epoxiimise

[epoxiimise]

marywithoutthelamb​:

Mary’s flat | Mary MacDonald & Adam MacDonald 4th of April, 1982 Closed starter for @epoxiimise​

It would probably come as a shock to absolutely no one to find that Mary didn’t usually get any visitors. What was there to visit anyway? She was certainly never in the mood to entertain guests and her flat had exactly two rooms, one of which was the toilet while the other one was everything else; hardly inviting. So when the knock came, over a week after the attack on the Potter estate, her initial reaction was suspicion – tense, angry suspicion that had her blood pumping and her hand reaching for her wand. But it was immediately followed by logic; Death Eaters didn’t usually knock, in Mary’s experience. And while she didn’t let herself get caught up in the adrenaline rush of a potential duel, she kept her grip on her wand even as she marched forward to yank the door open.

Her wand was at Adam’s neck before she even recognised him. “Adam?” Immediately, she pulled the wand away and moved to glance around behind him, check if he was alone. He wasn’t supposed to be here. She had no idea why he’d be here. 

“Come on. Inside.” She reached out to pull him in, making sure to slam the door behind him, but that was where her certainty ended. She didn’t like surprises and she didn’t like confusion; Adam’s presence meant both. She turned to him, expectant, both eyebrows raised. “The hell? You know you can’t-” be here, she’d been meaning to say. That sounded mean, though. And usually, it wouldn’t bother her but… this was Adam. Mary frowned and tried again, “What are you doing here? Did something happen back home?”

It had taken all his courage to make it to Mary’s door. One week ago, his casual fling had shown up in their usual meeting spot covered in soot and ranting intoxicatedly about a murderer. 

Somehow, Dolohov had discovered that Adam Macdonald was related to Mary Macdonald, who he was apparently convinced had killed his best friend. The problem - Adam wouldn’t put it past his sister. While he felt he didn’t know her anymore, he knew that she was capable of terrible things if she felt it needed to be done.

Then there was the rest of the rant to think about. Explosions and chaos and so many things that Antonin probably didn’t mean to tell him. The bloke was a wizard and that fact was almost as shocking as when Adam had learned his sister was magical as well.

Her wand - he’d only seen it a handful of times - came up to his throat and Adam instinctively took a step back. He had actually never seen voluntary magic from the stick of wood, but he knew it was what she used to control what had one been weird tricks. Oh, that’s just Mary, they’d all said when they were kids.

She pulled him in roughly and he let her. Everything from their hometown was rough and his sister was no different. How many times had they handled one another like this growing up? Adam’s eyebrows shot up in disdain at the start to her sentence, hearing the rest even as she changed course. It made his usual bitterness for her come back with ease and he was reminded why they hadn’t spoken in so long.

“Trust me,” he said, just as coldly. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be. I... I think I’m in trouble, Mary. And you’re the only one that can help me.” He wasn’t one to beat around the bush, so he pushed forward. “I think we should sit down so I can tell you about Antonin Dolohov. He’s one of your people.”

[epoxiimise]

starbrightblack​:

Sirius smiled ruefully and looked down at his cup. He understood why she was leaving and couldn’t begrudge her it. In many ways, he was glad she was leaving; Aizel couldn’t get hurt by the war if she wasn’t near it. That said, he was going to miss her. She was the closest thing he had to a mother at this point.

“I wouldn’t,” he admitted. “I have too many responsibilities here. I have too many people counting on me.” Sirius cleared his throat. He also had James’ death to avenge, but Sirius didn’t want to admit that to Aizel. She’d try to convince him otherwise.

“I’ll miss you,” he added softly. “Almost as much as I miss him.”

“I know,” she told him softly and she did. Sirius and James had always been family, but it wasn’t just them. There was Lily and the two other boys - Remus and Peter. Aizel knew that, with James gone, someone would have to try and fill his shoes. “I already miss you, my dear. You take care of yourself, darling.” 

She doubted he would, but she hoped he did.

FIN. 

[epoxiimise]

BASICS.

NAME. Adam Macdonald AGE. 21 BLOOD STATUS. Muggle POSITION. Confused FACECLAIM. Jake Abel

DETAILS.

As the oldest Macdonald child, Adam had responsibilities. Mary, his younger sister by barely a year, made things easier - together, they helped their siblings with whatever they needed, even as children. Their parents, while clearly very much in love, did not know how to raise a family. And, by the time they discovered Mary was a freaking witch with magic and everything, money was tight. They were happy to see her be accepted to a magical school where everything had to be pretty and easy - she had warm clothes and food. Adam, however, was not happy to watch her go. They’d been in it together and, upon boarding that train, it felt like she’d left him. They tried to stay in touch, but who had the damn time to write letters when he was trying to get after-school jobs as a teenager and make sure their heat stayed on? 

The older he got, the more disillusioned he became with magic. Mary couldn’t use it outside of school but, once she graduated and never came back, the anger about this thing that he didn’t have grew even more. Magic could fix all their problems - couldn’t it? When they were struggling with food and money and other basic needs, Adam would think about how Mary could just fix it all if she cared about them enough to come home. To Adam, the magical world was a piece of shit if they were fine just leaving Muggles to rot into non-existence when they could obviously fix the things people needed.

He tries to keep the family afloat, but John has been getting into too many fights at school, while Sarah kisses too many boys and will probably wind up pregnant soon enough. Having dropped out of Sixth Form himself, finding work is hard, but he manages. Even without Mary, since she went off towards her magical paradise without the rest of them. If he finds himself in those back-alley clubs where men grind against other men, his family doesn’t have to know. Unfortunately, he winds up in bed with a man named Antonin Dolohov. Adam has known he was gay for a long time now, though he choses not to share it much, and Antonin is good looking enough and a nice shag. When Antonin turns up not only to be a wizard, but also gets very aggressive upon discovering the connection between Adam and Mary, Adam bolts and boards a train to London. He rings his family to let them know he won’t be gone for long, but just has some unfinished business to take care of. For the first time in years, he’s back in the same town as his sister and this unstable stalker dude keeps following him. Maybe it’s time to reconnect…

ADAM IS A SECONDARY CHARACTER.

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starbrightblack​:

Sirius’ eyes fell shut as Aizel squeezed his hand, and for a moment, he felt the motherly reassurance that even now had him feeling guilty. He’d never tried to overstep his position with the Potters, even as they’d given him a level of love and comfort he’d never known in his own cold and volatile house. Now he felt like it wasn’t his to have, but Sirius refused to let that little thought destroy his ability to accept comfort from Mrs. Potter. He wasn’t James. He could never be James. But he could still accept the comfort Mrs. Potter gave him, especially when he was sure it wasn’t a one-way street.

His eyes flew open as Aizel touched his face, even if it didn’t quite help the lump in his throat. Sirius nodded, wordlessly at first and then managing to say, “I was there as much as I could be.” Perhaps he’d been selfish, especially toward the end. They hadn’t been the same in recent months. Perhaps not in years. But even if that was true, Sirius refused to tell Mrs. Potter that. She didn’t deserve the burden of their growing pains. 

“I’m doing what I can,” he admitted. Sirius couldn’t pretend he was being the perfect rock for Lily or the others, but he was trying. Dysfunctional though he was and chaotic though the situation with his brother was, Sirius was trying. “Are you staying in England?” Sirius already knew the answer, but he had to ask. He had to hear her plans for sure.

He didn’t seem to believe her fully. His own mother was cruel, that much Aizel was certain of, and he likely couldn’t understand what unconditional love meant. She would do what she could. The squeeze of the hand, the touch of the face - it would have to be enough.

Aizel shook her head and looked at him softly. “No, dear.” She, too, was an honest person. Perhaps that was why James had loved them both so much. Sirius was not her child, but they had things about them that were similar anyway. And she would continue to do what she could for him. “I will be going home after I’ve laid him to rest. England was only my home when my husband and son was here to share it with me.”

She reached forward and sipped the tea once more. “I would ask you to come, but I won’t do you that dishonor of pretending you might say yes.”

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starbrightblack​:

Sirius tried to smile at the compliment, but he couldn’t quite muster one genuine enough to pass whatever test Mrs. Potter was probably holding him to. He couldn’t help wondering if that was for the best. Sirius wanted to be strong, but he couldn’t pretend for her. She was one of the people who would probably least expect him to.

He stayed still as she reached out to take his hand, and Sirius couldn’t help the shutter that slipped by. It wasn’t related to her contact but rather his own inability to quite keep his armor up in the face of it. “I-” Sirius had been prepared to offer her the half-story, but she was right. She wasn’t a fool and knew exactly what kind of things James and Sirius had been up to. Perhaps she didn’t know the details, but she knew.

Sirius reached out with his other hand to add it to the pile, enveloping one of Aizel’s between his. “He was betrayed,” Sirius said, realizing it was the first time he was speaking these words aloud, actually acknowledging what had happened to James. He had to be strong enough to say it, but Sirius’ eyes squeezed shut. He wasn’t strong enough to watch Aizel’s reactions too. “We were… Well, you know we were at the Rosier’s. James was posing as Lucius Malfoy. Things were going well. His cover was fine. Ain-” He couldn’t say her name. “Another Order member turned on him. I wasn’t there.” For him. “I don’t know all the details, but… She killed him.”

There was a moment where Aizel thought Sirius would not tell her the truth - would keep this a secret from her in the same way she’d kept him from the darkness of his childhood home, all those years ago. But then his hand came to rest atop of hers and she knew before he even began to speak. He would tell her what he could and that would have to be enough.

She waited patiently as he found the words, but even the moment of quiet couldn’t prepare her for when he spoke. James was betrayed. Her son, who trusted so fully and loved so deeply, had given his heart to the wrong person. She felt tears spring to her eyes, but she did not falter her gaze, even when Sirius shut his own eyes to not look at her. She studied him, instead. He was hurting in a different way than she was. Had he been there? Had he seen? 

It was as though Sirius could read her mind because she answered before she could even ask. “Oh,” she said. It was a breath more than a word and she squeezed Sirius hand. “Thank you for telling me.  Leave it to my son to love someone who couldn’t love him back.” She reached the other hand to touch Sirius’ cheek, patting gently. “I’m glad you were not with him to see that,” she said honestly. “But, Sirius, my love, you were there for him. He loved you very much.”

[epoxiimise]

starbrightblack​:

Location: Sirius’ apartment  Date: February 23, 1982 Starter: @epoxiimise​

Sirius smiled ruefully and ducked his head. “I cleaned up special for you and everything. I know it’s not much, but it’s plenty of space for me.” It was no grand Potter Estate for sure, but Sirius didn’t need that kind of space. Besides, this was perhaps the best situation. No one could come sniffing around this way; no one could suggest he make like a good pureblood and play host or benefactor. 

He held his hand out, wanting to make sure Mrs. Potter was comfortable as he helped her find a comfortable seat on the couch. “I made tea. I know that’s hard to believe, but I hope it measures up.” Sirius chuckled, a little nervous, a little bashful. And entirely trying to stay focused on that above all else. The moment he thought– Well, Sirius didn’t want to spend all afternoon crying on Mrs. Potter. He wasn’t sure he had that right.

The loss of her son was stuck in Aizel’s heart - the pain over losing a child a different sort of hurt than she’d felt when burying her husband. But Aizel had knew who James had been. For months, she’d been preparing for this possibility. And she was strong. The Potter name would die with her, but James’ life had meant something. She believe in an afterlife where she would get to see him again. His spirit pressed on around her. They were not alone.

“This is a nice place, Sirius,” she said, looking around the small flat. Her voice was quiet, as it had always been, and warm, genuine. The accent, even after all those years she’d lived in Britain, was still evident under the English. “It will measure up,” she continued confidently with a small smile, reaching forward to take one of the cups on the table. She took a sip - not great, but not bad either. She could feel Sirius’ love in the brew.

Aizel placed it back down on the saucer. “Lovely,” she said before reaching out another hand - this time to her son’s best friend. The boy she liked to think she helped to raise. She placed it over top of his. “I hope you know you don’t have to be my host. This is both our grief.” She took a soft intake of breath. “Will you tell me what happened, my love? The truth. I may be an old woman, but I am no fool. I know where James’ heart lied in this war you’ve been fighting.” 

[epoxiimise]

silveranddittany‌:

It’d been a surprise, honestly. To hear from the packs. Remus had accepted that the half dozen werewolves he’d gathered to the ranch were all he was likely to sway - and he didn’t hold that against the rest, really. How could he? He’d been there, with them. Long enough to see how they lived, to hear how they talked. Their world was a place of few options. Fewer than him. Leaving Voldemort, leaving Fenrir Greyback, was no easy way out. Asking them to believe in an alternative was asking a lot. Six had been more than Remus expected. 

But Marley had been looking for him, he’d heard, through the long, twisting grapevine that reached his way. It was Sid who’d heard, who’d told him, at the farm; Marley wanted out. She’d been kind, in her own rough way, when he joined the pack she was running with. A bit sharp, but she’d lived hard. They all had, struggling to survive in the wild, ready to run and scatter at a moment’s notice. So, when the word came, that she’d meet him that night, in Kielder Forest, Remus hadn’t been surprised that there was no warning. He’d make it work. 

Bloody great big place, though, Kielder was. And far. To apparate, even, when he was already worn down. By those still-healing wounds in his back. By the nearness of the moon. By the knowledge that it would be a terrible night, even worse than usual - he’d never gone into a full moon so badly hurt, before. Wasn’t going to come out better. 

There was work to do here, though. Work that pushed those worries away, for now. So he could worry about other things. Like the fact that he had been winding his way into these woods for near on twenty minutes, and hadn’t caught sight, sound, or smell of Marley. Just the green, loamy, living tremble of a dark forest in the rain. 

Or not. He went still, a cold reaching in from his edges, like ice creeping over the slow, black depths of the lake. They - he - was downwind. Snuck up on him, like a real animal. The hand on his wand curled; so did the other, empty, clawlike, as a shaggy shadow strode closer, through the trees. Broad-shouldered, sloping. Massive. Like - 

What’s mine is mine.

Greyback. 

The breath rattled out of him, and didn’t come back. Remus could only stare, locked in place from his eyes to his soles. Fenrir Greyback. The face to the name, to the thing that had come crashing through his window so long ago. And again and again and again, whenever that nightmare came for him. The big bad wolf. The monster under every bed he’d ever slept in. The teeth in his shoulder and the curse in his blood, and… and a man, out for answers, who looked like he could snap him in half if he didn’t much like what he heard. 

“Not poaching,” Remus croaked out, past the overwhelming urge to run. “They -” he’d taken a step back, hardly realizing, cracking through twigs and underbrush. “They asked. I said - I told them there was a pack, away from him. The Dark Lord.” This was scrambling, he knew, the smack of his frantic heart so loud he could hardly hear. “That’s all we want. Someplace safe, from him and the rest of them. That’s it.” Enough truth that it would make sense, be believable, he hoped. And, just as important, enough lie that he could still keep the ranch, the Order, safe. 

Him, though? What were the odds that he’d leave this fucking forest alive? Slim. Slim to none. 

Fenrir could hear Castor’s ragged breath - could smell the sweat from his place feet away. It was years of living as his true self that taught him how to hone in the skills of the wolf so easily, even during the times where he was not allowed to be one. He was used to the sound and the smell. It was nervousness. It was fear. 

And who didn’t fear him? Fear brought him his packs. Fear and the knowledge that Fenrir was right. They would not be brought down by wand-carriers! They would not falter and be compared to common Muggle dogs! People understood his cause and it was for that reason that Fenrir had so many followers.

The pup was stumbling over his words, making excuses.... creating lies. Fenrir did not like him. It didn’t matter that he stated he was just trying to get away from the Dark Lord. Because the Dark Lord was part of Fenrir now. And take away from one was taking from the other. It didn’t matter that Fenrir didn’t truly care about the bloodline cause of Lord Voldemort... because following the Dark Lord would bring them one step closer to what he wanted. A world where the wolves were in their rightful place. Treated with respect. Allowed to roam and live and bite. They could rule the world, if Fenrir had the right resources.

“Still poaching, when ya think about the fact I got six less wolves runnin’ ‘round. Who are ya and why d’ya think I would care about what you and them wolves wanted?” Fenrir took a step forward, cocked his head like he would in his true form. Listening. To the heart beating. Wild, fast. “Why ya tellin’ people yous one of mine? Castor prob’ly not really your name.”

[epoxiimise]

The Hunt Begins | Fenrir&Remus

Date: December 9, 1981 Location: Kielder Forest @silveranddittany​

Fenrir didn’t know the name - he’d heard too many different ones to tell who the person was that had been sneaking around his camps, stealing his wolves. It might have been true that Fenrir was a bit busier these days appeasing the humans - those with the Mark on their arms - to check in on his various packs the way he used to. But they were still his... and there was a reason he’d devoted his time to the Dark Lord. If everything went his way, he would be the one coming out victorious.

The wolves would no longer have to hide - no longer have to subject themselves to the little outskirts of the world. Wizards would fear teeth even more than they did already. And Fenrir... he would have his picking. Whatever child he needed to build his army.

Oh yeah, Fenrir had a plan. And someone was trying to ruin it. Claim that the Dark Lord - that Fenrir - did not care for the wolves. Convince them to leave with him. Move to a side which was surely as corrupt as his own. And it was starting to work. Wolves were leaving - his packs were growing smaller. It had only grown more important in his mind when Dolohov had claimed he’d met one of the pups on the grounds of Nott Estate the night Mrs. Nott had died.

But Fenrir knew where his pups were... and they hadn’t been placed at the estate. No, only Fenrir himself had been granted the honor of Death Eater robes - Death Eater duties. So he’d set a plan. If this Castor (or whoever) wanted werewolves, then he would find one.

“Ah,” Fenrir said in that raspy voice, when a scrawny wolf approached. Fenrir sniffed. The other smelled like human... smelled of desperation. Based on his clothing, the cut of his hair, the wizard wand... this was a man who wanted to be a man. “I would say sorry for luring you in here like, but you’ve been sayin’ your one of mine... and what’s mine is mine, after all. Castor, is it? Been poaching, I hear?”