I assume that if you're reading this you know who Marlene is, either from being a First Order nerd, from Constellations, or just because you, like me, are infatuated with the possibility that is Marlene McKinnon ;D But just in case, she's one of the people that Moody points out in the photograph that he shows Harry; she's the first casuality of the war.


i.

It was the worst battle the Phoenixes had seen yet, and they were lucky to all be alive: that was what Alastor panted when he and the rest of the guard made it back to the Hogs Head pub where Sirius, Lily, Alice, and the few other Order members who hadn't been delegated for this raid but loved those going had waited.

Sirius jumped off of his barstool to Aberforth Dumbledore's slightly derisive snort about the kids the Order was seeing these days, but Lily and the older Alice weren't far behind him, and ran towards the scraggly group with no less concern. More, probably. James and Frank were both returning from the battle, and Sirius didn't have anyone like that—no husband. Or wife. Or a girlfriend, not really. If you'd ask him, he'd say he came for James.

If you knew him, you'd know he'd come for Marlene.

She was at the back of the group, her curly hair even wilder than normal. She'd been supporting Benjy Fenwick who looked to be hurt the worst of them, but Aberforth Dumbledore hurried over, ready to Apparate him quietly to Saint Mungo's. Marlene handed him off to the man, and then seemed to completely lose her calm, experienced Auror demeanor.

"You shouldn't have come here," she said, looking for all the world like a woman hopelessly in love. (Not a woman hopelessly in war.)

"There was nothing better to do," Sirius said lightly, looking the Auror up and down; making sure she was still whole. He knew how many battles she'd been through and knew that when a person has been an Auror for so long, they're apt to be careless. Thank Merlin, Marlene wasn't tonight.

"Stop." She said the word softly. "Stop it, Black. I'm fine. I promise."

Sirius gave her A Look, because even if he was young and naïve and Marlene could fight circles around him, he wasn't stupid. "Then what on earth are you doing talking to an Auror in training like me when you could be celebrating with the rest of them?" he asked with a forced laugh and toss of his head. He'd kill her with laughter if he had to.

"Damn it, Black," she whispered, and something collapsed deep within her eyes. "Sirius, don't."

Quitting while he was ahead wasn't something that had ever been taught to Sirius Black. Marlene turned away from him, pulling her jumper sleeves down as she hurried into the frosty November air, and Sirius followed, catching her wrist as the door swung shut behind them.

"Then you don't," he said simply. He wasn't sure what she was talking about now; if she meant fighting or following or them. But Marlene was gazing into his eyes with something unfathomable in her own, and she was breaking right there in the middle of Hogsmeade with streaks of blood across her figure and moonlight pooling around her. So Sirius stopped caring if she didn't want it, because wanting be cursed; she needed him now, maybe as much as he needed her.

She just blinked back at him; blinked back with no emotion or expression or anything that showed her as invincible, fearless, battle-worn Marlene McKinnon. And because she was nothing like the Marlene McKinnon that Sirius knew all too well, he grew brave; stepped towards her and took her cold, scratched hand in his own.

"Don't be scared," he told her, looking right at her and pretending that he could see through to her soul. In a way, it seemed like he could tonight. In a way, for the first time since he'd known her, he was beating though the defenses she kept up like a fortress around her heart.

"I'm not . . . I'm not," she said, and if Sirius thought she was breaking before, now she was broken.

He took a step closer to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, still keeping their hands locked together. The yarn of her jumper was shredded in places, and her curls—her glorious, explosive curls—were matted down in muck and tangles and something dark, crusty, and red that Sirius didn't want to think about.

"It'll be okay," he said softly.

"How can you say that?" Marlene asked almost in wonder, meeting his gaze directly. "How will things ever be okay?"

Sirius held the woman tighter, leaning his head down and enfolding her all the way in his arms. She didn't resist or break away, and after a few seconds, she gave a little shuddering sigh and laid her head against his chest, fingers clutching at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline.

"Because, 'Lene," he told her, resting his chin on the top of her head as she let out a trembling little laugh at the nickname she despised, "The war can't last forever. We're better than them, stronger than them, and kinder than them, and we will win this thing, one way or another."

"Says who?" she laughed bitterly, a little bit cynical. "Says the boy who's barely of age, who's fresh out of Hogwarts, who still believes in the good in people?"

"Says Sirius Black," Sirius replied firmly.

Marlene laughed, wheezing a bit. "Of course he does," she sighed, a trace of fondness in her voice. "And that's why he hasn't been hexed to bits yet."

Sirius grinned at the woman and drew back a bit, holding her hands in his own and searching her face for some sense of healing.

"Sirius," Marlene sighed, "I'm fine. Really. So you can stop worrying."

"I'm not!" he protested, but she shook her head and rested one hand against his chest, effectively shutting him up.

"Just don't," she insisted. "Just don't, and I'll be okay."

They were back to the don't's again, thought Sirius forlornly, heart pounding beneath Marlene's scratched and filthy palm. "Don't what?" he asked as if to humor the older woman.

She paused, the hand on his chest curling into a fist. And then she looked up right at him with empty eyes. "Don't believe in me. I'm not as strong as you think I am"

"Rubbish." Again, Sirius injected lightness into his tone. "I've always thought you were as strong as a . . . a feather pillow, and you're clearly stronger than that, so it's okay."

Her bottom lip trembled a moment, and Sirius wished he hadn't said anything. "I'm sorry," he told her. "But I do believe in you."

"You shouldn't," she said flatly. "You've put me on so many pedestals; built me up to be beautiful and powerful and . . . wonderful, and . . . and seductive, and, Black, I'm not."

He swallowed hard. Damn her for making him remember how sexy she was, even bruised and dirty and battered. Damn her for not wanting him back, and for not even wanting herself. "You're all those to me," he finally said.

"Ah," Marlene grinned, "Sirius Black, the Order's very own king of broken hearts, strikes again."

He glared at her, trying to stay good natured and cheery when all he wanted was to help her. To gather her in his arms and let those sobs she'd been swallowing for the past minutes come out and get muffled into his jacket; to snog her senseless so she could forget and just lose herself for a little while. To be there for her the way she had unknowingly been there for him, those first weeks out of school when he was beginning as and Auror and had no idea what the hell he was doing there. So Sirius sighed, "My reputation precedes me, I see," and slipped his arms around her.

Marlene sighed, standing rigid for a few seconds before finally looping her arms around his neck and melting into his embrace. "Doesn't it always?" she asked wryly.

Sirius brushed his lips against the top of her head softly enough that he thought she wouldn't feel it. "Always," he replied, a metallic taste in his mouth. "Always."

Bringing one hand up to brush a lock of Sirius' hair off his face, Marlene muttered, "Black, stop screwing around up there. If you want to kiss me in this state, then bloody well do it."

She was his Marlene again—just Marlene; not his, Sirius reminded himself—and so he didn't feel the least bit guilty when she tipped up her face and he set his lips to hers. And he just felt goddamnedbloodymagnificent as they wrapped around each other, there in the frosty Hogsmeade street.

She tasted of blood that night, tangy and bitter and dangerous. Because she'd been fighting, because spells had been flying, and because he was thankful that it was only a taste and that it was someone else's, Sirius didn't care.

In that moment, Marlene McKinnon was his; scars, filth, blood, and wryness all. And Sirius Black wouldn't have traded that moment in for anything.


The second part is mostly done; it should be up in the next few days. I hope you enjoyed. Review? :)