Jily one shots

If we only die once (part 5 FINALE)

Mary tries to come down the stairs without a sound, leaps carefully over a creaky step, her wand in hand. Her mum is already up-the smell of bacon and eggs wafts warm and scrumptious up to the second floor landing. When the young witch reaches the kitchen, her mum's back is to her. She takes the undisturbed time to linger on the threshold, staring at her mum's foot tapping on the linoleum floor to an unheard melody.

Mrs. Macdonald's hair is its usual messy bun. The sun spills from the screened windows above the sink, dusty rays haloing the strands escaping her ponytail. She's hunched over the mug Mary bought her on a Hogsmeade trip a couple of years ago. Mary's unsure if her mum even notices that her tea never goes lukewarm in it, or that infusion takes way less time than normal, or that sometimes the charm Mary cast on it wears off and the patterns prance around like the magical pictures they originally were-

"I'm no witch, honey, but I can sense when you're there."

Mary sighs. She pockets her wand and walks over to the small round dining table. The sunflower-patterned mantle is especially vibrant in the morning, almost offensively so. When Mary's properly seated, Mrs. Macdonald slides her mug towards Mary. "I don't suppose you were going to jump behind me and say boo."

After a sip, Mary says, "That never worked on you anyway. Tim still sleeping?"

"Thankfully. We're going shopping today. He's been complaining about a new blanket, and your dad's post finally came through this morning."

"Tim's four. He shouldn't be complaining about his blanket."

"You're eighteen. You shouldn't be complaining about your brother complaining about his blanket."

"Would you rather I complain about current events?"

Mrs. Macdonald makes a face at her. She gets to her feet, to the sink, and comes back with a loaded breakfast plate.

"Cheers," says Mary, handing the mug back to her mum. "Thanks, mum."

"Is everything alright, Mary?" asks Mrs. Macdonald while Mary digs in. Her tone has changed.

"What do you mean?" asks Mary. Luckily for her, it doesn't take much feigned nonchalance to convince her mother. "Everything's fine."

"Since the last time you went out with Lily, you've been... different. After that cryptic letter came. Was that from school?"

Mary doesn't answer. She uses her breakfast as an excuse.

"Is this about... whatever it is that's going on in the magical world?" There's more she wants to say, but Mary recognizes that pause; that slight obligatory moment to let herself get over the awkward phrasing. It's never quite rolled off her tongue right: Magical world. Wizarding world. Mary's world. "Are you and Lily rowing?"

Mary jumps for that one. "Oh, er-yeah. Yeah, rowing, sort of. Well, not with Lily. Something's-there's a bit of a misunderstanding with the blokes, and, er..."

"Yeah, because you were phoning her last night, Peter comes over, and then some of the lads, and everyone is just looking dejected! You're acting strange lately, it's worrying me. You're all too young to look like you're worrying about the fate of humanity. It's ridiculous."

It is ridiculous. "Sorry," says Mary. "It's nothing. It's only about Lily and her boyfriend. Complicated teenage stuff. You wouldn't want to hear it."

"Oh, but I would! I do. I've always liked Lily. Did her boyfriend cheat on her or something? Poor girl. She's always been so lovely..."

"Nah, James is lovely, too. Very lovely. For sure."

"Eh? He's caused quite a stir in you and your mates, it seems."