Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is property of JK Rowling. The title is taken from 'Happy Alone' by Kings of Leon. No infringement intended
All Wrapped Up In Being Nineteen
'Chuck us that lipstick you bought the other day, will you?' Lily calls to Marlene in the next room.
The clatter of plastic on wooden flooring answers her.
'Cheers!'
She stoops to pick up the small tube and then returns to the mirror, pouting slightly as she runs the pink stick over her lips. Once satisfied, she smacks her lips together loudly and slips her feet into a mismatched pair of shoes. She totters out of the bedroom and into the small living room. Marlene is sat on the floor surrounded by a week's worth of Daily Prophets, a red pen clamped between her teeth and her fingers grasping a promising job listing.
'Which shoes?'
No response. Times are hard and jobs are scarce. You find a job you want, you pounce.
'Marlene. Which shoes?'
'Hmm? Oh, sorry.' Marlene drops the paper and looks appraisingly at Lily. 'The brogues,' she says at last.
'Yeah? Not heels then?'
'Never know when you'll need to run for your life, do you?'
Lily snorts. 'Too true. Brogues it is.'
She returns to the bedroom to sort out her handbag. 'Can I borrow your jacket, Marl? You know – the one with those big pockets? My wand won't fit in mine,' she asks as she contemplates the condoms on her bed.
'Sure, yeah.'
'Thanks.'
She goes into Marlene's room to collect the jacket and then, determined, returns to the condoms. Before she can change her mind, she stuffs them into her bag and tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
'Really? Condoms?' Marlene is watching her from the doorway.
'Jeez, Marl, spy much?'
'I wanted to see how you looked.'
Lily goes to the mirror and they both stare at her reflection.
Her face is gaunt and the shadows under her eyes still find a way to make it through her make-up. The cut on her neck is healing nicely but the bruise that peeks out of her shirt sleeve is yet to fade.
'You look beautiful. And you're right. Definitely take the condoms.'
'That's what I thought,' Lily spins round to face Marlene. 'You know, it just hit me today. What am I even doing? Why am I wasting all this time when my number's nearly up?'
Marlene shakes her head. 'If you start thinking like that, you stop fighting. And then your number is up. I was more thinking 'Go have a little fun with your boyfriend after the God-awful month you've just had'.'
Lily opens her mouth to respond but a sudden knock at the door startles them. In an instant, two wands are aimed carefully at the entrance to their flat.
'Who is it?' Marlene asks, her voice steady.
'James Potter.'
The girls look at each other, thinking quickly.
'Patronus?' Marlene whispers.
'Nah. Too obvious. Erm. Oh – what was the name of James Potter's first pet?' Lily's voice raises as she asks the question.
'Whistler. He was a budgie.'
Marlene looks at Lily. 'Well I don't know,' she says.
Lily approaches the door and opens it to let him in.
His eyes laugh as she comes into view. 'My first pet?'
'Well it was better than your patronus,' Lily retorts.
Marlene blows a raspberry at her.
'Come in a sec, get a drink. Just need to brush my teeth and then I'm good to go.'
James follows her in and makes his way into the kitchen.
'Want a drink, Marl?'
'Vodka and orange, please.'
He pours three healthy measures and mixes them with orange juice.
'Ta-dah!' He hands Marlene a glass and turns back to get the other two glasses.
Marlene waits until he's sat down on the threadbare sofa before she takes a sip.
'Wow. You're worth keeping around just for the drinks,' she smiles at him.
'Your good health,' he replies, sipping his own drink.
They sit in silence for a while. A clock ticks from one of the bedrooms and they can hear Lily's footsteps hit the floor as she dances in the bathroom.
At last Marlene thinks of something unconnected to the war.
'So Frank finally proposed to Alice.'
'Yeah? He took his own sweet time about it, didn't he? His mum's been spitting feathers ever since Alice moved in with him. She's been flooing my mum every bloody day. 'Does he not know what he's doing? How this must look to everyone! They'll think his parents raised him with no morals, no sense of what's acceptable. And what her parents must think of him.'' James squawks in an accurate impression of Augusta Longbottom's polished voice.
Marlene laughs, her eyes crinkling and her tummy creasing up and James joins in. Both laugh for longer than is necessary and end with a long sigh.
'A wedding will be nice, though,' Marlene says eventually. 'Bit of brightness in the gloom, you know.'
'Yeah.' James is silent, rubbing his hair. 'Until we reach the light at the end of the tunnel anyway.'
Lily reappears from the bathroom and James hands her the drink he made.
She settles herself comfortably into James' side and he kisses her forehead before raising his half empty glass.
'To the Longbottoms.'
Lily beams and she clinks glasses with Marlene. They drink deeply.
The next fifteen or so minutes are filled with inane chatter. Meaningless nuggets about former classmates are shared and quick updates on close friends are given.
When the clock dings half past the hour, James sets his glass on the rickety coffee table and stands up. He offers a hand to Lily and says, 'Well, we should be off.'
Lily nods and drains her glass.
'Be careful,' Marlene orders as the couple make their way to the front door. She can't help herself. She follows them, reaches out, catches Lily's sleeve.
Lily turns around, a question in her expression. Marlene hugs her tightly and then gives James an equally fierce hug.
'Night, Marl,' Lily says softly.
Once the door clicks shut and Marlene is certain that it's charmed as securely as possible, she gathers up the newspapers on the floor and retreats into her bedroom. She charms that door, too, then turns the radio up to drown out her traitorous thoughts.
Red pen in hand, she makes her way through listing after listing, all the while ignoring the various articles describing disappearances, murders and conspiracies.
She's not sure how it happened but suddenly she's slumped against a pillow of newspapers with red pen dashed all over her fingers and the bloody crimson of sunrise is staining her bedroom walls.
A shivering sound drags her eyes to the window. A patronus is materialising, its shape that of a ragged dog.
'Voldemort attacked central London. James and Lily involved. Get to St. Mungo's immediately.' Sirius' voice is shaken and hoarse.
Marlene gasps. Gasps. Gasps. Retches.
She grabs her wand from the bedside table and releases the wards around her room. In the next second she is gone, a crack sounding her exit.
On the kitchen windowsill, a tawny owl waits patiently with a coin bag tied to his leg and a copy of the Daily Prophet held firmly in his beak. The Dark Mark arrogantly claims the front page.