Static

"Radio's broken." Sirius's curt voice broke into the December air too abruptly for her liking: they hadn't spoken since before boarding the Hogwarts Express, after all. Marlene shivered—though not only from the cold—and drew her cloak more tightly around her, shutting the kitchen door behind her with a snap.

She nodded, though Sirius wasn't looking. "I've been meaning to fix that for a while, not to mention clean up a bit," she ascertained, her soft voice nearly drowned out by static and half-formed words. "Turns out I'm useful with household spells, though, and I haven't been able to get a hold of Andromeda since before—you know."

He nodded, finally turning his full attention back to her. Marlene's apartment was modest—in a Muggle complex, no less—and thus filled with electrical gadgets, but there was nothing to be ashamed of in front of the man who'd abandoned his family in Muggle-borns' favor. "It's nice," Sirius said with a hint of kindness too foreign to her since he'd left.

But it was gone in a moment, his gray eyes again hardened. "Not really, but thanks," she acknowledged nervously, flipping on the lights. "It's gotten a bit run-down—no doubt because I've been living with Muggles and still have no idea how electricity works—but as long as the plumbing and lights work, you'll get by just fine in here. Are you sure you'll be all right staying here?"

It was no mystery that Sirius did indeed need a place to stay, what with the suspicion that he would be—targeted, but considering the nature of their relationship, Marlene knew he'd been hesitant to move in. "It's fine. Awkward but fine," Sirius insisted, running his fingers along the dusty counter. "You've got the safest place around, anyway: like anyone would suspect that a proper pureblood like yourself would live in such a common location."

Marlene scoffed. "Insane, the lot of them," she drawled, and in that instant, they were sixteen and in love again, with no war in between. "I work for the Ministry; word's that I live with my parents up near the Malfoys. They won't suspect a thing. That reminds me—I ought to stop by there today and pick up my mail, they've been keeping it all because owls are regulated in urbanized Muggle cities like this one."

Grinning cheekily at her, Sirius walked the length of the room, only to stretch out lazily on her sofa. "I love your apartment," he said contentedly, voice muffled by cushions.

"Don't drool on the pillows," Marlene reprimanded playfully. "And mind that you keep your voice down; it's especially important here to heed the Statute of Secrecy."

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius mumbled, waving the matter of privacy aside. "Like it's any more dangerous than when the entire Order crowded in here for the meeting two weeks ago—"

Marlene laughed and crossed the apartment after him, seating herself in the armchair opposite Sirius. "Well, we did get a good picture out of it. Too bad Fabian couldn't make it, though."

"Gideon's enough trouble to make up for it," Sirius said with mock innocence.

She mumbled back, disgruntled, "You're one to talk. What with pulling Marauder pranks every day of the year back at Hogwarts…" Sirius's barking laughter filled the tiny room, and she found herself smiling alongside him.

Wind cut in through the open window, ruffling the blinds. It was a chilly day out, even for winter, but Marlene welcomed the honesty of the cold. On such a melancholy note, her happiness dimmed, and she rested her chin in her hand. "I miss this," she confided truthfully, too softly for her vibrant personality.

"Me, too," Sirius sighed, rolling over to look at her. His ridiculously unkempt appearance didn't faze her. "God, I hate war."

"Yeah," she murmured with dull eyes and cutthroat emotion. "You grow up coexisting with people who think they know you, go to school and get used to letting it in the open… we're the ones in hiding, and we think we have enough control to kill? It doesn't make sense."

Sirius shook his head, long hair falling in his eyes. "Pureblood supremacy. Bitterness at the state of things. It's been under the surface for ages, just took until now to boil over."

"There's no quality of life anymore," Marlene breathed, her words barely audible. "If you're not living in constant fear of it or out there running from the law, you're leading a double life, indifferent by day and fighting by night… there's no point getting up in the morning if it's to be someone you're not."

"It'll blow over," he said uncertainly. "It'll have to… killing can't satisfy them for this long."

"You're one to talk," Marlene spat, warming to the sheer hatred of things. "It's their addiction; they get some sort of sick pleasure out of it, likeyou get some sort of sick pleasure out of—"

He interrupted harshly, "I didn't do it for the fun of it, McKinnon, I couldn't—" Sirius's breathing was rapid, his face contorted. Aching moments later, he said heavily, "I'm sorry I hurt you, but I couldn't—be with you—because I'd be proving what the Blacks have always believed in. I couldn't—"

"So you ended a years-long commitment because I'm a pureblood," she said with relish. "That's really just backwards prejudice, isn't it?"

Sirius turned away again. "War ages a person, Marlene. I'm sorry."

"I'll bet you are." She concealed her wand as best as she could in the pocket of her jeans and turned to leave, cloak shrugged off.

"Wait—" Marlene whirled around on her heel at the sound of Sirius's voice, raising an eyebrow. "It's Christmas—what do you want?"

"Another radio," she lied, words rolling off her tongue.

Sirius's groan was obviously one of exasperation. "Marlene, I put all my uncle's money into that apartment, you know that."

If she were to be honest with herself, Marlene wanted a family, an end to the war, a happiness she hadn't felt in what seemed like years. She wanted her life back, and yet: "Then nothing at all."

She closed the door and walked to her death.

-

"…That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family."