lionheart

The world of galas and gowns never felt accessible. The only time Mary really saw anyone dressed up was at weddings, school dances, and on television. So, walking into the Ministry’s Annual Charity Gala always felt surreal. The concept of the rich and the politicians rubbing elbows and throwing money around to make it seem like they care all while the money typically ends up in one of their pockets. But it provided a useful opportunity to poke her nose about in a protected space. Plus, it gave her an excuse to wear the prom dress her mother forced her to go shopping for. Just because she went to Hogwarts didn’t mean her mother wanted to miss out on those muggle milestones. 

She found herself lingering near the refreshments, nursing a glass of champagne as she smiled toward someone who crossed her path. “Are you enjoying yourself?” She asked warmly. 

Lily had been on edge all night. The power in this room was only a reminder that however much she achieved, however hard she tried to succeed, she would never be accepted by the upper echelon- and she wouldn’t want to be. She’d spent her night grabbing as many hors d’oeuvres as humanly possible, and after a few forced small talk conversations with coworkers and old school friends, she’d grabbed a few drinks as well. 

“Oh, thank Merlin I found you,” she groaned dramatically, grabbing Mary’s arm. “Honestly, I’m dying out there. Small talk and rich people?” She shuddered, downing the rest of her glass and placing it on the nearest floating tray. “It’s like my own circle of hell. You look lovely though,” she gushed, the quick change of subject a telltale sign she was starting to get tipsy.

Remus resisted the urge to smile, biting down on his bottom lip in an attempt to maintain his air of annoyance. “Evidently.” He muttered, pushing away from the counter to peer into the cauldron. He didn’t even know what potion Lily was brewing, which meant he had no way of knowing himself how close it was to being finished. It felt like they had been standing here for hours. Letting out a huff of breath, he rolled his eyes. “I know you, Lily. You never need an excuse to brew a potion.” Watching as she strained what she had made into a mug, he glared at it pointedly before taking it from her. If only just to further prove he didn’t want to drink its contents. The truth was, the remedies she gave him always helped without fail. But he was very much looking forward to sitting down and spending some time with his friend. He was tired of people worrying over him, tired of people questioning him on his work with the Order. Without stopping to learn what he was about to drink, all too used to having medicine pushed upon him, he downed the concoction, wrinkling his nose at the hot, and bitter taste. “Now that you have successfully poisoned me with the help of Walt Disney, please can you let me be miserable in peace? Or is there a potion for that too?” 

“Could you be more dramatic?” she rolled her eyes. If sarcasm and melancholy could kill, she’d have been dead years ago. But she’d long since learned when to ignore his protestations and when to take them seriously. Sometimes she overstepped her boundaries as a friend- she’d been called bossy her whole life, and wore it as a badge of honor. But she just couldn’t help herself from letting people know what she thought was best, even if she knew she was being more of a mum than a friend.

“Of course there’s a potion for that.” She fished out a bottle of prosecco (honestly, wizards swore on firewhiskey but it just couldn’t hold a candle to the cheap wine she could buy at the corner store). “Muggle alcohol and bitching about our lives will probably do it. We could always talk about people we don’t like if we need a Plan B.”

The door to the apothecary closed behind him with a cheerful ding and James took in a deep breath of some very needed semi-fresh air. At least, despite the general London pollution, it wasn’t as stale and throat-scratching as the air inside of the shop and maybe with luck he’d stop feeling like he was about to choke to death on some poisonous vapours. He shifts the packages in his arms to one side of his body and pockets the change and as he’s about to enter the Diagon Alley crowd someone blocks his way. ‘Hey. you are in my way.’

“Or you’re in my way,” Lily raised an eyebrow and gestured at the door blocked by James. There was a time where she’d just shove her way past him with a groan, but she was surprising even herself with how much easier it was to make conversation with James Potter these days. Give it another five years, and they might even be friends. “...Brewing anything interesting with that?” She nodded at the parcel. 

“It’s dangerous out there no matter if you’re a Wizard or a Muggle. At least this way I can defend myself.”

"Draught of Living Death- I love a potion you can't touch after you finish it. And my favorite spell is probably accio, every Muggle I know would die to have a spell that helps them find lost things.”

“Yeah. Like, the whole last ten years of my life?”

“There’s certainly otters with J names that I’m rather fond of.”

"Sometimes I wonder if I abandoned Severus right when he really needed someone.”

“More than anything. We used to be so close- sometimes I think I’d give up the last ten years of magic just to be like that again. It almost feels like I don’t have a family anymore.”

“Oh, all the time. It will never cease to baffle me that wizards insist on using quills and ink when ballpoint pens are right there.”

"I’ve lost a little, but gained a lot. I’d call that a blessing.”

“Lily, I don’t even want to be here.” Remus muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re the one insisting on making me a potion I’ve already told you I don’t need.” A lie, but he could survive without it. The truth was, he couldn’t remember feeling more exhausted. As much as he enjoyed spending time with one of his closest friends, he wanted them to be curled on the sofa with tea so that he could shamelessly fall asleep on her. Definitely not hovering over a cauldron. “I don’t want to get on my way.” He assured her. He wanted to see her, he really did. He wasn’t sulking because he was desperate to leave. He was sulking because… well, that seemed to be all he was good for these days. “I just- I wish you would relax. You know my health isn’t your responsibility. You don’t need to do this.” 

“Don’t care,” she responded airily. “I’m doing it anyways.” She’d found that the best way to get Remus to listen to her was to simply not offer a choice. She was too committed to taking care of him, and he was too committed to not being taken care of. “Maybe I don’t need to do this, but I want to. Think about it this way, you’re giving me an excuse to brew a potion. You know I like doing that.” That, and the circles under Remus’ eyes gave even her pause when he walked into her flat. When you work yourself to the bone, eventually, the bone will give way too.

“I don’t do things because I feel responsible for you, Remus. I do them because I care about you and I want you to be healthy. Now here,” she strained the contents into an absolutely ridiculous Mickey Mouse mug. “Drink it.”