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Mary loves her family, she does. But sometimes –sometimes– she feels as if they don't love her. She and her family, her mother especially, have a rocky relationship. They always did — she wasn't the perfect quiet, obedient, girl her mother wanted, she was loud and wicked and she wanted to rule the world; she wanted to be a man.
As she grew, it just got worse.
Convincing her parents to let her go to Hogwarts was a challenge. They hadn't liked the way the magical society seemed to clash with their beliefs. And they certainly didn't want their wild daughter to be the one to represent the Macdonals in the wizarding world– not that they were thrilled by the idea of wizards. Either Sarah or Emma would be a better fit.
Mary had to beg for days, promising to behave, to be the perfect girl they raised her to be. She promised to spread the word of God among the wizards. She promised to be the perfect student and steer away from boys.
Eventually, skeptically, they agreed.
Needless to say, Mary didn't keep any of those promises.
When she went home that summer, she expected her parents (or at least her siblings) to bombard her with questions. To ask her about magic and implore her to perform some for them. She had spent many nights picturing it. She had practice, talking to the darkness, all and every word she would tell them; she had practiced the lies and the truths.
She had longed for hour-long conversations and the warmth of her family, instead, she got denial and loud silence. It talked clearly and fiercely: she was not to mention witches, wizards, and their school. She was not to mention that side of her.
Mary felt alienated from her family. For the next five years, she saw them twice a year. Twice a year she played her role. And twice a year they all pretended she was still part of the family.
Until she wasn't anymore.
In the summer before her last year at Hogwarts Mary officially became a disgrace. She doesn't know why she did it. Maybe it was because she was tired of hiding herself, maybe because she didn't want to hide her. Or maybe it was because she wanted her parents to see her, actually see her, for once.
She doesn't know what she was expecting either. It wasn't as if she didn't know exactly what they thought about people like her.
Carefully and delicately, Mary broke part of her character. She watched as the broken pieces crashed, like glass, against the floor, scattering around her feet. And then she fearfully stared at the sicken faces of her mother and father as the truth settled between them.
That, Mary thinks, was her mother's last straw. The woman lashed out, cursing the name of the devil for taking over her daughter. For nights and nights, she prayed for Mary. She sobbed and begged for forgiveness. And then, when she saw no change and the hole of truth still ruined the perfect picture of Mary Macdonald, she screamed.
"No daughter of mine is a sinner! You choose young lady, either be our daughter or be the devil's one"
So Mary, with bleeding hands, picked up the fractured pieces of her character and glued them together. They didn't quite fit flawlessly anymore, but they did the work. If you squint your eyes you could still see a small glimpse of the rainbow of colors that hid behind. If you really paid attention you could distinguish the most vague outline of two beautiful young witches sharing a heart.
Mary loves her family, she thinks. But sometimes –most of the time– she feels as if they don't love her.
...
Mary met Marlane when she was 11 years old.
They sat in the same compartment and immediately hit it off. It was rather magical. For long hours, eagerly and passionately, they prattled. Mary didn't know much about Hogwarts, but Marlane knew everything about the school and she was eager to share it with anyone with a willing ear.
"My brothers have told me all about Hogwarts. I'm still not sure they didn't lie to me. Like, come on, a talking hat! That can't be true"
"Oh! But if it were true it would be hilarious" Mary said, "Imagine it wanting to talk to you and you just walk away. 'COME HERE YOUNG LADY! I AM NOT DONE TALKING. WHY CAN'T A HAT HAVE LEGS WHEN THEY NEED THEM'"
Marlane laughed, throwing her head backward. Her laugh, perfectly imperfect, dazed Mary, filtering in through her ears like a beautiful melody. It was a sound she could drown in.
Mary bowed to make fun of talking hats more often. If only to hear Marlene laugh again.
When Mary was 13, she tried for the quidditch team.
She had been a beast. The air and she were one together, they worked side by side. Her movements were precise and deliberate. Her hours and hours of work, showing.
"You were one of the best out there, Mary," Marlene had told her.
"Can't wait to be in the team with you, Macdonald" Frank patted her on the back after tryouts.
That year, she didn't make the team. Outraged Mary demanded reasons. A wave of compliments flew out of the captain's mouth, filling Mary's ego just to crash it with five burning words; "But you are a lady".
Mary, livid, was ready to burn him, like paper, and everything around them. She smelt the smoke and saw the raging flames. But Marlane, like water– deep, untamable water– extinguished the fire and like a Tsunami, took over.
"So let me see if I got this straight? You will lose a valuable asset to your team just because your fragile masculinity can't accept that a girl is better than him. Huh, I've been told men are dumb, but I never quite believed it until now"
It was then that Mary decided she liked Marlene.
The next year Mary, Alice, and Marlene made the team.
At 15 Mary realized she was into girls.
It started as a breeze. Her eyes would stay in a girl for a moment too long before the wind took away the intensity of its meaning. And then her eyes began traveling to places she shouldn't care about. Her breath would get stuck in her throat whenever she crossed glances with that Ravenclaw girl, Olivia. And she pictured doing things to her, with her, that she shouldn't be wanting.
And then, it continued as a gale. In drunken nights, with a salvation and an excuse, Mary kissed Mia, Angela, Heather, and any who would fill her aching heart and shut her questioning mind. She kissed sweetly, desperately, and passionately. And then, alone in her room, Mary burnt with desire.
It ended as a Zephyr.
Mary was 16 when she noticed her heart beat for Marlene.
In the aftermath of a war fought with lust and loath, Mary felt at peace. She could finally hear her thoughts again and feel her heart without it tearing apart. It was new and exhilarating. She wanted to feel it all.
So she did.
First, she noticed the way her eyes childishly searched for Marlene wherever she went. Then the way her heart fluttered when their hands met, when they sat next to each other or when, like little girls, they hid under Mary's bed covers.
Then when they kissed, that blessed night, Mary thought she might die. Her heart beat, ready to break free from its rib cage. And her body, in an over shot of senses and desire, was ready to give in on her.
Marlene's lips were a sweet soft candy she couldn't get enough of.
Now at 17, they lie together, as they used to do, under Mary's covers, holding tight to each other.
The truth of a broken family and a disfigured character, looming on top of them like a blanket of terror and proof of the reality from outside their little bubble.
"You know, they tell me I am a sinner. But you, Mar, make me feel like a saint"