Work Text:
Oh, the wind whistles down
The cold dark street tonight
And the people, they were dancing
To the music vibe
“This is the Life” Amy MacDonald
Sunday August 23, 1981
Music streamed through the walls of the house, Marlene was sure the sound could be heard hours away. Liam dragged her across the room, leaping onto the worn couch. His cheeks were flushed pink as he belted the lyrics into a closed fist. A laugh bubbled through her chest as her socks slid across the hardwood floor. A chuckle was heard from her parents as they danced together, her mother’s colorful maxi skirt wrapping around her legs as she spun across the room. Marlene’s cheeks hurt from smiling.
A knock at the door.
The music paused. Liam and Marlene glanced at each other, before rushing towards the door. Giggles filled the air as they shouted and pushed to be the first at the door. In the final stretch he slipped, causing Marlene to make it first. Breath ragged, she patted her pocket for her wand and triumphantly opened the door.
“Peter!” Marlene exclaimed, her face lighting up at the sight of him, “What are you doing here?”
“Marls, you forgot the safety question.” Peter responded, the ghost of a smile on his face.
“Fuck, uh- what did I say to you when you first got your patronus?”
“You said something to the tune of, what the hell did you do in your past life to get a bloody rat?” Peter chuckled nervously, he was clearly gearing up to say something. She sobered at the thought.
“Is everything okay…?” She questioned, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. A glint of something unfamiliar caught in his eyes, he shook his head no. Marlene searched his face for answers, but for the first time since she was six years old she couldn’t read him, walls she had never known existed had been drawn up in seconds. A frozen ring of dread and fear curled in the pit of her stomach.
“I’m gonna make some tea and leave you two to it,” Liam stated uncertainty, “call me if you need anything Marls.” Peter smiled, but the smile appeared colder than usual, the warmth she had come to associate with her childhood friend was gone.
“Pete, what’s wrong? Is it Lily and James? Dor-”
“Stupefy.”
Marlene’s eyes went wide as she fell to the ground. An unfinished shout hung in the air as she stared at the doodles on the ceiling. James and Peter had once drawn the green polka dots to minimize how “boring” her house was. Her dad had been furious, but her mum let them stay, claiming they “added character”. Now, Marlene stared at them in shock as she processed the events that just occurred.
The little blonde haired boy she had met fifteen years ago. The boy who always beat her at chess, but gave the best hugs. The boy she had cried to, time, and time again.The boy who gossiped with her during sleepovers. The boy that always copied her charms homework. Peter. Memories flashed through her mind.
“Hello! I’m Peter!”
“Please- I’ll do your history homework for a week!”
“Marls! Where’ve you been?”
“I’d like to raise a toast for Marls and Dorcas-”
“Marls!”
Her spiraling was quickly interrupted by the sound of a screaming kettle.
Liam’s still in the kitchen making tea.
A guilty expression painted Peter’s face as he stepped over her. “Marls I’m so sorry,” he tried desperately. Marlene wished she had the freedom to cringe.
The unthinkable occurred to her: Mum and Dad are still dancing in the living room.
No. No he wouldn’t. Not Peter, my dad taught him to bike, he cooks with my mum, he used to think Liam was the coolest person in the world. Not them. Even as Marlene lay on the ground unable to move, she refused to believe Peter would harm her family. She didn’t truly believe he would harm her anyways. Not Peter, never Peter, this must be- has to be something else.
“I wanted- I wanted to make this quick for you- painless, but the Dark Lord he- he thought otherwise. You’re going to have to be the last- the last one.”
Marlene watched in horror as two men in dark robes flowed through the front door. The Death Eaters brushed past her into the kitchen.
No. No, not them. Not them, anyone but them. Not her mum, who’s still dancing in the living room, her skirt swirling a final time. Not her dad, his unfinished glass of whiskey still sitting on the coffee table, never to be drunk. Not Liam, not her brother, he’s still making tea.
The kettle was still screaming, the kettle was screaming, and Marlene wished she was screaming too.
No sound escaped the stupefy.
no. No. NO. NO. NO LIA-
A flash of green light.
Marlene could barely hear herself think.
MUM, DAD, NO NO N-
More light, two more flashes coat the room in emerald green.
The kettle kept screaming.
Marlene wished she could close her eyes. Red hot tears flowed freely down her face. The polka dots on the ceiling were surely mocking her, their cheerful green matching the flash of light that would soon coat the room once more.
Peter placed a wand against her ribcage.
When she had signed up for the war she had been seventeen, not even an adult in muggle America. She hadn’t been able to comprehend her own mortality. She hadn’t cared if she died or not, she was depressed anyways – might as well go out with a cause. All she knew now was that she wanted to live.
She needed to live. She was only twenty one, she was just a kid.
She was scared.
“This is- this is for the better,” Peter reasoned desperately, “you wouldn’t- wouldn’t have wanted to live for- for what’s to come. Not after your family- and- and when Ja- when the Potters die.”
No, Marlene thought desperately, Not like this. I want to live. I want to kiss Dorcas, I want to gossip with Mary, I want to hug Lily and tell her how proud I am, I want to be Harry’s Auntie Marlene, I want to live, I need to live. Just not like this, let me go out with a fight– with a cause. Not in my childhood home, not staring at the polka dots my best friends painted with me, not when one of those best friends is holding a wand to my ribs. Not like this, not like this, not like this, n-
The kettle boiled over.