Yay, I finally finished the second chapter! This one's for a different marauder than the first, and it has a different kind of spin to it. And I don't own any Harry Potter names or terms or anything mentioned in this story.
He's gone. He was the only one who gave me a chance, and now he's gone.
I never thought it would be him. Never. It had always been someone else in my mind. I had never thought of him in that way. Not until I got to know him, that is.
We had met during our seventh year at Hogwarts. He had always been strutting around the castle with his three best friends. He was never without them. The day I met him, I was standing with my back glued to the wall, watching three of the four Marauders' progress down the hall, hoping that one of them would finally notice me. Then, to my horror, I dropped my ink bottle.
Black ink splashed everywhere. All over me, the wall, the elegant purple carpet, and him. I winced, waiting to hear him snap at me, ask why I had to be so clumsy.
The exact opposite happened. He came over to me, digging into his robes and pulling out a handkerchief. He extended his hand, and I took the beautiful piece of white cloth from him. He smiled a timid smile and pointed to my shoes. I crouched down, beginning to scrub my shoes feverishly. Noticing that his shoes were also ink-covered, I began to clean them as well.
As soon as I did that, I felt stupid. I was polishing a boy's shoes. Lame.
Feeling me cleaning his shoes, he crouched down, and took my hand, stopping me. He smiled again, telling me not to worry and that he could easily clean his shoes later. I smiled, tucking a lock of my brown hair behind my ear, something I did when I was nervous. Our eyes met, and I could feel myself falling into the pools of color, his pupil widening as he crept a little closer.
Then, seeming to think what he was doing was stupid, he straightened up, blushing as his three friends shot him strange looks.
I knew why they were shooting him strange looks. I was in Slytherin.
'I'm not like the others,' I thought bitterly as the three other Marauders shot me cold looks.
It was true. I was not like the other Slytherins. I was kind, had no interest in the Dark Arts, and would never dream of killing anyone. I still wonder to this day why I had been put in Slytherin.
I never expected to talk to him again. I expected his friends to put ideas into his head that I was an evil, twisted witch who would kill him as soon as look at him.
To my surprise, and slight glee, almost the exact opposite happened.
He sought me out the next day.
I had just begun my breakfast in the Great Hall when I had felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and my eyes met the ones I had been captivated by the day before.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, stepping a bit to the side, indicating the seat next to mine.
"Not at all," I said, smiling.
"Thanks," He took the seat, and immediately pulled a plate of toast in front of him.
"But why?" I asked, feeling my cheeks burn as his eyes focused on me again. Why was I blushing? Sure, he was one of the four most popular boys in the entire school, and a Gryffindor no less, but why on earth was I blushing?
"Why am I sitting with you?" His eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Because after yesterday, I don't know, I just thought I ought to get to know you better."
"But didn't your friends…" I trailed away as he chuckled.
"Yeah, they did," He said truthfully. "They said that you'd hex me as soon as look at me, but I just wanted to give you a chance."
Our breakfast meetings became morning rituals. I learned to ignore the stares the Slytherins and Gryffindors, the other three Marauders in particular, gave us. People whispered behind my back about how I had accidentally slipped a love potion in his drink, but I paid them no attention. I never even responded.
And now he's gone.
Our destinies took rather nasty turns after Hogwarts, but we were happy. We had to meet in secret as our superiors would have our heads if they knew about us.
But we kept at it. We kept meeting in different places each time, putting jinxes on our letters so only the intended could read them, but nothing turned him away from me.
We were married in secret, but even after that we could not have a proper husband and wife relationship. He had to dash off right after the ceremony on business for his boss. Both of us, to this day, remain virgins, never having the time to have what some refer to as, 'a wedding night.'
Then tragedy struck. His best friend was murdered by the Dark Lord.
He was heartbroken. It hurt so badly to look at his face when he found out. That was a rare occasion where another had seen us together.
He had run off as soon as he heard the news. He went to Godric's Hollow, to see for himself if it had really happened. I had begged him not to go, for it could only lead to disaster, but he insisted. I tried to convince him to allow me to come along as well, but he would not allow it.
"I don't want you to see it, my dear," He had said as he took me into his trembling arms and held me close.
"You don't have to go," I said as tears of fear and grief streamed down my face. "There will be a funeral where you can see them; don't go dashing off to their house at this hour."
"I must," He had said. He kissed me lightly before uttering a soft, "I love you, dear."
"I love you too," I called after him as he raced off into the distance.
I watched him Disapparate, and was immediately filled with remorse for not insisting on going with him. He loved his friends to death; he would surely break down seeing them like that.
I could save him from his grief. Now was no time to worry about the secrecy of our relationship. Our superiors could burn in Hades for all I cared. I was going with him.
I Disapparated to the street next to Godric's Hollow, not wanting to alarm the Muggles that had surely congregated around the house of the murders. I set off at a brisk pace to the end of the street, where I knew Godric's Hollow began.
I had reached the end of the street and had just begun walking down Godric's Hollow when I heard the explosion. My mind froze, and I stood still for a full ten seconds as I watched the street crumble.
Then, seeming to come to my senses, I ran. I turned back onto the street I had been on just seconds before and threw myself to the ground, my hands over my head. I kept my eyes open, and watched the intersection as Godric's Hollow crumbled.
A large rock flew over my head, and I buried my face in the ground, my eyes tightly shut, not wanting to see anything.
After a few seconds, all was still. I opened my eyes and stood up. The night was perfectly silent.
I cautiously looked around the corner to see Godric's Hollow. The entire street had been blown out. I put a hand to my mouth as I noticed a body lying in the center of the street, a muggle by the looks of him. He had not been as luck as I.
I peered through the night down to where I knew the killing had been. Through the darkness, I saw countless wizards Apparating and Disapparating, many falling to their knees as they appeared.
And through all this, I saw the one responsible. He stood there, laughing, as Aurors swarmed around him, grabbing hold of his arms and dragging him away from the house. My hand went to my heart when I saw him there.
He had been their best friend. They had trusted him. I had trusted him. And with one movement, he had taken away everything I had ever held dear in my life.
"What have you done?" I asked, feeling hate creep into my voice. I blinked tears out of my eyes, and then the awful truth hit me.
"He's gone," I whispered, and I collapsed to the ground, sobbing.