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“You’re dropping ash in my flower beds, McKinnon.”
Marlene’s scuffed red converse pointed towards the stars as she lay on her back, balanced along the top of Alastor Moody’s garden wall with one leg crossed delicately over the other. Cigarette smoke danced upwards into the frigid midnight air.
“I’m feeding them” was the reply, and Moody barked a laugh at how forcefully profound she sounded. Kids.
“Order meeting is dismissed,” he grunted. “Have your after-party somewhere other than my front garden.” She made no move other than to uncross and cross her legs again, so her other shoe could have its turn to look skywards.
“That you singing earlier?”
“Me? I wasn’t singing, I was humming.”
“I could hear you from my kitchen, McKinnon.”
“I was humming in my head.”
Moody exhaled, his breath joining with her smoke above their heads. “You drunk?”
“I’m not drunk, Mad-Eye, I’m thinking.”
“What did you call me–?”
“I’m thinking, and I’m gay, and I noticed you have a rather nice wall to think and be gay on, so that’s what I’m doing.” She took a long drag on the cigarette.
“You won’t be an Auror if you keep smoking those things” he growled, eyeing the way the end flared orange like the tip of a wand. “Lungs are a job requirement.”
“Who says I want to be an Auror?
“You did. About an hour ago. I gave you the papers.”
Marlene looked at him for the first time and grinned, winking. “Just testing you. It’s alright, I don’t smoke anyway. Only when I’m trying to think.”
“And be gay?”
“Well Jesus, Mad-Eye, don’t go shouting about it.”
He made a noise that was almost a splutter and she laughed, flicking the cigarette butt away, it’s little orange end spiraling into the darkness. His good eye narrowed but he swallowed his annoyance. Kids.
She was singing again, under her breath, her dark eyes upturned towards the sky.
“There's no chance for us.
It's all decided for us.
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us.”
“Oi” he barked, “I said no singing in my garden.”
“I wasn’t singing, I was humming.”
“No humming either.”
“I can smoke, but I can’t sing or hum?”
“I never said you could bloody smoke.”
Marlene shot him two lazy finger guns. “I’m not smoking, either.”
Moody sighed, exhausted with the conversation. McKinnon was a decent fighter and a useful member of the Order, but like the rest of her young, mouthy friends Moody struggled to survive a five minute interaction with her without wanting to remove his other eye.
“Who wants to live forever… who wants to live forever..?”
“What are you banging on about, girl?”
Marlene sat up suddenly, her blond hair sticking on end in all directions, illuminated by the nearby street lamps. “If I applied to be an Auror, would you train me, Mad-Eye?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I could be your protégé.”
“I don’t take trainees.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like kids.”
Marlene grinned at him, then. It lit up her face in a picture of delight as though he had just told her he fancied You-Know-Who. She swung her legs back and forth, shoes knocking against the brick and scuffing themselves further.
“Just wait till you’re old and grey, Mad-Eye” she said. “You’ll be a right softie then.”
He exhaled sharply; it might have been a laugh if Alastor Moody was the sort of man who laughed freely. “ If I get old and grey, you mean.”
The smile faded from her face a little but remained glinting in her eyes.
“This ain’t no song and dance, girl” he continued. “People don’t live forever. Not whilst there’s war.”
She simply shrugged.
“Who wants to live forever, anyway?”