Archive of Our Own ^beta

I pushed all my problems

To the back of my brain

A darkness deep inside

Where I just can't find my way

How can I walk with a smile?

Get on with my day

When I deceived myself

Pretending it's all okay

- Crying For No Reason, Katy B

Marlene McKinnon very rarely cried.

It would, of course, be an absolutely ludicrous statement to assume that the vivacious blonde had never shed a tear in her entire life. Although she may have seemed like a strong warrior to many, there were, in fact, a cascade of emotions within her, waiting to burst past the dam she had built up religiously over the years.

But it was, strangely, one of the few things that Marlene simply couldn’t do as well as others.

The reason as to why her subconscious refusal to cry baffled many and came across as peculiar or odd was because, typically, those who cannot show the weakest of emotions tended to be quite stoic, refined people. However, Marlene was practically the dictionary definition of an open book - she was constantly chattering about something in her life, whether it be a minor inconvenience or a major cause.

A quirk of her lips as she tried to conceal laughter at a funny story, a spark of fire in her ocean blue eyes whilst she discussed exactly how she was going to make a difference in the dark world the war had plunged them all into. The passion that gushed from her like an overflowing tap, fuelling every fibre of her body and often motivating those around her to be just as eager.

All of these features, and many more, were what defined her as the type of person one would assume to show their emotions quite strongly. Because Marlene did, she was never shy to contradict anyone if she felt like she was being wronged in any way, she was never unwilling to raise her opinion on something or lash out in anger at someone.

And yet, she could not cry.

Not as much as others, anyway.

In fact, Marlene McKinnon was fairly sure that she could count on one hand the amount of times she had actually cried during her teenage years (her childhood didn’t count because didn’t all children cry? Besides, even then, Mrs McKinnon had been almost alarmed at how placated baby Marlene had been with hardly any tantrums or upsets whatsoever).

The first time had been out of genuine, physical pain and had occurred during her second year and, quite unfortunately in the unwanted opinion of Sirius Black, during her first ever Quidditch match. Marlene had beaten Sirius out for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team (pun intended) and had been very excited to show off that she was a better Beater than him, only to be knocked out halfway through the game and replaced by the reserve, Bilius Weasley.

Tears had come naturally to Marlene then, much to her surprise, and they had been a mixture of frustration and pain, especially as she had been restricted to the Hospital Wing for the next three weeks with a fractured spine, concussion and a broken arm. All had been fixed by Madam Pomfrey, naturally, but it had been an arduous recovery and most unpleasant journey of chugging disgusting healing potions whilst Sirius gloated about her clearly ‘not being as good’ as she claimed.

(She had slapped him, for good measure, and that had certainly made up for the unwanted tears she had shed that first day).

The second time Marlene remembered truly breaking down was during fourth year, when a student in the year above, Davey Gudgeon, had nearly lost an eye after galavanting near the very dangerous Whomping Willow. Marlene, never the one to let such injustice slide, had taken it upon herself to assemble a petition to get the tree taken off school grounds as it was only causing harm to the students.

Marlene had been extremely surprised to find that many of her friends actually hadn’t been on board with this as much as she might’ve assumed. Mary, the ever loyal best friend, had been the first one to sign it before Marlene even started brandishing it in the faces of other students. Dorcas had followed suit, as had her dorm mates, Emmeline and Hestia. But, Lily had hesitated and the Marauders had positively had a stony reaction to the scroll of parchment being wafted towards them.

It hadn’t been the lack of her friends’ support that had upset Marlene in this instance, but rather the conversation that had occurred afterwards. There had been an awkward few minutes of protesting from Peter’s end about how he ‘didn’t see any issue’ with the tree (the boy had then flinched away when Marlene had stomped her foot and growled that clearly Peter didn’t care about Gudgeon nearly being rendered legally blind).

Then, James had jumped in to calm Marlene down and state that she was overreacting which had been followed by Sirius’ cold, rather cutting remarks that Marlene clearly wasn’t taking into consideration the reason as to why the Whomping Willow had been planted in the first place. “Don’t you think that, if Dumbledore thought it dangerous, it would be on the school grounds in the first place?” the long haired boy had said with an elegantly raised eyebrow.

A debate had emerged with Marlene insisting that Dumbledore wasn’t perfect and could make mistakes, the Whomping Willow being one of them as what use did it really have than to maim the Hogwarts students? Sirius had then, as a result, snapped that it had been Davey Gudgeon’s fault in the first place for pissing about near a dangerous tree to which Marlene had boiled up with rage, her anger only being cut off by a very tired looking Remus (he had been quiet throughout this entire affair) who had asked whether they could talk for a moment.

Alone.

Marlene, although one to certainly get carried away with her causes for change and things she truly felt passionate for, knew when something was up. She had taken into account the Marauders’ suddenly grave expressions, the anxious nibbling that Lily’s bottom lip had been subjected to, and quietly accepted Remus’ request, following him into the mess that was the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory.

After her initial horror at the state of the room had passed, Marlene had respectfully listened to Remus as he quietly explained the true purpose of the Whomping Willow, revealing his secret as a result. Marlene had been too stunned to speak during the entire revelation that confirmed she had been completely oblivious to the fact that one of her closest (boy) friends turned into a fully fledged animal once a month.

And then, when Remus had taken her silence as a display of disgust at what he was (who he was, Marlene had corrected him later) and started panicking, begging her not to tell another soul lest he be kicked out of Hogwarts, she had finally cracked. Tears flowing freely down her face, she had embraced Remus and soothingly assured him that she thought no different of him and that she was awfully sorry for even thinking about the petition in the first place.

The Whomping Willow wasn’t ideal but Marlene decided, for the safety of Remus, it had to stay. Later that night, after she and Remus had finished crying on each other about a manner of things, she had burnt the petition in the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace, watching the flames swallow the parchment whole as it curled into tiny, black tendrils and then nothing but ash.

The second time she had cried in her teenage years was actually quickly followed up by her third time - they came quite closely together, in quick succession for someone like Marlene who very rarely shed tears. It had been the O.W.L. examinations, as a matter of fact, that had triggered the onslaught of emotion for Marlene this time around and it had not been half as dramatic as it’s predecessors.

Unlike her first and second time which had been caused by traumatic, physical ordeals and emotionally taxing breakdowns with her friend, Marlene had cried over…studying…on this occasion. Buried by work and struggling to make much sense of subjects like Potions and Herbology, which seemed to come naturally to her best friends, Lily and Mary, Marlene had broke down in the library and quietly sobbed into her hands for a good half an hour.

It hadn’t been long before Dorcas had found her and comforted her in the way that Dorcas only knew how (fifth year Marlene was still very confused about her feelings towards the black girl on this front). But that had only made Marlene cry harder, sobbing out about how she was a good-for-nothing failure who was going to flop her exams and disappoint her entire family when they already had enough to be worrying about with their blood traitor status in the midst of a brewing war.

Only an hour later, when Dorcas had snuck down to the kitchens and retrieved them some hot chocolate to sip atop the Astronomy Tower so that Marlene could get some air to her compressed lungs, the blonde had been rather embarrassed about that explosive display of her emotions. As someone who didn’t cry much, that had been a mediocre thing to have a meltdown over, in Marlene’s book.

At least the previous two times had been well founded.

But Dorcas had only assured her that it was okay to cry over ‘meaningless’ things sometimes. The girl had spoken softly, Marlene’s blue eyes transfixed on the way her braided hair (adorned beautifully with purple strands and coloured beads) shone in the moonlight. She had reached for Dorcas’ heavily jewelled hand when being told that ‘if something makes you sad, then it is not pointless to cry over.’

And Marlene had kissed her that night, after Dorcas had gently tucked a strand of her flyaway blonde hair behind her ear whilst whispering that it was alright to break down, that it didn’t make Marlene any weaker. Dorcas’ explanation about how Marlene’s sobs that night had probably been a build up of emotion over the past year, released out in one lot like a waterfall, had been cut off by the soft, unsure press of Marlene’s lips.

Granted, it had still taken them the remainder of their fifth year summer term and a few hurdles in the start of their sixth year to actually get together and communicate about their feelings. But it had been a wonderful outcome from such a low moment in Marlene’s life - her outpouring of emotion had resulted in her securing the best person to help her heal.

But, no matter how healing and therapeutic Dorcas was for Marlene, the girl still found herself unable to cry over the years. The ‘O.W.L. Incident,’ as she referred to it, was the last occasion in a very long time, despite many events that surely called for Marlene to burst into tears. Her aunt being killed, for example, halfway through her sixth year. Marlene had been a numb statue for weeks but hadn’t shed a single tear.

She had just felt empty. Drained.

Bertram Aubrey shoving her against a wall outside of Charms one day, spitting all sorts of insults about her ‘traitorous family’ at her. James and Sirius, not far behind Marlene in their exit of Flitwick’s classroom, had been quick to hex the Slytherin seventh year with a charm that made his head grow twice it’s size. James and Sirius had received a detention for their trouble and Marlene had been shaken but…Still. Had. Not. Cried.

Leaving Hogwarts, her second home and the provider of so many happy years, behind on her last day of term as all the seventh years gathered around the lake. An ominous blanket of doubt, fear and trepidation had shrouded the class of 1978 because they had been so consciously aware that, once they left those school gates behind, the war would swallow them up whole and probably leave many of them in the dust.

Still, Marlene had not cried.

She hadn’t cried when Regulus Black, a strangely dear friend of hers (the two of them had been frequent members of the Slug Club and Regulus had even tutored Marlene in Potions), was presumed dead. Or when she was tortured for information by Death Eaters for the first time, on an Order mission, with one of the Death Eaters being Lily’s old friend, Severus Snape.

Snape hadn’t lifted the wand but Marlene would never forget the hate flickering in those dark irises of his, cold unadulterated loathing curling at his lip. Marlene had been in despair, begging for mercy and screaming for help, even clutching at the bottom of Severus’ robes because, no matter how much she hated him, surely he wasn’t cruel enough to watch her get tortured into insanity.

Luckily, Marlene had been saved by Alice Longbottom, an Auror who had been a few years above at Hogwarts but in Gryffindor and now a member of the Order too. Alice had disapperated her from the spot, straight home to Dorcas who had been worried sick, and Marlene had shakily fallen into the arms of her girlfriend, pale and unmoving. Trembling fingers gripping at Dorcas’ robes. And still, she had not cried.

Marlene had thought she was going to cry when, in early January 1980, Lily had announced that she and James were expecting a child. It wasn’t, however, out of despair for the unborn baby, who was already three months developed, and the world they were going to be thrust into. No, Lily’s pregnancy had come as somewhat of a light in the never ending darkness that had gripped them all by the throat. She had been over the moon for her best friend, who had radiated pure happiness as a pregnant woman.

In fact, it had been the moment when James and Lily had requested to speak to Marlene and Sirius alone for a few seconds, taking them away from the others who were still buzzing from the news, flutes of champagne grasped tightly in their hands. Lily’s emerald green eyes had been shining, whether from tears or excitement, Marlene couldn’t tell.

James had then asked, very sincerely, with all the love in the world radiating through his tone, whether Marlene and Sirius would accept the honour of being the godparents to baby Potter (or ‘Prongslet’ as Sirius had already dubbed the foetus). Marlene had gaped, feeling like this moment, out of all of them, should’ve been the one where she should’ve welled up with tears, especially as Lily was already overcome with emotion.

But, even as she had dazedly accepted the role of godmother and allowed Lily to practically suffocate her in a hug whilst James appeared to be doing the same to Sirius, Marlene didn’t cry. She laughed when Sirius turned to her with a baffled grin once Lily and James had left the room, stating that it was a ‘pleasure to co-godparent’ with her. But she hadn’t cried.

She didn’t even cry when Harry James Potter himself was born, when she was allowed to hold her godson for the first time. Marlene didn’t cry when she saw Harry babble out his first word (it was ‘Mumma’ much to Lily’s delight and James’ commiseration). To be fair, Mary and Lily did enough of the crying there for her.

Marlene hadn’t even cried when Benjy Fenwick had been blown to pieces in front of her, his body so mutilated that the Order hadn’t had much to bury at all. She had been in shock, of course, and Dorcas had coaxed her a lot to talk about it but even the soft, reassuring tone of her girlfriend hadn’t been able to get through Marlene’s shield. She hadn’t cracked, she hadn’t cried - she had just crammed the memories into some tiny compartment of her brain and simply suppressed the emotions that Benjy’s gruesome murder had caused.

Marlene had hated herself on the day when Lily and James were forced into hiding with their precious baby, her fucking godson, Harry. She was mad with herself because, even whilst hugging her best friends goodbye and bestowing a shaky kiss to Harry’s forehead, not a single tear had slipped out. Even Sirius had been crying for Godric’s sake, clinging onto Remus for dear life. Mary and Dorcas had been visibly upset too, the former actually hyperventilating whilst Peter was pale and trembling.

But Marlene had been just as composed, just as stoic as she had been since fifth year. By that time, it had been nearly five years since she had last properly cried. It was like she had shut herself off from ever being that weak again, like she had become numb to what was going on around her. Her refusal to acknowledge the whirling storm inside of her was the source of many arguments with Dorcas in the summer of 1981, the most recent of them ending with her girlfriend storming out of their shared flat and not returning for the foreseeable future.

Still, Marlene couldn’t bring herself to cry.

*

“What the fuck is wrong with me, Mum?” Marlene asked one night, a week after Dorcas had left on the cusp of a nasty argument between the two of them. Marlene couldn’t even remember much of what was said, just that it had started with Dorcas pleading her to open up and had ended with her girlfriend calling her a ‘cold hearted bitch.’

The July day had been humid and stifling, causing for one of the windows in the McKinnon family home to be propped open to allow for some element of fresh air to filter into the living room. Marlene had had enough of sitting alone in her London flat, waiting in vain for Dorcas to return (the girl had never been known to be petty before so Marlene had started to get really annoyed with her girlfriend’s absence). And so, she had ventured over to her childhood home in Montrose.

It had been a while since she had visited her parents and siblings, something that she was certainly guilty for but nothing that she could help as the war had taken its toll on many of them. Marlene knew that she should’ve been checking in with her family more, no matter how secluded they were in the small port town of Montrose, which was situated on the eastern shores of Scotland.

“What isn’t wrong with you is probably a better question, Marls,” jibed her older brother, Theodore, a very well renowned Chaser for the Montrose Magpies (Marlene had grown up supporting the team so, when Theo had graduated Hogwarts in 1976 and been immediately signed to them, the McKinnons had been immensely proud).

Marlene stuck her tongue out, ignoring the way she immediately felt lighter in the company of her family. She felt less on edge, like she didn’t have to be constantly on watch for something to happen or looking over her shoulder for a possible attack. Cocooned in the warmth of her childhood home with the worries about the war far at bay for a few hours, Marlene hadn’t been this happy in a very long time.

Upon this thought, Marlene felt a sharp jab of guilt because she ought to feel happy in the presence of her friends and, notably, Dorcas. But Remus was far away, off on an Order mission and acting as an undercover spy in a werewolf pack, Sirius was going crazy with paranoia and loneliness, James and Lily were in hiding and Mary and Peter were ghosts of their previous selves thanks to the war.

And hadn’t Dorcas called her a cold hearted bitch? Maybe the supposed girl of Marlene’s dreams didn’t know her as well as she thought because she clearly didn’t understand, she didn’t get that Marlene was incapable of displaying her emotions when it came to being upset. After five years of dating, Marlene would’ve thought that Dorcas would’ve known better but clearly she had been wrong.

She pushed down the lurking truth that it was just the war bringing out the worst of them all. Sirius had been the last straw - just yesterday, he had been over at Marlene’s flat telling her in no uncertain terms that he thought Remus was the spy in the Order, the one leaking information to Voldemort. Marlene had been incredulous, indignant and outraged, throwing Sirius out after he voiced these beliefs.

It had only been afterwards, as she was on her way to her parents, that she realised just how bad this war had gotten if it was driving suspicion between people like Sirius and Remus, who were just as besotted with each other as Marlene and Dorcas and James and Lily were (Mary and Peter had often joked that they ought to get together just to ensure the entire group was coupled up).

“Theo, be nice,” Marie, Marlene’s mother, warned but it was with a twinkle in her eye that her daughters had adopted. Maisie, the youngest of the McKinnons at nine years old, crawled onto Marlene’s lap sleepily, her blonde fringe falling in her droopy eyes. Marlene opened her mouth to prod her mother for an answer, hand absentmindedly running through Maisie’s tumbling curls, but Gareth, her father, was the one to speak up.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Marls,” her Dad said in that deep, soothing voice of his that had always lulled Marlene to sleep when she was younger. Theo let out a derisive snort but was quickly whacked on the arm by his wife, a beautiful girl named Anastasia who had been a year younger than Theo at Hogwarts, making her a year older than Marlene.

Theo and Anastasia had met through the Montrose Magpies as the brunette, who had gone by Anastasia Bell at the time, was a journalist for the Quidditch Times. The magazine, which covered all of the Quidditch news any fan wanted to know, from the leagues to blow-by-blow accounts of matches taking place, had published a piece on Theodore, and Anastasia had been the one to interview him, kindling the spark.

It had been somewhat of a shock to the McKinnon family when Theo and Anastasia had eloped in the summer of 1979, when they were only twenty one and twenty respectively, but Marie and Gareth had soon welcomed Anastasia into their clan. And now that Anastasia was pregnant and expecting the baby any time now, Marie had insisted on her and Theo moving back into the family home so she could ‘keep an eye on them.’

“There’s nothing wrong with not being able to cry. Admittedly, it does make you feel a lot better but honestly? It just means you’re very strong,” Gareth told her, massaging Marlene’s shoulders lightly like he did when she was a teenager with sores from playing on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

“You were never much of a crybaby when you were younger, Marls. It’s just how you’re made, I guess,” Marie added.

“Not like me,” Maisie piped up cheekily from where her head was now deposited in Marlene’s lap, tiredness coating her words thickly.

Marie chuckled fondly, rising from the sofa to shuffle into the kitchen, waving her wand to prepare Maisie’s nighttime hot chocolate, “ No, not like you at all.”

Gareth laughed at his wife and daughter’s words, adding on his own comment, “Yeah. You were an absolute brat, Maisie.”

“But you wouldn’t have me any other way,” Maisie mumbled sleepily, leading Marlene to giggle because her nine year old sister truly had inherited the McKinnon humour. She was going to be such a catch at Hogwarts - Marlene could already envision McGonagall’s face when Maisie responded to her reprimands with a sarcastic remark and grin.

“I hope this little one isn’t too much trouble,” Anastasia said with all the worry of a soon-to-be-mother, her hand resting on her swollen stomach as Theo’s arm draped lazily around her shoulders, playing with a strand of her brown hair gently.

“I’m sure they will be, I was quite the noisy child too,” Theo admitted with a guilty smile as Anastasia sighed, rolling her eyes exasperatedly.

Marlene stayed quiet as the conversation bubbled on around her, just enjoying the peacefulness of her family bickering playfully, the feel of her little sister in her lap and the continuous movement of her father’s hands into the stressed, tightened knots of her back. Everything was just so perfect, so safe, and Marlene didn’t think she could remember a time in the last few years where she felt so content and relaxed.

The last time had been at Hogwarts, probably. Either that or the summer before seventh year, when Marlene and her friends had gone on a trip to Cornwall, bathed in golden sunlight and laughter for a week.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she leant back into Gareth’s hold, her father still massaging as he talked with Theo about fatherhood, giving out his best tips. Marlene didn’t even open her eyes when Maisie scrambled out of her lap to excitedly fetch her hot chocolate from Marie who had presumedly just come back from the kitchen, if the soft smack of her slippers against the carpet was anything to go by.

Marlene’s eyes only opened when Anastasia said something about it being a little chilly now, her eyelids reluctantly pulling apart to see that her brother’s wife was pulling her cardigan around her tightly with a shiver. Before anyone even moved from their spots in the living room (Theodore and Anastasia on the sofa, Gareth in the armchair with Marlene leaning against his knees, Marie and Maisie on the adjacent sofa), the window from earlier shut with a bang.

The force of the window slamming shut sent a flurry of Congratulations cards (sent from Theo and Anastasia’s friends months ago about the pregnancy, kept on display to evoke some sort of positivity) flying to the floor. Maisie let out a squeak of surprise, her hot chocolate spilling down her silk pyjama top and Marlene felt her heart thud against her ribs as she discreetly groped for her wand, which was lying a few feet away.

“Must’ve been nature hearing you, Ana,” Theo joked lightly, oblivious to the tension that had just entered Marlene’s body. The rest of her family, though unnerved slightly, didn’t seem too worried but Marlene was still trying to reach for her wand, practically being able to hear Mad Eye’s bark of ‘Constant Vigilance!’ in her mind.

Marie had already fixed Maisie’s hot chocolate stain with a quick wave of her own wand, a Scourgify charm doing the trick, and was now carting the nine year old off to bed. Gareth had whipped out a Muggle book of poetry he had been perusing, losing himself in the words of Wilfred Owen, Anastasia was close to sleep herself, lax in Theo’s arms and Marlene’s hand grasped around her wand just as she heard the front door open.

“Who’s Mum opening the door to at this time?” Theo wondered out loud, furrowing his eyebrows and meeting Marlene’s gaze, who’s anxious expression had dropped into one of cold and unprecedented fear that only someone who had been fighting diligently since graduating could manage. Theo may have been heavily involved in the war effort, campaigning against Voldemort and the Death Eaters but he wasn’t as deep in as Marlene was with the Order.

He would never understand.

“Marie is upstairs, I heard her go up there with Maisie,” Gareth started to say but Marlene had already jumped up from the floor, wand clutched tightly in her hand as she crept into the hallway, terrified of what she might find there.

The front door was wide open but there was no immediate threat, no Death Eaters, just a balmy summer nighttime breeze causing the pages of the Daily Prophet on the side table to ruffle slightly.

Marlene didn’t allow herself to relax, didn’t let herself breathe as she readied herself for attack, bracing herself for anything and anyone. But nothing came and so Marlene waved her wand quickly to shut the door, a creeping sense of foreboding sneaking into her body. Something wasn’t right. Why had the window slammed shut of its own accord? Why had the front door opened and yet no one had entered to attack?

Was this just somebody playing a joke on her? Trying to…

Distraction is a Death Eater’s go-to chess move. Ensure you are not swayed by any suspicious activity that may prevent you from defence. Albus Dumbledore’s words from an early Order training session, probably over eighteen months ago now, swam into Marlene’s terrified brain. And, just as she was registering the advice that her old Headmaster had given her, a scream sounded from upstairs.

Without another thought, Marlene casted a Protego charm in the general direction of the living room so that, if any Death Eaters had potentially snuck in through the front door, her father, brother and sister in law would be loosely protected. She then bounded upstairs, heart hammering against her chest as she followed the source of the petrified scream, feeling like she was doused in freezing cold water when she traced it back to Maisie’s bedroom.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Marlene burst into the room and skidded to a halt when she saw that the enormous bay window, usually assembled with a cosy window seat and cushions, had been blown to pieces so there was just a gaping hole in the wall. Two masked Death Eaters were duelling Marie, who was giving them a run for their money as Maisie cowered behind her bed, fingertips turning white as her grip tightened on the bedpost.

Marlene quickly joined the fight, slashing her wand in effortless movements and effectively taking out one of the Death Eaters, watching them crumple to the floor of Maisie’s bedroom, the child in question letting out a whimper of horror. The Death Eater was only Stunned, something Marlene was so accustomed to doing by now that she hadn’t really considered her nine year old sister had probably never seen a duel, or it’s macabre consequences, before.

Now it was two McKinnon women on one Death Eater and the battle was arduous, Marlene’s arm growing tired as she constantly reacted with shield charms to block the curses flying at her. She could practically hear the Death Eater’s sneer, wondering who was hiding underneath the mask like the coward they were, and she quickly cast a charm to de-mask the Death Eater.

Rabastan Lestrange.

A leering grin painted across his face as Marlene blanched at the sight of her classmate’s face, remembering the way Lestrange and Mulciber had attacked Mary in fourth year, one of the first truly horrid acts in their year group that had triggered the inter-house conflict between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

“Nice to actually see your face, Lestrange,” Marlene hissed, darting out of the way of a Killing Curse sent her way.

“Wish I could say the same, McKinnon, but your ugly face brings me no more joy than it did back at Hogwarts,” Lestrange retorted back, shooting a purple curse at Marie who deflected it immediately and sent a Stunner back at him, which Rabastan quickly sidestepped.

“It was clearly sarcasm,” Marlene snapped, “At least I’m not fucking cowardly enough to hide my face behind a mask.”

“No, but you’re cowardly enough to watch your friend get blown to pieces and do nothing about it,” Lestrange sniped and Marlene felt her stomach drop, her defence slipping for a second as she let the memories of poor Benjy wash over her before Alastor Moody’s ‘Constant Vigilance!’ voice in her head snapped her back into focus.

“Didn’t even cry, did you? The Dark Lord would love to have someone like you on his side, McKinnon,” Lestrange continued to taunt, not phased by the onslaught of spells that were being directed at him from the McKinnon women, Marie’s face set in grim determination to protect her family.

“I’ll join him when hell freezes over,” Marlene said through gritted teeth, “Absolutely nothing could convince me to join him.”

“Not even this?”

It happened so quickly that Marlene didn’t even have time to react, feeling like her entire world started moving in slow motion the minute that Rabastan Lestrange directed his wand towards Maisie McKinnon, who was still hiding behind her bed with tears rushing down her face. The stream of green light sped towards her, Maisie’s pale face illuminated in the glow of the Killing Curse and it hit her directly in the chest, sending her flying backwards and into the destroyed bay window, her body lying limp and lifeless in the debris.

Marlene felt like she was the bay window at that moment in time because she crumbled, her entire body feeling like it was rubble as her mother’s scream sounded in her ears. Neglecting the fact that they were in the middle of a battle, Marie McKinnon ran towards her youngest child with animalistic howl of grief akin to that of a werewolf as she flung herself across Maisie’s cold body, her shaking hands closing the nine year’s old eyes which had been staring into nothingness, blank and devoid of life.

“You bastard!” Marlene growled, finally feeling hot tears beginning to seep down her cheeks for the first time since fifth year, brought on by the suffocating loss of her little sister who had only been nine, for fuck’s sake. “You sick fucking bastard!” Marlene launched herself at Rabastan, who leapt out of her way with a cackle as he revived his friend on the floor with a sweep of his wand.

Marlene felt sick to her stomach as she recognised Avery, another classmate of hers, when his mask slid off due to him standing up. The manic grin on his face when he saw Marie sobbing over Maisie’s body and Marlene staring at the two of them, stricken and crying visibly, shaking all over, soon turned into one of pure evil. Avery cocked his head, flicked his wand, and within a split second and a flash of green light, Marie’s cries were silenced.

Marlene’s mother fell on top of her daughter’s body in the same way a puppet’s strings were cut, her limbs instantly dangling as the Killing Curse struck her from behind. Marie’s back had been turned to the two Death Eaters, her grief distracting her from the imminent danger and Marlene felt like her heart had just been trampled underneath the boot heels of the men in front of her right now.

“You….you….” Marlene was suddenly fighting again, tears blinding her vision as she forced herself to look away from her mother and sister because Marie and Maisie couldn’t be dead…all of her senses had to be lying to her, surely. Unlike her mother (Merlin, it made her feel sick just thinking about her), Marlene didn’t allow her broken heart and horror at the deaths to affect her fighting. If anything, it just made her stronger.

But she was aware that she was finally crying.

The dam had been broken and Marlene was frankly disgusted with herself because was this really what it took? She could endure all sorts of horrors that no twenty one year old should have to witness or hear about, let alone experience first hand, and not cry. But the minute she lost people who she actually cared about, she cried?

It had taken the worst moment in the world, the most horrid nightmare of Marlene’s coming true to actually evoke physical tears from her. What did that say about her?

Regardless of the gnawing grief, self disgust and panic thrumming through her body, Marlene duelled Avery and Lestrange all the way down the stairs, chasing them away from the bodies of her mother and sister because she couldn’t bear to look at them. She was aware that she was probably chasing the two Death Eaters to the rest of her family but maybe Gareth, Theo and Anastasia could help? Maybe they would—

Marlene had reached the living room.

Avery and Lestrange backed into a corner from her curses that had gotten stronger and more powerful thanks to the grief ripping her body apart and channelling her anger. But they weren’t alone. More Death Eaters were rising from the shadows, from the rubble that the McKinnon’s living room had turned into and Marlene choked on a sob when she saw the still bodies of Anastasia, Theodore and her father sprawled across the floor.

Defences finally down and a crippling weakness slamming Marlene down to her knees, she let out a painful gasp of despair that turned into hyperventilating sobs as she realised she was left all alone, the last of the McKinnons. If she hadn’t gone upstairs, she could’ve saved them. Marie would’ve been fine on her own, Maisie would’ve survived if Marlene hadn’t provoked Rabastan Lestrange…

It was all her fault.

Her affiliation with the Order of the Phoenix had brought them into this mess and where had it got them? All dead. All of them. Even Anastasia and Theodore’s unborn child. Through her watery gaze as she stumbled forward, Marlene could see that Gareth had died fighting, a determination set deep into the wrinkles on his face as his fist remained clenched around his wand. Theo was sprawled somewhat in front of Anastasia, as if he had been trying to protect her, his wand scattered a few centimetres from his hand like it had fallen when he died.

Anastasia had died with her hand cradling her stomach, tear tracks dried on her cheeks and her wand was nowhere to be found. Upon further inspection, Marlene realised one of the Death Eaters was holding it and it was this observation that made her come to the conclusion that, in the midst of her devastating grief, she had walked straight into the lions den. Or, more accurately, the snake pit.

The Death Eaters were all closing in around her now but all Marlene could think about was why they hadn’t killed her yet. Why kill all of the McKinnons but her? The one Order member out of them all? Surely Marlene was the target, surely her family hadn’t just been used as a tactic to capture her individually?

But, as the torturous seconds crawled past and Marlene remained unscathed, in the middle of a circle of about four Death Eaters (a fifth was lying, possibly dead, near to Gareth) she concluded that she was probably right. And the tears were still flowing freely down her face, almost like she had never had an issue with crying before.

“What are you playing at?” Marlene croaked out, the roughness of her voice grating on the air as her tears splashed off her cheeks and onto the carpet below, joining the splatters of blood that had sunk into the fabric.

Marlene didn’t even want to think about who’s blood it was but, considering the fact that Theodore’s dead body looked like it had been subjected to some sort of cutting curse, she deduced it was probably her older brother’s.

Another sob forced its way out of her mouth, her chest heaving as she glared through tear-filled eyes at the Death Eaters surrounding her - Avery and Lestrange had been joined by Travers and Rosier, all of their wands pointed at her and yet they were still not attacking her, choosing to survey her with amusement instead.

“Just kill me,” Marlene heard a voice, that could only be her own, begging though it sounded nothing like how she usually spoke…it was shattered beyond repair.

She felt weak and broken, like there was nothing she could do to piece herself back together again and all she could fantasise about was the warm welcome of death, the comfort of being with her family once more.

But then she remembered Dorcas. Lily. Mary. Sirius. Remus. James. Peter. They were her family too, were they not? It didn’t matter in that moment that they were all currently divided, Marlene knew that they would be devastated beyond belief to discover her murdered. And for them, she had to hold on.

“And why would we do that?” Travers’ taunting voice broke her out of her thoughts, causing her to snap her watery gaze towards him, trying to reconcile this depiction of pure evil in front of her with the Slytherin boy who had sometimes (somewhat reluctantly) joined Marlene and Regulus’ conversations during Slug Club. The fact that Travers was probably responsible for one of the bodies on her living room floor right now was enough to make Marlene want to throw up.

“Yeah, it’s way more fun to watch you squirm,” Evan Rosier smirked, eyes flickering over Marlene’s quaking form, clearly mistaking her soul-crushing grief as fear.

But Marlene wasn’t scared… she welcomed death, was willing to die right there and then if it meant she could be with her parents and siblings once more. It didn’t mean that she wouldn’t fight, though, and clearly this was something the Death Eaters had failed to realise.

“I’m not really squirming though, am I?” Marlene challenged with a defiant wipe of her tears, still surprised at the moisture against her palms because crying really was so foreign to her.

“True,” Avery admitted, taking a step towards Marlene like he thought it would be intimidating, “I would prefer you trying to escape over begging for death but I can’t have my cake and eat it, I guess.”

Marlene had to stop herself from snorting derisively at the fact that Avery clearly thought she was scared - how did they not see she didn’t have anything to be worried about anymore? If her family had still been alive and kicking, Marlene would’ve most certainly been terrified out of the need to protect them. But, now, all that was left inside of her was the determination to avenge their deaths, coupled contrastingly with the subtle acceptance that she could easily die right now and it wouldn’t matter either way.

Marlene McKinnon had nothing left to lose.

“Why aren’t you just killing me already?” Marlene asked, slowly beginning to circle with Lestrange, who’s wand immediately rose as his eyes narrowed. Marlene was aware that she was completely outnumbered, that she had to be a fool to try and pick a fight with them when their hesitance to murder her as ruthlessly as the rest of her family gave her the perfect opportunity to run.

But Marlene wasn’t a runner. She was a fighter. She was also someone who demanded answers and the fact that she was surrounded by four Death Eaters who were refusing to harm her (yet) was enough to raise her suspicion.

“You know, for a clever witch, you’re very dumb sometimes, McKinnon,” Rosier said from her left and Marlene turned her wand to face him, instantly being met with a sneer.

“How so? Do elaborate,” she countered, the tear tracks beginning to dry on her face now but it wasn’t Rosier who answered her, the reply instead coming from Travers who was behind her. (Fuck. She really was surrounded. It would be a miracle if she made it out of this alive). 

“You may be a notorious blood traitor but the Dark Lord is willing to forgive that. He’s heard what a powerful witch you are and he wants to invite you into his ranks,” said Travers.

Marlene felt like a cold, iron hand was twisting at her insides, gripping at the contents of her stomach and making it crawl as she suppressed the urge to be sick. Voldemort wanted her? He knew who she was? Marlene knew how much imminent danger that recognition placed her in but all she could think about was how?

How did Voldemort know of her existence? Marlene had never even met the man they were all fighting against but she had seen enough of his reign of terror, heard enough horror stories and experienced enough trauma to establish how much she hated him. Why, after all these years of resisting, would she join him? He had to be mad.

“How does he know?” Marlene questioned sharply, directing her wand at all four of them closing in around her.

Avery sniggered at her question, “So you don’t deny it,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with iced amusement.

“No,” Marlene met his eyes, “And you should know better than that, Avery. Or do I need to remind you of your P in Charms that I miraculously helped you turn into an E?”

She should’ve known better than to mess with Death Eaters, especially after what they had done to her family, and Marlene realised this when Avery slashed his wand and conjured black ropes out of thin air which began to close around her throat as she writhed in the middle of their circle. Marlene felt the air escaping her, her lungs contracting as her face reddened but, as soon as the force appeared, it was gone and she fell to the floor with a gasp, hand still tight around her wand.

It had been Evan Rosier who had flicked his wand idly, casting the counter curse to put an end to what would’ve been a very painful death, had he not intervened. Marlene wasn’t grateful to him though, simply shooting daggers towards her old classmate, because she knew there had to be a reason they were keeping her alive.

Rosier just looked bored and rather irritated, glaring briefly at Avery, “We’re supposed to negotiate before murdering, idiot,” he muttered lowly but Marlene still heard, her stomach dropping as she concluded her only way out of here was to a) become a Death Eater or b) die.

“You asked how the Dark Lord knows?” Travers prompted, moving the conversation back to the previous topic.

Marlene nodded, stumbling back to her feet with all the grace of a drunk Hippogriff and she could practically see Sirius laughing in her minds eye as her friend had always found delight in Marlene’s obscene clumsiness. 

“You were quite close to the answer when you taunted Avery, then,” Lestrange interjected, a smirk curling at his lips.

Upon Marlene’s obvious confusion, Lestrange sighed heavily, “Perhaps he was wrong about you being smart but the Dark Lord certainly believed him, back then. The word of such a prestigious family was certainly something to go on,” he remarked drily and Marlene felt her heart slam to a stop in her chest.

Another wave of dread washed over her as she whispered, “Reg?” in complete disbelief.

“Eureka!” Rosier cried sardonically with an eye roll before continuing, “Yes, little Regulus Black,” he confirmed. “He was quite taken with you, seemed rather determined to ensure that you would be safe within the ranks of the Dark Lord. But you galavanted off with the Order, breaking Regulus’ heart,” Rosier told the story with a dramatic air, though his tone was heavy with sarcasm.

Oh, Regulus.

Marlene didn’t even know, back in third year when she and Regulus first became friends, how much she would come to cherish that bond with the youngest Black brother. Due to her already being friends with Sirius, she had met Regulus properly (after hearing about him a lot from his older brother) in the library when the second year Slytherin had asked her to grab a book he couldn’t quite reach on an upper shelf.

Regulus Black, with his doe eyes and mop of long black hair not unlike Sirius’ (except for the fact that his curled a lot more at the ends) had become a vital part of Marlene’s Hogwarts experience. Their evenings spent in the library poring over books that caught their eye, discussing Quidditch as Regulus also supported the Magpies and tutoring one another in the subjects they struggled with - Marlene with Potions, Regulus with Ancient Runes - had been some of the most lovely hours of Marlene’s life.

Of course, their friendship had been established long before the bubbling war outside had begun to overflow into the corridors of Hogwarts and Regulus had been rather naive. He had confided in Marlene that he felt quite lonely in Slytherin house and that he was willing to look past her blood traitor status for the simple act of her friendship. Marlene was someone who looked at Regulus and didn’t see the powerful surname or heritage attached.

She just saw a scared little boy seeking comfort and companionship in the most secluded corners of the library where they wouldn’t be interrupted. No one, except Sirius, had even known about her friendship with Regulus until fifth year, when Avery had stumbled across them. But even then, the imminent threat that Avery could’ve been had morphed into him asking Marlene to also tutor him, though he swore he would destroy her if anyone found out.

Marlene remembered, all too well, the moment where the divide between her and Regulus had begun to show. He had become more withdrawn and cold, so unlike the eloquent, reserved but warm-hearted and funny boy she had loved having as a friend. When the conflict had started to seep into the Hogwarts population like poison, Regulus had stopped showing up to their library hangouts and, whenever he did, he talked enthusiastically about this Dark Lord who he so admired.

“You should join the right side, Marls! You’re smart enough, the Dark Lord would welcome you,” Regulus had once said to her and that comment had chilled her to the bone at the time. And the revelation now that Regulus had kept this belief, long after his friendship with Marlene had dwindled into nothingness, and relayed it to Voldemort himself sent a similar shiver down Marlene’s spine.

“He knew, all along, that I was never going to change sides. He was just kidding himself,” Marlene said, dragging herself out of the memories about Regulus her friend and trying to remind herself that he had become a Death Eater. He was now no better than any of the men currently looking over Marlene. Well, that was if he was even alive, which was highly doubted.

“Ah, but you have the chance now,” Avery spoke for the first time since he had cursed Marlene, a gloat creeping into his tone, “Join us, McKinnon. Prove Regulus’ word right, put some honour on the Black name that’s been dragged through the mud. Give his mother something to hold onto. If ol’ Walburga Black’s son was right about something and provided the Dark Lord with a useful, powerful witch then perhaps she will rest easier.”

“Don’t use Regulus against me,” Marlene snapped, anger rushing through her at both the manipulation occurring in front of her very eyes and the mention of Walburga Black. She had seen the scars, both emotional and physical, that that cow had left on Sirius and the mere utterance of her name sparked a fury deep within her body.

“Why not? The coward was in love with you,” Travers cocked his head with a smug smirk as he exchanged looks with his fellow Death Eaters, all of them raising their wands a little more in sync, like they were readying themselves for a quick kill. Marlene instinctively tightened her grip on her wand, knowing that the moment was coming anytime soon and already beginning to plan out what she had to do. She was left with very little choice, now.

Voldemort knew who she was and he wanted her for himself, which placed her in such a dangerous position that her head reeled. Regulus himself had recommended her to his Dark Lord, believing he was helping her out, but it only left Marlene with the option to leave and get as far away as possible. If she even got out of this alive, that was. And if she didn’t, Marlene knew she wouldn’t even mind.

Because she could be with her family again.

Still, something about Travers’ statement rankled Marlene and she found herself furrowing her eyebrows, “Coward? Regulus?” she questioned sceptically and, immediately, she knew she had hit the jackpot. All four Death Eaters around her shifted, Rosier’s eyes averting from Marlene’s face as Avery and Travers exchanged dark looks.

It was Lestrange that answered, stepping closer to Marlene so that they were nose-to-nose (or chest-to-nose as Rabastan was considerably much taller than the young woman). “Didn’t you hear?” his lip curled, “Regulus disappeared a few years back. Rumour has it he got cold feet and the Dark Lord disposed of him, much like we’re going to do to you if you don’t conform.”

Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat at the thought of poor Regulus realising the true implications of his actions and attempting to back out, before realising it was too late and you didn’t just hand in your resignation to Voldemort, Marlene met Lestrange’s dark gaze. “Go ahead, then,” she shrugged, allowing her wand to dangle by her side.

The Death Eaters blinked in unison.

“No begging this time?” Avery raised an eyebrow, still looking hesitant to actually murder Marlene in cold blood. If the situation wasn’t so tense and she hadn’t just lost all of her family, Marlene probably would’ve laughed. It was ridiculous that these men, who went around killing muggles and muggleborns without a second thought, were hesitating at casting the Killing Curse on Marlene McKinnon, of all people.

One of the biggest blood traitors ever and a strong Order member who mouthed off more frequently than was tolerable and had no shame in evoking havoc at whichever battle scene she found herself in. Was it because they had all been classmates? That hadn’t stopped Travers torturing Mary last year during an Order mission or Rosier attacking Remus unexpectedly one dark night in London.

That had been a very dark night. If she closed her eyes, Marlene could still hear the terrified sobs of Sirius as he broke down in her arms, in the middle of St. Mungo’s. She shuddered, brushing the thought away for now. Remus was okay. He was on an Order mission at that moment in time but he was alive, as far as they knew.

“Oh, you want me to beg? Didn’t realise you were into that, Avery,” Marlene taunted, fighting down the urge to laugh humourlessly when Avery’s eyes darkened, his fist clenching at his side.

“McKinnon, I don’t think you understand - this is an absolute honour. To be wanted by the Dark Lord—“ Rosier started but Marlene cut him off quickly.

“You know, boys, I’m starting to think that you’re all too cowardly to kill me. Is it Voldemort who wants me or you guys? Because this is feeling less like an inauguration and more like a plea for me to agree so you don’t have to murder me and admit to Moldy Voldy that you failed to recruit little ol’ me,” Marlene shot at them and she knew that she had crossed a line, feeling the rage rush around her as her grip on her wand tightened, readying herself for the impact—

She was knocked to the floor. Knockback Jinx. Touché.

Scrambling to her feet to fight the battle she had now instigated, Marlene blocked a dangerous beam of purple light whilst side stepping a green one, shooting her own hexes back at the Death Eaters and watching in delight as Avery stumbled back, blood flying from a gash on his cheek.

“How dare you disrespect the Dark Lord in such a way. Crucio!” Lestrange snarled.

“Protego Maxima!” Marlene’s utilisation of the stronger shield charm sent Lestrange flying through the air, ending up sprawled near to where her father’s body lay.

Quickly jumping over an overturned sofa and carefully making sure she didn’t step on Anastasia’s body, Marlene continued deflecting the spells Rosier and Travers were sending towards her, responding with ones of her own that they either dodged or blocked.

The adrenaline was pumping through her body again, a somewhat alive feeling channelling her movements and Marlene felt almost invincible, though she knew not to become complacent. After all, she was outnumbered three to one (four to one, really, as Lestrange was already staggering back to his feet) and she had made them all very angry.

However, Marlene did see their logic in their several attempts to start a fight. The Death Eaters hadn’t wanted to kill her in the midst of their discussion because they would have  to explain to Voldemort why they disposed of her without any reason. But, if they played it off in the context of a fight, they would be more likely to get away with it. Marlene didn’t really care either way.

“You should know that this isn’t common of the Dark Lord. You should feel immensely lucky,” Travers shouted over the duel as he and Avery backed her into a corner, Rosier having rushed back to help Lestrange (who, Marlene noted with glee, was limping).

“Aw, so he’s making a lovely exception for little ol’ me?” she batted her eyelashes in mock adoration before shooting a Stunner at Avery, which he narrowly avoided by an inch.

“Less of the cheek, McKinnon,” Rosier hissed, taking her by surprise from where he had suddenly appeared at left side, slashing a cut into her shoulder that began to ooze blood.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” Marlene responded with a shrug, trying not to panic at the fact that she was now only blocking spells and not sending them, her back very close to the wall between the living room and kitchen.

“We’ve even deposited of your family so you wouldn’t have to worry about what they’d think—“

“How considerate of you.”

Another curse blocked. Marlene’s eyes darted around the room, her plan from earlier forming in her mind as she came to the realisation that she was going to have to begin it earlier than she had assumed.

“I really enjoyed watching my sister die in front of my eyes,” Marlene told Avery coolly, pushing down the raw pain out of fear of crying again and focusing on the pure hatred in her body for her former classmate right now. “All that pure blood spilled. Bet you didn’t think about that, did you?” she dared a jinx at Travers, who blocked it.

“Tainted blood,” Lestrange spat, a purple bruise blossoming on his forehead where he had collided with the ground, after being knocked back by Marlene’s powerful shield charm.

“Still pure blood,” Marlene shrugged, wincing as Rosier nearly hit her a Conjuctivitus Curse, the beam of light grazing the side of her face and leaving a sting.

Avery paused for a second too long at Marlene’s comment and she quickly took the opportunity to shoot a quick Tongue Tying Curse at him, hitting him with full blast and rendering his speech incoherent as he glared at her.

Silent spells were still an option, of course, but Marlene didn’t even allow Avery to think about that, firing off a whispered, “Locomotor Mortis,” which quickly bound his legs together.

As Avery was incapable of moving to grab her, Marlene darted past him and away from the wall that the Death Eaters had been backing her into. A roar of outrage from Lestrange later and Marlene found herself dodging another shoot of green light, her heart hammering against her chest. She was now running faster than she had run in her life, the three remaining Death Eaters thundering after her as she rushed out into the hallway, blasting the front door open because she didn’t have time to grapple with the handle.

Firing protection spells, hexes, jinxes and curses over her shoulder, Marlene practically sprinted out of her childhood home, noting that the green glow of the Dark Mark had already been set over the house which meant it wouldn’t be long until backup arrived. She heard a howl of pain from Rosier when directing a Furnunculus Curse towards him and hoped it was enough to stop his part of the pursuit.

Lestrange’s run was hindered by his inability to move quickly on his dodgy ankle which he clearly hadn’t thought of fixing (perhaps it was beyond a simple healing charm, Marlene hoped, or Rabastan was simply stupid). And so, as Marlene span around on her driveway to see what her competition was, a derisive snort escaped her at the pathetic forms of the supposedly dangerous Death Eaters.

She had been outnumbered, they had had the advantage and yet they had still been bested by her. Travers was the only one still shooting curses at her from where he stood in the front doorway, instantly engaging in a proper duel as Marlene responded, hoping that none of her neighbours were watching. Avery was clearly still stuck in the living room, Rosier was wincing and trying to tend to his boils in the hallway and Lestrange was hobbling slowly, a look of pure agony twisted into his features.

Now, time for the final showdown, Marlene thought to herself whilst internally apologising to her parents for what she was going to do. She knew they were dead, she knew that she was the only McKinnon left standing but she also knew that, for her own safety, she would have to paint it in an entirely different way. The mystery surrounding Regulus’ disappearance had inspired her - she knew he was dead but the fact that no one knew what had happened to him was something she hoped to mimic.

There had been a fifth Death Eater alongside Rosier and Travers downstairs, one that had been destroyed in the battle with Gareth, Theodore and Anastasia (whether knowingly or not, Marlene wasn’t aware). If the Ministry and the Order, though Marlene winced at the thought of what faking her own death would do to her friends, came to the McKinnon household and found six dead bodies, they would think nothing of it and presume that the sixth body was Marlene.

But, for that to happen, she would have to ensure that, like Benjy Fenwick, there wasn’t enough of the bodies to identify exactly who had died in the house. After all, if it hadn’t been for Marlene’s witness statement, the Order would’ve never known whether Benjy had perished or not. So that was what Marlene McKinnon was going to do. Fake her own death, flee the country and hide until she came up with another plan.

Marlene had told herself earlier that she wasn’t a runner, she was a fighter. But, in this case, she had to run in order to fight. This was the only way, she knew, and it was with this final decision and a mumbled apology to her childhood home that she blocked Travers’ last spell and followed it up with a shouted, “CONFRINGO!”

Marlene only stuck around long enough to see the house where she had grown up crumble in on itself as the force of the explosive curse blasted it apart, floors collapsing, windows smashing and walls groaning as they raced to the ground. She saw the horror on Travers’ face, heard the yell of Rosier and Lestrange and wondered briefly whether Avery had had the sense to disapperate before she turned on the spot herself and disappeared with a loud CRACK!

*

The Peak District.

It had been the first place she had thought of upon seeing her childhood home collapse in on itself, effectively crushing all of her loved ones and, hopefully, the Death Eaters too. Marlene fondly remembered camping trips in the fields of Derbyshire with her family, walks along the rippling stream—

CRACK!

Marlene disapperated again, this time to the dark alleyway that was underneath her London apartment. A place she shared with Dorcas, this flat had been something of a comfort to Marlene with the exception of the last week where she had haunted its rooms alone, waiting for her girlfriend to return. Pushing down thoughts of Dorcas, Marlene cast a quick Disillusionment Charm upon herself and slipped into the apartment block, quickly letting herself into the flat.

It was just as empty as it had been when she had left it - an empty wine glass on the polished kitchen table, a copy of this week’s Daily Prophet crumpled on the floor, half-eaten remains of a takeaway pizza shoved onto the worktop. Marlene knew she had to cover her tracks otherwise this whole faking-her-death malarkey wouldn’t work whatsoever. The evidence of her ‘death scene’ had been nicely executed back in Montrose, if she said so herself, but now she had to take care of her London life.

Marlene was planning to flee the country and she wasn’t stupid enough to know that that required some possessions of her own, who’s absence would need to be explained when the Aurors or her friends came to clear out her flat. Once she had packed everything necessary of substance into a small bag and chugged half a bottle of Firewhiskey to try and stop her shaking, Marlene sat down at the table to write a note.

Her hands were trembling and blood was caked underneath her fingernails, along with a boil that had started to form from where a curse had evidently hit her middle finger. Other than a few other cuts and bruises, Marlene had come out of the battle pretty unscathed though she knew the memories of seeing her sister and mother killed in front of her very eyes would not leave her anytime soon. Nor would seeing her father, brother and sister in law’s bodies sprawled across her living room floor.

Especially Anastasia’s. The injustice of the unborn McKinnon child being killed before it could even draw its first breath was what had especially broken Marlene’s heart when she first set eyes upon Anastasia’s lifeless form.

Suppressing the memories lest she cry again, Marlene focused on the note she was writing, taking care to make sure it sounded like a hasty goodbye and not a heartfelt letter to the friends she was deceiving into thinking she was dead. She was staging it so that the note was supposedly written by Marlene of yesterday, just before she ventured to Montrose.

(She couldn’t help thinking, though - what if she hadn’t gone to her parents’ house? What if she had just stayed home, finished her cold pizza and drank more wine until Dorcas returned? Would the McKinnons still all be dead? The Death Eaters had been after her, it was her fault—)

It would’ve happened eventually. Whether it was today or next week, they were bound to hunt us down and pick us off, one by one, Marlene told herself firmly as she finished the note and placed it underneath the wine glass to pin it down to the table. She stood on shaky legs, tired eyes scanning over what she had wrote one last time to check that it was alright to leave.

Dorcas,

               I’m so sorry about what I said to you and how I’ve been treating you recently, I hope you can forgive me. This week without you has been hell so, when you read this, you can find me at my parents’ house. I’m going to stay there for a little while and have taken everything I need. Obviously, I’ll still be doing my Order missions so maybe I’ll see you at a meeting soon? I’m eternally grateful for you, darling, and I love you so much. Send my love to the boys (my precious Harry included), Lils and Mary.

Yours forever,

                       Marls x

It was, Marlene thought, a shoddy attempt at an apology but, if she was going to fake her death properly, then she had to make it sound like she had no clue what was going to happen. Because she hadn’t, had she? This time yesterday, she had just emerged from a talk with Sirius (Oh Merlin - Sirius…he was going to think his last conversation with Marlene was an argument over trusting Remus), under the impression that she was going to stay with her parents for a few days, sort her head out and go back home to Dorcas who would miraculously return.

And look at what had happened, instead.

Her parents dead.

Maisie dead. Theo dead. Anastasia and her unborn baby dead. Marlene, in some cruel and twisted act of fate, alive. A survivor but on the run whilst leaving everyone she loved with the belief that she was dead. A ‘brave’ Gryffindor but also the type to flee the country to hide from Voldemort. Marlene had fought for so long…she was tired of the war and yet she still felt like a coward for enchanting her old kettle into a Portkey and transporting herself across the ocean to Massachusetts.

*

Why she had chosen America, Marlene didn’t even know. She had figured that she would need somewhere that spoke English as one of the languages and also somewhere quite remote, a place she could hide away until, hopefully, the war dragged to an end. Honestly, she didn’t have much optimism for that so, even though she told herself it was only temporary, Marlene knew she was probably better off just building a new life here.

The guilt about abandoning everyone she had ever loved, leaving them to the death jaws of Voldemort and his ever-expanding followers, consumed her like a torrential downpour the minute Marlene set foot in Fitchburg, a small village on the outskirts of Massachusetts. She only knew of Fitchburg’s existence because of the Quidditch team - Fitchburg Finches - which the Magpies (a twang of pain jabbed her in the chest at the fleeting memory of Theo) had played once in an international tournament.

Unlike Britain, which had been crawling into the early hours of the next day by the time Marlene had actually fled the country she grew up in, America was on the verge of the evening. Marlene didn’t know the exact time, simply using the skies, which were chalked in light shades of pink and purple with an orangey hue melting across the surface, as her point of reference.

Tiredness ripped through her body as a numbing grief and shock seemed to settle over her, Marlene’s eyes blinking rapidly to take in her surroundings because right now was not the time to break down. She blocked out the reminders of the past few hours, gripping her precious handbag which had an Undetectable Extension Charm on it so as to allow for the possessions that Marlene hadn’t been able to fit in the small case.

Admittedly, she had packed rather light because she was aware that whoever was sent to her flat when they discovered the McKinnons’ fate would probably be suspicious if there was too much missing. After all, Marlene had said in her note that she was only visiting her parents for a few days so it wouldn’t make any sense for items like her guitar, record player and certain outfits to be gone, would it? So, as a result, Marlene had duplicated everything she packed in order to cover her tracks.

Fitchburg was a rather sleepy village and, as Marlene trekked down from the hillside her portkey had brought her to, she realised that it was nothing like many of the wizarding villages across Britain, which were usually intermingled with Muggle communities. Fitchburg was more like Hogsmeade than Godric’s Hollow for example - just from her first impression, Marlene could tell that no Muggle could step foot in this place without needing to be seriously confunded afterwards.

The first thing that Marlene saw was a huge apothecary situated on the corner, it’s shop display brimming with bubbling cauldrons, various Potions ingredients dangling in the window. Next to the apothecary was a dressmakers, a middle aged woman shouldering her way out of the door with arms full of robes and two children hanging around her skirts. An owl hooted from an outside perch opposite the robes store, drawing Marlene’s gaze to the menagerie there - fat, speckled toads, cats of all sizes and colours and scrambling rats were visible in her peripheral eyesight before she kept on walking.

Feeling the balmy July evening air on her bare arms, Marlene continued down the road which she now could tell was some sort of high street not unlike the one in Hogsmeade. However, Fitchburg’s high street was extremely quiet, with the exception of a few people still milling about the market stalls, and Marlene couldn’t tell whether that was because nighttime was slowly approaching or whether it was due to the war—

No, stupid,  her mind sighed at her in exasperation, The war isn’t a thing over here.

Of course, Marlene wasn’t stupid enough to think that America would be completely untouched from the political conflict in Britain but, even after only a few minutes of being in the country, she could already tell that Voldemort’s regime hadn’t had the same kind of impact. Not in Fitchburg, anyway. The air just…felt different. Marlene felt freer. She let herself breathe for a second. Only a second, though.

Then, she was back to her mission, walking swiftly down the road and darting between a few abandoned stalls that had been left for the night as dusk began to envelope the high street, the slow decline of the sun from the sky to behind the fluffy clouds shrouding the village in soft colours.

A bespectacled man slouched at his stall, evidently half asleep, perked up when Marlene strolled past, “Golden telescopes! Only two Dragots!” he called after her, an American accent twisting his slurred speech.

Marlene didn’t even bother to acknowledge him, too wrapped up in her own thoughts and passing by a series of cottages in a blurred daze, her handbag extremely heavy considering it’s small size, due to her entire life basically being concealed in its contents. A swinging sign in her peripheral view caught her attention, leading for her to realise that a pub named Colddrake Inn sat on the end of the street she had been walking down.

Sighing in relief and deducing that she was in serious need of a drink, Marlene crossed over the deserted road and headed into the bar, feeling the warmth of the punters’ chatter wash over her as she stepped inside. The bar itself stretched across the middle of the room, a huge, moving wooden dragon carved into the wall that breathed some form of steam every few minutes. Tables were dotted around miscellaneously, conversations told in loud voices competing with the rock music blasting from some sort of record player in the upmost corner.

Colddrake Inn was clearly where all the residents of Fitchburg had been hiding - Marlene had been under the impression that the town was relatively quiet and, although the pub was certainly less busy and quieter than, say, the Leaky Cauldron, it was still fairly crammed. It could be argued that the crowded nature of the place was due to its small size but, either way, Marlene didn’t care. She needed to stay hidden so, honestly, a place full of people was probably the best place to stay.

“I’ll have a Daisyroot Draught, please,” Marlene requested the minute she reached the bar, having pushed her way gently through a few throngs of warm bodies.

The bartender only grunted in response, eyes watching a conversation occurring between a blue haired witch and someone who was possibly her boyfriend by the way he was holding her waist. The drink was slid across the top of the bar silently, served in a bottle not unlike the ones Hogwarts used in Potions lessons.

Seeing as it had been in a copa glass when Marlene had bought it before, the rather inelegant bottle and worn cork took her by surprise but, nevertheless, she handed over the three Sprinks that was requested on the chalkboard drinks menu high above her head. She didn’t have much American currency on her - she would have to sort that out as quickly as possible - but had luckily brought along some Dragots and Sprinks left over from the McKinnons’ trip to New York a few years ago.

Marlene made her way back through the crowd, not wanting to stay seated at the bar with the grouchy bartender, her bottle clutched in her hand and a creeping sense of paranoia in her bones. She knew that she was far away from any Death Eaters here, in New England, but she knew that it wasn’t impossible that some of Voldemort’s ideals had spread overseas so there was still a slight risk hanging in the air.

After all, the wizards and witches of North America were notoriously well known for their detachment and possible distaste towards Muggles (or No-Majs, as they called them) due to the Rappaport's Law that had shackled them for centuries. Even though the law, which had forbade wizarding communities from mixing with Muggles, had been repealed when Marlene was five, it had still installed a deep-rooted feeling of segregation between magical folk and No-Majs.

Marlene obviously didn’t agree with Rappaport's Law when she learnt about it in History of Magic and her views hadn’t changed on it since. Especially after experiencing first hand how separate the wizards and witches in America lived from Muggles when she came here on holiday in the summer of her fifth year.

But, she did understand why everyone was so wary of Muggles over here - Rappaport's Law had had the long term consequence of driving wizards underground and widening that cultural divide between the two communities. Unlike in Europe where wizarding governments clandestinely cooperated and communicated with their Muggle counterparts, the United States had been banned from even talking to anyone who wasn’t magical.

And this was why Marlene knew she had to be careful - America may have been somewhat unaffected by the raging Wizarding War in Europe but many of the views that Voldemort and his Death Eaters acted upon were what had long been the foundation for laws on this continent. As a result, Marlene knew there was bound to be many people here who were still quite stuck in their ways in terms of feeling hostile towards Muggles so she wouldn’t be surprised if anyone actually supported He Who Must Not Be Named.

Marlene’s Daisyroot Draught was drunk almost as quickly as she bought it and so she continued to order more drinks, calling upon a pretty waitress to serve her instead of the grouchy bartender so she didn’t have to make the trip to the bar every time. The waitress, with a waterfall of dark brown hair that, if Marlene squinted, was almost like Dorcas’ when it was out of her braids, had a name badge pinned to her robes calling her Hyacinth and she recommended different drinks for Marlene to try.

The numbing sense of grief was washing over Marlene in rough tides now, the waves of stabbing, painful loss practically drowning her and dragging her underneath the surface until she found that her head had actually met her folded arms with a thump. The world was spinning, hot tears blurring her vision for probably the third time that day as Marlene buried her blonde head in her arms and tried to squeeze out of the memories of seeing all of her family dead.

For a girl who did not cry, Marlene was certainly shedding enough tears this day to fill an entire ocean.

Try as she might, Marlene just couldn’t completely push down the crippling feeling of guilt at the fact she had left all of her friends behind with the belief that she had perished amongst the rest of the McKinnons. What would Dorcas do? How would Lily cope? What about Mary? Sirius? Remus? James? Peter? How could she have been so selfish to fake her death simply because she was scared of Voldemort tracking her down to be one of his Death Eaters?

Some sort of Gryffindor you are, Marls, she thought bitterly to herself as she lifted her head wearily and sipped at her Bungbarrel Spiced Mead, a drink not unlike Madam Rosmerta’s infamous mulled mead except for the fact that this American concoction had hints of liquorice and cherry instead. She had lost count of how many drinks Hyacinth had brought her, seeing as the glasses or bottles were Vanished upon a new arrival. But her robes pockets, which had previously been filled with as much American currency that she could scramble together from her leftover holiday savings, were beginning to feel considerably lighter which would’ve worried her if she wasn’t in a less-than-sober state.

The things that Avery, Travers, Lestrange and Rosier had said to her weren’t going to leave her mind, either, no matter how much alcohol she consumed. Marlene was wanted by Voldemort himself, not because he wanted to kill her for being a blood traitor and an Order member, but because he wanted her in his ranks. As a Death Eater. The very thought made Marlene feel sick to the stomach, especially because she knew how he had got the impression that she would be a good asset to his followers.

Regulus.

Oh, Regulus.

Marlene took another huge swig of her tankard to try and wash away the reminders of Sirius’ little brother and the sparkling potential in his doe eyes, before it had been replaced with a cold hunger that had gripped him and turned him into someone she didn’t even recognise anymore. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of Regulus openly praising the Dark Lord, trying to convince Marlene to join the “right side” with a glow of admiration lighting up his pale face.

Regulus was the reason why Marlene was now hiding away in a American pub, too scared to remain in her own country out of fear of being tracked down by Voldemort. Regulus may not have been the reason her family were murdered but he was the reason why Marlene was the sole survivor. Probably because of the amount of gushing he did about her to Voldemort, with clearly enough praise falling out of his mouth to convince the Darkest wizard of all time that Marlene McKinnon was a valuable, talented witch who would serve him well.

And the worst thing about it all was that Marlene didn’t even hate him for it. She knew that she should, she knew that the hatred she had towards Voldemort and the Death Eaters that had killed her family tonight should also be directed towards Regulus, the very boy who had incidentally brought them right to her. But Marlene physically couldn’t. Maybe it was because she knew Regulus had seen the error of his ways, maybe it was because she couldn’t forget the amazing friend he had been - whatever it was that was holding her back, she simply couldn’t hate Regulus Black.

No matter how much she knew that she should.

Then there was that sinking, horrible realisation that Regulus, like so many other people dear to her, was gone. He had realised that the path of a Death Eater was not for him and Marlene wasn’t even surprised because she still remembered the time where he had refused to kill a mere spider scuttling across the library floor. But that decision had dragged him into an early grave at just eighteen (if the time of his disappearance was actually when he had perished, that is. Marlene didn’t even know).

Marlene hadn’t even cried when she had found out that Regulus was missing - it had been all over the Daily Prophet for a brief moment, splashed across the front page due to the high status the Black family held in the wizarding world. And then the news had stopped suddenly, with no more coverage on Sirius’ youngest brother so the general consensus was that he was presumed dead.

Sirius had naturally been a mess…confused on how to feel about Regulus’ disappearance because he still saw him as his baby brother who he hadn’t been able to save from the ruthless clutches of pure blood supremacy and the Death Eaters. And yet, that lurking shadowed reminder that Regulus had been officially branded had marred Sirius’ memory of the little boy he played hide-and-seek with in his childhood.

“How can I mourn him, Marls?“ Sirius had spat one evening in 1979, shortly after the news on Regulus had dwindled into silence. “How can I grieve his supposed death when I know he probably caused so many others? For all we know, he could’ve murdered Caradoc Dearborn!” This ominous thought had also plagued Marlene herself, haunting her own memories of Regulus and she was only slightly appeased now because she knew he had eventually defected.

But why? Regulus had been obsessed with Voldemort, hoarding stories of his rise to power in his bedroom and desperately trying to convince Marlene that the Dark Lord was in the right, that all of his actions were for the greater good. Regulus had only given up trying to persuade Marlene to “come to the right side” when her aunt had been killed by Death Eaters, in her sixth year. Even Regulus wasn’t stupid enough to think that, after that, Marlene would want to join You-Know-Who’s ranks.

Regulus had joined Voldemort’s Death Eaters not long after Marlene’s aunt had been murdered in cold blood and that had been the seal on their friendship, the point of no return. Marlene could still remember the pure betrayal that had coursed through her body when Regulus had tugged her aside and furtively shown her his Dark Mark. “You could get one too!” he had encouraged her, the gleam in his eyes frightening Marlene into silence before she vehemently rejected his suggestion.

There had been no more study sessions in the library after that day.

“The coward was in love with you.” Travers had said.

Coward.

Lestrange had informed her of the rumour that Voldemort had murdered Regulus because he’d decided to back out when he realised it was too much for him. It made sense, given the fact that the Black heir had disappeared without a trace but the news that had gotten back to the Order told nothing of his defection. Clearly, only the dark side were aware of this fact because Sirius certainly hadn’t known and neither had Marlene until this night.

Well, technically evening now, in Massachusetts. The timezone difference had really fucked with her brain.

Regulus Black…a coward. Or, at least, that was how his memory had been painted in the eyes of the Death Eaters. Marlene thought that Regulus must’ve been very brave to so openly defy Voldemort but she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly made him crack. What was the defining moment where he realised he really wasn’t cut out to be a supporter of the Dark Lord?

And Marlene couldn’t even ask him now because he was dead and gone, just like all of her family. And, upon that thought, the suffocating wave of survivors guilt and grief came crashing down like a tsunami. A choked sob escaped from her mouth and Marlene quickly swallowed it, determined not to cry anymore tears tonight.

Ironically, her inability to cry in moments of turmoil had been something of a frustration to her and the people around her for many years but, now that she was actually able to let all of her emotion out freely, Marlene found herself not wanting to. She had already cried enough in the past few hours, more times than she had in years and she didn’t want the feeling of weakness to cripple her once more. Nothing made her feel weaker than crying, even though she knew it was a good thing to do sometimes.

It was moments like these where Marlene really craved the presence of her friends. She wanted to feel Dorcas’ embrace, the touch of her gentle kiss that could cure any ailment. Marlene just wanted to be held by Lily in one of those incredible hugs that only Lily Evans Potter could perfect, shushed by her best friend, Mary, and reassured that everything was going to be alright in that husky, comforting tone of hers.

Marlene needed Sirius’ reality check, his eloquent words of advice to get her back up on her feet but also his gentle look of understanding because hardly anyone understood her better than Sirius, no matter how much they clashed. She wanted Remus’ hand carding through her soft blonde locks, James thrusting a steaming cup of cocoa into her lap and Peter wrapping a soft blanket around her shoulders.

Marlene had always cherished her friends’ support and she needed her friends more than anything right now. But how had she repaid them? By fleeing the country under the pretence that she had perished alongside the rest of her family, praying that the collapsed McKinnon home debris and hopefully indiscernible bodies would lead them to believe her dead.

Even if she wanted their comfort, there was no way to get it without foiling her plan to hide from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Her friends would be finding out about her supposed fate in approximately a few hours, when Dumbledore sprung an Order meeting upon them he did every time they lost one of their group. How would they react? Marlene longed to know and, yet, she also enjoyed the comfort of ignorance because she didn’t think she would survive bearing witness to the devastation of her friends.

Because they would be beside themselves. Marlene was secure enough in her friendships and her love for the people around her that she knew they would be inconsolable after hearing about her ‘death.’ It wasn’t her being big-headed or arrogant, believing herself to be the most important or anything - it was simply a known fact because Marlene knew that she would not cope if any of her friends had perished before her, at such a young age.

It was all they had talked about, in the years leading up to now. As the war had shrouded their young adulthood with a lurking darkness they couldn’t shake, Marlene and her friends had known that they had to address the harsh truth that any one of them could be gone any second. Every day was precious, especially since the eight of them were all enlisted within the Order.

Every goodbye had been prolonged, every farewell hug or kiss dragged out and the amount of I love yous that were spoken out loud, especially in the last few months, had been astronomic. Even yesterday, when Marlene had seen Sirius for the last time (though neither of them had known that at the time, of course) and argued over Sirius doubting Remus’ morals, they had parted with an unnecessarily tight hug and a whispered, ”Love you, tosser.”

Marlene curled in on herself where she was sat in the corner of the pub, aware of the slowly purpling sky outside (it was extreme mind-fuckery for her to be reliving a dusk again. Last time evening had come, her family hadn’t lived to see the moon in full rise). Oh. The moon. It was the full moon tonight which meant Remus would be out with the pack of werewolves he was playing spy within, attempting to turn some of them over to the good side on Dumbledore’s orders.

Obviously, Fitchburg was five hours behind Big Ben, meaning that the full moon in England had already started and Remus had probably been transformed already at the time of Marlene’s family’s murders. It was even possible that, when Marlene was blowing up her family home and running away, Remus was running rampage with his pack somewhere in a forest. Marlene couldn’t help but feel guilty that she had forgotten all about her friend tonight but, considering the circumstances, she reminded herself it was okay, just this once.

Alcohol pumping through her system and incapacitating her senses to the point where she was rather dizzy, Marlene wiped her eyes furiously because she was conscious that salty tears were sliding down her cheeks once more. She was angry with herself for not being able to stop herself from crying but, after years of bottling it all up, she knew it was probably a long time coming. She deserved to cry for ages after the hell of watching her entire family be wiped out and faking her own death.

*

“Hey, are you alright?” a voice spoke from behind Marlene, around an hour later, and she turned blearily, expecting to see the pretty waitress, Hyacinth, stood there.

But no, instead, a different woman with a short, black pixie cut and purple robes was stood there, a concerned expression gracing her face.

“Fine,” Marlene lied, her singular word coming out in a mumble as she hiccuped, her chest still aching with pure anguish for everything she had lost in the space of a few hours.

Her family. Her friends. Her Dorcas. Her sanity. Her safety.

The pixie cut woman raised her eyebrow, drawing Marlene’s attention to the motion as she realised there was a small stud glinting in the woman’s eyebrow. Was that something fashionable these days? Marlene may have only been twenty-one herself but the war had made her feel so much older and distant from her own generation that she didn’t even know what it meant to be young anymore. She had been robbed of that, thanks to Voldemort. And, honestly, the Order too.

What would have happened if she hadn’t joined it? Yes, she still would’ve been living in fear of the war itself but would she have been safer? Marlene shook her head resolutely, diminishing that thought from her brain. It was cowardly enough of her to run away from the war when it was at its height but to question joining the resistance in the first place? Marlene didn’t think her own lack of bravery could shock her even more.

She was a Gryffindor, for Merlin’s sake. She needed to start acting more like one.

“…me,” the pixie cut woman’s voice dragged Marlene harshly out of her thoughts and brought her back down with a thump to her present.

She blinked at the woman, who had now taken a few steps forward until she was closer in proximity, having not heard a single word of what was just said to her.

The woman smiled gently, not a hint of impatience on her face as she understood Marlene’s confusion immediately and spoke again, “I said you don’t really look fine. And if you need anything, you can trust me.”

Trust. A precarious piece of paper that takes forever to smooth out but can be crumpled in seconds and ripped into torn fragments. Trust had become one of the many foundations of the war, tainted with the prospect of betrayal and paranoia. Appearance vs reality and all that. Secrets and lies, looking over shoulders and trusting very few people had become the norm for Marlene so she couldn’t help but be wary of this woman, even though she was getting nothing but good vibes from her.

“Oh,” Marlene said almost softly, barely recognising her own voice and wondering why her throat was so dry when all she had been doing since she arrived in America was drink. “I appreciate that,” she swallowed, “Thank you,” she bowed her head slightly and went to sip more at her mead for something to do, only to find that the tankard was empty. Time to get another one, she thought, looking around wildly for Hyacinth.

“The bar is closed now,” the pixie cut woman said, as if reading her mind. “Last orders were about ten minutes ago. I was just about to leave but Cindy wanted me to check up on you,” she continued, the name not registering in Marlene’s brain and causing her to frown. Who was Cindy?

Instead of asking that, though, Marlene found herself saying, “Closed? Heavens, what time is it?”

Pixie Cut laughed as if she had said something amusing, seating herself down in the seat opposite Marlene with a flourishing cross of her legs, showing off an ample amount of thigh clad in fishnet tights underneath her stylish purple robes which were cut fashionably short. “I love your accent,” she said, instead of answering Marlene’s question, before adding, “It’s just about to turn midnight. Cindy said you’ve been here since about eight o’clock.”

Four hours? It had been four hours since she had arrived in Fitchburg, disorientated by the five hour time difference and on the edge of breaking down, something she had done in the pub itself. Marlene was surprised she hadn’t been kicked out for “disrupting the peace” with her unridden sobs in the corner.

“Yeah, didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Marlene heard herself saying, though she wasn’t really aware of the words stumbling out of her mouth in a drunken slur, her Scottish accent probably even more incoherent now. Her friends had always teased her about her strong accent, though it had melted around the edges a little once Marlene started Hogwarts, especially as she was surrounded by the likes of James and Sirius who spoke like they had had silver spoons shoved up their arses.

“Have you got somewhere to stay tonight?” Pixie Cut asked and Marlene just blinked up at her hazily, alarm bells in her head going off but she knew that was just her paranoia from the war creeping in. You can’t trust her. You can’t trust anyone, was the mantra drilled into Marlene’s brain but it was so addled with alcohol that she found herself shaking her head slowly.

Pixie Cut smiled - she seemed genuine, she really did, Marlene was just a distrustful mess who had good reason to be wary of everyone around her - “Not to worry. You can come home with me and bunk on the couch. There’s a few of us so you won’t be alone. What’s your name, lovely? I’m Laurie. Laurie Bonneville,” she held out her hand for Marlene to shake, which she did and felt Laurie’s heavy rings cold against her warm fingers.

“Marlene,” she murmured an introduction before panic slammed into her at the fact that her real name had just slipped past her lips without a second thought. What if the McKinnons’ murder was in the papers? She didn’t know whether news from Britain reached Fitchburg but, even if it didn’t, it was still a risk. “Marlene Meadowes,” she amended carefully, knowing there was no turning back on revealing her first name but deciding to cover her tracks a little.

Laurie beamed, releasing her hand, “Lovely to meet you, Marlene. You comin’ along with me now?” she asked, tilting her head to one side and Marlene nodded, trying to stand up but feeling her legs give out from underneath her. Whether that was from the exhaustion of the past six hours or the amount of drinks she downed in a short period of time, Marlene didn’t know.

Laurie was there to grab at her waist, though, propping her upright, “Easy there,” she laughed, swiping up Marlene’s small handbag and only frowning slightly at its heaviness which was quite disproportionate to its size.

“S’got a charm on it,” Marlene mumbled, leaning into Laurie’s grip and allowing the woman’s lavender perfume to envelope her.

“I figured. C’mon now, darling,” Laurie’s voice soothed, her soft American accent (or was it Canadian?) washing over Marlene like an addictive drug.

“My apartment isn’t far from here but I don’t trust you walking in this state. Just keep holding onto me, yeah? I’ll apparate us real quick,” Laurie said as they stepped outside the Colddrake Inn, chilly evening air smacking their faces. Before Marlene could even protest as fear gushed into her body, the woman had turned on the spot. But her panic was quelled almost instantly as she realised they had indeed arrived at a block of flats and not some dark lair of Voldemort’s.

Stop panicking. You’re safe here, okay? No Death Eaters in sight. No Voldemort Marlene scolded herself but didn’t have much more time to dwell on the matter as she found herself bent double, throwing up copiously onto the pavement.

“Oh dear,” Laurie held her hair back as Marlene retched again, the Apparation having clearly unsettled her stomach which had been lined with no food and only alcohol since she arrived in Fitchburg.

Once Marlene was done throwing up, Laurie vanished the sick puddle away with an idle flick of her wand and began to guide Marlene through a massive doorway and up a flight of stairs. The block was distinctly like Marlene’s own one in London, except there was no trace of Muggles whatsoever. Moving paintings adorned the staircase walls and a frog hopped across the top step of the third floor, which Laurie gently cupped in two hands.

“One second, Marlene. Can you stand?” Laurie paused to glance back at the weakened blonde who simply nodded, knowing she was probably very pale. Leaning against the stone wall slightly, Marlene watched through half-closed eyes as Laurie rapped on a door in front of them. It swung open after a prolonged wait, only to reveal a rather elderly woman with a pair of spectacles perched clumsily atop her rather crooked nose.

“Laurie!” the old woman cried in what seemed like delight and, though she hated herself for ever doubting the woman who had essentially taken her under her wing, Marlene felt a wave of relief wash over her at the confirmation that Pixie Cut was indeed called Laurie. She could never be too careful - anyone could fake a name, after all. But this old woman’s acknowledgment helped to put Marlene’s mind at rest slightly.

“Sorry to disturb you at such a time, Mrs Peacock,” Laurie started politely, the frog still cupped in her ringed hands as she and Marlene both took in the dressing gown-clad figure of Mrs Peacock in the doorway. “But I believe Frankie here belongs to you,” she held out the frog to the old woman, whose eyes crinkled in joy at the sight of her clearly beloved pet.

“I was wondering where he had gone! Thank you, darling. You’re a star,” Mrs Peacock took Frankie from Laurie with a dimpled smile.

“Anytime, Mrs P. Good night,” Laurie said sweetly as the door shut quietly in front of them. There was a moment of comfortable silence before Laurie turned to Marlene, offering her arm again which she clutched onto gratefully, needing the woman to remain upright.

“That was nice of you,” Marlene mumbled - she seemed to be mumbling a lot recently and she didn’t even know why.

“Hey, I’m a nice person,” Laurie nudged her slightly, a teasing tone coming into play as they climbed another flight of stairs, eventually coming to a halt outside a door not unlike Mrs Peacock’s. This one had a battered doorknob twisted in the shape of a serpent and the number ‘408’ in faded gold digits, the former of which making Marlene tense up slightly. Laurie, who was still holding onto her whilst trying to shove open the door with one shoulder, noticed.

“What’s wrong?” the door was wide open now, with Laurie halfway through it but Marlene had hesitated before stepping over the threshold, memories of Voldemort’s awful snake Nagini slithering into her mind. Slytherin House’s symbol had been a serpent - was Laurie possibly associated with Dark Magic? But Marlene had been so sure that Laurie could be trusted—

“Why is there a snake on your door?”

Laurie blinked at the sudden, rather harsh sounding question and even Marlene was surprised at the abruptness, having not expected her paranoia to be voiced but clearly the alcohol had loosened her tongue more than usual.

“I was in Horned Serpent. At Ilvermorny. So was Cindy,” she answered slowly, like she was trying to gauge what was wrong with having a serpent knocker.

Crap. Marlene didn’t know anything about Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, only that it was located not far from here, on Mount Greylock in Massachusetts and accepted students from all over North America. She didn’t know a single thing about the Sorting process or the houses themselves…was it possible that the house associated with snakes at Ilvermorny was just like Slytherin?

“Is Horned Serpent equivalent to Slytherin?” Marlene questioned, knowing that she was being less polite than she usually would be due to her rather drunken state. Laurie didn’t seem to mind - a look of understanding seemed to have settled on her face now as she led Marlene inside the flat so she could shut the door. Marlene still refused to move an inch from the door itself, though, until Laurie gave her a reply.

“As far as I’m aware of, no. Hogwarts houses don’t have Ilvermorny equivalents so I’m afraid I don’t know how our houses would compare to yours. Ilvermorny sorts according to which trait is applied to you the most - mind, body, soul or heart. Horned Serpent tends to favour scholars and I was quite a swot at school so, if that helps you ascertain whether I’m evil or not, then,” Laurie shrugged with a casual toss of her hands, a grin on her face.

Marlene narrowed her eyes, “Are you mocking me?” she asked, fighting a smile because oh Merlin she had missed the pure adrenaline of banter between friends. She wasn’t sure she could call Laurie a friend yet, after only knowing the woman for little under an hour, but the American was being very hospitable so Marlene had better get her trust issues in check and stop assuming the worst of people.

“Maybe,” Laurie lifted her pierced eyebrow, “What’re you gonna do about it if I am, Meadowes?” her teasing comment stabbed Marlene in the heart slightly as she had forgotten that she had used Dorcas’ surname to disguise her real identity.

Pushing down guilty thoughts of the girlfriend she had left behind, Marlene stumbled further into the flat, “Nothing at the moment. I’m too drunk to function but I’ll get you good in the morning.”

The empty threat only made Laurie laugh from where she was stood in the hallway and she extended her hand to Marlene, tugging her into what appeared to be a rather large living room and kitchen in one. Low-sinking armchairs dotted the space and a cosy red sofa rested against one wall with a mahogany coffee table at its feet, a patchwork quilt thrown over the back alongside a dark green jumper and stripy scarf. Assorted rugs in a variation of colours littered the wooden floor and the curtains were drawn across a large bay window, creating a dark atmosphere over the room which was only aided by the soft glow of lanterns flickering in wired sconces against the stone walls.

The kitchen was simple but stylish, with grey marble worktops connecting in an L shape in the farthest corner of the room, a large fridge pressed in between a deep sink, that had a floating scourer busy scrubbing dishes of its own accord, and a built-in fireplace which was smoking absently, like it had been in recent use. A faded Canadian flag draped over a cabinet in the upmost corner of the kitchen and a poster of the Fitchburg Finches’ Seeker, Maximus Brankovitch III, winked and gesticulated from the wall.

Every surface was bursting with personality and crammed with knick-knacks and random objects - newspapers sprawled across rickety side tables, a cardigan halfway knitted and dumped in a pile of colourful fabric on a table that looked like it was used for dining, right in front of the stone fireplace. A few oil paintings shuffled in their peeling gold frames, assembled randomly around the flat and a finished game of Wizard’s Chess groaned in an untidy pile on a sagging maroon armchair.

“Sorry it’s not very tidy,” Laurie said breezily, breaking Marlene out of her continuous stare as she proceeded to take in the rather chaotic but strangely comforting surroundings. It was everything that her family home hadn’t been as Marie had been a stickler for cleaning, a trait that had passed onto Marlene so her dorm at Hogwarts and flat with Dorcas had both been relatively well-kept.

Apart from in the last week, though, of course. Her girlfriend’s absence following their argument had caused Marlene to decline into a state of misery. Mary had picked up on it when she had come to visit but her wrinkling nose of disapproval at the scattered pizza boxes, empty bottles of wine and general state of messiness the flat was in hadn’t even been enough to motivate Marlene to clean up after herself.

“It’s lovely. Very colourful,” Marlene replied hurriedly, aware that it was probably weird that she was ogling every inch of the apartment. Laurie laughed, waving her wand so that a pile of folded laundry disappeared from the red sofa against the wall on the left-hand side (the kitchen was to the right of the room, the only divider really being a towering bookshelf with books slanting in all directions).

“There. Couch is all ready for you now. I’ll get you some blankets. Cindy! Jac! Boys! We have a guest,” Laurie suddenly yelled, taking Marlene by surprise as she dazedly made her way over to the sofa, stepping over a few fashion magazines and books on the floor before settling down with a heavy sigh. She suddenly felt very sleepy, knowing that she was overtired from the events of the day and night, which she had lived through twice due to the timezones.

“Oi, oi, sleepyhead. Wait ‘till Laur returns with some blankets before you doze off,” a strangely familiar voice stopped Marlene’s eyes from closing as she jerked upright, having subconsciously sunk into the cushions tiredly.

She blinked a few times, startled by the face staring back at her, “Hyacinth?” she questioned uncertainly, believing the tanned girl with long dark hair in front of her to be the pretty waitress from Colddrake Inn. But how was that possible?

“I prefer Cindy,” Hyacinth grinned, sweeping her dark hair off her face and the penny dropped in Marlene’s brain, like a light had been switched on.

“Oh!” her mouth made an ‘O’ shape of surprise, “You’re the Cindy that Laurie kept talking about,” she realised out loud. It all made so much sense - Laurie had mentioned that Cindy had asked her to check on her, that Cindy had seen her drinking since eight o’clock….

Hyacinth - Cindy - watched her work this out mentally with a slight smile curving at her lips, “I can imagine it was confusing. Cindy isn’t typically a nickname you’d associate with Hyacinth,” she said ruefully. “But I had to defy my uptight mother somehow so cutting down the ‘sophisticated’ name she gave me was the only way,” Cindy shuddered a little.

“As if running off with her disowned, gay half brother wasn’t enough disobedience,” an unfamiliar voice piped up from the hallway and Marlene moved her gaze from Cindy to a broad-shouldered, pyjama-clad black man, short dreadlocks crowning his head. He was swinging in the doorway of the hallway Laurie had led Marlene through earlier, which clearly led off to bedrooms that Marlene had failed to notice previously.

“That’s Danny,” Cindy said warmly as Danny lumbered forward with a friendly grin, bare feet dancing over the rugs to reach his sister and Marlene, his hand extended for Marlene to shake.

“Are you staying with us for long?” Danny asked, clearly assuming that Marlene would know the answer to such a question, “Or just the night? Because we’ll have to extend the apartment—“

“Daniel,” Laurie’s stern voice came from the kitchen, where she had randomly reappeared, filling up a glass with water from the tap in a distinctly Muggle fashion. She leant across the counter, passing the glass to Cindy’s outstretched hand, the dark skinned girl’s fingers closing around it and giving it directly to Marlene, who accepted it gratefully and began to gulp it down eagerly.

“What?” Danny asked innocently with an amused smirk which was so reminiscent of Sirius that Marlene had to close her eyes whilst drinking, pushing down that same squirming tug of guilt behind her navel. “Unless she doesn’t need a bedroom of her own,” he added and, soon after, ducked from a jet of blue light that shot out from Laurie’s wand. “Missed,” he stuck out his tongue teasingly.

“Behave or I’ll put a Tongue Tying Curse on you again,” Cindy threatened as Laurie swore softly underneath her breath at the fact that her jinx had missed Danny. In the meantime, Marlene had finished her water and was glad for the peace it brought her bubbling stomach and woozy head.

“Please not again!” Danny’s pleading voice could be heard faintly as Marlene quietly leant back into the comfort of the sofa once more.

“Why? ‘Cause you won’t be able to suck the face off your lover boy anymore?” Cindy’s taunt was lost in Marlene’s sleepy haze, her subconscious mind aware of Laurie gently placing a few blankets atop of her curled up figure and the shushing that followed.

A whispered incantation later and the lanterns in the living room were dimmed with Laurie whispering, “Good night, Marlene!” as the three of them departed into their respective bedrooms.

And so, Marlene fell asleep for the first time in what felt like centuries but had, in reality, only been just over twenty four hours. The last seven of those had been the worst of Marlene’s life, with everything she had known and loved being tossed upside down, her safety and security put in jeopardy and her mental sanity severely challenged.

But at least, as sleep overcame her, Marlene could forget any of that had even happened. For all disappeared briefly when she fell into a slumber, even if it would only come crashing back down when she awoke. A few hours of peace was just what she needed.

Especially considering the bombshell that would be dropped on her come morning.

*

The first thing that Marlene saw when she blearily forced her eyes open was a Golden Snitch. Floating in mid air, directly above her tousled blonde head and Marlene blinked up at the speck of flying gold for a second before a fist quickly snatched it out of her view.

“Sorry about that. G’morning,” Danny’s voice greeted her cheerfully as Marlene wiped the sleep from her eyes and propped herself up on elbows, still feeling exceedingly groggy and disoriented, possible due to the hangover.

“Morning,” Marlene mumbled, her eyes flitting around the room in search for a clock but her mission was in vain as all she could locate were portraits, posters and drawings pinned up against the stone.

“It’s just turned eleven o’clock,” Laurie, who was seated at the kitchen table now wearing a pair of glasses, knitting the colourful jumper that had been nothing but a pile of threadbare the night before, informed her like she had managed to read her mind.

“Oh crap!” Marlene swore as she shot up from her horizontal position on the sofa to a more upright one, “I’m so sorry, that’s terribly lazy of me,” she apologised profusely, hoping they weren’t too annoyed at her for sleeping like a log in their living room for nearly a solid twelve hours. She still didn’t know how she had managed to get so lucky as to be given the chance to bunk here overnight - if it hadn’t been for Laurie, Marlene would’ve slept at her table in the Colddrake Inn.

But she really had been utterly exhausted, from all of the high emotions of the day that had brought her crashing down to earth, from the timezone shift and the heavy weight of loss that had crippled her every movement. Marlene just had to hope that Laurie and her friends were kind enough to let her stay for a little longer, at least until she worked out what she was going to do.

Was she really going to build a new life in Fitchburg and selectively forget about the war ripping up her home country? By doing so, Marlene was saving herself because she now knew Voldemort was after her (and if she didn’t join him, which she wouldn’t, she knew she would be killed instantly) but she couldn’t help but feel like it was immensely selfish to simply take herself out of the equation. Especially when her loved ones were still living in danger.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Danny waved a hand dismissively, “I only got up an hour ago and that was because my boyfriend woke me up,” he assured her with a grin which made Marlene feel a little better. She curled in on herself where she was now sat though, self conscious about the fact that her blonde hair was probably a birds nest and her clothes were rumpled due to her sleeping in them not to mention the post-battle state the rest of her body was in.

“Is it okay if I take a shower?” Marlene asked, voice rather small.

Laurie blinked in surprise at the shy politeness, “Yes, of course. You don’t need to ask. What’s ours is yours,” she gestured to a dark blue door in the hallway, “First one on the right.”

Marlene nodded gratefully, stumbling up from the couch and wincing when she put her weight on her left foot - that was an injury she probably hadn’t noticed in the rush of adrenaline whilst leaving Britain and something that the alcohol had clearly numbed.

Marlene was relieved to see that Laurie had deposited her handbag on the floor next to her on the couch, her wand lying on a side table so she snatched both of these up, holding them protectively as her handbag quite literally held her life inside. Both Danny and Laurie were invested in a conversation about Quidditch, from the sounds of things, so didn’t notice her less-than-elegant walk to the bathroom, though perhaps that was something they had done on purpose.

Once the bathroom door was securely locked with a swish of her wand and the shower was running hot, Marlene let a heavy sigh rip through her body as she slid down to the floor, back against the bathtub and head in her hands. There was a throbbing ache in her temple from her hangover and she actually dreaded to see what she looked like in the mirror but eventually dragged herself up to face the consequences sooner rather than later.

Dark shadows were situated underneath her eyes, which was nothing new - Marlene had constantly looked like an exhausted panda during the war…they all had. Her skin was pale and parts of her face were encrusted with dried blood or dust from the explosion, the same grime and blood caked beneath her fingernails. Marlene’s soft blonde locks looked considerably stragglier than usual, with some of the strands glued together with a sticky substance that smelt like mulled mead.

Bones aching and protesting against every movement, Marlene peeled her clothes off and stepped into the shower, hissing when the hot water made contact with her sensitive skin as there were clearly cuts there she wasn’t aware of. A large bruise flowered her hip, purple and black patterns creeping down her thigh and a deep gash, that still seemed to be oozing blood, christened her shoulder.

Her ankle still screamed at any motion so Marlene had to wash herself down in an awkward position, crying out whenever her shoulder wound was aggravated and shuddering as she ran her smooth hands over a gash on her forehead that was definitely going to scar. Marlene had plenty of scars leftover from the war - Dorcas had trailed her lips over them many a time which somehow made them feel beautiful. Now, the only thing that slid over them was a lavender-scented soap and hot water.

Despite her struggle, the shower was extremely invigorating and Marlene did feel slightly more refreshed once she stepped out, dripping droplets onto the shower mat below her bare feet. She towelled herself dry quickly before summoning an outfit from her handbag with her wand, too worn down to rummage through the contents manually.

Once she was dressed, her hair dry with a quick flick of her wand, Marlene managed a small smile at herself in the steamed up mirror. She still looked worse for wear and the injuries on her body certainly needed some professional medical care (Lily had always been the designated Healer of the group) but at least she was scrubbed clean and didn’t look like she had just crawled from the depths of hell.

The sound of quiet chatter greeted her as she stepped out of the bathroom, still limping and aching but running a hand through her freshly washed hair and feeling more decent than earlier. Marlene assumed that Laurie and Danny’s other flatmates had joined them - she forgot how many were actually living here, if Laurie had even specified such a thing - because she could hear at least four voices and, in her brief inspection of the hallway, had counted around four bedroom doors.

“Anthony, you’re pissing me off now—“

“Lighten up, Jac. You’re as bad as Reg.”

“Speaking of, when’s your British bastard back from the store, anyway, Dan?”

“Okay, first of all, stop calling my boyfriend that. Secondly, I don’t know. He said he might pop in to check on Cindy at work.”

“There’s no point, she’s coming back at lunchtime…oh hello,” the man who had been speaking, a rather muscular white guy with blonde hair that stuck up in all directions, trailed off when he saw Marlene arrive in the doorway. Though she was typically very sociable, Marlene had had to steel herself to walk in due her mistrust of strangers and crippling paranoia from the war making her feel rather anxious about it all.

“Hello,” Marlene greeted quietly, her eyes desperately searching for Laurie, who was seated atop the kitchen counter now with her legs crossed.

For some reason, something about Laurie was exceedingly comforting and familiar - luckily, she seemed to sense Marlene’s nerves because she dove in to intervene almost immediately, “Everyone, this is the girl I was telling you all about. Meet Marlene.”

“Hi, Marlene,” the flatmates all seemed to chorus at once, strangely sounding like an assembly of schoolchildren which brought a small smile to Marlene’s face.

Laurie began to point to the people dotted around the room, “That’s Danny, you’ve met him,” Danny grinned at her with a wink. “Anthony,” she gestured to the messy blonde haired guy, “He’s a Quidditch player, big ego, dating Cindy who you met last night,” she introduced.

Anthony beamed at Marlene and something about the mischief sparkling behind his ocean blue eyes reminded her so much of James that she had to take a deep breath to steady herself, hand gripping the doorframe so tightly her fingers turned white. Maybe she was just missing her friends so badly that she kept seeing traits of them in other people but c’mon, really….Quidditch player? Big ego? It was like the universe was trying to play a prank on her.

Marlene opened her mouth to ask exactly where Cindy was because she didn’t think the Colddrake Inn would be open in the mornings but, before she could even speak, Laurie answered her question, “Cindy’s at work. She’s a hairdresser during the day, waitress at night,” she informed Marlene.

“A multitasking machine,” an East Asian girl seated next to Anthony on the sofa piped up with a fond smile.

Marlene’s gaze swivelled over to the only person who Laurie hadn’t introduced yet. “I’m Jacqueline but you can call me Jac,” the woman wiggled her fingers at Marlene in a friendly wave as she spoke for herself. Jaqueline had a waterfall of pale lilac hair and a nose piercing that glinted in the light, “I’m also Canadian, like Laurie,” she added with a slight gesture to the Canadian flag draped over the cabinet.

“Lovely to meet you all. I didn’t know you were Canadian,” Marlene directed the last part towards Laurie, who shrugged with a grin.

“We didn’t really get to talk much last night,” she said, a comment that sparked a series of hoots and gasps from her three friends.

Marlene blushed as Laurie held up her hands, immediately silencing them, “You know I didn’t mean it like that, guys,” she told them calmly, like this was a commonly insinuated accusation for her to deny.

Now that she was listening out for it, Marlene could notice the stark difference between how Laurie spoke and pronounced her words compared to the likes of Anthony and Danny - it was slight but still noticeable.

“C’mon, sit down, Marlene. You look dead on your feet,” Jacqueline pointed out, clearly very brutally honest, as she moved a stack of magazine off a sagging armchair to clear space for their new guest.

“Yeah, no offence but you look like you’ve been in the wars,” Danny commented, leaning back in his kitchen chair and tilting it so that the front two legs hovered off the ground.

“Oi!” Laurie scolded, kicking the back of the chair from where she was seated up high so that the legs fell back down with a thump, “Don’t be so fucking rude,” she hissed at him.

But Marlene was laughing - she couldn’t help it, it just reminded her so much of her own friends back at home and it wasn’t even a painful reminder this time. Whenever any of them had returned from an Order mission of some description, after the concern had passed, brutal honesty and humour had always been the best antidote.

One time, Marlene had walked into James and Lily’s cottage (before they had gone into hiding, of course) with a gash tearing up her left cheek and two black eyes. Sirius and Remus had been there, the latter nursing a warm cup of tea whilst Sirius played with a three month old Harry on his lap. “Merlin, you look like hell, Marls,” Remus had said bluntly to which Marlene had simply chuckled and said, “Thanks. I just got back.”

Sirius had barked his usual laugh before playfully turning Harry’s face away from his godmother, pretending to shield the baby’s eyes,”Don’t look, Prongslet! The hag might turn you to stone!” he had cried dramatically. The three of them had laughed so hard that Marlene could barely stand up until Lily came in with James in tow, instantly fussing over the state of her best friend.

Now, Marlene brushed off the comment, “Don’t worry, Laurie. I don’t mind. I look like I’ve been in the wars because I have, simple as,” she shrugged casually, trying to play it off as not much of a big deal before sitting down in the proffered armchair with a barely concealed wince, her ankle protesting.

“Do you have any injuries you need us to take a look at?” Jacqueline asked in concern, “I work at the medical clinic in town.”

“Oh, are you a Healer?” Marlene questioned, her curiosity spiked as she discreetly disregarded the woman’s worry, not wanting people to fret over her. She would be fine. She had to be, right?

“Technically, yes,” Jacqueline answered, “I trained for three years at St Jouge’s Hospital for the Ailing and Maimed in New York. I’m not employed there as I didn’t enjoy the chaos and stress of emergency care in a huge city. But I do all the same treatments here in Fitchburg.”

“My boyfriend also helps her out,” Danny spoke up, “He brews healing potions and stuff. Manages the books. Very sexy,” he grinned and Anthony groaned with a playful eye roll.

Now she came to think of it, Marlene had heard a lot about Danny’s boyfriend but hadn’t actually managed to catch his name (at least, she didn’t think so, anyway). “What’s your boyfriend called? Does he live here?” she asked Danny politely.

“Oh yeah, he’s just gone to the store. He’s called R—“

“Marlene, you know, if you need any sort of quick pain relief, Laurie can probably sort you out,” a hurried comment from Anthony cut Danny off and Marlene, none the wiser, turned to face Laurie who was now glaring at Anthony.

“What do you mean?” Marlene wondered, feeling like she was asking a lot of goddamn questions today and hoping she didn’t come across as too intrusive.

Laurie sighed, removing her dark look from Anthony, who had simply raised his hands in mock surrender at her glare, “I’m an Empath,” she told Marlene gently, “But I don’t really like to brag about it or abuse my powers,” she added, a slight sharpness to her tone which made Anthony grimace comically. Marlene felt her mouth drop open, eyes widening as she stared at Laurie before she quickly clamped it shut, knowing from experience that people with special conditions didn’t really like a big deal to be made of it.

“Please don’t treat me any differently, Marls,” Remus had begged of her when he had first come clean about being a Werewolf, following the Whomping Willow incident. Though turning into a fully fledged monster once a month wasn’t as admired or appealing as having the power to sense people’s emotions at all times, Marlene couldn’t help but connect the two in her brain.

“That’s so cool,” Marlene gushed, words coming out breathily and Laurie chuckled lightheartedly.

“I guess it is, yeah. Can be overwhelming sometimes, though. Especially around those with super strong emotions, it can really weigh me down. Causes killer headaches as well,” she smiled ruefully and held up the glass of water she was currently drinking.

“Laurie is very powerful, though. Less experienced Empaths struggle to control their powers and can become mentally unstable from the overload of emotions they’re consuming around them. But Laurie learnt from the best at Ilvermorny so that she doesn’t feel other’s emotions involuntarily,” Jacqueline explained, wowing Marlene with her extensive knowledge.

“What did you mean by ‘pain relief’ then?” Marlene turned to Anthony, “How does Laurie being an Empath have anything to do with relieving pain?” she questioned, having not really learnt about this at Hogwarts. All she knew from her friends who took Divination was that Empaths were extremely rare and had to register themselves at the Ministry due to being  classed as Extraordinary Individuals.

“Well, because Empaths can literally feel or experience what another person is going through emotionally, they can also develop the ability to influence, project and manipulate other people’s emotions at will,” Anthony spoke like he had swallowed the textbook definition for his breakfast.

Marlene couldn’t help but wonder whether they all knew so much about Magical Empathy because of their Ilvermorny education (Marlene had dropped Divination after one year at Hogwarts, replacing it with Muggle Studies instead) or because of Laurie herself.

Surely, if your friend had a special ability, you would want to learn all about it. Marlene knew this for certain - though she hadn’t been aware at the time, the Marauders had all studied to become Animagus whilst they were at Hogwarts in order to help Remus out. Sirius, especially, had also done extensive research into werewolves so that he could understand and be more in tune with what his boyfriend was going through.

Admittedly, though, the books on werewolves at Hogwarts had been quite misleading in Sirius’ opinion.”They’re all fucking biased, Marls!” Sirius had exploded one evening in fifth year, flinging himself down on the sofa next to Marlene in the Gryffindor common room. ”Talking about how werewolves are dangerous creatures we should stay away from….like have they actually SEEN my Moony? He couldn’t hurt a fly!”

“What Anthony is trying to say…” Laurie’s voice dragged Marlene back to the present and she tuned back into the conversation quickly, “…is that, as an Empath, I can heal emotional wounds. It’s a skill that’s very difficult to master but Empathetic Healing basically means I can take the pain into myself so that the victim doesn’t feel it anymore. I can’t heal physical wounds but I can do that for you. It drains a lot of my energy, though, but I’m willing to exercise it if you’re truly in agony, Marlene.”

“Oh,” Marlene felt strangely flattered but also embarrassed, “No, don’t worry. It’s fine. I’m fine, honest,” she lied, ignoring the throbbing pain of her ankle and the ache of her shoulder wound.

Anthony, Danny and Jacqueline all seemed skeptical but bought her answer, clearly not wanting to press further. But Laurie started chuckling from her position atop the kitchen counter, prompting all eyes to turn to her.

“Another thing you should know about Empaths, Marlene,” she started, “Is that one of our extra-sensory based sub-abilities is lie detection,” she informed her. Marlene felt incredibly stupid as everyone turned to look at her again, Danny’s expression amused, Anthony’s gaze a little reproachful whilst Jacqueline’s was just concerned.

“Well, that’s embarrassing for me,” she admitted openly, thankfully breaking the tension with her self-awareness.

Everyone laughed, though Jacqueline’s brown eyes were still shining with worry and Laurie herself looked rather pained. Marlene couldn’t help but absently wonder whether - even though Laurie wasn’t actively trying to absorb her emotions - she was accidentally being hypersensitive to Marlene’s obvious agony, both physical and mental.

Could Laurie sense the crushing grief emanating off her in waves? Could Empaths work out what had happened or would Laurie just be limited to feeling Marlene’s pungent sadness?

Mentally noting all of these questions down to ask Laurie at a later date (assuming she was welcome to stay longer) when they weren’t in a room full of people, Marlene decided to be open with the five of them. If there was a person who could literally work out when she was lying, Marlene’s plan of blagging her way through her new life in Fitchburg was pretty scuppered. However, she could still be honest without alluding to too much of the truth, right? One could never be too careful, after all.

“Sorry, I’m not very good at asking for help,” she admitted truthfully, “I’m quite stubborn,” Marlene hesitated before directing the next part at Jacqueline as she added, “I wouldn’t be opposed to you helping me heal. I only have a few injuries and I’ll pay you for any supplies you have to use, I swear.”

Jacqueline smiled warmly, brushing the last part of Marlene’s mantra off nonchalantly, “Don’t be silly, you don’t have to pay anything. I was in Pukwudgie, it’s my natural instinct to help, nurture and heal people. Just come down to my clinic, it’ll be more private—“ Jacqueline was already bustling around, preparing to leave and Marlene felt a rush of gratitude for the practical stranger. She really had stumbled across the loveliest band of wizards and witches in Fitchburg who were way kinder than she could’ve asked for.

Attention soon slowly dissipated from Marlene herself as Anthony, Danny and Laurie got into a heated debate about the upcoming match between the Haileybury Hammers (the team Laurie evidently supported as that was her home town in Canada) and the Fitchburg Finches which was the team Anthony played for. Jacqueline had told Marlene that they would set off for the clinic in a few minutes, a reassuring smile gracing her words which had instantly put Marlene at ease.

She could see why the woman was a Healer of some description. Jacqueline was a very calming presence, rather like Laurie.

The front door opened, then, and everyone in the living quarters barely even glanced up from their intense conversation about Quidditch. If not for her planned departure in a few minutes, Marlene would’ve hobbled over to join them as she was a Quidditch fanatic herself (though she knew Americans were also rather fond of Quodpot, an Americanised variant of Quidditch that Marlene had always turned her nose up at).

“Hello, I’m home!” a rather polite, exceedingly British voice called from the hallway and Marlene glanced up in shock, a wave of dread washing over her.

She wasn’t stupid - she knew that it was very likely this British accent belonged to someone who had grown up in America and therefore wouldn’t know Marlene. But, there was still the lurking threat of being exposed and, seeing as Marlene had probably been pronounced dead back at home, she couldn’t risk that danger.

“Right, you’re not the only one home, jerk,” Cindy suddenly swept in, evidently having come in after this other roommate, the one dating Danny whom Marlene was yet to meet. “Hiya,” the tanned woman greeted everybody before plonking herself down in Anthony’s lap to give him a short kiss. Laurie pretended to gag playfully but Danny’s focus was on the man who had walked in after Cindy.

Admittedly, Marlene’s focus was too.

The man’s back was turned as he grappled with a strangely familiar looking green jumper, pulling it over his head but, as Danny stood to greet him, spinning him around by the hand and pulling him into his chest with an infatuated grin, Marlene got a half glimpse of his face. A loud, involuntary gasp escaped her as her entire body seized up with a variety of emotions because surely she was seeing things, she had to be—

The man currently allowing Danny to kiss him in welcome looked exactly like Sirius Black but with deliberate mistakes. His nose was slightly more snubbed, his dark head of hair lacking the lascivious soft flop that Sirius’ had, the strands curling a little more at the front so they fell into his eyes. His eyes were the exact same intense blue-grey as Sirius’ but there was more of a quiet calm to his irises than the reckless, dangerous flicker that had always kindled in Sirius’ eyes.

His hands were pale, his fingers long and bony unlike the more rounded nature of Sirius’ but Marlene had seen them a hundred times before, gripping a quill or holding a book in the library. Wrapping around the Snitch on a Quidditch pitch. Holding her own hand shyly. Peeling back the sleeve of his robes to reveal the same Dark Mark that Marlene had been haunted by way too many times.

“Regulus?”

The man turned properly, wincing a little beforehand like this interaction was something he had been expecting. Everyone in the room was silent, giving Marlene the vibe that they knew that the two Brits had history. Marlene couldn’t even be mad about that right now - to her horror, tears had filled up in her eyes as she stared at her long-lost friend, a whole manner of emotions ripping through her body at the sight of Regulus Black.

Alive. Safe. Hidden away from the war, in the same way that she was.

The war that his lot had caused. Anger was brimming within Marlene like a bubbling cauldron about to overflow but her automatic instinct was to go and hug Regulus, squeeze the life out of him and chokingly tell him how much she had missed him. How proud she was of him for seeing the light, even after such a long time.

But she didn’t do any of that. Not just yet. For now, she waited. Prevented from running over to him by her ankle injury, conflicted on how to feel because Regulus was a literal Death Eater. Yes, he had been her friend foremost but the dark path he had chosen to take had split their friendship in two. Regulus could have Marlene’s comrades’ blood on his hands. He could be responsible for the deaths of any members of the Order—

Regulus was looking at her. Those same doe eyes, that had been filled with so much pure innocence and gratefulness for her friendship, were fixed upon her almost pleadingly. Like he was silently begging her not to make a scene in front of his new friends, his newly acquired boyfriend. Marlene felt sick - she hadn’t even known Regulus was gay. There had been so many things he had kept secret from her, it seemed.

Marlene briefly wondered whether everyone in the room knew of Regulus’ Death Eater past or whether they were oblivious to it all. Maybe Americans and Canadians didn’t understand the true implications of being a Voldemort follower. Maybe Laurie and Co didn’t even know that the entirety of Britain, including Regulus’ own family believed him to be dead. As of two fucking years ago.

But how could Marlene judge him for that, now? When she had done the exact same? Maybe she and Regulus were more alike than either of them knew.

Marlene stared back at him, completely lost for words as her mind raced, anxiety beating an echo against her chest as she tried to breathe, eyes blurry with unshed tears at the sight of Regulus. Her biggest regret of a friendship but not because she wanted to turn back time and never become friends with him. Oh no, Regulus was her biggest regret because Marlene felt like she had failed him.

She had been one of his only true friends at Hogwarts and she had still failed to show him the light, to lead him on the right path. Sirius felt the same way about Regulus and the two of them had had many deep conversations about the boy, following his supposed death and drowning any true emotion in Firewhiskey. Oh Sirius. If only Marlene could tell him that neither of them had failed Regulus because he was standing right in front of her.

Waiting for her to say something in the same way that she was anticipating with baited breath what he was going to say.

An apology, perhaps, for suggesting to Voldemort that she would be a good addition to the Death Eaters? A suggestion that they should talk about all that went wrong between them? An explanation about where the fuck he had disappeared to and why he had suddenly realised that Lord Voldemort really wasn’t anything to admire?

Regulus did none of these, however. Upon seeing that Marlene wasn’t going to come to him (her injured ankle really was a hindrance but she supposed Regulus didn’t know of her ailment yet), he picked his way cautiously across the room to approach her. Regulus’ flatmates were all silently observing, the entire room essentially holding their breath as Regulus stood in front of the girl who had given him a chance.

The girl who had never given up on him until the very last moment where it had become clear that their views were never going to align and they were never going to agree on which side was the right one to be on. The girl who had sat with him until late at night in the library, keeping him company with stories or studying. The girl who had silently grieved his ‘death’ with a heavy feeling of guilt because she had hated mourning the loss of a Death Eater.

But she had done it. Because, before Regulus Black had become a Death Eater, he had been Marlene McKinnon’s friend. And that had been enough for them. For a short while, anyway. Could it be enough again? Could it branch the gap between them? Regulus had to try, didn’t he?

His brain short circuited when he saw her up close, worry instantly plaguing his body when he noticed how beaten up she looked. Regulus had a whole manner of intelligent, eloquent responses prepared to Marlene’s acknowledgment of his presence - he’d had since last night, when he’d woken up for a glass of water and seen her on the sofa, to get over the shock that she was here. Half glaring at him, half suppressing tears.

Which was surprising in itself because, in all of the four years that Regulus and Marlene had been friends, he had never once witnessed her crying. She had never allowed herself to be that weak around him, he had to assume. Their friendship had been simple, at best. Uncomplicated. That was why it had worked so well. And why it had fallen apart so tragically when the complication of politics had invaded.

Simple. Regulus could do simple. And so, he finally broke the silence that had felt like a century but had, realistically, only been around two minutes.

“Hello, Marlene.”

And Marlene McKinnon, who very rarely cried (except for the past twenty-four hours where it felt like she had done nothing but sob), immediately burst into tears.