severus’ bullshit-,”
Mary sits up abruptly, scooting closer to her best friend. “Lils, neither of those were ever your fault, I thought you were over this feeling.”
“No, I know. I am past it, Tunia and I are okay now. And yeah, Sev seems to be doing alright,” she sighs wistfully, looking up to the clouds. “I don’t know… Sometimes I miss my future child and I don’t have even the slightest idea of what or who they’d be,” Lily smiles, laughter wrinkling around her eyes.
“Knowing you, they’d be the first kid to never hurt another”
Mary slips a hand on Lily’s knee, rubbing a blotch of freckles with her thumb. Lily looks to her and beams even brighter, soon resting her head on Mary’s shoulder.
“As long as they’re your child, I believe they’ll be golden,” Mary professes softly, breathing in the increasingly stronger scent of Lily. Only she could overpower the wave of Mother Nature.
Slipping her hand from her knee to slot into her hair, she gently runs fingers through the long locks. Lily hums her content, snuggling even closer into Mary. Sometimes she wonders if it’s possible to bleed into one another.
“I see you look at him and wonder if he’ll make you a mother”
Birds dance in trees swayed by the wind above their heads and the laughter of their friends bounces carries through the air, yet Lily’s soft breathing is the loudest sound in Mary’s ear.
“…James would make a good father.”
Mary’s smile wipes from her face. Her fingers pause in Lily’s hair.
“A great one, I think,” she adds.
Mary sighs, the weight in her chest inflating and threatening to eliminate her breathing. “Okay, Lily,” she whispers. It’s all she has in her.
Maybe if she were a better friend she would gush with Lily about how beautiful their combined child would be, how maybe they’d have her red hair and his brown eyes. Even the thought of this child makes her want to collapse into herself.
“And… I think, I know,” Lily’s breathing quickens, Mary feels it fanning against her shoulder. She raises her hand to drag her fingernail along the dip in Mary’s leg. “You’d make a wondrous mother, Mary.”
She inhales sharply, tasting the salty air and the hurt of hope lying in the back of her throat. “I don’t know-,”
“Don’t fight me on this, Mare. You would. You’d- you’d spoil them absolutely rotten. Gosh, the way you-,” Lily swallows before continuing. “They’d never go a day in their life doubting your love—your devotion. They’d likely inherit your wonderful sense of humor, that sharp snark that’s never failed to get your point across,” she laughs, nuzzling Mary’s shoulder as if she could burrow further. Until she pauses, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I’d… I’d want to know them.”
Struggling to breathe through the thick haze of Lily’s words, the mystery tied to the last segment thins it out a bit. “What?” Mary laughs in disbelief. “Of course you’d know my child, Lils—you’re my- you’re my best friend.”
“I know that, but not-,” Lily sighs in frustration, as if Mary is being the petulant one. “Not only as one of their many aunts, like Emmeline or Sybill or even Marlene, not an uncle like Sirius or Remus or Peter. I’d want to be more. Know them better.”
“Like a… godmother?” Mary asks tentatively, tiptoeing around this apparently gentle subject.
She huffs, then seemingly ponders on this for a moment. With a hand protecting her forehead she stares almost directly into the sun, creating a stunning effect on those eyes. Those eyes that Mary wonders if were carved from emerald and woven into her face at creation. “I suppose.”
“You suppose you’d want to be my child’s godmother?” Mary huffs, smiling. “Lily, you do realize that you’re demanding I give you this position with the title merely being adequate to you?”
She receives only a shrug in response. Mary snorts, returning her hand to stroke through her best friend’s hair. “Only you, love, only you.”
This seems to plactate Lily. Enough so to speak whatever else is weighing her lovely mind. Usually Mary would love nothing more, well. Unless it’s about this. About him. “James has said that he wants his future child to be named after his father.”
Mary scrunches her nose in distaste. “His father… the one who was given the unfortunate name of Fleamont? That father?”
Lily chuckles freely into the crisp air. “God, can you imagine? I love Monty, I truly do… but I don’t quite fancy my child having the nickname of an insect?”
“Oh I think I see one right there actually,” Mary giggles along, pointing to a flying bug that she couldn’t name to save her life. “Why hello Lily’s future child. It’s so wonderful to meet you!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Lily snickers, her laughter shaking against Mary’s frame. Her laughter has always been as bold and shameless as her personality. Soon the insect flies out of view, and the laughter dies down. “Sometimes I wonder-,”
“I know, Lily.”
Lily clicks her tongue, adopting that slight scowl that always makes Mary want to pinch her cheek. “I truly adore Monty, and to inherit his name would be any child’s honor. But I wanted-,” she sighs. “I…,”
“You want your first child to be named after the Irish tale your grandmother would tell you every time she saw you until the very day she passed. I know.”
Lily exhales shakily as if she’ll crumble into Mary’s arms. “Mary,” she whispers. “Mary,” this time it’s drawn out, almost savored on her tongue. “Mary,” a cry, tears forming in eyes that deserve only a merry gleam. Oh but how they encapsulate beauty no matter the emotion heard screaming in various stains of jade.
“Tell it to me,” Mary begs. “Tell me the tale, Lily.”
A wet laugh escapes the woman. “Evidently I’ve done so enough times.”
“And I’m asking you to do it again.”
Those eyes now bore into hers, the colors melting into one another, mixing into a hue that could only be entitled love. “…There once was a child called Harry, though most knew him as The Boy Who Lived…”
** ** **
“No, Lily! No, I won’t do it! How could you even-,” Mary shouts, pacing stormily in front of the woman sitting on her couch.
“Mary, I think you’re being-,”
“What? You think I’m being what? Unreasonable? Senseless? Of course you do, here’s Lily fucking Evans everybody, the perfect picture of all things reason and fair! Oh, or should I say Lily Potter? He’s taking everything from you, why not your last name too?”
“You’re clearly angry, Mary,” Lily grits, lifting her face from her hands.
“You always have been bright,” she chuckles darkly, every second flying its way through this timeline accumulating a fiery rage inside of her. She turns to her best friend once again, her eyes dropping to that big ugly ring that wouldn’t even be Lily's style if it shouted her name. “Of course I’m angry! Because how dare you, Lily? How dare you ask this of me?”
Lily has apparently reached her snapping point, as she springs up from the couch and storms toward Mary. She always has held a certain sort of beauty when angry. “Well excuse me for thinking you’d want to fulfill our promise of being each other's bridesmaids!”
“When we were, what? Twelve, Lily? While we ripped pages from magazines?”
“Oh so just disregard that, then? Disregard every fucking promise we made to one another because we were only children? That’s rich coming from you!”
“That was before,” Mary chokes out, feeling the tears begging to tip over. “That was before everything!”
“Before what, Mary?” Lily pleads with a shout, “I don’t understand what could’ve possibly happened that you don’t want to be part of such an important piece of my life?”
Between all of their hysterics, the women have inched closer to one another—noses almost breaching.
“You’re the smartest person I know, Lily,” the words a compliment, but her tone bitter. “Probably the brightest in the entire world. Look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t have a singular clue as to why I cannot fulfill what you’re asking of me.”
“Mar-,”
“No, Lily! Look me in the fucking eye and tell me!”
“I don’t!” Lily growls, doing exactly what Mary asked of her. Always clever enough to find loopholes, that one.
Well, Mary is quite frankly sick of her bullshit. “You don’t what? Say it. Be a fucking woman and say it to my face.”
Lily huffs angrily at her own phrase being thrown at her. “I don’t- I don’t know why you’re choosing to do this to me!”
Mary physically reels back at the words, staring at Lily as if one would at a complete stranger. Maybe it’s what just came out of her mouth, perhaps it’s that god awful ring weighing on her delicate finger, or the angry look in her eyes.
The anger is familiar, in fact, Lily might just be fire personified. It’s usually justified, pointed at the immoral, those who deserve her wrath. But never with Mary, her ire has never pointed in Mary’s direction.
“Choosing? A- a choice? You think it’s a choice?” Mary chokes out, Lily’s echoed words threatening her life.
“Mare, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean…”
Mary stalks back to Lily. Her steps are cold. The look in her eye far detached. “Trust me on this, Lily. If I could have chosen to feel this way about anybody, it would have never been you.”
Lily physically reacts to her words, gasping with tears immediately forming. Her breath hitches to almost hyperventilating, clutching at her chest with her right hand.
Mary stands and watches.
“Fuck- Fuck you, Macdonald,” Lily manages, the quiver in her voice betraying the sharp words. She digs the heels of her palms into her eyes before storming through the flat to retrieve her coat from Mary’s room.
She returns, struggling her left arm through the article. The exact same one that Mary gave her in tenth year when Lily wouldn’t admit her family couldn’t afford a warm enough one. Autumn has barely even arrived, still Lily wears the coat. Seems like her sun might not be too effective. Pity.
She frantically digs into the pocket, breathing harshly from physical and emotional exertion. “Show up or don’t, I don’t give a shit. Here’s the bloody invite,” Lily spits, slapping an envelope down on the coffee table.
Mary stares at the paper, refusing to meet Lily’s eye. She hadn’t realized her arms were bracketing her chest until she had to hold them tighter, refusing to allow herself to unravel. Not like this.
Lily hasn’t left. She stands there. Mary doesn’t know what she’s waiting for. If she wants approval for her choice to marry James, she might just be waiting forever. Perhaps then she’ll know how it feels.
“I want you there, Mary,” Lily whispers from feet away. It’s too far of a distance for the intimacy laced into her hushed voice. “I don’t care if you’re my bridesmaid or only show up for free alcohol, I- I need you there.”
“Why?” Mary can’t help but quiver, her eyes still wet and trained on that fucking envelope.
“You’re my-,” Lily exhales, “You’ll always be my best friend.”
Mary scrunches up her face and shakes her head. No. No. This is cruel, even, no- especially for Lily. “Leave.”
“Mary…”
“I said leave!” Mary bites, her teeth thrashing as she finally looks back up to her. Lily’s face is streaked with tears, her eyes flashing with an abundance of emotions summing up to betrayal.
Lily pauses. She nods, wiping the tears off of her face fruitlessly. She’s gone in the next second.
Mary falls. She immediately crumbles to the ground. The ground is safe. There’s security in knowing you can’t fall any further.
She doesn’t cry. She sits and stares at the open kitchen window spilling air from the slight breeze outside. The air pushes the checkered curtain, encouraging it to wave and dance. Perhaps the wind is reaching for something it knows it can never have, whispering its gusting pleads.
Or the wind doesn’t have a destination. Maybe it’s just a fucking airstream.
And still, Mary cannot breathe.
She rises from her pitiful position on the floor, dragging herself to that damn window to shut it, perhaps more aggressively than the wood deserved.
She’s been meaning to call the AC guy anyway. If she can’t be responsible enough to call the bloody number then she deserves the throes of humidity.
When the heat inevitably starts to prickle her skin, Mary cries. She cries and she sobs. Sliding down the refrigerator door, Mary makes herself as small as possible and bawls into her own shaking arms.
She allows herself the grief of forgetting to call the man who fixes the air conditioning.
** ** **
“Jesus, Mary, you look beautiful,” Marlene punches out, eyes scanning Mary’s frame almost greedily, trying to soak in as much as possible. Mary knows she looks good, but it’s nice to hear regardless.
“Thank you, Marls,” she murmurs, leaning on the doorframe. With every second that passes, this decision feels more like a future regret. Though, who would Mary Macdonald be without regrets?
It’s been a little over a year since that night.
Mary and Lily haven’t been the same since. It’s been noticed. Mary has been questioned about it countless times that her response is almost automated. First it was: I don’t want to talk about it. Until it evolved to: We’ve realized we’re going different ways in life.
Lily has attempted to contact Mary. Countless calls and texts, half the time inebriated. Mary ignores them. Part of her likes them, craves them even, though she’d never admit it out loud. That’s the scary thing about confession. It becomes real. A tree collapsing in the forest doesn’t make a true sound if nobody is there to hear it. Mary won’t confess to falling.
They’ve seen one another at group events. Even said hello or even only smiled at each other. It doesn’t matter if no one buys it. It’s theirs to pretend. It doesn’t matter that tears spill every time Mary finds a fiery strand of hair lying in her flat, cutting off circulation by tying it around her finger.
Time passes anyway. The inevitably of things we’d rather not face tend to sneak up on us.
So here Mary stands, dolled up in a pretty black gown in front of Marlene—Marlene who let Remus claim the sole bridesmaid position to take Mary as her date even if they were both personally invited. Why she’d give up such a significant position is beyond Mary.
“Sorry,” Mary shakes her head, pulling herself out of her own thoughts. “You.. you look great, Marls.”
She’s not lying, Marlene does look quite gorgeous. She’s donned in a posh grey suit that still suits her style. She got another haircut too, the dyed blonde shag now cropped above her ears.
“Oh! I- thank you,” Marlene smiles, that famous lopsided grin that one could only associate with the woman. “Are you er- ready? — Uhm, not physically, ha. You obviously have that covered… I just mean, well, because of-,”
“That’s alright. We can go now,” Mary attempts a believable grin. Marlene doesn’t look quite convinced, Mary refuses to meet her eye. If she finds one trace of pity she might just crumble up and die in the doorway, dead as a doorknob, as they say.
“Okay, Mary,” Marlene only grins, scanning Mary once more before nodding to her car parked in front of Mary’s flat.
On the drive there, Mary watches the trees whose leaves are just beginning to transform. The colors change just as they do every year. She wonders how simple a life of expectancy must be. At least during the later part of the year, their loss is expected. The trees know they’ll have their leaves again.
“Thank you for this, Marls,” Mary practically whispers, her eyes glued to the sights outside the car window.
“For what?” Marlene asks, turning down the radio’s volume. Mary couldn’t even recall the song that was playing.
Mary huffs, it’s not exactly like Marlene to play coy. “For doing what you’re doing. Going together with me as support.”
When Marlene is silent, Mary turns toward the woman. Her eyebrows are furrowed slightly as she gazes in front of her as if there’s an invisible maths problem on the windshield. “Hm?” She finally inquires.
Mary sighs, already frustrated with the elongated conversation topic, even if it’s not fair of her. “I’m just trying to say that you’re a good friend, Marls.”
Marlene inhales sharply, her knuckles immediately whitening on the wheel. Mary doesn’t focus on the reaction too much, the knot in her stomach already heavy enough. She turns back around to face the window.
“Right,” she hears Marlene whisper, a bitter laugh following. “Of course you’d think… Friend. Mm.”
Mary leans her forehead against the glass. The bumpy road jostles her head harshly. It’s fucked up to think, but maybe if they hit just enough uneven gravel, something in Mary’s head could be shaken up just right. Perhaps Mary could forget it all.
** ** **
“But if you get married..”
Mary’s breath catches when Lily walks down the aisle, hanging off of her father’s arm, bouquet held in delicate fingers.
She’s breathtaking.
The pure white gown hugs her wide curves beautifully before falling dramatically behind her in a gorgeous train of lace. The veil is her mother’s, Mary has felt the material between her fingers. Knows what the box it goes in looks like.
Her hair is tied up artfully in a stunningly constructed updo. The hair that Mary hasn’t run her fingers through in what feels like a lifetime. Her fingertips tingle with the urge to touch. The urge to unravel until those red locks spill to their original setting.
Mary knew this was coming. Knew the clock was ticking after the scowling preteen girl with vibrant pink hair had finished scattering flowers down the grass path.
She knew she would have never been ready to watch Lily walk down an aisle that would lead to someone else.
What she didn’t know, was that she would have to brace for the eye contact Lily would make as she passes Mary’s seat.
Lily stumbles the second their eyes meet, her father catches her with ease. Nobody likely noticed, but Mary did. She doubts there’s a language Lily’s body would speak that she wouldn’t understand. Even without so much as a touch in the past year.
Less than a moment later, the connection is broken. Lily’s gaze soon planted directly toward James as she continues her graceful stride.
Mary doesn’t look away. She can’t. She’s frozen. Frozen in time, frozen in the exact spot Lily met her eyes. Lily’s absence is felt like a missing deity, the sun stolen from the sky or the air sucked from earth or the flowers wilted or the ocean drained. Only a weave of Marigold’s hanging from the tarp above their heads standing in her place.
Marigolds and Sunflowers. Same as the bouquet Lily held. She allows herself to imagine a world where the Sunflowers are replaced with Daffodils.
Marlene’s hand shifts to her knee, rubbing what’s supposed to be comforting circles on her knee. It holds the opposite effect, only drawing her back to reality.
Lily has reached the altar, her heels planted into soft velvet. She stares up at James with a light in her eye that Mary wishes she’s never seen. And if Lily’s eyes hold light, James’ carry stars. He’s downright smitten for his fiancé, that’s never been a secret. His eyes immediately dampen at the sight of Lily, he leans in to whisper something, just for them.
Mary feels sick.
Lily hands the bouquet to Remus, who winks at her and grins reassuringly. Mary doesn’t regret her decision of declining bridesmaid. The rot rushing through her blood might’ve wilted the flowers at first contact.
“Friends and Family, we have gathered here today…” The officiant is none other than Frank Longbottom. Mary likes him, they’re good friends even, but the man is currently evil by association.
He sets a nice tone for the wedding, joking about how he never thought James would ever even get Lily to agree to a date. The crowd laughs. They laugh because they don’t know just how unvalued he made her feel in school. They don’t know what Lily had to deal with from both Severus and James. Two sides of the same coin in Mary’s eyes.
She knows. She held Lily while she cried, the girl wondering if anyone would ever love her for her.
Mary can’t breathe.
Frank finishes his entrance speech, instructing the couple to ready their vows.
James’ are sweet. His words are full of praise and honey and the ideal love. How Lily might as well have hung the moon. How Lily will only ever be the one for him. How grateful he is that Lily stands here with him today. How he promises to love her until the end of time.
Mary isn’t too attentive to whatever spills from James’ famous bleeding heart and out of his lips. Tears well in Lily’s eyes and a wide smile graces her features. But those tears don’t fall. Her smile doesn’t light up her face.
James’ vows end. Just before Lily’s begin, an abrupt sound begins from the second row. Everybody turns to the commotion, only to find Petunia Dursley bouncing a blubbering baby on her knee.
The baby screams and it cries to no avail. Petunia attempts everything to get this baby to shut up, but nothing helps. A unanimous awkward chuckle begins to echo the crowd. Mary’s sure that wouldn’t be the reaction if she did it, no matter how strong the urge.
Mary slides her eyes to Lily, knowing the exact annoyed look that always crosses her features when people can’t control their children in public. Lily knows it’s a flaw, but she can’t help it.
But the look isn’t there.
Her eyes are widened and her chest heaving as she stares at the scene. Not at the baby but at… her sister? So Mary’s eyes lock onto Petunia also. She often finds herself trying to understand Lily’s point of view. It’s never too difficult.
She understands quickly. Petunia’s eyes are blank as she stares at her crying baby. Under the empty stare is a hollow concave in her face. A particularly harsh scream and the woman seems to come back to herself, having to push her baby into her husband’s arms and send him and her disruptive son away.
When they’re done, she doesn’t apologize. Not even a wincing glance. Petunia stares at the grass beneath her.
Frank clears his throat, but swiftly returns the previous vibe with a lighthearted quip. “Babies, right? Got a little munchkin at home myself, I’m lucky he’s just past the newborn stage. Back to our regularly scheduled program, everybody!”
The crowd laughs, it’s genuine this time.
Lily seems to settle, turning back to James with a serene smile.
She begins her vows.
Mary’s chest burns.
Her eyes return to the Marigolds, unable to watch Lily profess her love for another. She blocks out the actual words spilling from the melodic tone of Lily’s voice.
Mary transports herself into a memory. One of Lily singing to her after Mary’s grandmother passed, holding her in her arms as she sang a tune in Irish Gaelic. Mary had asked her what it meant, and Lily had only shrugged.
Some time later, Mary had found out it was a love song. She puts herself in the place of a younger Mary, lying in Lily’s lap and knowing she was being serenaded.
The memory still hurts. But Mary was always going to lose her grandmother. The loss was expected.
This grief is sharp. It stabs like a knife to flesh. Mary tried to hold on. Tried to hold the blade down, preserving what she could. Tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as it did. Tried to grasp spilling blood between shaking fingertips.
Some things were always destined to fall.
In this universe, Mary fell. For a time, it felt like flying. Until she reached the bottom with nobody there to catch her.
So she blocks out Lily’s vocal devotion to James with the memory with her song to Mary.
Well, that is until she hears it.
“…never once questioned if there’s a reality where things could be different. I don’t need to when I have you, Jamie…”
That’s when it hits. It hits like an actual slap to the face, Mary’s head jerking as if the words a personal attack.
Lily is lying.
If only to James, or to herself.
Lily has just lied.
Mary is the only soul in this room that knows Lily lied.
‘Sometimes I think he’s the best I’ll get to have in this lifetime.’
The memory rings in Mary’s ears, fills every one of her senses to the point of looming implosion.
This isn’t fair. This has never been fair.
Her vows end. The crowd coo’s at the picture perfect couple. But they’re not. They’re not because Lily… she lied. It doesn’t matter what else she said in her vows. She lied to James. She lied to the crowd. She told Mary the truth. Why is Mary the one to be burdened with the truth?
What is one supposed to do with that?
The rings come out. The fabric appears in Sirius’ hand, holding the offending objects.
Mary’s rampant breathing is noticed by Marlene. She furrows her eyebrows, mouthing a question. No. No, Mary is not okay.
How can she be okay when the sight in front of her is spinning? Unraveling? Does Lily even want this? Want James? Does she want this marriage, the eventual life that will come with it?
It follows. The million dollar question.
“Alright, folks, we’re at the main stage now. But it is mandatory that I ask. If anyone here objects to this union, do speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
“…I’d object
Throw my shoe at the altar and lose your respect
I’d rather lose my dignity
Than lose you to somebody who won’t make you happy.”
Mary could do it.
She could rise from her seat and call Lily out as a dirty liar.
She could tell them everything she has spoken. She could tell them every time they’ve toed that fickle line of becoming something more than what they were.
She could cry and kick and scream with nobody to shush her. She could slip off her heel and point it directly at the facade. Perhaps if she angled it right, everything would shatter.
And Mary would be shunned.
Likely unwelcome again in their tight knit group. Mary absolutely tarnished Lily’s wedding, how could we ever forgive her?
But they don’t know.
They don’t know the comfort Lily always seeks in Mary’s touch. They don’t know the peace Lily feels stripped of her outer layer, allowed to only be Lily with Mary.
They don’t know their late night conversations. Noses practically kissing as they spill what they’d rather the world never know.
They don’t know the language they only find legible with one another. The knowledge of how the other operates, even when they may not know themselves.
They don’t know that even their fights hold such emotional ammunition. Only Mary can cut Lily so deeply. Only Lily can break Mary into so many pieces.
And they never will.
Because Lily Evans stood at the altar with James Potter while Mary Macdonald sat as a mere witness. She’s lost her Lily to someone that will never make her whole.
So she rose from her chair, ignoring Marlene’s protests.
As she left Lily to stand atop her own desolation, Mary felt those sharp green eyes bore into her back, perhaps forgetting that one cannot burn a permanent mark into scorned skin.