disclaimer: jkr's world, not mine.
written for: the quidditch league fanfiction competition (appleby arrows / chaser three) — round #4; hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry challenge/competition (defense against the dark arts, history of magic); minor character bootcamp — marlene mckinnon #2; organisation bootcamp — order of the phoenix #1.
prompts: ministry of magic / the neil hilborn quote / addiction / "didn't we have fun, though?" (ql)
fic revolving around a war / ghost / sleep / friendly / three unforgivable curses / war / fall / attractive (hsww)
pressure / secret (bc - minor character, organisation)
warnings: switching pov, change in tense (from past to present, just to be apparently the most confusing and worst writer in the universe). slightly au, in sense that i took a bit of liberty with the deaths. oh, yeah, also, swearing and character death.
"I hear the world is ending soon. When we go, and we are all going to go, I will be part of it." -— Neil Hilborn, This Is The End.
When she would think about Benjy Fenwick in later years, she'd always remember him by two things: the way he looked on the eve of battle, and something he told her once when she needed to be reminded how to be brave.
His brown locks had been mussed around, as if static was running through them, and his jaw was tense. His dark eyes were dancing with mingled fear and exhilaration and his fingers were absentmindedly tracing promises onto Dorcas' skin. He was twenty-three years old and impossibly young. He was the tragic ending of a chapter in a novel about futile wars and impossible dreams, and that day would be seared onto her memories forever.
A few weeks previous, she'd been shaking as he sat next to her, imagining her friends dying in every way under the sun. "I'm so scared," she'd told him.
He'd grasped her little hand in his, and said, "Me too, Mac. But I'm going to do it anyway."
That would be how she would define bravery, in all the years to come. Being terrified, and knowing the unfortunate fate that likely awaited you just around the corner, and sticking to your guns and doing it anyway.
x
The day she died, Dorcas Meadowes was twenty-one years of black coffee, firewhiskey and being ruthless at any card game under the sun.
"Mary," Dorcas had intoned, cigarette halfway to her lips, "I think I'm going to die."
At the time, she'd just brushed it off as drunken behaviour - of course she was going to die; everyone died one day, even people like Dorcas who gave the impression that they could intimidate Death itself into leaving them alone if they pleased - but looking back, Mary wishes she had taken it more seriously, that she'd understood exactly what Dorcas was telling her that night.
If she could turn back time and retain her current knowledge, she knows what she'd do. She'd hug Dorcas, and count down every precious second left with the girl. She'd photograph her every day, commit the patterns Benjy traced on Dorcas' skin to memory, paint the way the sunset touched Dorcas' skin and Fabian's hair on one of their walks, write down every pithy comment out of the girl's mouth and treasure each as her last.
The issue with hindsight is that all it does is remind you that you can't turn back time, and condemns you to unavoidable painful walks through your memories, accompanied by half-remembered ghosts of old friends.
x
Marlene McKinnon was a shot of adrenaline, a hurricane of fire, a pounding dance of the gods and the fearless queen of all she touched.
She was the beauty in the devastation, the addiction in the vice, the destruction in the flames, the anarchy in the rebellion. She was everything, and nothing, and most of all, she was alive.
She lived as if every day was its own, as if nothing could touch her. She wasn't supposed to care, according to all the rules, but she did anyway. She loved; oh, god, how she loved.
Mary would always remember the day she first realised how deeply Marlene could truly love. It had been a Thursday night, after a splendid duelling tournament, and everyone was celebrating another win in the common room. That was, except for Marlene and Sirius, the two best friends of each gender of the winner himself, James Potter.
She hadn't even intended to find them; she'd just wanted some cool air and had sought refuge on the staircase, crouching low when she'd recognised the pair sitting together by the window.
"My parents are disgusting people," Sirius had said, which had only gotten Mary's attention because it was such a far cry - in terms of subject matter - from what he and Marlene generally talked about. Or rather, mocked and shouted about.
"Run away," Mary had heard Marlene suggest, and the following snort from Sirius. "No, I'm serious," Marlene had continued. "You're way too good for those fuckers. You're intelligent and strong and good at magic and an infinitely better person than they'll ever be. The best thing they ever did was name you Sirius, because you're the brightest star they'll ever have and there's no way they're quenching that. I won't let them. So get out, Sirius, just run away. Run to James', run to mine, just save yourself. I believe in you," she'd said, and Mary had peeked at them and seen their hands reaching for each other.
It wasn't an earth-shattering declaration of love by anyone's standards, let alone those that were privy to James' ones to Lily on a regular basis, but Mary had found it breathtaking anyway. Sirius Black and his wayward soul was a rebellion in a charming grin, all but waiting for the day his peers would join him in the war he'd been fighting his entire life, and Marlene McKinnon was reckless and attractive and brave and a spark of wildfire, a revolution waiting to happen, but beyond that, they were Sirius and Marlene, just two lonely people with a tendency to live life on the edge and it occurred to her then that they would be the only ones ever permitted to save each other.
In all of Mary's life, she would never meet a person more complex than Marlene McKinnon. She was larger than life, with sarcasm, snark and competitiveness, but beneath the fire and ice was a heart of gold and a belief in social justice, and in the years to come, Mary would always remember Marlene McKinnon as one of those people who just seemed infinite, no matter how much history disagreed.
x
Mary Macdonald loved Gideon much the same way that Fabian loved Dorcas, that Marlene loved Sirius and James loved Lily. She would do anything to keep him safe, and in the years following that night, she would never forgive herself for what happened to Gideon and Fabian Prewett.
She'd met Gideon at age eleven, when he was thirteen and thought that drenching first years was endlessly amusing. He'd changed his mind once Marlene had annihilated him with furious words, but until she was fifteen, she thought of him as the friendly boy with the laughing eyes and mischievous fingers.
When he was seventeen, he'd danced with her at a party, and they'd become friends. In the following few years, he joined the Order and she followed him and their friends into the kind of fights she knew they could not win.
"You're not even part of the Order, Mar. You don't have to come," he'd told her once, gently.
She'd looked at him, blue eyes fixed on blue. "I do," she'd said firmly, and that had been that.
(Except not really, because in the end, she couldn't even save him, could she?)
i.
The night is dark, and it feels like every secret Dorcas has ever had is waiting out there for her, hidden in the shadows.
She creeps throughout the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, trying her damnedest not to be heard, not to be found, not to be killed. She is twenty-one years old and a cynic, but she does not want to die.
She hears footsteps from her left and she swiftly rolls into a crouch, hiding behind a desk with her wand at the ready.
"Is she in here?" she hears a gruff voice ask coldly, and it sounds awfully hostile, as if he isn't speaking to one of his own and it takes everything she has not to look up and see—
"No," bites out his companion and her heart stops in her chest because that is Edgar, that is Edgar Bones and he has brown hair and blue eyes and he dormed with Benjy and Frank and he has a smile that quirks up more in the right corner than the left and he danced with her at a party once and he's her friend, he's her friend.
Without even thinking about it, Dorcas stretches out her crouch a bit and shoots a jet of blue light at the man, biting her lip when she recognises Rookwood, a protégée of her father's. She very much doubts, however, that her father taught him the curse he sends back at her, and she ducks to avoid it. As the jet of light hits the wall, it explodes. She hears the sound of her friends reacting to the blast, but she has no time to react to that, the pressure on her heart is rising because Edgar is still in shackles and he isn't moving.
She flings a hex at Rookwood, taking satisfaction in the way his face swells up, and runs to Edgar. "Edgar, how'd this happen?" she demands as she attempts to remove his shackles.
"They were looking for you, Dorc," he says in a rasp, looking sorry. "They killed Caradoc and took me hostage to find you," he tells her and she can't breathe, she can't breathe. Her friends were dying, and not for their cause but for her, and Caradoc would never wink at her again, he'd never stroke Emmeline's hair again or give speeches about the rights of house elves ever again and he'd never again look at Emmeline with all his love in his eyes, the way he had every day since they were fifteen and oh Godric, she feels sick, so sick.
"Why are they looking for me?" she demands, but she's taken too long and she's forgotten her surroundings and there's Rookwood and he's pointing his wand at her and there's a movement in the corner of her eyes that reminds her of Mulciber and fills her with dread.
"Because you're a powerful pureblood, sweetheart," a mocking voice calls from across the room. "And you're pretty enough, so that doesn't hurt," continues the man, approaching close enough for her to identify him as Avery.
"What happened to your face?" Mulciber asks of Rookwood, glancing at it with blatant distaste.
"Dumb bitch hexed me," he snarls, and she glares at him, defiant even in the face of danger—
"Is that so?" Avery asks softly, his silky voice doing nothing to banish her rising fear. She turns to face him, to look defiant, to spit at him, anything, but she finds him striding past her and towards Edgar. He points his wand at him. "Crucio," he commands calmly and it sounds so impassioned but Edgar screams and screams and Dorcas had thought that anger was the necessary ingredient for a painful Cruciatus curse, though now she'd be willing to bet that innate cruelty would do it, based on the tableau in front of her.
"Stop it!" she shrieks, and Avery looks at her with a wicked smile that stops her heart.
"With pleasure," he says obligingly, and he stops it. Before she can react at all, though, he points his wand at Edgar and says coldly, "Avada Kedavra." Edgar crumples when the jet of green light hits him and Dorcas feels like she's been socked in the stomach. She stares at his body, unable to comprehend that it's just a shell, that there is no intelligent man with a passion for birds breathing in there, that he's gone, really gone.
"Get away from her," hisses a familiar voice and she recognises it and turns out of relief and fear; thank god Fabian is here, what is Fabian doing here, he'll save her, they'll kill him, oh Godric, oh Godric—
"Fabian, get out of here," she orders and he shakes his head.
"No can do, beautiful," he informs her, the pet-name falling off his tongue with ease, and she thinks about how much dimmer the world would be without this man in it.
Suddenly, there's ten of them, ten of her friends, and more Death Eaters are popping up too but it doesn't matter because her captors are too busy to prevent her from whipping out her wand and throwing curses with the rest of them, driven by a thirst to avenge her dead friends.
Then Dolohov is pointing his wand at her and Marlene is shoving Mary and Hestia through one of the fireplaces and Fabian is standing in front of her. "Dorcas," he says, not breaking eye contact with Dolohov as he points his wand at him, "go."
"No," she says fiercely, "no, Fabian, I can't leave you, I won't."
Fabian jerks his head and suddenly Benjy's there and he's dragging Dorcas away and she's screaming, "no, please, don't make me leave him, I can't—" and Fabian is duelling Dolohov and Avery simultaneously but he manages to turn to her and blow her a kiss.
It's the last thing she ever sees of him and she commits it to memory as Benjy drags her into the fireplace with him, stating the address of headquarters.
ii.
Gideon's so glad that Mary's already gone, because he doesn't know if he'd have the strength to send her away the way Fabian sent away Dorcas.
He sees Avery shoot a particularly dangerous curse at his brother and deflects it, jumping next to Fabian so they stand back-to-back as they face off the circling opponents.
"We're not going to make it, Gid," Fabian murmurs to him as he deflects a curse from Macnair.
Gideon's throat feels thick. "Yeah," he says, only slightly shakily. "Didn't we have fun, though?"
He sees his brother's grin out of the corner of his eye. "The most," Fabian says firmly. "It's been a good run, brother."
"I wouldn't want this to end any other way," Gideon says as he sends a curse at Rookwood, crippling the man's legs. "You hear me? You're my best friend and I wouldn't have it any other way."
It is with this camaraderie that they fall; Fabian first, collapsing against his brother, but as Gideon curses Dolohov in a way that will always leave scars, Dolohov slashes at him and he falls too.
They are dead, but they fall together and their friends have escaped, and that is what would matter to them had they still been around to consider the matter.
iii.
Benjy does not dream anymore.
He remembers dragging Dorcas out of the Ministry, tumbling from the fireplace, the tears running down her face as she screamed, the way Mary's face had crumpled when Marlene had come back alone, when she realised that Gideon wasn't coming back.
He remembers the fight Marlene had with Mad-Eye about retrieving the dead - "It's dangerous, McKinnon—" "It was dangerous for them to be there but they were so you can be damned sure that I'm going to repay that favour—" - and the way Dorcas didn't eat for five days and the words Mary inked on her porcelain skin each day, the nib of her quill scratching the flesh slightly.
It is with these thoughts in mind that he enters the building with Marlene and James, on the lookout for denizens of the Dark Lord. He turns to Marlene, who nods, and they descend into the Department of Mysteries.
Marlene sees Lucius Malfoy and shoots a curse at him, igniting the battle.
Sirius arrives, alongside Mad-Eye, Kingsley and Hestia, takes one look at the scene and rushes to Marlene's side, protecting her from stray curses.
James is there and he really shouldn't be, he should be at home with Lily, keeping her and Harry safe but he's here and Benjy'll be damned if he lets another friend die on his watch, so he stands alongside the taller man and fights.
It's all going so well until Dolohov shows up and Benjy recalls how he threatened Dorcas, and how he killed Fabian and Gideon and his heart swells with rage for his three best friends and he runs at the man, shooting curse after curse at him.
Dolohov dodges it all and aims his wand at Marlene, who's locked in battle with Lucius Malfoy, with no protection because Sirius is fighting for his life against Avery. Benjy can tell what will happen if he doesn't do anything, and he refuses to let another friend die, especially not one such as she, the fire in their bones and the spirit of their war.
He intercepts the curse, and there is a second where he feels nothing except relief, where he hears James gasp and Sirius' cry of shock, where he can see Fabian and Gideon grin, and Dorcas laughing as Marlene paints her skin, where he exists only in a realm of his best friends, and he thinks that second captures his existence, the true immortality of humankind—
And then there's blinding pain and Benjy Fenwick disappears from this world, his body blown to pieces.
iv.
Marlene McKinnon is not afraid to die.
Really, she isn't. It's part of the reason why she signs up for so many raids and shifts with the Order; she doesn't mind and she's a good witch, so she doesn't think her being banned from the latest mission is justified.
Still, she waits, and she thinks about how she'd much rather be out there, be doing something, instead of this intolerable waiting, just herself and her thoughts. It's too much Marlene for one mind, she thinks, with all the memories and racing thoughts that fill the empty room until she struggles to breathe.
"Marls?" a hoarse voice calls and she snaps to attention, and stifles a gasp at the sight of Dorcas' bleeding head and James' purpling face. She thinks of Fabian and Benjy, and berates herself for not taking better care of their best friend in their stead. She thinks of Lily and Sirius, and how she should have been in the field with James, how she should have had his back.
"What the fuck happened?" she demands, grabbing some cloth to wipe Dorcas' head. She grimaces at the cleaner sight. Lily and Mary had the talent with healing, not Marlene.
"Ambush," James mutters. "Expectin' us."
Marlene shoots him a sharp look, but is cut off by the arrival of more of her friends. Lily immediately rushes to James' aid - "Harry's with Mary, I couldn't stay away, just in case and look—" - and Mad-Eye gruffly looks at Dorcas as Remus relays the events of their mission to Hestia, who had just Apparated in from her own mission, looking shaken but unhurt.
Everything's fine, minor wounds only, except—
"Guys, where the fuck is Sirius?" Marlene demands, and Remus looks stricken.
"He's at St Mungo's, I think, that's where Emmeline said she'd take him, I'm so sorry, Marls, I meant to tell you-" he rambles apologetically and she shakes her head at him.
"Remus, save it, it's fine. You just came back from a mission. I'll just- I'll go visit him," she waves it off, before striding out the door into the wind.
It's unusually brisk for summer, but she doesn't mind. Normally, she'd Apparate straight there, but she needs time to fight down the panic; being on the sidelines is worse, she finds, than the actual battle, because there is no adrenaline kick to quench the worry and pain.
She decides to stop by her family home, pick up an old photo album to show to Sirius at the hospital. However, the second she enters the residence, she knows something's wrong.
Her little brother's in front of her, terrified, but before she can comfort him—
"Imperio," a cool voice says silkily, and Marlene feels an internal panic as her face smooths into an impassive mask.
"Well, well," Avery says, his eyes raking up and down her body. "Travers, look what we have here."
Travers walks out of the kitchen, pushing her gagged parents to the floor in front of him, and Marlene's never felt so worried in her life, and she's so fucking angry and—
"Kill him," Avery says suddenly, jerking his head towards her brother. The terror on Matthew's face makes him look even younger than his eleven years and Marlene fights against her body, thinking about Mad-Eye's teaching, how strong will could break enchantment and she's trying so hard and she won't do it, she will not, she is Marlene McKinnon and she is fucking better than them—
Her hand drops the wand, and she collapses. The hold is broken, but she's exhausted, the sheer force of exerting her will leaving her breathless and weak.
She cannot fight, she realises. She is too vulnerable. This is their plan, she works out; either force her to kill her family herself, or remove her from the equation entirely. She can't even send a Patronus for help. There is nothing she can do to defend herself, to defend her family, to—
"Avada Kedavra!" and her mother's eyes dull and she chokes out a sob and then another flash of green light and her father hits the floor beside her mother and then Matthew is curling next to her.
"Tell your brother it'll be okay," Travers sneers, and Marlene wants nothing more in that moment than to kill him, but she is too weak and she has an eleven year old boy crying into her shoulder who desperately needs to feel safe, so she feebly reaches out her arm and with the last of her strength, pulls him into her chest and holds him tight.
She gives Travers a defiant glance, and whispers to her brother, "I love you."
She just hopes they kill him first, so he can die in her arms, safe and loved. She hopes that small mercy will be granted, that there will be no more unnecessary cruelty for her little brother.
Marlene dies first.
v.
Dorcas dreams of them in her sleep.
It is better than being awake, because they are all alive in her dreams. Mary still smiles, as Gideon wraps his arms around her. Fabian dances with Dorcas even as Benjy photographs them. Caradoc is holding Emmeline's hand, and Sirius is hugging Marlene close to his chest and telling her he'll never let go.
She knows they're dreams because in real life, Sirius is a mess of alcohol and cigarettes and a reckless disregard for his own life. In real life, Mary hides away as much as she can and Emmeline doesn't touch anyone. In real life, they're dead.
It's with that mantra in her head - they are dead and you are not they are dead and you are not they are dead and you are not - that she finally approaches him.
There is battle roaring around them but all she can see is him. She has already wounded Avery, and Dolohov is out for the count. Travers is cut down in a sharp slash from her wand and the Carrows recieve matching welts on their abdomens, and still, she approaches.
Dorcas knows she cannot kill him, but she knows that he is the only one who has the skill to kill her when she's fighting, and she has too much respect for her friends to simply give up in her haste to be reunited with them.
His lips curve into a cruel smile, and his voice reminds her of snakeskin. "Dorcas Meadowes," he greets. "Come to die?"
And then they're parrying spells and deflecting and dodging and an intricate map of jets of light is being woven in front of them and they are both playing with the ruthless edge of players that were born to win or die; they know no in-between, no compromise, and this is the main reason why Dorcas doesn't understand how she still stands while her friends fall, when she is destined to die, when she lives by absolutes and not by delay.
She scars his arm, but his curse hits her square in the chest and finally, it is done.
Dorcas Meadowes is reunited with her friends.
vi.
Mary Macdonald runs away. She becomes a photographer, a writer, a painter, a musician. She becomes everything her friends never had the chance to be, and she keeps them alive in her mediums. She composes songs out of Dorcas' ice and sonnets of Gideon's eyes. Benjy's tracings are immortalised on canvas, Marlene's vibrancy captured in every photograph. Her words are shaped like Fabian's smiles and she speaks with the passion of Caradoc, and watches the eagles fly with the joy of Edgar. Her laugh echoes Sirius, her touch soft like Lily's, her eyes wise like Remus' and her heart as true as James'. There is Mad-Eye in her vigilance, Peter in her humility and Dumbledore in her wisdom. She sees Emmeline in the gardenias she plants and Hestia in the scent they bring.
They are all dead, but they live forever in her.
a/n. hi hello thanks for reading this far. please leave a review, it'd be so appreciated, and please do not favourite without reviewing. xx