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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 2 years ago

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Delicate, Chapter One: Mary

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ok so. here it is. i’m so fucking terrified hahahaha

i’d like to specify that 1) this is an experiment 2) i’m not 100% sure where i’m going w it and i don’t even know what title to put but i’ll think about it (eventually) 3) i’ll post it here on tumblr first and *maybe* one day i’ll publish it on ao3. for now, however, i want this to stay here where i can change/delete whenever i want :)

and, 4) english isn’t my first language, so bear with me. Enjoy!

CW: drinking, mentions of drug abuse, mommy issues™️

It was very fucking hot.

Too fucking hot, in Narcissa’s opinion.

The windows of her car were rolled down, her sweaty forehead rested against the wheel, hair sticking to the melting plastic. There were many things to be annoyed at, really, but all Narcissa could think about were those suitcases in the back seats behind her, and the realisation she had run away from home.

“He followed in his brother’s footsteps, surely. Poor Walburga, she must be destroyed now that even her spare star has abandoned her.”

Regulus was only 18, and arguably Narcissa’s favourite cousin: he cared about their family’s reputation in the acting and music industry, just like her, and he was willing to do everything to become famous, for his name’s sake.

Oh, he had also been left behind and forgotten by an older sibling, which was another thing they had bonded over.

Narcissa thought that out of everyone in that deranged family, Regulus was the one she could really, fully understand.

Except maybe Narcissa didn’t know him that well after all, because he had left. As soon as he had legally become an adult, he had hopped off that derailing train that was the Black family, and had continued to pursue his acting career independently from his mother.

And Narcissa was still there.

24 years old, still following her parents’ orders like a puppet, her strings attached to her Father’s label. It had probably fucked her up a bit: it would’ve broken her Mother’s heart to know, but she had been running on drugs and alcohol for years now.

And drugs and alcohol were in her system while she was standing in her room, the news about Regulus still floating in her head.

She had been here before.

When Sirius had left.

When Andy-

She had thrown all the clothes she could fit into two suitcases, filled a couple of bags with few personal belongings (papers, essential equipment for singing) and she had gotten into her Mercedes, and started the engine.

But now the high had worn off, and she was slowly boiling to death in the cabin of her car, parked in front of a building she couldn’t even look at.

“If you ever change your mind, Narcissa, this is the address. My brother and I would be delighted to work with you.”

The Bones Records building was towering over her, glorious. Presumptuous, even, like Amelia Bones herself. Daring her to enter with a shine of its windows, a sparkle of her eyes.

In the end, she had stepped out of the car.

And Narcissa Black stepped into a new life.

Mary was pacing back and forth in the cold November air, an impossibly heavy usb drive in her pocket, trying to slow down her own heartbeat.

And, possibly, ring the doorbell of the mansion standing in front of her.

That day, Mary had taken a detour after work, her mind set on a plan. But right at the last step, she had discovered that the possibility of changing her future with a simple touch terrified her, and so she hesitated.

She had done scarier things in her past: babysitting her younger, reckless brothers, eating the suspicious meals her high school had to offer, doing her homework while the teacher was collecting it.

Pushing a button should sound like an incredibly simple task.

With herculean effort, she rang the doorbell.

No answer.

She rang again.

“Coming, coming!” chanted a slightly irritated woman, stomping towards the door.

Mary knew that voice, of course.

She’d listened to it for years.

Leaning against the doorframe, with an inquisitive look, was Narcissa Black.

However, with her long, blonde hair precariously pinned up, sporting old pyjamas and bags under her eyes, the singer was very different from how Mary was used to seeing her in magazines and interviews.

Wait, what time was it? It had gotten dark, how long had Mary been walking up and down the street like an idiot?

“Hello? Anything i can do for you?” asked Narcissa, with a raised brow.

“Uhm, yes, actually,” replied Mary, now intent on getting this whole conversation over with. “I’m Mary Macdonald. I’ve been your fan since your debut under the Black Studios-“

“Sorry, girl, but if you want an autograph, showing up at my door isn’t exactly the best way to get it.” interrupted Narcissa, now clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

But Mary had come prepared.

“It’s not an autograph i’m after, really. I wanted you to listen to these songs-“

“You’re brave, I’ll admit, knocking at my door in the middle of the night. But i’m no talent scout, so I suggest you take your songs, that i bet are very promising, and take them to someone that will know what to do with them. Maybe try contacting them a bit earlier.” sniffed Narcissa, already closing the door. Her movements were a bit slow, careful, like her hand could slip from the handle if she didn’t focus on it.

“Wait!” Mary stopped the door with her foot, fully catching Narcissa’s attention. She smelled of alcohol, but Mary guessed that famous people could afford getting wasted whenever they wanted, even on a random Tuesday night.

“Please. I want to become a singer, and I need you to listen to this. If you don’t like it, or think it’s not good enough, I won’t bother you, but i need someone to give me a chance. Please.” Mary pleaded, trying her best to convey her desperation through her eyes. Never once in her life had she ever begged for something, but God did she hate it. She was willing to make this sacrifice, for once.

Narcissa regarded her carefully, considering how big of a threat (or annoyance) the young woman in front of her could be. She sighed.

“Fine, come inside. And close the door.”

Mary followed the woman (who was muttering about how bravery, audacity and stupidity all go hand in hand) into her home. Honestly, she didn’t think she would’ve gotten this far with the plan, and when realized she was stepping into Narcissa Black’s residence, she tried to memorize every single detail.

The white walls were decorated with various paintings in different styles, and there were magazines everywhere, left open on the articles about members of the Black family: Bellatrix’s imminent marriage, Regulus’ Oscar nomination, Sirius’ new dog…

Mary wondered if, one day, her mother would be reading news about her from magazines, too. If she was ever going to swallow her pride, accepting that she had been wrong all along.

But first, she needed someone to get her into the Bones Studios.

She had heard Amelia and Edgar Bones weren’t afraid of working with new, young artists. They took risks in their investments, and Narcissa was a clear example of that: working with a fleeting, already successful singer and changing her whole image was a dangerous move, but it had made the label famous: the twins undoubtedly owed part of their success to Narcissa, and Mary hoped she could sneakily make her way under the singer’s wing and work her way up from there.

So. she had to get Narcissa’s approval.

“Ignore the mess, you chose a bad night to come knocking at my door.” said the woman, plopping herself onto a red velvet sofa and picking a half-full glass of wine from the round coffee table in front of her. She took a sip, opened her expensive laptop (one day Mary, one day), but then she gulped and started clicking the keys agitatedly, like she had seen something disturbing on the screen and desperately wanted to delete it.

Mary stood awkwardly in front of her, the usb drive in her hand and a mess in her head.

“So? Are you going to stand there and do nothing? Take seat, give me that drive, and have a glass of wine, honey, you look horrified.” prompted Narcissa, pointing to the couch and the bottle in front of her with her chin.

“Oh I…I don’t drink,” replied Mary, giving the other woman her drive and sitting down. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, the material soft. The whole house, although a bit messy and smelling of alcohol, felt expensive. One day, one day.

“Mh, I should’ve guessed,” smiled Narcissa, looking up from the screen for an instant.

“You should’ve seen your face when you came in! Nose scrunched like a child. Are you doing it for religious reasons?”

“Not really,” Mary watched Narcissa getting up and searching for something around her, inside a bag, under the table. It was a long story, and surely not one enjoyable enough to be a conversation starter, so she just kept quiet.

“Well, it’s not like you have to get blacked-out drunk every time you drink. I hope one day you’ll find it in yourself to enjoy some tasteful liquor again.” Narcissa replied, pulling out a set of headphones from the sofa’s pillows.

“Now, I’ll listen to your…15 songs?!” Narcissa gave her an incredulous look. “That’s a whole-ass album! Did you write it yourself?”

“I wrote the music, the lyrics, arranged everything together, and sang. But it’s just…something i’ve been working on as practice, since i couldn’t get into a conservatory. I ended up liking it, though”

For Mary, her lack of professional musical knowledge was a sore subject: she had tried to make up for it on her own, but most talent scouts lost interest in her after guessing her family’s financial situation, so she’d had to compensate her lack of money with an abundance of nerve.

And there she was. Sitting on Narcissa Black’s couch, waiting for her opinion on her work like a sinner’s soul on Judgement Day.

Mary, upon telling Narcissa (born rich and famous) about her self-studying, had expected disdain, but surprisingly, Narcissa was looking at her with something uncannily resembling respect.

Mary watched her wine-stained lips curl with fondness. “‘No one cares about artists unless they’re not penniless’, right?”

“You can say that, yeah”

“Then I’ll be the one to start. I’ll be back in…63 minutes. Don’t wander around the house. The bathroom is the first room on the right, next to the painting of the girl with her tits out.”

Mary nodded, but stayed on the couch. Her leg kept bouncing, her palms were sweaty, and Narcissa was looking right at her, which was really not helping. She couldn’t even let her mind drift somewhere more calming, since that pair of blue, wide-opened eyes were fixed on hers.

Just as Mary had started to worry the eye contact would last all 63 minutes, Narcissa inhaled sharply and conjoined her hands in front of her face, like a prayer, closing her eyes.

Were all artists this…strange?

Narcissa stayed like that for about 37 minutes, and now Mary suspected she had fallen asleep.

Mary went to the bathroom, appreciated the painting’s tits, came back. The scene hadn’t changed.

After a while, Narcissa lowered her headset, deep in thought, eyes still closed.

Then she got up swiftly, removed the drive from the computer, and led Mary to the door. “I’ll talk to Amelia. Give me your phone number and I’ll let you know in a few days. Can you send me a copy of the tracks? I want her to listen to your work.”

“…Just like this? You don’t have any…criticism, comments, questions, anything? I made you listen to my songs and-“

“Mary,” Narcissa interrupted, taking the girl’s face in her hands in an unexpected display of affection. “I like your style. You have an amazing voice, the songs are surprisingly good for a beginner. You lack a bit of technique and some aspects need to be refined, but it’s nothing a bit of practice can’t solve.” She patted her cheek. “Plus, you have the guts, and they’re always useful in the music industry. Let me talk to Amelia. I’ll get back to you.”

“I-Woah. Thank you. Woah. Okay, uhm, this is my number…” After Narcissa had typed and double-checked the digits (double-checked! Was she really going to call her back?), she gave her her email address, wished her goodnight, and Mary was left standing in the porch, still shocked.

It was happening. It was really, actually happening. Oh, Mary wanted to scream, to walk up and down the street like she had done just two hours before: she caught Narcissa Black’s attention! Her dreams had a chance of finally coming true, the life she had always wanted was getting closer and-

“Wait,” Narcissa’s head reappeared, temporarily knocking Mary out of her hysterical state. “Before you go…how did you find my address?”

“Y-You’re a famous singer. It wasn’t that hard.”

“Ugh. What a bother. Whatever, goodnight.”

Mary was lightly strumming her guitar, humming lyrics quietly on her bed, window open despite the cold. She loved those early-winter afternoons, when the sun sunk earlier and the air was crisp, the smell of rain a constant reminder of the clouds in the sky.

Narcissa hadn’t called her yet, but it had only been a couple of days, so Mary still held hope and spent most of her free time in her room practising and recording.

Then her mother entered her bedroom. She had just come back from work, still had the shoes and jacket on. Mary hadn’t noticed her at first, but she immediately stopped playing when she did, feeling guilty and then hating herself for it.

To be completely honest, Mary wasn’t sure her mum liked her.

She loved Mary, of course, but because she happened to be her mother. Not because she chose to. Affection born from blood, something a mother is expected to give.

“Mum, I didn’t hear you come in, do you need me to lay the table for dinner?” Mary asked, watching her mother sitting down on the bed in front of her.

She was eyeing her guitar, her notebook and her computer like she didn’t know what to do with them. What to do with Mary.

“No, no, it’s okay. Your brother can do it, he’s old enough now,” she answered with a weak smile, still not meeting Mary’s gaze. She knew the two of them looked quite similar: same dark skin, curly hair, the same dimples that appeared when they smiled. However, Mary also noticed her mother’s wrinkles, proof of a life spent worrying and worrying, the way her shoulders seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, the way she sighed instead of exhaling when she breathed.

“Are you playing something?”

“Yes, actually,” Mary knew this was an attempt. It wouldn’t get them anywhere, but she was thankful for it regardless. “Do you want to listen?”

“…it would be a waste of time, darling, you know I don’t really get these…things,” her mother replied, still smiling sadly with her hands on her lap.

One step forward, two steps back, always retreating. Mary didn’t know what was she expecting, really. Her mother never got it, and had never showed any interest in trying.

“Did you want to talk about something specific?” Mary asked, curtly.

Her mum stayed silent for a moment.

“…Let me read a verse or two, love,” she complied. Mary offered her the notebook, carefully watching her read her songs, her soul.

“Do you like them?”

Mary was met with unreadable dark eyes. And a sad smile. Mary was so tired of sad smiles.

Narcissa said they were good. She just wants you to give up.

She closed her stinging eyes, and felt the warmth of a calloused hand on her face.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Mary,”

“…So?”

“You could get a good job easily-“

“I do have a job” Mary glared at her mother, swatting her hand away.

“A part-time job-“ she replied, slightly frustrated.

“Did you want to talk about anything specific?” Mary could hear her voice break and feel a tear run down her cheek. Fuck.

The two just stared at each other.

Mary wished she didn’t have to choose between her mother’s approval and herself.

“It’s nothing, really. I’ll go make dinner.”

Another step back.

And Mary was alone in her room.

narcissa black here, i need you to come to my place asap.

if this isn’t mary macdonald, i was joking. this isn’t narcissa black, it was a prank.

Mary had just come back from her morning shift at the cafe (Madame Puddifoot, serving the best food!), when Narcissa texted her. She had almost tripped on the doorway.

this is mary macdonald

sorry, do you mind sending the address?

Narcissa replied shortly after.

…you funny bitch.

Mary was at Narcissa’s place in thirty minutes, and before she could even lift her hand, Narcissa had opened the door, leaning against it. She was dressed casually, hair down and eyes bright with trouble.

“Hello sweetie, thanks for coming,” Narcissa greeted, but she kept standing there, a bit awkwardly.

“…Hi, has something happened? Did Amelia call you?”

Narcissa’s eyes widened.

“Oh no, love, I would’ve told you if I had heard from her. But something did happen, yes, and I wanted to show you,” she said with a smile, moving towards the middle of the doorway. Mary jumped back in horror, but she managed to not scream: Narcissa had a fucking snake, with black and blue scales, wrapped around her forearm. And it looked terribly real and alive.

“Narcissa what the hell??”

But the woman was still smiling, delighted by Mary’s reaction and the creature slithering up her arm. “I bought a snake!”

“I can fucking see it! But why?”

“If you’re going to be so loud about it, it’s better if we go inside,” and Narcissa led Mary to the living room. Everything looked tidier than last time, even Narcissa herself seemed more put together, although she was playing with a potentially poisonous reptile while walking towards the red sofa.

“…You’d better put it in its tank, Narcissa,” Mary suggested sitting as far from her as possible. The other woman just looked at her in confusion.

“Tank?”

Mary blinked slowly. “Where do you keep it, Narcissa?”

“I don’t have a dedicated place for her yet, but I was thinking of keeping her in my room.” Narcissa answered, offering a finger to the dark snake.

“Didn’t they give you a tank at the pet shop? And why are you putting you fingers near her?” Mary was staring at Narcissa, appalled. How did this woman survive for so long?

“She’s not poisonous, she kills by strangling her preys,” Narcissa said like a proud mother, “And they did give me a tank, but I didn’t like it so I threw it away. I was thinking of letting her sleep next to me.”

“That’s-I’m-“ Mary stuttered, “God. We’re getting a tank, before she kills you in your sleep. Let’s go, I’ll drive.” She got up and took her car keys.

“Can I bring her with me? I don’t want her to feel lonely,” Narcissa explained as the snake made its way around her neck. Mary was progressively getting more and more afraid of Narcissa getting strangled under her very own eyes.

“Just…sit in the backseat and don’t get killed?”

“She would never. I’m her Ma,” Narcissa smiled grabbing a coat, a hat and sunglasses, probably to avoid being recognised in public. The downside of being a celebrity, Mary assumed, although her showy and very much alive necklace probably wasn’t of much help keeping a low profile.

When Mary had mustered up the courage to knock at Narcissa’s door, she hadn’t expected this: walking down the aisle of a pet store pushing a rusty cart, looking for a tank for Narcissa Black’s latest (and murderous) purchase.

She had been enthusiastic to find out she could decorate the tank, so she was looking for the rocks that would fit best with the rest of the furniture in her bedroom.

Because she wanted to keep the snake in her room, the freak.

“Just a question, Narcissa…How long have you had her?”

She turned around and checked her shiny watch. “About six hours. Why?”

“Was just wondering if you had actually slept with the thing. It sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Oh no, but we did take a nap together. I couldn’t find her when I woke up,” she turned back to the rocks. The black ones seemed to have piqued her interest.

“I still don’t know what to call her. Any suggestions?”

“Narcissa junior?” suggested Mary.

“That’s lazy. I want something…meaningful. Think about snakes. What do they do?”

Oh, so she was serious about it.

“I don’t know, they crawl around, lay eggs, eat rabbits…”

“Rabbits! I can work with that…White Rabbit?” Narcissa offered.

“It’s a bit long. Is it an Alice in Wonderland reference?” Mary answered.

“…Yeah, never-mind. What about Bunny?” Narcissa looked at Mary from above her heart-shaped sunglasses.

“You want to call your snake Bunny, because she eats rabbits.”

“Yes. It’s ironic, it’s cute, it’s perfect. Bunny.”

“Bunny it is, then.” Mary sighed with a soft smile, as Narcissa put the black rocks in the cart. “Why did you even buy a pet snake?”

“I have many reasons. But I won’t explain myself, and you’ll have to deal with it.”

“Fair. Why did you text me, though?” Mary asked. She was just a random fan, after all, and although she wasn’t complaining, she was a bit disoriented.

Narcissa simply shrugged. “Because Amelia would’ve ripped me to pieces, Edgar would’ve acted like a disappointed father, and I’ve listened to your songs, so we’re basically best friends now.”

“You see, it’s the last passage that I don’t get,” Mary replied while Narcissa put the rocks in the shopping cart. “Do you consider friends all the singers you listen to?”

Narcissa walked next to her as they were approaching the register. “Only the ones that make me feel like I know them. Mary, I don’t think you understand the power music holds.”

The cashier, a poor teenage girl, was too worried about the snake wrapped around Narcissa’s neck to question her suspicious outfit.

“Is-is that a real snake?”

“Yes, darling. Why are you surprised, we’re in a pet shop, after all,” Narcissa answered, lowering her sunglasses. The cashier’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Are-are you Narcissa Black?”

“Yes, sweetie. I’d like to pay for my little girl’s needs, please.”

“S-sure.”

Mary watched the girl, and wondered if her hands were trembling because of the reptile or Narcissa.

As I was saying, Mary,” the woman continued once they were out of the shop, marching towards the car.

“Music is powerful. One of the best things about being a songwriter is that you can reveal the world all the thoughts you keep in your mind, the memories you hold close, your regrets or hopes. I liked your songs, Mary, because when I listened to them I got to know you. Music is clearly very important to you, you’re a voice screaming to be heard, love.”

“Narcissa,” Mary called, voice a bit hoarse. She had to shut her up in some way or she’d start crying in the car park and then die of embarrassment.

“Mary,” She replied.

“Should Amelia refuse to sign a contract with me, I want you to know that I’m glad you gave me a chance. It’s more than anyone has ever done, so thank you.” Mary smiled, grateful.

Narcissa looked at her, layers and layers of emotions Mary couldn’t quite decipher in her eyes.

“It’s nothing, really,” she nodded towards the car, not too far from them. “Now get in, before you start crying in the middle of a car park.”

“No offense, but fuck you.” Mary replied pulling out the keys, while Narcissa laughed, Bunny resting around her shoulders.

come to my place

there’s a surprise for you

For the third time that week, Mary knocked at Narcissa’s door. She was getting used to the singer’s cryptic texts, and had learnt to expect the unexpected: she was now wondering if Narcissa had bought a snake for her, too, or if she had found some top-quality tree branches for Bunny’s tank and needed an opinion.

However, when Amelia Bones opened the front door, Mary was admittedly caught by surprise.

“Amelia Bones,” she offered her hand, straight to the point. Mary held it, but she was interrupted before she could even introduce herself.

“So here’s the Mary Macdonald I’ve heard so much about. Come inside, you have a contract to sign,” she lead her to Narcissa’s kitchen, like it was her own house. Narcissa was sitting on a tall seat and leaning on the marble counter, placid like a cat.

Amelia and Narcissa looked quite similar, next to each other. The blonde, straight hair, the attentive eyes, the relaxed demeanor of someone who doesn’t get fucked with.

Overall, really intimidating.

“A few days ago, I happened to receive an email by our dearest Narcissa, with 15 songs and just two words, ‘Mary Macdonald’” began Amelia, in a calm tone. “Of course, I’m used to Narcissa’s enigmatic shit, so I wasn’t at all surprised by her temporary loss of words,” the other woman smiled at that.

“What did surprise me, though, were the tracks. I really liked them, Mary. So, I called Narcissa to explain the situation to me.”

Mary just nodded: most of her attention was focused on trying to read Amelia, the way she talked, her movements, her expressions. The rest was consumed by stopping herself from fidgeting.

“You are a brave one, girl. I appreciate that in an artist,” Amelia’s smile dropped. “But I need more. I’m not asking for a musical genius, of course. I need the promise of a star, something we can work with to create a legend. The substance is there, but we need to shape it to make you survive the industry, and it will take some time. You following me?”

“Yes,” replied Mary, because it seemed like an obvious question that still required an explicit, confident answer. Amelia seemed to appreciate it.

“Then this is where Narcissa comes in. She’s offered to become your guide, and help you in this process.”

“I won’t try to change you, Mary,” Narcissa chimed in, “I would help you on the technical preparation and with getting used to this type of life, and once we’re sure you can stand on your feet, we’ll let you go. In this way, I’ll lift some weight off of Amelia’s shoulders,” she smiled, patting her friend’s back, “who will only have to work on the production of the album. After all, the Bones Studios are still relatively small, all in the hands of the Bones twins alone. Are you in? You’re still in time to chicken out.”

Narcissa’s smile was challenging.

Amelia’s was unreadable.

Maybe they weren’t that similar, after all.

“I don’t see why I would refuse,” Mary replied. “Where do I sign?”

Amelia took out the contract, Mary read every single word carefully (and missed the impressed glance that passed between the other two women), and then signed it.

“Welcome to the family, Macdonald. Got any questions?”

“Please, Amelia, you’re itching to get out of here. I can play the evil manager for tonight.” Narcissa intervened, with raised eyebrows.

“It’s work, private matters come second. Mary, do you have any doubts about the contract? Or questions?”

“Not really, everything was pretty clear, and now Narcissa is legally obliged to answer all of my questions, so…”

“You heard her!” laughed Narcissa, “Now go or you’ll be late to your date.”

Amelia grabbed her coat from a chair, heading towards the door but still talking business. “Narcissa will tell me when she considers you ready to work on your debut album.”

“Yeah we know! Hurry, your Hestia is waiting!” Narcissa mocked as Amelia, who was flipping her off, closed the door behind herself.

“Hello,” Narcissa greeted, once it was just the two of them. “We’re coworkers now.”

“It seems so, yeah. That was…fast.” Mary answered, still a bit shaken.

She had just signed a contract with a label.

A real label.

And Narcissa Black was going to teach her to become a proper singer.

The Narcissa Black.

Mary was euphoric.

“Listen, I know you don’t drink, but I think we deserve to celebrate. Do you want a sip?” Narcissa said, pulling out an expensive-looking wine bottle and two fancy glasses.

“No pressure. If you don’t drink, I won’t either.”

Mary considered the offer. She was ecstatic, and she had grown to trust Narcissa, so maybe a glass wouldn’t be so harmful.

“Okay.” she answered, aware she didn’t sound too sure.

“Okay?” Narcissa repeated.

“I’ll take a glass. It’s the beginning of a new era, Narcissa.” Mary assured, sounding more certain. She felt like she could fight God, she wasn’t letting a glass of wine scare her anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetie,” Narcissa smiled, filling the two glasses. “Oh, and you can call me Cissa. You’re my student now!”

“Having you as a teacher will truly be an experience.” Mary grinned, lifting the glass to her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

When Mary left Narcissa’s house, she did so with a newfound hope, and the taste of wine strong but harmless on her lips.

shoutout to @prongsxsluv for being the first to hear abt this <3

@imintothemaraudersera @jpg-of-dorian-slay (i’ve always loved your user no joke)

#let me know if you want more parts!!#the povs will switch and the chapters will be shorter #but since it’s the first it’s almost all #mary #still anxious af #i’ll tag some ppl later #marauders #marauders era #nobleflower #marylily #mary macdonald #narcissa black #amelia bones #marauders era girls #there will be the boys too #at some point lmao #fic: delicate

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