Closed Bless yer heart xx

[Mary Lou Layton]

Five months pregnant with a heavy coat to help guard against the cooler weather, Mary Lou left her children in the caring hands of her sometimes overwhelmed husband at their farm and set off to find the man missing from her luncheon this Sunday morning.

Professor Monty had cancelled on her one time too many now and she wasn't having that. The occasional cancel with some advance notice is one thing, and she knows that sometimes he finds himself having to cancel with late notice because he's gotten himself way too caught up in anything else he might be researching or busying himself with that would require his immediate attention, but this is too much. The man has offered absolutely no explanation for his continued absence and whilst Mary Lou might not be the brightest spark in their proverbial area, she's certainly not stupid either. Something is wrong and if he can't bring himself to tell her she will have to go and discover it for herself. Whatever it is, she can't help if he will not let her and that's something she knows he struggles with. They all know but are regularly far to polite to ask whether he wants to ask them for help or not. It's a matter of principle now, that she must see to his needs and help him in whatever way she can. She can't yet guess as to what might be the cause, but she has known Professor Monty for more than half of her life now, and their relationship has grown significantly since those classroom cupcakes she would bring him.

Cupcakes she has now traded for tea cakes and blossom infused treats of all kinds. Blossoms, she has learned in her time knowing the man, is one of the few ingredients in some spiritual or earthly healing and though she doesn't know what he might be going through right now, it's clearly something and she's going to make sure he understands that whatever it is there are people in his life now, who wish to help him. He can rely on them, if he needs to.

Finding her way just outside of Obsidian and feeling the wards around his home, welcoming, but not quite willing to let her just walk in, she clears her throat and knocks on the door. When there is no immediate answer, whether because she is being ignored, or because he can not hear her she can't tell, but she bangs on the door even louder. If he makes her use her wand she will not be happy, she knows an auror or two. She is entirely sure that one Styx boy she is friends with would find it only too much fun to help her break down a door, and besides, she's a visibly pregnant woman, no one is going to argue with her. "Professor Monty! You open this door and you let me in this house right now!" She'll not be taking any No's for answers today.

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

There was something about loss that compelled Monty to build things. Perhaps it was a restoration of balance, or at least a futile attempt at it. Monty could never build anything large enough to fill the space his loved ones had left behind. First his mother, then Saveli and Reuben, and now Arvo. Three funerals in as many years. He had to wonder: how much more grief would he endure before the world finally eased up on him?

And so he built things, even though they didn't matter any more; and it kept him busy, and he didn't think about what he'd lost. You entertained one sad thought, and the next thing you knew, they were all over you. Even the good memories were risky, because they came to an end. Better to stay occupied. So he did.

He was building something unusual. It had a name, and a purpose, but he couldn't get it to work. He wasn't sure he ever would. That was what made it so appealing: a problem, nearly impossible to solve, yet not so utterly beyond the capacity of magic and science combined that he was willing to give up on it. Once upon a time, his continued failure would have disheartened him, but it was distraction, not success, which he sought now, and so it was the perfect project.

He was bent over a drawing when a knock came at the door, followed by several more. Removing his glasses, he went out of his workshop and into the hall. Mary Lou? What was she doing here? Forgetting about the numerous invitations he had declined, his first instinct was that something terrible had happened. He hastened to undo the latch.

"Hello," he said. "Are you all right? Do you want to come in?"

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

The moment the door opens, despite her initial anger, Mary Lou allows herself a slight sigh of relief. Clearly something is wrong, but not so wrong that he feels disinclined to civility and social expectation. Mary Lou is well aware that what she considers to be the right thing to do socially is not always the same thing for Monty, but this, at least, is the same. She would not have been very happy to have been left standing out on his stoop, five months pregnant or not, and so she smoothed her coat over her stomach (gentle reminder to Monty that, yes, she's pregnant) and frowned up at the taller man. "Yes I do want to come in and no I am not alright," and neither would he be in a moment if his excuse for ignoring her is not one she considers to be worthwhile. She's known Monty a determinedly long time (granted their friendly accord has only really grown since she's left school since he was still more of an untouchable mentor before that) and she would rather expect an explanation for this sudden behaviour.

She doesn't move past him until he indicates for her to do so and then steps heavily through his doors. She's been here before, but there's something a little different about it now. He's been... dare she say, distracted? She can almost tell. It's not as though the home is in any sort of disarray (moreso than it is normally given his tendency to make things) but it feels as though he might be boxing himself in, somehow. She doesn't like that feeling at all and as she looks around she gets the distinct impression that he's trying to distract himself. From what? Questions, questions. "I made tea," she says, placing the cakes on her hand in front of her, though these are not what she is referring to, "and you did not come. I was disappointed, Professor Monty. You have declined my invitation several times now, I am becoming accustomed to it." She says, the frown on her face growing a little more concerned.

"I've come to see if you've decided that you wish to become a hermit and forgot to tell me." Should he wish to become a hermit she can accommodate, but she doesn't like to think that he should want to cut off all communication with his family entirely. That's what he has been for a couple of years now. Even before she had gone ahead and married into it.

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

God - was it the baby? One of the other children? Monty stepped aside, letting in Mary Lou and a flurry of anxiety. His therapist had warned him about jumping to the worst conclusions. But how could he help it? The worst conclusions had a habit of jumping to him. Well, Mary Lou seemed more annoyed than she did upset; that was good, although it did raise a different brand of worry. And it was this new train of thought which sent him hurtling into the answer.

The invitations. She was upset about the invitations. Or rather, about Monty’s lack of response to them. There were only so many ways he could politely decline lunch before it became obvious he didn’t want to go, and so he had finally stopped responding altogether. Mary Lou was right to demand an explanation. But Monty had never been good with words, no matter how he dressed them up in public. It was head, not his heart, which usually handled the talking, and anyone who appealed to the latter was in for a surprise.

“No, I - sorry, I’ve not been well,” he said, alluding to the fictitious stomach bug he’d mentioned in his first letter. “And then work picked up. You know - new term approaching. Everybody suddenly realises it might be useful if their children to know how to spell.” If lying failed, a little joke was usually enough to convince people he was all right. He beckoned Mary Lou into the kitchen, closing his workshop door on the way past. “It’s kind of you to visit. Especially with teacakes. Would you like a drink? Tea? How are you and the children? How’s Wendall?”

@Mary Lou Layton

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

Mary Lou took a deep breath as she stepped around him and into the kitchen, trying to keep her frustration in check and not letting him know that she really didn’t buy his excuse for a single moment. Obviously he feels the need to deflect for some reason and that’s important to her just as much as the fact he’s lying to her face is. But perhaps the lie is not as deep as he might think it is. “I understand,” she said, trying to lighten them both up. “The new term, the students, the workload-it can all get overwhelming. And If you’ve been unwell, you should have just told me, I would have brought you soup instead of these teacakes,” she said, placing them to the side now, because if he is sick, he absolutely must not have the sweet deliciousness of her baking. No way. She paused, her eyes scanning him for any sign that he might want to open up to her about whatever he’s facing right now.

Ah, but Mary Lou knew him only too well. She knew that he was only trying to hide between a flimsy excuse, thinking it would be enough to brush her off. He didn’t realise that she could see right through him. Her heart ached, not just for what he was clearly going though, but for the stubbornness that kept him from reaching out. Stubborn old goat, that’s what he was. And he knew it too, and he knew that she knew that as well. She was going to fix that right now. As soon as she dealt with his “stomach bug”.

“You know, Professor Monty,” she continued, settling into the chair and folding her hands on the table, “it’s not just about the luncheons or the teacakes. It’s about you. You have people in your life who care about you deeply. People who depend on your friendship and your company. I’m one of those people.” She watched as he busied himself with the kettle, her mind racing with thoughts of how to make him understand. “I’ve known you for more than half my life,” she said softly. “You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t realise I needed someone. Now it’s my turn to be there for you. I know you’ve been through hell, Professor Monty. No one should have to endure what you have. But shutting us out, shutting me out, isn’t the way to deal with it.”

Her voice grew firmer. “If you’re sick, you should have told me. I’m here to help, no matter what. You’re not a burden, and you never will be. We’re family, and family looks out for each other. You don’t have to go through this alone.” She leaned forward, trying to catch his eye. “Please, Professor Monty, let me in. Let us in. We want to help. I want to help. You’ve given so much to all of us, and now it’s time for you to let us give back. Whatever it is you’re dealing with, you don’t have to face it by yourself.”

Mary Lou reached across the table, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “We love you, Monty. I love you. And I’m not going to let you push me away. So, let’s have that tea, and then you can tell me what’s really going on. Because no matter what it is, I’ll be here. Always. And no tea cakes for you either, since you’ve a stomach bug. I’ll make you soup as soon as you tell me where you’ve put the spices.”

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Reference to nervous breakdown - ID 30535149​

Monty had always kept his walls high. Not just to protect himself, but lately to protect those he cared for. What would they think if they knew he wasn't strong? They would worry for him, and that wouldn't do. Mary Lou, in particular, had her own family to think about; she didn't need to burden herself with Monty's problems as well. Besides, he couldn't - wouldn't fall apart. He hadn't clawed his way up from the depths of a nervous breakdown, shaking off several demons as he did, only to fall straight back down the same infested hole.

A buried memory rose sharply to mortify him. What happened in the entrance hall, in front of all those young students - that can never happen again. Katherine had been cold, but correct. Monty had made an exhibition of himself. Worse yet, he'd frightened the children. Mary Lou wasn't a child any more, but it hardly mattered; no adult wanted to see him cry, either. His emotions were his own, and he had to be strong enough to bear them.

Yet his chest hurt with the effort to contain it all. He missed Saveli. He missed his best friend. He'd never even let himself grieve. Did he really think it would all go away if he ignored it?

The stomach bug was fictitious, but his nausea wasn't. It came back all of a sudden, with a vengeance.

"Stop," he said gently. The tea steamed in front of him, half-made. "I know you want to help. But this isn't yours. It's not..." He couldn't do it. Mary Lou's kindness was too much. He went to the back door and slid it open a fraction, inhaling the breeze. The garden was overgrown and full of weeds. It would have been easy to cry. It would have been easy to let Mary Lou in. But she didn't understand what that meant. She would never see him the same way again, never forget his weakness; and that weakness would hurt her, and he would be responsible. Was it worth it, for a moment of comfort? No. It was not.

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

"Excuse me?" Really? Mary Lou was trying to be nice. She had hoped, somewhere, that being her normal sweet self my guide him in the right direction, but it seemed that gentle guidance is not what he needed. The stubborn old goat was clearly requiring a bit of a firmer hand and if he needed her to kick him in the butt, well, he was going to get a very swift kick in the seat of his pants so help her Merlin. She was not in the mood, pregnant as she was, to be dealing with stubborn old goats today. Especially not ones who were family. Something Monty seemed to be forgetting.

"Montgomery Pendleton", because she actually did know his name. "I was trying to be nice to you, I don't like to use my mama voice, but so help me, Mister, you are making me so mad right now." She said, frowning at him as she allowed him a minute to sit in whatever misery he was refusing to allow himself to sit in. "Are we family, or are we not family, because by my book it doesn't matter what the problem is, family never abandons family and I know that might seem silly coming from me, someone who literally had her family abandon her, but I made different choices after that. I put my life, my emotions, my happiness and my fears into the hands of people I wanted to call my family, of people I knew I could trust," she said, raising her voice only slightly, feeling a little abashed at the fact she was currently speaking in an ill-mannered way to a man she deeply, deeply admired and respected. But, the problem was he was being an absolute dolt.

"I love you," and that was never going to change no matter how much he made her remind him. Maybe it was because he needed a reminder of this himself. "Everything you are going through, whatever you feel like you need to hide, it doesn't matter anymore. Look around Monty... this isn't the entrance hall and I am not a student." It had happened before her time, but as all things did, rumours got around. She couldn't tell how true some or all of it was, but Luxen had taunted her with it once. It had only been years later she'd actually discovered it had been Monty whom had been at the centre. "Whatever they said to you, whatever you think you know, it's not true. Whatever the things you're feeling are, those are real." She followed him then, no longer able to bear giving him so much space now that she could see it properly. The pain he was trying to hide.

"You are the family I always wished I'd had growing up. You protected me when I needed it, and you helped me when I was scared. You're one of the few good memories I have from that place," she said this with some bitterness in her throat, not really realising until now how horrible she'd felt at the school. "Please, listen to what I am saying, don't let this control you." He didn't have the right to tell her what she could and could not handle. Not anymore. "You're not my Professor anymore, Montgomery, and I think maybe it's time we both understand that. You can lean on me, when you need to. Just as I know I can lean on you, as can my girls, as can Wendall, Leda, your grandchildren. Do you really think this is what any of us would want from you? Someone we love and admire so hellbent on keeping himself together that he falls apart anyway? Monty...please." She did not know what else to do but to plead with him. She's not who he wants to talk to, the people he wants aren't here. He will have to settle for her.

"I can handle your emotions, Monty. I promise." She just needed him to understand. "You're not broken, you're not weak, you're just Monty - and you survived so much, more than maybe I could ever understand. That's what life does, but maybe it threw you a few more tangled messes than was your fair share. That made you who you are, this person I want in my life. I couldn't imagine trusting anyone like you, if you weren't you."

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty finally looked at Mary Lou, his eyes betraying both hurt and surprise. Was she a legilimens? Surely not - and she would never have intruded on his private thoughts that way. Except she had, whether she’d intended to or not. She’d pin-pointed his deepest fears and, with a few heartfelt words, fleeced him of his armour.

And he was grateful. Mary Lou knew his weakness, knew his vulnerability, and she had chosen to stand by his side all the same. She was not ashamed of him. And when she wielded the word ‘love’, it was not as a rope to bind him, but as a rope to lift him up.

If she could trust again, after all she had been through, then so could Monty.

He looked out across the deck, tears coming at last. “They saw through me, too,” he said. “And they loved me. And I loved them. So, so much. But I couldn’t even cry. I tried, but I was too scared - I had to be strong.” Strangely, he felt stronger here now, with his grief pouring out of him, than he had in months. “I’m supposed to be… unbreakable. That’s what people want, that’s what they need. But I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. I’m sorry.”

A starling landed on the back of a garden chair. Monty watched it as he spoke. “I am all right - I promise. But I needed this.” And he felt more at peace with himself for it. “You’re right; we do choose our family. And the people we love - the people who see us as we are, with all our wounds, our fears, our shame, and love us all the same - those are the most precious people of all. I’ll never take it for granted.” His voice now was hardly a whisper. “I love you - and Wendall. And the children. Thank you. For being here.”

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

Sometimes. Not often, but sometimes Mary Lou felt like maybe the reasons she had gone through what she had was that she could learn to become who she was today, the kind of person who could shoulder other's burdens, empathise with their pain and show up in their sympathy. She was not often happy, or glad about the way she spent her childhood, or the pain she still feels when she thinks of it, but for this moment, right now, she's more than glad that she could understand something that not many people did. Vulnerability is not a weakness, it is someone's biggest strength. It's alright for people to measure their successes in their own ways, in their family, in their friends, in the things they can achieve for monetary gain, in their studies, in their life, but for Mary Lou, a measure of someone's success was their ability to be vulnerable with someone, to have someone they could trust, and respect enough to say, yes, I am feeling things that make it so hard for me to live my life, but I want to feel them, because they make me strong. Mary Lou has learned many lessons in her life, and she will learn many more - but Monty has taught her a new lesson today. How to share one's vulnerability. She might yell at him and tell him he should share his burdens, and he should, but it's one thing to know that and to actually do that. They're very different, and Mary Lou was so very proud of Monty, for letting her share it with him, even if, for the moment, it's nothing more than admitting the truth.

"Thank you for not lying to me. It doesn't help, no matter what you might think I can or can not shoulder." She tells him, patting him softly on the arm. "I don't expect you to pour your every thought out right now, but I do want you do know that as a member of the family I have chosen, I do expect you to tell me when there is something wrong, so that I can help," she's never lost someone the way that Monty has, not so close to her as Arvo was to him. She can't say she knows what that feels like, and how alone he must have felt in those first moments. She never had the pleasure of meeting the Part Goblin, he no longer taught at the school by the time she'd started, probably a good thing, she can't be sure wouldn't have accidentally insulted him if she'd met him in first year. She was mostly used to the magical elements of her chosen world now, but she still got the occasional jump scare now and again. "And if I can't help, then at least I can listen. No burden is too heavy to be shouldered by two people if it should be shouldered by one. Okay?"

She sighed then, and leaned back alittle, her back killing her in all this emotional state. "You will take things for granted, that's human nature and it's okay, because everyone does it. The important thing is to remember to give that granted compassion, understanding, life back... let it drift back to where you took it from. Then you can bear witness to something beautiful." It had been a long life lesson she'd had to learn at such a young age - but sometimes she thought that was the point. Joy could only be so good because of the pain you knew could destroy it. One could not have joy, love, happiness without first understanding grief, pain or loss.

"Arvo was your friend... you're allowed to be devastated about that. And you're allowed to not be okay about it too." She still wasn't sure if this was the crest of the problem, it did feel a bit deeper than that, but it all had coincided in a way she couldn't ignore. The continual declines had come immediately after.

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Mary Lou was kind, but Monty felt a part of himself withdrawing again. It was that word - expect. Few other words had the power to make him feel so small and foolish, like a child who’d disappointed his parent. He didn’t owe Mary Lou his innermost thoughts. He didn’t owe her his feelings, or an explanation, or a heads up every time something went wrong. That was unfair. Was he not allowed to keep anything private without offending her?

He was doing it again. Deliberately misinterpreting her, looking for reasons to push her away. Why did he do that? Mary Lou had shown him nothing but kindness and concern, albeit in her no-nonsense manner, and he was acting as though she’d come over here solely to upbraid him. She was worried about him, just as he would be worried about her in the reversed circumstances. How could he expect her to come to him for help and simultaneously resent any expectation he should do the same?

Because he didn’t want to. He didn't want to talk about his feelings. His feelings had been mocked and dismissed for the better part of his life. Even if Mary Lou though well of him now, how could he be certain her opinion wouldn't fall once he opened up to her? He could he be sure that, deep down, she wouldn't think him pathetic too?

For now, he nodded. There was no harm in acknowledging what she'd said, and it was all true enough. But he was no longer thinking about himself; her shift in posture hadn't gone unnoticed, and before he did anything else, he pulled out a cushioned chair at the kitchen table, gesturing she should take it. Then he finished making the tea, which was too strong now no matter how much milk he added, but it didn't seem to matter.

He brought the mugs to the table and sat down beside her. Sunlight from the garden door played on the green-and-blue mosaic coasters - a craft project of his grandchildren's, when they'd still been young enough to enjoy that sort of thing. "I knew it was coming," he said. "We all did, really. I didn't realise I would miss him quite so much." He suddenly thought of a particular summer evening, and smiled. "We talked about everything. Life, love, death. The future. We could make each other laugh without a word. And, well - we drank an awful lot more than we should have. I chose him - and he welcomed me into his family like his own son. I'm not exaggerating when I say this: he was the most brave and loving man I ever knew."

Monty looked down, nursing his mug. "I've always been... on the outside," he said, after a moment. "I don't know how to connect. It's me - I push everybody away. I pretend to be someone I'm not, and then I'm disappointed when they don't understand me. With Arvo, I didn't have to pretend. I don't need to tell you what that's like. You can be yourself around Wendall, I presume? Well, our friendship was like that. And now that he's gone, I can't help but feel that this part of me - this honest, real part of me - has gone with him, forever." It all made more sense in his head than it did out loud, but he was trying his best. "Of course, he'd tell me I was talking nonsense. But that's how I feel. Do you understand at all?"

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

Mary Lou accepted the cushion without much word, feeling very much like she might have pushed herself a little too far this morning. Anything for her family and those she chose to love. She didn't say much at first, as she watched him steam the tea and politely took a sip despite the unique bitterness of it now that it had been stepped for entirely too long. But that's what one did when they were in support of another. Criticising his lack of care for a beverage was poor manners, and even if it were not, it was completely unnecessary as well. She'd share enough tea with Monty over the years to know that this was not normal behaviour and it was the unique situation they found themselves in today that was the cause. She was content just to listen, to be an ear for him as he so clearly needed and even if he could not tell her everything, she liked to think that he could tell her what he needed to even if he could not tell someone all that he might have wanted to, there was something of a special difference between the two and she would be here to lift Monty up for whatever period of time that he might require.

"I never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Tuuri, but I have heard numerous things about him over the years, he seemed the type of man who lit up any room he entered simply by entering it," she said taking another short sip of the tea she cradled gently between her fingers. Strong emotions paired well with tea, perhaps a unique cultural similarity between the british and the south. She did prefer her sweet tea for the most part, but that was not for strong emotion. "I don't think any of us realise how much of our lives have the meaning it does until the person who adds that meaning is no longer there," and perhaps she had never lost a friend like what Monty had, and she didn't think she ever wanted to experience it just to have the wisdom to help him now - and she knew he would never wish that on her either, but it didn't stop the intensity of his grief washing over her for a moment, clutching at her heart like she couldn't get it to beat quite right.

It was not grief of Arvo, she did not know him, but it was the grief of the loss that he would leave behind. The man's wife, his children and grandchildren, and for the man before her now. Death was cruel in that way, whether expected or not, it could not leave without carving out a piece of you as it went. "I can't say as I fully understand what you've lost, but I know how I would feel to lose the one person in my life I don't think I could feel completely whole without. Arvo was the mate for your soul, the connection to the world that helped you feel it properly and experience the world through a lens you couldn't on your own. Not in a romantic way, because it doesn't need to be. Soul mates are rare and we can't always tell what form that will take for us, but it is such a bitter loss when we lose it." She did not know for certain that Wendall was her soulmate. Love of her life, certainly, and she would never love someone that way she loved her husband, but a soulmate was a rare and precious thing and such a devastating loss when it was gone.

She could almost feel that severed tether in him now, a raw wound drifting in search of another anchor. He would never find it, she thought, heavily, and that made her sad, but maybe she could help him to cauterise that wound just a little bit. She reached out her hand to him, and it felt like a tiny effort over a vast chasm. She had to remind herself the man had never had a lot and that he needed to remind himself that not everyone was here to abandon him. Certainly not her, she would never abandon anyone, she wasn't sure she knew how to. The feeling of it was such a raw sensation for her, she could never cause that hurt in someone else. "I am truly sorry that this life has taken so much from you, Monty. I wish I could give it all back to you, I wish that this world with all of it's magic could be just a little more magic." but the truth was, as much as she could listen to him, and sit in his loss with him, there was nothing she could do to fix this. Death was permanent, the one thing she felt they would never truly understand.

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Mary Lou would have loved Arvo. Everybody did. She was right; he had a way of brightening everyone whose path he crossed. Monty smiled as she captured his friend so fondly and accurately, despite never having met him. Such was the power of his presence: it could be felt from the beyond. And indeed, he had brought a great deal to Monty's life. Friendship, laughter, comfort, wisdom. An ear that listened keenly, without judgement. Monty had never pressed him, but he knew Arvo had fought many battles of his own. The fact he had emerged from them not only victorious, but all the stronger and more compassionate, was quite miraculous. He was an inspiration; there was no doubt about it.

Monty sat quietly, absorbing Mary Lou's kind words. When had she grown into such a wise and wonderful young lady? Only yesterday she'd been a child herself, and now she had two of her own, a third on the way. But three things about Mary Lou were constant: she fought for what she wanted, loved without hesitation, and stayed utterly faithful to her principles. Proud would have been an understatement.

She was right about something else, too. Arvo had been his soulmate. Monty knew what she meant; there was nothing romantic about it, but it was a connection he would never, ever replicate. So much of who he was today, he owed to Arvo. The experiences they'd shared had changed him permanently - and that, at least, could never be taken away from him.

As he sat there, holding Mary Lou's hand, he felt a quiet change in his spirit. Arvo and Saveli had stayed with him for a little while, but he had stayed with them until the end of their lives. He had laughed with them, and cried with them, and loved them with all his heart, and that love was the last thing they knew. It could no longer be returned, but it was not lost. He would carry it forever, and pass it on where he could.

"It's all right," he said. "Sometimes we expect these things; sometimes we don't. But we carry on. We make it worthwhile." He squeezed her hand. "And perhaps that authentic side of me isn't completely lost, eh? Even if it takes a powerful force to bring him out. Thank you, Mary Lou. I'm very glad - and very grateful - you came to see me." But he had been talking about himself for too long. "Are you all right, by the way? Can I get you anything else? Perhaps a less terrible cup of tea?"

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

Carrying on. That's what they were supposed to do. Mary Lou hated it.

It felt like being told to suck it up - and she'd had enough of that too. But she didn't want to tell Monty that, it wasn't going to help. So she did what everyone did. Decided to carry on. It would work eventually, as much as it sometimes hurt to know how easy it could be sometimes just to carry on. Would that always be an expectation? The thought almost made her laugh. Still, it was best to think about the positives, as few of them there were, and her smile brightened. "You're one of the most authentic people I know, Monty," it did feel a little weird to be calling him by his name, but after the strange heart to heart they'd just had, it didn't feel right to call him professor anymore. She would lament the loss of her youth later. Slowly going down the drain until she was the ripe old age of whatever many greys Monty had. A good long time from now.

And Monty would still be there. And they would all support each other. She just knew it. No, she would demand it.

She could be very demanding when she wanted to be. "I'm okay, and no thank you, I will drink this... you're right it is terrible, I'm so sorry." She said, her mouth kicking up into a grin. It was entirely her fault for going on so long and she really did not want to drink it. She reached out for the cakes she had slid away from them. "Why don't I unwrap these and you get started on some more tea, I added blossom infusions, I hope you don't mind," she told him, starting to unwrap. They could talk about her later, right now, after emotions, they both needed to take a minute to let things settle. She needed to take several breaths and he probably needed to take a moment to collect himself as well. "Do you remember the letters we used to write, when I first started at Hogwarts and you'd left?"

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty didn’t feel authentic. He felt that he kept large parts of himself buried, afraid of how it might feel to embrace them. Sometimes he felt he had been wearing a mask for so long that if he stripped it all back he wouldn’t recognise the man underneath. But perhaps he had misunderstood authenticity. Perhaps everybody kept parts of themselves hidden, and to be authentic was to choose which bits you wanted to share. Monty wanted to share his joy, when he felt it; he wanted to make people smile, to make them feel loved, to help them recognise the light within them which he had failed to recognise for so long in himself. The way he presented himself to the world was a conscious choice, but it reflected a deep sincerity that could never be faked, nor hidden.

It seemed everybody was being honest today. Monty laughed. “That would be lovely - thank you,” he said. The thought of food still made him queasy, but he would try for Mary Lou’s sake. He sat back in his chair, tracing a line on the pine table with his finger. “I do,” he said, casting his mind back. “You were afraid you’d had something to do with my leaving. You didn’t, by the way. Students like you were the reason I stayed as long as I did. Why did you think that, anyway? Was it something I said?”

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

Mary Lou couldn't say she was entirely sure why she'd brought it up, other than it just seemed like a good moment to do so. She'd been wanting to talk about this for so long and she hadn't really had anyone to talk about it with. It was different when she spoke to Wendall, she loved him, but he'd had a lot of friends in the school and he'd adjusted to the whole magic thing a lot easier than she had, which seemed silly since she was not technically muggleborn, only raised by muggles. Her father had attended Ilvermorny, which she had thought she too would have attended, until her Mother and her Aunt had different plans. She still doesn't know why they'd chosen to steal that away from her, the chance to connect with a father she never knew. Her step-father had been nice enough until they'd all decided she no longer fit into their idea of what a good catholic family would be. Still, she didn't regret it, only that they could not now be a part of the lives of her children. A choice they had made themselves twelve years ago when they had sent her away.

Her experience of the world was much colder than Wendall's had been, than his was, and she would strive every day that her children would never feel that stark coldness at the age she had. They would one day, when they were older and more equipped to handle it. But not whilst they were still small enough for Mary Lou to tuck up under her arms and kiss them to sleep. "No, not something you said, something... do you remember the Slytherin boy from our lessons, the one who used to sit next to me all the time?" She'd hated that he'd had the power to take the fun out of the one class she'd enjoyed in her time there. Even when Monty had left she'd still enjoyed the subject, though she feared it had been more out of a fierce determination to not let her feelings overcome her than for any other reason. She still found it incredibly difficult to look at a cauldron on her own.

"He said it had been my fault, after what happened in the class with the prank potions - my allergy to the alihotsy leaves," she was so much more careful now, because she knew better. She knew to stay away from them, despite them being one of the main ingredients they supplied to many of the potions stores. "When we started back at school... he..." she shook her head, not wanting to relive the moment on the train. "It doesn't matter, the point is... well, I guess my point is that sometimes we think we can't fall further, and then we do... but we just have to... get on with it. I didn't enjoy my time at school, and that's unfortunate but, well, writing to you made it okay. Because I think somewhere in there I just knew that you weren't going to judge me... even if I wasn't always being entirely truthful in my letters." She took a deep, frustrated sigh. "That's not what I'm trying to say, what I'm trying to say is that you've been more than my professor since before you left the school, you were my mentor before then and after, somewhere along the way, you became family even before I married Wendall - so, you know, just... just don't let your sadness take that away. Being sad is okay when you have someone to sit with you in that, that's what I'm trying to say."

You've made a difference in more lives than you probably realise, and maybe some of that is because of Arvo, but ultimately, it's you. You're some people's reason. That's what she was trying to say.

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Ever since receiving Mary Lou’s first letter, Monty had wondered whether he’d somehow made her feel responsible for his resignation. He couldn’t recall having implied so, even accidentally, but perhaps he had been careless in his actions. It was a relief, then, when she told him he hadn’t, although the feeling was short-lived. Of course he remembered the boy. Luxen was his name. Monty had taught through all sorts of stress; he’d stood before his students in the throes of panic attacks, given potion demonstrations without any sleep, and left the room to vomit during a lecture. Even then, he had never come so close to losing control of his classroom as when Luxen was in it. If any student had contributed to his choice to leave, it was him.

How naive of Monty to think that was the end of it. Poor Mary Lou still had to see him, sit next to him, endure his bullying. Why had she never mentioned this in her letters? Monty might have been far away, but he’d have done his best to put a stop to it. He’d still been in touch with Hezekiah and Katherine; he could have reached out to them. Instead, Mary Lou had led him to believe that everything was all right, and so he’d stopped worrying. He’d moved on.

They were more alike than Monty had realised. Perhaps that was why she refused to let him push her away. She knew how it felt to suffer in silence.

He listened until she had finished. Then he said, “I was always glad that you felt you could talk to me. I didn’t realise there was so much you’d left out.” He didn’t want to press her now - that had never been his style - but he did want her to know that she could talk to him, if she felt comfortable to share. It might not have been what she was trying to say, but it might be what she needed to say. “It wasn’t your fault. I felt dreadful, yes - but it wasn’t the reason I left. Was he always so unkind to you? Is that why you were unhappy?”

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

She hadn't meant to really get into this today, but now that Monty had outright asked her she found that she couldn't stop herself from talking about it. "Luxen was horrible to me, and not just me either. He seemed to have a thing against anyone I even spoke to. I don't think he ever had a kind word to say to anyone and it made me really doubt some of the people who tried to come to my defence. He made everything feel like a chore and everytime I would find something I would enjoy, he'd come and poke fun at it, track me down wherever I was in the castle and just hound me until I couldn't take it anymore and left the room." she said, frowning as she was thrown straight back into the train ride of her second year. He'd just walked past, let off the stinking thing and continued on as if he didn't have a care in the world, and perhaps he didn't, because she'd protected him, allowed him to get away with torturing her throughout her first several years in school. It had stopped after third year, but only because she'd been ripped from the only home she'd known for nearly four years and whisked off to live with her Aunt who'd then basically shut down her contact with everyone, she wasn't even able to tell her friends where she'd gone.

It had been so easy then to simply forget she even had friends. None of them wrote to her, and she didn't write to them. "He made me believe I wasn't really a witch and that at any moment I could be arrested for stealing my wand from someone else and taking their place... after a while I believed him and I got really worried that whenever I left my dorm someone was going to come and arrest me." At the time she had been so stressed she'd failed almost all of her classes for that year. Even potions. Which was probably the only thing she could have considered to be her faourite... except maybe Herbology. "I didnt tell anyone about it, I didn't think anyone would believe me. It was Professor Styx actually who sort of put a stop to it. At least I think it was. When I came back in sixth year, he was just... not around anymore. I could only assume he'd been expelled or asked to leave. But that was after I got to be good friends with his Grandson." Kalif had been a very good friend to Mary Lou during her time away, teaching her all sorts of things about wandwork and how to protect herself. She didn't think she'd ever be quite so proficiant with magic as some people were, but she didn't feel like she was quite so far behind these days either.

"Even with him gone though, it was hard to enjoy the school, not with the memories I had of it. Around every corner I expected to see him or someone else lurking in the shadows. I... I couldn't feel comfortable there. Not even right up until graduation. Being near the place just... I don't know. I don't miss it like Wendall does."

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty listened with growing sadness and horror. What Luxen had done to Mary Lou was beyond bullying. It was harassment - and by the sounds of things, it had been just about constant. Where where her professors, while all of this had been happening? Someone had to have noticed - if not a teacher, then a student, a nurse, a caretaker. Had every single one of them turned a blind eye? Dismissed it as harmless fun and walked away? Monty wished he found it hard to believe, but he had been there, not just as a professor, but as a student, as a victim. Nobody had ever cared about him. He'd even gone so far once as to report it, naively thinking something would change. His professor had told him, in less direct terms, to toughen up, and he'd never reported anything again. It was why he'd vowed as an adult to always notice. To always intervene.

Perhaps, if he had stayed at the castle, he could have intervened for Mary Lou. He might not have succeeded, but he would certainly have tried, which was more than could be said, it seemed, for anyone else. And he would have kept his office door open, as he always did for any student who needed a bolthole. It was complicated, of course. He had resigned for reasons personal, physical, and emotional. But a great part of him wished he could have stayed. A smaller part of him, having been reminded of his role in the castle, wished he could still be there now.

"That's awful," he said. "That's - I'm so sorry. I don't blame you for not telling me before. That's a horrific thing to experience. And at that age, you... you don't even have the words to express it." These days, Mary Lou was quite eloquent; she had described her time at Hogwarts so vividly, Monty could almost feel her anxiety. "He deprived you of what should have been a wonderful experience. Your feelings are completely understandable." Monty mourned what Hogwarts might have been for him, too, had his circumstances been a little different. A muggle-born boy, plunged into a world of magic. It should have been the happiest time of his life, yet he had never been so miserable. "I'm sorry there was no one looking out for you."

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

Mary Lou wanted to say that it was okay, that she'd survived and gotten over it, but the more she sat thinking about it, with Monty, on her own, whenever, the more she'd started to think that maybe what she'd actually done was bury, because she had to, no one else seemed like they were going to help her, or to care and so she'd done what she could, to survive, to keep herself in a place where she wasn't going to run away and to fight for her life. She never wanted her children to know what that would be like, she never wanted them to ever be in the position where they felt like they couldn't talk to someone if they needed help. Growing up, Mary Lou had felt like some kind of a freak, like someone that no one could ever want to be around - Hogwarts, she thought, was supposed to change that, but she'd left feeling even more like a freak than she'd ever felt before being there.

Even still, today, she often felt like she was just so different to everyone else. She would wake up and think she was back in her dorm, face hidden in a book, Freya making some comment about the wind, or something, worrying that any moment now Luxen was going to bring the Headmistress in to arrest them. And then she would look at Wendall, or she would hear Montana, or Madeira would cry and she would remember she wasn't in school anymore - then she'd make tea and spend just five minutes allowing herself to grieve.

But that was all she could do. Because there was nothing else to be done.

"I don't know if you could have helped, I... was very good at pretending, I guess. A couple of the students knew and they tried to help," she thought back to Freya and Lucas specifically, they'd been so incredibly kind to her, and Kalif of course had tried to teach her how to defend herself with her wand. Leia, later, had offered the same, but by then she'd been pretty determined to not use magic much at all. These days, though? She wanted to know she could be relied upon to do what she needed to do for her babies. She wasn't ever going to let them grow up in an environment where they couldn't appreciate either sides of their heritage. She was hoping maybe Monty could help, because this wasn't really something she felt comfortable talking to Wendall about.

He wouldn't understand. He would try, but he just wouldn't get it.

"Monty..." she started slowly. "I know you have some... experience with duelling. I've seen your wand work, I know you're decent at least," this probably seemed like it might be a very strange request coming from her, but... she hoped Monty would understand it's need. Like him, she wanted to always be a safe haven for others and though she could not guess at how he was feeling right now with what he was hearing, the look on his face told her that he felt guilty about some of it. Which was silly, he wasn't there. Maybe this will make him feel a little better? "Would you maybe... duel with me, sometimes? I have a lot of... anger... sometimes I need a place for that to go. I'm not a good dueller, so I know you could easily defend yourself and I don't want Wendall to think any differently of me. Would it be okay sometimes if we duelled? Just when I need it?" And maybe it could help Monty too?

@Monty Pendleton ​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty suspected Mary Lou was right. No matter how he wished he could have helped, there was realistically little anyone could do if she didn’t tell the truth. Still, he was sorry he hadn’t been there, if only to be present. He had come to think of Wendall and Mary Lou as a son and daughter-in-law - or perhaps a grandson and granddaughter-in-law, for he was getting on a bit. Either way, her pain affected him deeply, as Saveli’s had, and as Rion and Ainmere’s did.

Her next request surprised him. She wanted to duel? Well, Monty could always use the self-defence practice. Duels had been one of the highlights of his auror training - and if he hadn’t frozen up under real-life pressure, he would have been reasonably good at them. Though he had no plans to ever re-train with the ministry, he’d kept up with the practice, even converting one of the rooms in his house into a makeshift duelling room. That room had since been appropriated for storage, but somewhere, under the books and furniture, there existed a spring-loaded mechanical dummy with the capacity to launch tennis balls at perilous speeds. It was a fun contraption, but too predictable. Even after he’d introduced an element of randomness, it could never imitate a human opponent. It couldn’t exploit his weaknesses or try to trick him. In the end, the only thing it had really taught him was to dodge and block successive attacks - quickly.

But this was not a useless skill. It had saved his life, once, and if he was unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you looked at it), it might one day save his life again. It also made him an ideal duelling partner for Mary Lou, who seemed to have him in mind to play the role of dummy. "Yes, of course," he said. "Although you must promise not to aim for the face. I can't afford to get any uglier. Then again, I once said that to Arvo, and he told me I couldn't possibly get any uglier if I tried." Monty laughed. He would miss that cheek - and giving it right back. "Of course we can duel. Any time you'd like. Well - starting in the new year, perhaps. In the meantime, if you'd be interested, I have an idea for a dummy that makes a very satisfying noise when you hit it. We could even put Luxen's head on it. Or mine. No, perhaps not - that'd be a bit too frightening."

Monty looked down, his smile enfeebled by regret. Deep down, he knew that his dear friend would want him to find his humour as quickly as possible, if he ever lost it at all. But it didn't feel right to laugh. Not yet. "Sorry," he said, because he doubted Mary Lou appreciated it either. She was trying to tell him something serious. Something vulnerable. And he was listening. "Sorry."

 

[Mary Lou Layton]

The mood was a little less tense than it had been, and Mary Lou was glad for it. In all honesty she had never been very good with anything even slightly tense, but she'd gotten really good at faking it. She'd had to, back in school, with little to no support at any point. Then when everything had gone down with her Aunt, well, stepping from one tense moment into another had simply become second nature. She didn't like tense situations for those reasons and did often tend to try and avoid them at all cost. Of course sometimes, like now, they were inevitable and she would never tell Monty that he wasn't allowed to feel whatever way he might feel about any situation at any given time, but, even still, she was greatful that these things had a tendency to resolve themselves. She wasn't always sure she had the ability to solve them on her own. She had been looking into ways to help her get over her anger, and to get better with any kind of tense situations and that was where duelling had come into her radar. As someone who tended to live a vastly different lifestyle to most (but not all) magical people, she had to find some kind of a way to make it all work out for her. Her wand was not an extension of who she was like for so many other magical people, her peers even, it was something she had to use that then reminded her why she wanted to learn.

She hoped she would get over that one day, but she knew things like this could leave one feeling as though they had nothing left - insidious and snake-like. It wasn't something to be taken lightly in any case.

The laugh and smile surprised her, sure, but she liked it. She prefered it when Monty could see his own light rather than hiding away in the darkness that so often came with great loss. She could sense, perhaps intrinsically, that his loss had indeed been great, he had told her as much himself after all. Though she would never judge him for it. She would never know the true extent of what his friendship with the old goblin was like, but it hardly mattered, because the point was that it had now left a hole in him that would never truly be refilled. Just as the hole in her was left by a family she would never really be able to replace - no matter how hard she tried. She could create a family of her own well enough, but it would never really make up for the family she no longer had. For Cindy, for her mother, for her Aunt. She loved them all terribly even still - she wished things could have been different. She would never truly be content with how things ended with any of it, not with Luxen, not with her parents, not with her aunt. But she also could never bring herself to forgive them in their absence either. She wasn't sure if she would ever be ready for that.

"Laugh if you need to, Monty. It is healing for all of us," she told him eventually, smiling lightly at him. She would be only too happy to practice with a dummy until both of them were ready to get into a real duel. He to understand he would be allowed and expected to try and hurt her, and she that she would have the speed and defensive skill necessary to give him even part of a challenge. She might not be aware of the kind of training Monty had done (because even the writer forgot he was in auror training wow), but she was aware that he was one of the only people she trusted to do this with her. And to actually correct her on anything she did wrong. She was relying on his love of teaching and in that, she hoped his inner educator would correct her on her form. Especially given how dangerous incorrect form could be in a duel. "Don't apologise for a good memory."
​

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fin​