She could see him, her father, jolly and happy and he helped her mother set the table. Her elder sister sat on her left chatting away about her work, grumbling about her husband being out-station again. Yet her mutterings lacked heat and she could feel the love and pride there. She could see her niece, still a toddler giggling with her brother.

Food, familiar yet foreign wafted in the air and she could feel her stomach rumble. Yet it was a pleasant feeling as her sister gave her a smirk. She responded with her own smile while she piled the food onto her plate – Thai fragrant rice, chicken curry, fried eggs and fish – as her father made a note about the current news.

She was home.

It had worked.

They are together now.

After the final dish was placed, her father winked at her mother before they all sat down for dinner.

"Let us pray before we eat." He said and cupped his hands together in the customary position. They all recited it together; a chorus of familiar and though she had been a firm atheist before, she still placed her hands together and bowed her head.

They are all together now. Her family and…

"I don't want to be here."

Tom voice sliced through the homely atmosphere. Her father frowned as all of them turned and looked to her right.

She did not want to turn.

"This is not my family." The boy said angrily. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Mary…" her father said and to her horror the colour of his skin – honey brown – started to fade. Her mother's face pale and streaked with tears as her fingers scrabbled her plate.

"Mary." She sobbed, fat globs of tears splattered the blood stained plate.

"Mum," not-Mary pleaded, she hated how small she sounded, too high, too young. "That's not my name Mum, it's –"

"You're Mary." Her sister stated, plain and quiet and yet she jumped as though she had screamed.

Her mother wept as she continued, "My poor child, dead and gone."

Panic bubbled in her throat as she tried to move butsomeonething pinned her to her seat (long fingers, too long, too white, too cold) Her words die as her mother bolts and flees, her shoulders shaking as she moaned for another's name.

No.

A chair splinters and she did not need to turn to see her sister's body twitch and shatter like glass. It's shards melted away as her children bursts into flames.

No.

Please.

WHY? WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG?

She looked down and her hands were pale – white not her.

"Hush."

She does not look to him, the cold of his nails battle with the heat of her tears.

"Hush."

They stopped though more threatened to fall – magic binds her face as he stood and with a wave her world explodes into dark tendrils, hearth and home dissolved into nothing. Green and silver, snake and stone rose from the ground – watching.

Eager.

Spidery fingers and firm, body arms wrapped itself around her. His body was too tall and the flesh she saw marred by darkened veins and he pulled her onto his chest. He rested his chin upon her hair. His heartbeat was slow, unnatural, but even she could feel it rumble with excitement. He held her for a while before she felt his lips whispering into her ear.

"Mine."

Mary caught the scream that nearly escaped her lips.

She gasped, mind wild as she took in the dark curtains and silver thread as her heart threatened to burst from her ribcage.

Breathe.

'You had a nightmare,' she told herself, 'Breathe.'

As her fear seeped away, Mary pushed her palm into her eyes when a sudden, sharp pain bolts from her groin. Wincing, she tried to will it away, when a wet, familiar and very unwelcoming sensation flooded her body. The young witch groped for her wand, whispering a quiet Lumos as she lifted her dress.

A dark, red patch greeted her and she swore under her breath.

It had been more than a decade since Mary's resurrection and one of the few things she was glad in this new life of hers was the fact that she did not have to handle her monthly periods. Mary knew she was already suffering from depression she did not need her womb to goad her mental health into further deterioration. Yet, despite not having them for 12 years, she had never felt such hot, blinding pain before. Oh, she remembered the cramps but this – as she curled, feeling her body shriek as her uterus contract – was…excruciating. Her belly spasmed as she moaned and she felt more blood trickled between her legs.

'Oh God,' she thought, 'If this is what this body's period is like, I think I'd just end myself – Master of Death bedamned,' But the thought of some poor House Elf having to deal with her blood stained sheets forced her to grind her teeth and make for the toilet. Mary nearly ripped her bed's curtains off its rail as she tried to stand and –

"Oh my God –" she groaned, falling down on her knees as she curled on the floor. A few seconds (or decades) passed when she heard someone rising up beside her. Mary would have sworn, tried to rise up and salvage whatever dignity she had when she felt a warm hand gently massaging her back.

"Are you all right?" Irma's worried voice whispered beside her. Mary was not sure if she felt glad or more horrified that this girl had to witness her go through this but she was too busy trying not to bleed through her dress to care.

"Oh." The girl said as a matter of fact. "Oh, um, can you sit up Mary?"

Mary wanted to bite Irma's head off but since that required too much effort, she settled on shaking her head.

"It's all right. My sister has horrid ones too. Um…wait just a moment." Irma shuffled away and Mary laid down, listening to the soft gentle snores of her other sleeping companions. Even when a soft pop and the scent of mint wafted in the air, Dorothy and Edith continued in their dreams. While contemplating on whether or not she recalled any spells to burn her uterus and set those two on fire, Mary felt a pair of strong arm gently sitting her up. She wanted to bat away, electing to simply lie on the floor and die when Irma placed a hot water pillow onto her belly and a towel underneath her legs.

Mary moaned (rather obscenely) as the warmth seeped into her bones and some of the pain eked away.

"Jesus," she whispered and she could hear Irma chuckle softly. "No, simply some witchery."

Whatever it was, it was working and Mary felt her body relax as she leaned against her bed. Before she could thank Irma (and kiss her) the girl handed her a hot mug of tea. Peppermint and some sort of apple like scent drafted up her nose.

Mary took a sip and though it was not to her taste, her stomach seemed to agree.

"It's peppermint and chamomile tea. Usually, we use a tincture of sorts but I didn't think you'd get it so early." Irma explained.

Mary took a huge gulp before eyeing her saviour, "I'm twelve years old. My brother and I were born in December so we missed the letter at eleven."

Irma made a soft 'ah' sound. As the pain ebbed, Mary gave Irma a gentle pat on her shoulder, "But thank you Irma. It was awfully painful but this tea and pillow is immensely helpful." She tried to smile but she winced as she felt another trickle coming out from her.

As though she could read her mind (and Mary felt a spike of alarm before remembering that Legilimency was a high level spell and it was impossible for the witch to have mastered it and Irma had yet shown any signs of being a super villain level genius) Irma stood up again. Mary's eyes followed her as she walked towards Dorothy's cupboard. The witch tapped the doors with her wand and it swung open before Mary could even ask what she was doing. The girl searched for a while before pulling out a pair of dark underwear and Mary began to question her assumption that her unassuming roommate was anything but an average witch.

After locking the cupboard back, Irma strode back to Mary and handed her the garment. A shy smirk answered her back, "Dorothy tends to be over-prepared. I thought she might have these – um – witch's garment just in case. It absorbs your menses and prevents leakage."

At Mary's dumbfounded reaction, Irma giggled again, "It's all right; we used to swap robes at home. She will understand."

Mary started, "I still don't feel –" before she felt another leak and took the garment as her cheeks burned.

"Honestly, Mary you don't have to worry," the witch waved her aside, "Why don't you go put them on? I will clean this up."

"Wh- no, Irma, please, you have done so much, I cannot –"

"I insist. After all, we witches have to watch out for each other's backs. It would be ill-mannered of me to ignore another witch in need. We may be Slytherins but it does not mean we abandon each other at the first sign of trouble."

Mary nearly blurted out that they did but that was in a future – one she's trying to prevent; so she held her mug and hot water pillow before moving slowly towards the privacy screen at the other end of the dorm. She quickly disrobed, bundling up her soiled robes and undergarment, intent on going downstairs to the toilet to clean it out. She made a note to herself to tell Dorothy in the morning and find some way to thank both her and Irma. Mary wished this had happened in the morning where she could at least go to the infirmary but alas, it had to be this night – after a nightmare at that. Mary knew that if Irma was not here she would have to risk slipping out or go beg a Slytherin prefect for help.

Sighing, Mary pressed the pillow back to her belly and saw Irma fussing about her bed. Even in the dim light, she could see the sheets were spotless.

"That is amazing, Irma." And the red-haired witch smiled shyly. "It's just a simple cleaning spell, I can teach you and do you –"She pointed to the bundle in Mary's arms.

"Oh, no you have done enough Irma. Please get some sleep. I know we have an early class tomorrow."

The young girl looked concerned, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, please and thank you so much. I can handle things from here. This tea and pillow helped so much." And it did, she would have to find a way to procure her own set because if it's this horrendous the first time…

Mary shuddered and said firmly, "Please Irma."

The aforesaid witch frowned but nodded, "All right but first thing, you must go see the Healer."

"I will and thank you."

Irma shook her head, "It's nothing, Mary, please." A small yawn escaped her lips and the red-haired witch stumble back to her bed. As Mary gently opened the dorm's door, she heard Irma's mellifluous voice, "First thing!"

Mary whispered, "I will and thank you."

"You're welcomed." Responded back.

It took Mary some effort to wash her garments, amazed that the pillow's heat had yet cooled or her tea still steaming deliciously. Once she was assured the blood had been nearly washed away, she clambered back to her rooms and tossed the wet clothes into the hamper. She took a peek at Irma's bed, noting with satisfaction that she had fallen asleep.

As Mary curled back in bed, pillow still tucked beneath her, some part of her tried to recall the dream she had. But like the ache pooled in her body, it slowly ebbed away as exhaustion chased her bones and sent her into a dreamless sleep.

Her final thoughts though heavy and muddled were the strange realization that she might have made a friend.

Author's Note:

Oh, geez, so much for my monthly updates. (I am a liar and am easily distracted even though this has been drafted) Okay. I have the next chapter roughly written but I'd like to end here and would like to address a few questions some comments have left.

Will this be twincest?

Okay, when I first started this I did have this in mind but I'm still trying to see how this ends and to be honest any twincest these two have would be extremely one-sided. Tom, I could see would want to be with Mary as more than a sibling since he does view her as an extension of himself and is somewhat obsessed with her. Mary, on the other hand, would be not be so open to that. She may have a hard time viewing him as a brother but the whole Westmark effect does apply to her. I can only see two ways for this to be mutual (if you can call it that) and that will involve the Love Potion or the Imperius Curse.

Why is Mary depressed but then not?

Okay, I based Mary's depression on my own experience with it. Contrary to what most people perceive, depression isn't just the sads 24/7. Sometimes you could have moments where you laugh, enjoy a slice of life, be hopeful and stuff. Have the energy to be productive and even seek help. But relapses can and do happen. There's a reason why most people who commit suicide or suffer depression can mask their pain well or be suddenly 'cured' when they are just a few triggers away from pulling that final steps. I'm basing Mary a lot of my experiences with depression (+bipolar 2) so yeah her being bleak then happy isn't exactly off the mark. Mary just hates the orphanage just as much as Tom does – it's just rather than torturing children and animals, she just implodes rather than explode like Tom. She goes into herself. Being at Hogwarts will help her but I don't think the wizarding world's mental health care is anywhere near what we have right now. She will get help but like many, it's not going to be easy.

But this is me, rambling stuff. I hope this will explain things.