Disclaimer: I own none of the characters used in this story, it's all JK.
To say she was shocked when she saw his gaunt, drained face leering from the television screen would be an understatement indeed. She was shocked, but she couldn't have told you exactly why. It was a face she recognised, a face she knew but couldn't quite place; the man's haunted gaze resonated within her mind but she couldn't really comprehend why. She had no recognition of him, no name to put to the (quite frankly scary) face; she just accepted it, and she grieved.
When she slept that night her mind teased her with outlandish visions of herself and a younger, fuller version of his face. In her dreams, they were happy; his face wasn't haunted with crippling grief, he was laughing and happy and passionate and sarcastic. She sat at the kitchen table and smiled at the memory, no. Not the memory. The dream. It was a dream, she told herself. You don't know that man, Marlene. He's a murderer. He's escaped from prison. He is dangerous.
This wasn't the first time that Marlene's mind had fashioned strange, outlandish dreams of magic and witchery, of war and a dangerous threat veiled by the foolish optimism of youth. Since she'd been found in the hospital twelve years ago they were a regular occurrence, she often dreamed of a time before her memory loss, dreamed that she'd had this magical, fictional life, full of friends and laughter and love. It was all a lie; a ruse that her cruel mind dredged up to torture herself when she slept and in the hours after.
There were no friends, nobody had come forward to 'claim' her, no family to be found; they had all vanished. There was a gap in the records of her life, from the age of 11 to 21 there was no trace of her, not until she'd been found on that blustery, wet day. She'd had pneumonia, was found lying in a ditch, with no memory of the past ten years and few from before that too. She could remember some details: her name and age, primary school friends, her mother's laugh, her sister's flare for art; but, when pressed about her secondary school, or what on god's green earth she'd been doing wandering around the Scottish moors in the middle of October, well she hadn't a clue.
She sat in the small break room and stared absently at the paper in front of her, the mad man (Black they called him) staring up at her, still and unnerving in his mental disarray. She supposed it was understandable that she would be frightened of him, he was a murderer on the run in England after all, but, if Marlene was honest with herself, the emotion she felt wasn't entirely identifiable as fear. Instead she felt something more akin to anticipation, she was restless, awaiting an upheaval she couldn't foresee; she knew she should be scared but she wasn't. Marlene McKinnon was excited, because for the first time in twelve years (twelve years of resigned acceptance to her permanent confusion), Marlene felt thrills of happiness.
"You alright, Marly dear?" asked her elderly co-worker Janet, shaking her out of her thoughts.
"Pardon?" she asked, quietly, looking up to Janet with a slightly glazed expression on her face. It wasn't out of character for Marlene to be easily lost and quiet so Janet wasn't too surprised by the girl's despondence. In the years she'd known her she'd come to accept and anticipate Marlene's moments of withdrawal, sometimes lasting for days. It was an aspect of her personality that Janet accommodated for with constant chatter, as if trying to pull Marlene back to her using her voice as a rope.
Janet smiled indulgently, "I said, are you alright, Marly dear?" she raised her voice as she spoke, to allow for her own poor hearing. "You were withdrawn again, I'd offer you a penny, love, but we'd be here all day!" It was then that Janet noticed the paper in front of Marlene, untouched and unopened, the gaunt face on the front made the woman widen her bright blue eyes in trepidation. "Ah, Black, worrying business, isn't it dear? Never mind, though, don't worry yourself over it, girl. He won't be coming 'round here. What's a man like that going to do in suburban Surrey, 'eh?"
"Sorry, Janet?" asked Marlene with a shake of her head. She hadn't been listening, the woman's voice was gentle and she often listened to the lilt of her voice rather than the gossip she often spouted.
"Black, dear! Black! Away with the fairies, aren't you? I said don't worry, dear. He won't be coming 'round here, mark my words."
"Oh, of course not, Janet; I wasn't worried. I was just thinking, the news, they're so vague, what did he do? What could he have done that was so bad that they're hunting for him like this?"
The earnest curiosity in Marlene's voice startled Janet, the younger girl was rarely particularly inquisitive, she often kept herself to herself, offering the older woman few pieces of information about her life or her thoughts and opinions. "He's a murderer, Marlene. That's all we need to know, don't be morbid, girl." Her voice was stern and hard and it alarmed Marlene (as was Janet's intention). Janet was rarely forceful with Marlene, letting her carry on at her own pace, rarely taking her to task, but Janet was scared now. Marlene's curiosity, her morbid interest in the savage murderer before them, no good would come from it, it needed to be stopped then and there.
"I didn't mean to offend you, Janet." Marlene told the woman sat opposite her, Janet's eyes were hard and forceful, she stared at Marlene and her gaze was deep and penetrating, as if she were trying to will all curiosity out of the girl.
Janet's face softened, but only marginally, "none taken, Marly; now, get back to work, girl."
Sirius Black sauntered through the streets of Little Whinging, well, he sauntered as much as a big black dog could. 'Act like you own the place', that was his motto, a residue of his parents' pureblood mentality, although he'd never acknowledge it. He'd expected to be euphoric having escaped Azkaban, he'd expected the clean air and the absence of dementors to be a liberation of his heavy heart and mind, but they'd alerted the bloody Muggle authorities and he was having to watch his back more so than ever.
It was only a dogged determination to save Harry and bring Peter to justice (well, Sirius' brand of justice) that kept him going, that pushed the blood through his arteries, he'd have given in much sooner if it wasn't for his purpose. He'd made a promise, when Harry was born he'd promised James to look after him, Sirius had already let James down in so many ways, he couldn't fail him again.
He fell onto his hind legs and lowered his head, overwhelmed with morose emotion, James. James and Lilly, he'd all but killed them himself, he'd betrayed everyone because of his stupid, idiotic, blind trust. He'd trusted Peter and Remus unconditionally, they were his brothers, his family, they'd never betray him or James, yet he'd suspected Remus. It never crossed his mind that it could have been Peter who'd been the turncoat, Peter had had it so good, he had friends, he had protection and he was loved! Did the esprit de corps of the marauders mean nothing to him?!
Sirius wouldn't allow it to happen again. He could see it unfolding, he could see Peter's plan, he knew how Peter thought, what he'd do next. He knew the danger that Harry and his friend were in, he knew what he needed to do. He knew it was time to commit the murder he'd been imprisoned for.
"Sirius? What are you doing? Where are we going?" asked Marlene, as she was through the ministry corridors. Sirius was pulling her along but not playfully like he was prone to, he was rough and forceful, a Black on a mission. Wizards and witches were staring, they watched as the couple rushed past, one determined the other confused; some of the people they passed thought to stop them, but none intervened. These were dark times; Voldemort was running around England spreading madness and disarray, very few would have given a tissue to a crying child lest they unintentionally brought down the wrath of the Death Eaters upon themselves.
"Shut up, Marly. For once, just shut up and do as you're told. Follow me, don't ask questions, keep it shut, yeah?" Marlene knew this Sirius, there was darkness in his voice, yes, but it was borne from protectiveness not aggression. Whatever he was up to, she knew, he had her best interests at heart. Past experience had taught her to go along with his moments, his moods, until he decided it was time to enlighten her, then she could argue or go along with whatever hair brained scheme he'd come up with now. Marlene McKinnon would be the first to admit that theirs was not the healthiest of relationships.
They reached the Atrium and Sirius nearly sprinted across the busy hall, she tried to match his pace but he moved as fast as he could and his strides were long. He made no effort to be covert as he led her past the Fountain of Magical Brethren and through the crowds that convened around it; all his efforts seemed to be focused on reaching the row of fireplaces and the exit as swiftly as possible.
Marlene rolled her shoulder as he finally stopped, Sirius was gentle now as he guided her into the fireplace next to him; the contrast in character didn't surprise her. It was typical of Sirius, his mood was erratic but it was a trait she accepted and loved; yes, Sirius had his moments where he was entirely frighteningly unpredictable but they coupled with moments of sweet tenderness that were heart wrenching and a balm to his brasher moods.
He pulled her flush against him, wrapping an arm around her waist tightly and held her close; "hi," he said, she scoffed at the simplicity of it.
"Where are we going, Sirius?" she asked, frankness in her voice, now his mood had settled she knew she could begin to break through to his thoughts and reasoning and her shoulder hurt enough that she was in no mood to be too accommodating.
He smiled, that cocky smile of his younger years, the smile that had made her swoon and fall for him so gracelessly at Hogwarts, it seemed like so long since she'd seen him smile such that she was taken aback. "Hogwarts!" he yelled, for the Floo's benefit and not her own, and he held her tight as they travelled.
Marlene woke up, the night was hot but the sweat covering her body wasn't solely from the heat of the night. Her heart raced as she sat up and reached to the bedside for the glass of water she always left out, she'd dreamt of him again. She was certain that she recognised the man now as being a younger imitation of Sirius Black, the callous murderer that had frequented the front pages of the tabloids for the past weeks.
She didn't know what it meant to dream of him, she thought she should be scared, that she should speak to someone. She'd nearly breached the subject with Janet but something about the way she'd spoken had dissuaded her; Janet wasn't her usual confidant, Marlene didn't really have one. She avoided too much interaction, lest she had to acknowledge the gaps in her memory. Her teenage years were completely gone, she'd long accepted that they weren't coming back to her any time soon; whatever had happened must have been so terrible she'd erased years and years from her mind. Certainly nothing good could have resulted in her being found in the middle of Scotland, a place she'd never visited in her life, the same day the remains of her family were found in Surrey.
Marlene didn't ask questions about her past and, to avoid questions from others, she chose not to socialise either. Her memory wasn't that good, she would forget things often, Janet called it being 'away with the fairies' but it was more than that, she'd forget whole conversations and days and months. Sometimes her mind was just blank.
So, when she started dreaming of a notorious murderer, who could Marlene turn to? Once again there was nobody, but this wasn't new and she'd grown to accept it. She put the water back on the bedside table and lowered herself to her pillow once again, if Sirius Black wanted to haunt her dreams with memories of times that never happened, she'd let him. She seemed happy in the dreams, at least. She felt content when she woke from most of them, so what harm could they do? Marlene closed her eyes once more and let herself dream.
Author's note: I didn't intend to start this, it just wouldn't get out of my head. It started as a one shot but I knew I wouldn't fulfil the story in my head if I contained it to a few thousand words, I'm aiming to keep it under ten chapters, I don't want this to be an epic. I just had this story in my head and I wanted to tell it. Feedback is always appreciated; if I'm being too English with my phrases let me know, I keep thinking I need to put in a glossary.