RP Narrative Who: Mary MacDonald and Demetrius Mulciber When: 8 June, 1980; Afternoon. Where: Wizarding Edinburgh What: Demetrius finds out Mary's little secret: "being alive." Which results in Mary being epically creepy. Rating: PG-13. Status: COMPLETE.
It was actually a beautiful day in Edinburgh. The sun was shining, there were large, pillowy clouds in the sky, and the temperature was warm enough that if she had wanted to, Mary could have worn a sleeveless shirt and been comfortable. Unfortunately, she didn't have that option - at least not in her mind. The end of her right arm, only eight short inches from her shoulder, was unsightly and grotesque (in her eyes) and she wouldn't subject the public to that. She wore a mid-length sleeved shirt, and had the opening on the right sleeve pinned shut so that no one could see her scarred stump of an arm.
After healing enough to be coherent and moved, she had returned to her brother, and Leslie had moved them into a flat in Muggle Edinburgh, not far from the wizarding sector. He also rented a storefront in the wizarding sector where they could train. He had been her saving grace, as he always had been, and had refused to let her give up. Every morning he woke her up at 7 in the morning, fed her breakfast, and walked her to the blacked out storefront building. There he drilled her for hours upon hours, making her work, forcing her to duel with him with her left hand.
She hadn't been without left hand training, but she had been so adept with her right hand that she had never focused on it. Now forced to, she found that it ultimately wasn't different than using her right hand, but required a lot more concentration.
This was one of the few days that Leslie was giving her a break, but told her to stay nearby. She walked down the street of the wizarding sector of Edinburgh, window shopping and trying to ignore the stares or even her own reflection in the glass. She wore a large sunhat that wasn't normally something she would be caught dead wearing, but given she'd allowed her hair to return to brunette, Leslie was afraid someone would recognize her. This, at least, gave her some protection from being recognized and definitely gave her time to escape if she saw an enemy before they realized it was her.
Her eyes trailed to the cobblestones in front of her, until an owl started screeching at the top of its lungs across the street. She looked up at it, the sun shining so brightly it caused her to squint, and watched as a man wrestled the owl back into its cage. She smirked slightly and shook her head at the sight, and then turned and entered the bookshop she was headed toward, completely unawares of anyone who might have seen her.
Demetrius needed to get away, he had skipped out on work because he was still in a good deal of pain, but instead of "resting", he had decided to go somewhere and just walk around a bit. Though his ankle was hurting, walking around the wizarding part of Edinburgh was doing him a little bit of good.
He hadn't been giving anything much thought anymore, he was miserable because his parents were gone and he was in constant pain. The past few weeks had been rough on him (and arguably mostly everyone) and he wasn't sure how to fix anything. Being unsure was possibly the worst thing ever for Demetrius. It was ridiculous.
Flexing his right hand (it still wasn't working quite right after it had exploded), he winced and continued down the cobblestone path. An owl screeched and he looked up, rolling his eyes and continuing on his way. Passing another person who had stopped to look up at the owl, Demetrius didn't think much of it until-
And then he stopped dead in his tracks, turning around only to see the woman walk into a bookshop. It couldn't be- could it be? He had punctured her lung and left her for dead. Was it really her? Intensely curious, Demetrius slipped into the bookstore, keeping his head down and perusing a few shelves, but trying to find the woman. If Mary MacDonald wasn't dead, his week had just gotten a lot worse.
She walked toward the back, where the medicinal texts were found. She was experiencing a fair amount of pain from her amputation, and the phantom limb pain was severely annoying, if nothing else. She had a few texts at home, but she needed a few more to work on a few new potions and other things. She really needed to contact Lily about the potions stuff... Mary just wasn't as good as her former best friend in the subject.
She had heard the bell of the door tinkle behind her, but hadn't thought anything of it. She retrieved a book from the shelf and awkwardly began to flip through it, using her stump to balance the book on the shelf so she could turn pages. It was awkward but it worked, which was all she could be thankful for these days.
Heading towards the back of the store, Demetrius lingered between shelves, studying the woman he suspected was his nemesis (having a nemesis was rather ridiculous sounding, but that was the most relevant word he could think of for it), and he was in for a surprise when he did. She only had one arm. Well, that would make killing her next time a lot simpler, he figured.
Watching for a few more moments, he determined it really was her. Or her one-armed twin, but how likely was that? Carefully, he approached her, picking up a book on burn scars and flipping through it. He wanted to say something, but he almost didn't want her to run screaming from the shop. So he just read a bit and waited for her to say something, anything.
She glanced up when someone else entered the aisle, but her gaze didn't linger. She didn't want to see the person stare at her awkward movements or the fact that she was obviously lopsided. She flipped another page, but could help but glance up when he took down a book. His hair was long and partially obscured his face and the presence of the book didn't help. But something... something was...
She looked down to her book again, her mind racing. No, she couldn't see his face distinctly well, but through the part in the curtain of hair, there was no mistaking the scar. The scar that was from her knife. If she thought about it, she could still feel the way his skin and flesh had so easily split for her blade as it sunk in. Had he noticed her? Did he know?
She licked her lip and closed the book, trying not to look suspicious. She turned her head away from him as she replaced the book to the shelf, and made her way down the aisle and toward the door. She glanced behind her and when she didn't see him immediately following, she shoved open the door, but didn't exit. Instead, she quickly made her way down the nearest aisle and tried to hide behind the end of the long shelf.
Watching with a vague sort of interest as she hurried off, Demetrius sighed, putting away his own book. He didn't want to have to chase her all around the fucking city, but he would have liked to have ended this today. But he left the store anyway, lingering around the shop. Leaning against the storefront, he crossed his arms against his chest, resting his bad foot against the wall.
She couldn't hang around all day, he would have to see her again. He had time to wait, that was certain. It was just a matter of time. He couldn't believe he had failed to kill her twice now. He couldn't keep up this pattern. He wanted her dead, one arm or two arms. Dead was the only way for a girl like her to be. In his mind at least. So he just waited outside the shop to see if he saw her again. Then he would have a few words with her.
It was nearly two hours until Mary emerged from the store, her hat pulled low, her purchase under her good arm. She quickly exited the store after another woman and began to walk in the opposite direction of her and Leslie's workout place, just in case Demetrius was still around and would follow her. How could she be so stupid as to walk around still brunette and unglamoured? One-armed or not, she was still recognizable. It was naive to think that people who knew her wouldn't come into Edinburgh.
She walked with her head down, hoping to all hell he hadn't noticed her, or at least had gotten sick of waiting for her to emerge from the store.
Demetrius had (after about an hour) gone across the street and gotten lunch, but he had his eye trained on the bookshop and saw her exit. Paying for his food and slipping out of the shop, he charmed his footsteps to be completely silent as he caught up to her.
After a few moments of walking behind her quietly, he finally caught completely up to her, grabbing her by the remaining arm and pulling her into a back alley. He did a quick Muffliato silently as he went, and used his left arm to shove her against the nearest wall, pinning her at arms length and staring at her with amusement. "You're sneaky," he said with a grin.
The book tumbled out from underneath her arm at the edge of the alley and she tried to fight him off, but it was rather hard when he had a hold of the one good arm she had left. He shoved her against the wall, and she looked at him rather unamusedly, "Sneaky? Hardly. You're the one pulling me into back alleys."
"You managed to have me convinced you were dead for nearly four months," he said. "That's impressive." And it really was. He wanted to pull out his wand and end it here. But his injuries were still irritatingly healing, and if he couldn't even get a good hold on his wand, how would he manage any substantial spellwork? It was a shitty situation. "What happened to your arm?"
"I never claimed to be dead," she said wryly. She didn't try to get out from under his grip; he had the advantage, and what was the use? She didn't think he'd kill her here - it was far too public, and wouldn't he have done it already if he was going to, "Just because you assumed that you actually accomplished ending my life doesn't make it true."
She pursed her lips and kept herself from glancing down at the disgrace that was her missing right arm, "I decided to even up the score between us. I obviously could outduel you right handed, so I thought I should beat you left-handed. Took off the arm to remove temptation."
"Well you did a good job of hiding, it was the logical conclusion given how big your mouth is most of the time." He was just trying to be reasonable. Rolling his eyes, he pushed down harder, putting some of his weight on his arm pinning her.
Laughing, he looked at her missing arm disbelievingly. "Right. Like you out dueled me last time? Because leaving you for dead, coughing up your own blood is a real victory for you," he said sarcastically, remembering their last encounter not-so-fondly. "How did you lose your arm?" he repeated stubbornly.
"One of your friends, no doubt," she said, finally conceding and looking down at the pinned closed sleeve. She wouldn't allow him to see a moment of weakness in her, and so she shrugged the arm and looked up at him with a smirk, "I'm pretty sure I got him rather well anyway, whoever the bastard was." She flexed her fingers on her left hand and cocked her head to the side, "I'm sure you were there too, the whole damn lot of you were practically masturbating in the open while you tried to take Hogwarts."
"Do you know what sort of injuries you gave him?" he asked curiously. Pointedly ignoring her rather vulgar comment, he thought about the people that had been in St. Mungo's with him. Ferdinand- but he knew where Ferdinand's injuries had come from, it couldn't have been Ferdinand. Gaius, of course, but well. Now she had him interested.
"I don't know. Set him on fire. Blew his shoulder and chest open. Got him impaled by shrapnel. There was a whole slew of injuries I gave him. Bastard. He didn't even take off my arm. Fucking healers did inside the school." It was so strange, really, that except for his arm pressing her into the wall, they were having a rather nonviolent conversation. She glanced toward the street, but then looked at him with a rather bored expression, "Why do you even care?"
"Shrapnel..." It clicked in his head after a few moments of consideration. "You must have dueled Yaxley," he said. "He's not my friend." Frowning, he wondered what the hell he was doing here. He couldn't kill her so he was making small talk? Maybe he had hit his head one too many times. "He's dead now though. Not because of you, but he's dead." Then Demetrius had to laugh. "I don't care. I just wanted to know who to congratulate for making you an amputee," he said, rolling his eyes at her. Though he wasn't even sure how honest he was being.
She vaguely recognized the name, but said, "and that name is supposed to mean something to me?" nonetheless. She smirked though, a strange sense of vengeance coursing through her veins, "Good. Karma's a bitch. The bastard deserved whatever end he got." Unless it was was lovely and peaceful. That, this Yaxley, was something he didn't deserve.
"Well then you'd have to congratulate Pomfrey. She's the one who did it. I think. Fuck if I damn know, they sedated me." She took him in and raised an eyebrow, "seems your not fairing so well yourself," she gestured with her chin to his bandaged right hand, "What happened to you?"
"I wouldn't want to congratulate Yaxley if he had taken an axe to your arm," he said flatly. Now he was just annoyed. Yaxley had fought her. That was so off-base, Mary was his nemesis, he should be the one inflicting life-changing wounds on her. So unfair.
"Someone hit my hand with a blasting curse," he explained. It still stung and the bones that had been lost hadn't quite grown back yet. "A few days ago." He couldn't exactly remember when it was, but that may have been due to the fall down the stairs. "Why are you asking?"
"Well, at least we have something in common. Looks like you weren't too fond of our friend Shrapnel-Fodder either," she smirked, though not thoroughly. Having something in common with Demetrius was... unnerving. "Good on them. Who did it?"
She wasn't sure what to say at first and then just gave him a saccharine-sweet smile, "Isn't that how it's done in polite society? You inquire over my health, and I, in turn, inquire over yours?" She leaned in slightly to him, as much as she could with him pinning her back, "I'm only trying to give you common courtesy. I'm sure it's an unfamiliar term to you."
"Some tall black former Auror," he said bluntly. "And no, I wasn't that fond of Yaxley." But Demetrius said no more on the subject. This conversation was beginning to unnerve him. Backing away from her, he removed his hand from her and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't usually extend common courtesy to filthy idiots," he replied stubbornly. He was starting to get obviously uncomfortable.
Oh, how she wished she could do the same: cross her arms in annoyance to not allow herself to appear so open to him. Unfortunately, in order to cross one's arms... one generally had to have both of them, "Well, good for him. The Auror, anyway." She took a step forward, rather enjoying his uncomfortableness, though she herself could feel her skin crawl at the strangeness of the situation, "I'm hardly a filthy idiot, Demetrius. You're the one with soiled bandages." No, they weren't visibly soiled, but if she could make him doubt himself... why not?
"Forgive me, I haven't had time to change them since I arrived," he snapped sarcastically. "Having a hole blown into your hand generally warrants a bit of bleeding." Shifting his arms, he winced as he moved his right arm the wrong way. He didn't want her to think she was getting a rise out of him, so he didn't look at his hand, even if he wanted to.
The wince and the snap were enough for her to give him a triumphant grin, "Yes, well armless though I may be, at least I don't have any open wounds seeping bodily fluids." That... sounded so wrong. She looked away from him for a moment and then looked back with a sort of annoyed smile, "Is this why you pulled me back into this alley? To have a nice little chitchat and move on with our lives? Because, I have to say, it's a little disappointing."
Demetrius was, for once, unable to think of a retort. She may be missing a limb, but she could be better off than him, he didn't even want to consider it. "No. I pulled you back here to tell you that we're going to meet again when I'm finally healthy, and then we'll be able to end it. There's no use fighting you now, I'm already hurt." Staring at her with a rather serious expression, it was growing more and more apparent it was fun and games anymore. "Next time, I'll end you. Even if I die doing it."
She leaned in close, almost uncomfortably so, and raised one of her thin eyebrows, "That seems a bit counterproductive, doesn't it? Sending yourself to hell over little ol' me?" She snickered and raised her chin lightly in defiance, her voice low, "If you think that was supposed to be frightening, Demetrius, you've quite failed. If anything it sounded... pathetic."
He didn't flinch away, his face stony and defiant. "It would be worth it," he commented. He didn't really believe in an afterlife or a Hell or whatever. But if there was one, he wouldn't mind being there if that meant she was dead too. "I don't need to try and scare you, I'm being honest. Honesty doesn't need to be frightening."
"Well you certainly made it seem like a threat. One that should make me quiver in my boots," she snickered lightly again, "And don't be so certain it will be my demise," she reached up and her finger traced the scar in his face that she left behind, "Every time I defy your attempts to kill me, I get stronger. Better. I am not like my Gryffindoric counterparts, Demetrius. I have no moral compass when it comes to you. Killing you would be quite the pleasure."
"It wasn't a threat it was a statement of fact," he said, though his voice didn't have the same conviction it had held a moment earlier, he flinched away from the contact. "You won't kill me," he said. "I'll see to that." The sensation of her finger on his face lingered and he willed it to go away. He willed himself to forget that entirely. "I don't care which way your moral compass points, you will not best me."
He flinched away from her, and it took everything in her not to full out laugh. It wasn't often that she had the upper hand on him, and it was the first time since she lost her arm that she felt like she had the power, "What's the matter, Demetrius?" Her lips curled into a wry smile, "Do I make you uncomfortable? You've certainly been closer to me before. You've put your blood into my veins. Or have you forgotten that?" She certainly hadn't. She wished she could.
"Apparently losing your arm has made you that much more of a whore," he said, turning his head to the side stubbornly. He didn't want to look at her while she was purring at him. "That was a fluke," he added. "A mistake. It won't be happening again." He hadn't even thought of that. How stupid could he have been?
"Whore?" That time, Mary couldn't help it, and she let out a full laugh, "Demetrius, there are many things in this world that I am. Whore could never be one of them, as much as you wish it were true." He'd turned away from her. She did have the upper hand. Now, the question was: leave while she still had it or make him even more uncomfortable?
She chose the latter, but knew she was going to need a long, hot, soapy shower later. Her skin was crawling being so close to him, "Was it? Even your friend have noticed your obsession, Dem. Why else would you wait for hours to see if I would leave the store?" She smirked again, "Was it a physical metaphor for what you would rather..." she couldn't even finish, unless she wanted to make herself vomit, "Oh, excuse me. I shouldn't utter such things aloud. It might hurt your delicate ears." She flicked his earlobe and chuckled darkly.
This was entirely too much fun. And entirely too creepy. But having the edge on Demetrius felt good, and so she couldn't drag herself away.
"I waited because I have nothing better to do with my time today. And because I wanted to tell you what I've already told you." Now that begged the question of why he was hanging around letting her taunt him. He wasn't even sure he knew the answer to that. Flinching away from her again, he still refused to turn and look at her. "No. You shouldn't utter such things. Go ahead and delude yourself into believing I want anything from you. Those delusions will be gone soon enough and the truth of the matter is simply that I want you dead. Everyone knows it. None of my friends think otherwise. Not Severus, not Cor-" he stopped himself. "No one."
Not Cor- He was keeping someone from her. Why? She knew all of his friends, or at least she thought she did. They'd all been there to pat him on the back after he'd destroyed her at Hogwarts anyway, "Cor-...who? I'm afraid you've taken to interrupting yourself, Demetrius. Now that's a little bit of a problem."
"No one," he said flatly. "It's none of your concern." He wouldn't tell her, he wouldn't tell her. That was none of Mary's business, it was personal and he wouldn't say a work about it. "Why do you care who my friends are?" he snapped, trying to change the subject.
Her mouth opened in a little bit of realization, "You don't mean... Corbina, do you? Lestrange? The stuck up bitch in Slytherin who shot daggers out of her eyes at Lily all 7th year?" She nearly laughed. This was too good. Too Good. "I don't care who you're friends are, really. I'm just curious who's name you felt was important enough to protect from me."
Demetrius practically snarled. "You have no right to say anything like that about her," he spat, turning to face her again. Ignoring her second statement, he remained frozen on the spot, arms crossed and an expression that could only be compared to murder with his eyes stuck on his face.
Mary barked a laugh, "I'm right! Well, doesn't that make things interesting," she grinned cheekily, "does she know about this misguided vendetta you have against me?" She rose her eyebrow once again, "And I will call her whatever I'd like, just like I'll call you whatever I'd like as well."
"Of course she does," he replied. Though he instantly regretted it. He shouldn't have given in to her idiotic questions. He needed to stop. "Just because I wasn't going to kill you today before doesn't mean I won't change my mind," he said, pulling his wand out from his sleeve and holding it carefully in his right hand. "Watch your mouth."
Mary's lips curled into an amused smile and she raised her left hand in mock surrender - except that her wand was curled in her fingers, "Someone has it bad for Corbina Lestrange. Interesting, indeed." She shook her head to toss her hair over her shoulder and spoke with a placating tone, "Don't worry, Demetrius, I won't say another bad word about your girlfriend. I'm just shocked. I don't think you've ever had a girlfriend, at least not one that had a physical manifestation and wasn't just made up or fantasized in your head."
"She's not my girlfriend." Demetrius had stopped enjoying this banter long ago. It seemed like the only reason he stayed was to get the last word in on her. "I've never had an imaginary girlfriend either, whatever sick things you think go on inside my head- you're entirely wrong." Well. Maybe not entirely wrong, but he had certainly never made up a girlfriend. That was absurd, he had no need for a girlfriend. "Are you just jealous another female might take my attention away from you?"
"Hardly, Demetrius. In fact, I'm thrilled. Maybe you can stop wanking to the thought of my blood for once. Really, that's quite creepy. Besides-"
There was the sound of a door opening and she looked over. A shopowner stood in the alley, his arms crossed, "Hey! What are you doin' back here, bein' suspicious-like? Get! Get out!" He waved them away, and then noticed their drawn wands, "Oh, no-no-no. There's a-no duelin' out here. I'm not gettin' in it because of you lot. Get out!"
Mary saw this as ample opportunity to leave, and so she nodded to the man and with a passing glance at Demetrius, said, "You heard the man, Dem. Get out. She accio'd her book (thank God it didn't take more than one try) and without a look back, exited the alleyway quickly, disappearing into the crowd.
Leaving the alleyway and disappearing off into the opposite direction, Demetrius silently fumed. He should have just killed her. Or at least tried to. Though it would have been all too easy for some random passerby to see. Getting out of the area as quickly as he could, he apparated back to Lestrange Manor. He wasn't even sure why he was staying there, mostly for Danaƫ he supposed. She got lonely far easier than he did. He wanted to forget today and go back to thinking Mary was dead.
But that was impossible, he would just have to get her next time.