The Color of Melted Snow
The look Sirius was giving Marlene McKinnon would have seemed to suggest that he thought she was crazy.
He did think she was crazy.
The alternative was that she had horribly misinterpreted what he said, but he preferred to just think that she was crazy, because that kept any of the blame off of him for not stating things clearly enough.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, nearly hidden behind a pile of clutter—a lopsided purse, scattered stacks of paper, a pair of sunglasses, a few Muggle coins—and carefully regarding what looked like half of the contents of a make-up store's wares in front of her, with some sort of brush carefully poised in her right hand. He had asked her to accompany him on an Order of the Phoenix mission, but this sort of scene was much more reminiscent of a girl prepping herself for a date, which was just enough to make him give an awkward cough and start thinking of ways to politely reject her. It wasn't that she was a specifically unpleasant person, per se, just that she wasn't really the type of person he'd want to be in a relationship with. She was overly flirty, for one: if something was alive and male she would flirt with it and, if the rumors about the mermen were true, the male being human wasn't even a requirement.
He gave a haughty, attention-getting cough. "You do know why I'm here, right?"
She seemed to still be focusing her attention on the compacts, mascara brushes, and lip gloss tubes in front of her, but lightly replied, "I know. You're here for an Order mission—"
"I was just wondering because you're making yourself up," Sirius abruptly justified his inquiry.
She raised an eyebrow. "This isn't for you. But, as I was saying before you interrupted me," she gave a melodramatic sigh while comparing two colors of foundation in the light, "We're going on an Order mission, because you assumed I wouldn't have any other plans on a Friday evening."
"Seeing as you don't have a job, and you still live at your parents' house, I don't think asking you to accompany me on an Order mission is that unreasonable of a demand on your time," he said with rising annoyance in his voice.
"Those are assumptions in themselves, aren't they?" she airily replied, snapping open one of her compacts and starting to run her brush over the peach-colored foundation.
"I'm guessing you have more free time than James, my normal partner, considering he has both a job and a baby to care for. Unless you managed to find someone to hire you since I last talked to you?"
"No, what fun would that be?"
Merlin, she may have just graduated Hogwarts, but she acted like she was still a Fourth Year. "Jobs aren't supposed to be fun, McKinnon. Life isn't a game," he stated dryly.
"Oh, really? I was under the impression that it was." Sirius snapped open his mouth to respond but was at a loss as to what to say. Finally he decided that as they were supposed to be partners, it'd probably be best if he at least attempted to salvage some sort of potential camaraderie between them and thus declined to say anything further. After snapping shut her foundation, she broke the silence again, "So what exactly is our mission?"
"We're trailing Lestrange. I've been keeping an eye on him for the past week, and he's spent every single evening having dinner at the Hog's Head. Always alone. Always sitting in the corner and just silently looking around the room."
"So we're spending our time and energy, not to mention risking aggravating a potential Death Eater, because he likes eating at the Hog's Head?" she condescended.
"It's not that simple, McKinnon," Sirius snapped, annoyed at being made to feel rather overly simplistic. "He must be up to something. Maybe he's scoping out the area for an attack. Or maybe there's someone at the Hog's Head he's keeping an eye on—that would explain why he keeps people-watching. He's already a suspected Death Eater, so if we could just get evidence—"
"I like people watching when I eat out—does that make me a Death Eater?" her words came from behind the small mirror she was carefully regarding herself in.
"Of course not," he stated indignantly, "It's just that, I mean—"
"Or here, here's another idea. Maybe he's noticed that you've likewise been at the Hog's Head for every evening this past week, so he's actually there to watch you, because he thinks you're up to something."
"Well, I mean, that's just ridiculous," his hesitating response came. "Why would a Death Eater care about what I'm doing? I mean—hrm, I am an Order member, but, I mean, we don't plan attacks, so why would Death Eaters want to know the Order's plans? I mean—er—I guess it never hurts to know what the other side is doing but, uh—why are you wasting so much time putting make-up on, anyways?" he snapped, interrupting his searching words while she disinterestedly regarded him and continued applying blush. "It's not like make-up is necessary for a mission."
"Isn't it?" she asked with a rather rhetorical tone.
"Not unless it's going to make you invisible, or protect you from curses. In which case, hell, pass the eye shadow over, and I'll slather some on before we leave."
"You don't 'slather' on make-up," she scornfully replied. "You apply it, brush it on, you sculpt. It's all about creating a perfect face for the world to see."
Sirius thought he had been spared a longer response when she picked up a pink powder and continued speaking in a rather authoritative tone, "See, take blush for instance. If you use a light, warm pink and apply it in circles, then that gives you a younger, more innocent air. Like a doll. But if you want to appear a bit older, more eye-catching, then you use a slightly darker shade and apply it in a line, because that gives the allusion of shadows which, in turn makes it look like you have more defined cheek bones." Sirius blinked at her lengthy explanation and rather regretted having mentioned anything. "Which color should I use?" she abruptly turned towards him and held out two eye shadow compacts: a glittering white and a more muted light grey.
"I don't know," he replied, disconcerted. "That one," he clumsily pointed towards the white shade. She set them both down on the table before thoughtfully continuing to regard both of them with a pensive look on her face. "Did you hear about Benjy Fenwick?" Sirius interrupted, desperate to change the topic of conversation so he wouldn't quite feel so much like someone waiting for their date to finish primping.
With a loud clattering sound the compact she had just picked up fell to the table. She swiftly snatched it from the table's mess with her stubby fingers before messily grabbing a brush with which to apply the light grey eye shadow and coolly replying, "Pieces, they say."
"Pieces?"
"They only ever found pieces—" and here her disinterested tone was broken for a split second, and the last word spilled out rather more high-pitched and tense than the surrounding words. With large swipes, she started hastily applying the eye shadow before continuing in her previously controlled, self-absorbed tone, "They only ever found pieces of him."
"Oh. Yes, I had heard about that," Sirius mutely replied.
"Do they even have enough to bury?" she asked, her eyes unmovingly fixed to the compact in front of her.
Sirius uncomfortably shifted his weight; those weren't the type of details he wanted to be thinking about, much less discussing. "I imagine the funeral will have a coffin, for show if nothing else."
"What should I wear?" she abruptly asked.
"Merlin, McKinnon, we're going on a mission, not a date! It doesn't matter what you wear," he exasperatedly stated, feeling rather as though he wished they could just hurry up and leave for the Hog's Head.
"I meant to the funeral, Black," she disinterestedly replied, only spending a fraction of a second to lazily flick her eyes in his direction.
"I don't know," he awkwardly started, "You know your wardrobe better than I do."
"But what would be respectful?" she pressed.
"Whatever you wore to previous funerals would be fine," he replied, starting to get annoyed again. Really, it wasn't like he was a fashion connoisseur or anything.
The lines around her mouth tensed for a second before she replied, "I've never been to a funeral before."
"Never?" he incredulously stated.
"I've never known anyone that died before," she simply stated, before vigorously continuing her application of make-up.
He supposed that she hadn't been a member of the Order for very long, and Hogwarts was always rather sheltered, so in retrospect the fact that Fenwick was the first person she knew who had died wasn't terribly surprising. "You wear black," he finally respectfully responded. "Traditionally the men and women are supposed to wear brimmed hats. I think they're supposed to keep your gaze from wandering too far away, keep your eyes focused on the ground. I don't know how much Fenwick would have actually cared about tradition, though."
"Thank you," she replied in a clipped voice.
Sirius nodded in response and started drumming his fingers on the table while waiting for her to finish the last touches on her make-up. "Ready to go?" he eagerly asked when she started replacing the brush in its case.
"Just a second," she patiently replied, neatly organizing all of her various make-up components before gently sliding them into a bag and taking out one last foundation compact, scrutinizing herself in its small mirror. "Don't you think I'd make a beautiful corpse?" the words spilled out of her in an uncontrolled stream.
Sirius gave her a puzzled, uncomprehending look. What on earth was she going on about? "Absolutely exquisite," he dryly replied. "Now let's hurry up and get going."
She glanced at him over the top of her compact and, seemingly satisfied, slipped it into her pocket. "Not like Fenwick," she murmured to herself. "I'll never end up like Fenwick. Never."
They apparated to the border of Hogsmeade and started quickly making their way to the Hog's Head, the cold winter air biting at the exposed skin of their faces. The snow lining the streets from the recent snowfall had, for the most part, melted into a grey-brown slush that was undisturbed only on the roofs of the stores. Upon entering the Hog's Head, they shed their outermost coats and surreptitiously took a table in a poorly lit corner of the disreputable establishment.
"So we're going to pretend that we're just two people having dinner, all the meantime observing Lestrange, right?" McKinnon quietly muttered to her partner.
Sirius nodded and, with a slight gesture of his pointer finger, added, "That's Lestrange on the other side of the restaurant. The one with shoulder length brown hair and a beard."
A waitress stopped by to take their orders who Sirius hastily sent on their way, all the meantime keeping his gaze focused on the Lestrange's table. "I thought we were supposed to pretend that we were just two diners," she lightly reprimanded him.
"We are," he replied, not particularly paying attention on his partner's words.
She crossed her arms and condescendingly asked, "Don't you think it might look suspicious if we're sitting here, doing nothing but boring holes into Lestrange's head with our eyes?"
He shrugged. "The food's awful here, and it's not like he—" Sirius jerked his head towards the potential Death Eater they were observing "--will notice whether we're eating or not."
"Just like we're not noticing him," she coolly, sarcastically replied.
"Exac—er—well—" At that moment Lestrange placed a few coins on his table, and started walking towards the exit. "Moot point," Sirius abruptly added, feeling rather as though he had been saved by the bell. After waiting long enough for him to just step outside the door, the two Order members stealthily slid out of their seats and grabbed their coats.
"What does he normally do now?" McKinnon quickly asked, moving her wand to a more easily accessible pocket.
"Normally he apparates away. But let's follow him as far as we can, anyways," he spoke, his quiet words being stolen away by a cold gust of air. Their object of observation was a few store fronts down, regarding the darkened windows of a closed shop with a rather dull expression on his face. With a barely perceptible twitch, he turned his head slightly in the direction of the two Order members, causing both of them to immediately jerk their heads in the opposite direction and pretend to find the Hog's Head sign terribly fascinating.
"Would he recognize either of us?" she hastily whispered.
"I don't know. Not you. Maybe me; he is married to my cousin, after all, and Bella probably knows that I'm an Order member," Sirius replied, twisting his neck to shoot a glance towards Lestrange. "He's not looking over here anymore. He's walking the opposite direction. Let's keep following." Without any more words, and the only sound between them the quiet crushing of ice crystals beneath their shoes, they continued trailing the Death Eater in as subtle of a manner as they could, frequently stopping to pretend to show interest in the different store fronts.
Sirius couldn't help but wonder where in Merlin's name he was going. Lestrange had never walked this far away from the center of Hogsmeade after visiting the Hog's Head before; they were starting to reach the outskirts of the small town, the stores becoming more distantly spaced, the road a bit more heavily covered with snow, and trees and other signs of wilderness more common. His Order partner seemed to be having similar thoughts for she gave him a wondering look, but what could they do? This development proved promising, and they couldn't give up on that just because the path was starting to become more poorly-lit and less-well cared for.
They had well passed the Shrieking Shack now, and despite walking towards what was essentially untamed forest and solid blackness, Lestrange made no show of even slowing his pace. Sirius felt his heart rate speed up. What if this was the meeting spot for some Death Eaters? Perhaps they were using this isolated spot to concoct some deadly plan, and if they could just catch them in the act…
The lights of Hogsmeade were now but distant memories and, as engrossed in his thoughts as he was, Sirius failed to realize that the distinct sound of Lestrange's footsteps had ceased until McKinnon roughly grabbed his arm and forced him to stop walking. His eyes helplessly searched the pitch black in front of him and he idly thought that while Moony may have been more than happy for it to be a new moon, he would have much preferred a full moon; Voldemort himself could have been standing an inch from Sirius's face, and he wouldn't have realized it.
There was a distinct crack! sound some distance away, which left Sirius to wonder whether Lestrange had disapparated or whether he was being joined by another Death Eater. After a few moments of hearing nothing but his and McKinnon's attempts to breathe as quietly as possible, there was yet another crack! sound. So either someone had disapparted and then apparated, or two people had apparated or—
Sirius's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a several meter long, scythe-shaped swath of purple light cutting its way through the air as it headed directly for him and McKinnon. It lit up the whole clearing for a few seconds, giving him just enough time to see that Lestrange was now accompanied by another, similar-looking man, and that McKinnon had already leapt towards the side to avoid the curse. Barely throwing himself to the ground in time, he felt a sudden heat as the scythe-like curse passed over his head, and only a fraction of a second later the spell had vanished, plunging them all into complete darkness again.
…
A/N: This is going to be a two-shot, and the second half should be going up within a few days, so check back soon. As always, constructive criticism and general feedback is greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own Marlene McKinnon, Benjy Fenwick, the Lestranges, etc.