Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: Round 1

Team: Chudley Cannons

Position: Chaser 3

Prompt: The Explorer — Goal: freedom OR Fear: entrapment

Optional Prompts:

3. (word) glitter

8. (color) gold

9. (dialogue) "Go to sleep."

It starts the way it goes—hasty and passionate.

He grins as firewhiskey burns down his throat and shouts for another glass. She tosses her head back, swaying to the music. One moment they're on opposite sides of the room, exchanging hidden, coy glances, and the next, his hands grip her waist, her fingers twist into his hair—

And then they're kissing. The sound of Gryffindor's celebration booms in their ears—there's James, still in his Quidditch uniform, hoisted up on the shoulders of his team, shouting, "Go get her, mate!" There's Lily, shaking her head at her best friend but smiling because "Well, as long as Marley's happy."

Marlene's heart pounds against her chest, and she finally breaks away from Sirius. They look at each other, all that is good in life pulsing through their veins, and think, this is love.

It's the kind of love that glitters bright and gold. (But only for a while.)

As the radio blasts the latest song by Celestina Warbeck, they forget that it's easy to fall in love when you're young.

"Bloody hell," Sirius mutters under his breath, shoving Marlene to the ground just in time. A blast of green light whispers past his ear. Every breath he takes is full of dust, infiltrating its way into his lungs.

Beneath him, Marlene coughs. "Alright, pretty boy. Thanks for saving me, but you need to get up now," she says with a halfhearted laugh. She meets his heavy gaze, the corners of her chapped lips quirking up.

Sirius opens his mouth to respond but rolls off her quickly as another curse hurtles past their heads, sending off a quick "Protego!" He adjusts his grip on his wand and, shooting her a disgruntled look, turns to face a Death Eater. "Oy! Can't you—Stupefy!—see I'm trying—Incarcerous!—to have a moment with my lady?"

Marlene raises her eyebrows, watching her boyfriend snap the wand of the bound Death Eater. "My lady?" This is war—she knows that, of course, but she can't smother the small flutter in her heart.

"What? Do you disagree?" He turns to face her, arranging his face into such an obnoxious pout that Marlene can't help but burst out into laughter as she approaches him.

Sirius sweeps her into his arms, burying his face in her frizzy curls. "I want to make you my lady," he whispers, his hot breath brushing against her ear.

A soft chuckle escapes Marlene's lips. "Aren't I already?"

He stiffens and pulls away, leaving his hands at the small of her back. A frown flickers over his face before he draws in a breath and says, "Marry me."

Marlene blinks.

"I'm serious—"

"Well, yes, I know you're Sirius—"

His eyebrows crinkle. "Marlene. Marry me."

Her eyes dart around, skimming over the rubble surrounding them, the bodies piled up on the sides of the street, the blood drying in streaks on Sirius's forehead. "Sirius, I hardly think this is the moment—"

"And I hardly care." He presses his forehead against hers, his grey eyes boring into hers, his words coming out in a jumbled flow of whispers. "There's—there's a minister in Diagon Alley. I can pop into Gringotts for a minute and grab rings. And—and we can get James and Lily, and Remus, and Mary, and—I don't know, whoever you want."

"Sirius—"

"I don't want to regret anything, Marlene. I just want—I just want to know that you're mine, and I'm yours, and that there's always going to be someone to come back to, and—and—let's get married Marlene. I love you. I—"

"Okay."

"I'll always love you. I promise it will be worth—what did you say?" His eyebrows furrow.

Marlene draws in a shaky breath and exhales. "Let's get married."

That evening, as the setting sun washes the streets in blushing pink, they get married. He's tugging down the hem of his old black dress robes, she's pulling up the sleeve of a dress charmed to be white. There's still a little crusted blood threaded into his eyebrows, her face is devoid of the makeup she had imagined, but it all feels right as they whisper, "I do."

It all feels right as they slip on gold rings Sirius retrieved from the depths of his Gringotts vault. It all feels right as they kiss and break apart as Mr. and Mrs. Black. It all feels right as their friends clap and cheer, James whistling, Lily wiping away a tear.

They look at each other, all that is good in life pulsing through their veins, and think, this is love.

It's the kind of love that survives the bombs, the kind that glitters bright and gold. (But only for a while.)

As a siren rings, signaling another attack, as they hurry to grab their wands, they forget that it's easy to fall in love during a war.

Sirius wakes up almost on instinct, squinting against the glare of the morning sun. He glances at the clock and blinks. There's no way… He rubs his eyes and looks again. Somehow, it's ten in the morning, and he's been sleeping the whole time. No alarms blaring in his ears, no groggily reaching for his wand, no pulling on a shirt in the dark…

"Marlene!" he calls, his voice raspy. He frees himself from the twisted sheets and begins to comb through his hair with his fingers, working out the knots. His ring gets caught in a curl, so he slips it off and sets it on the dresser. The sun bathes it in the morning light, revealing the small scratches in the gold.

"Good morning," Marlene says as she enters the bedroom, leaning down to press a kiss against the stubble on his cheek.

"No attacks, huh?" He chuckles, brushing his thumb over her cheek before pulling her in for a kiss.

"For now," she whispers when they break apart. She sits down next to him, and a small frown tugs at her lips, her eyes resting on Sirius's ring. "Your ring is scratched."

Sirius follows her gaze. "Probably from a duel. I'll polish it today."

Marlene simply nods. Silence hangs in the air, covering them like a too-heavy blanket.

The day carries on quietly. They spend the morning in bed together, the afternoon playing Gobstones, having fun. Marlene finally has the time to cook the proper meal she's wanted since moving in. They eat out of white china plates—Marlene had to wash them several times to get all the dust off—sitting at the dining table they've barely used. Sirius even retrieves a bottle of wine from somewhere in their pantry and pours it into the glasses at the back of their cabinets.

It's a normal day—well, normal for anyone who isn't them. Each moment is interrupted with anxious glances at the clock, checking to make sure they have their wands, waiting for a Patronus to bound into the apartment.

It's a stark difference from the nights they've spent sitting cross-legged on their bed, shoveling food into their mouths from plastic take-out containers, chugging down bottles of firewhiskey that inevitably slosh onto the sheets.

"So…" Marlene says, pushing around her steak with her fork. Her fingers twitch and play with the hem of her shirt.

"So," Sirius repeats. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

Marlene purses her lips, searching for anything to say to chase away the quiet that's been trailing them through the day. "We have napkins." She holds one out.

"Er… right." Sirius takes it and spends an excessively long time tidying himself. The rest of dinner is filled with only the clink of forks and the shuffling of chairs. They've run out of ways to have fun, and Marlene wonders what it means if the quiet moments feel awkward—what it means if they feel trapped together.

Once all the dishes have been washed—Marlene does it the Muggle way, taking her time to scrub each plate, and Sirius simply stands beside her, focusing intently on wiping the water off each dish with a brand new dishcloth—they head to bed. Wrapped up in the sheets, Sirius plants a kiss on Marlene's neck, his hand sliding around her waist.

Marlene shifts, pushing his hand away. "I'm tired."

Sirius moves away with a small sigh. "Okay." He lays on his back, eyes wide and tracing the pattern on the ceiling. He chews on his lip before sitting up. "I think I'm going to visit James."

"Okay," she whispers.

He leaves the room silently, closing the door behind him with a soft creak, and Marlene screws her eyes shut, trying to fall asleep.

When he returns hours later, his weight settling into the bed, she murmurs, "How's James?"

"He's—he's good," Sirius says, choking on his words. The musty reek of alcohol floods Marlene's nose, along with the cloying scent of jasmine perfume.

She stiffens.

And she knows he knows that she's noticed; she knows that he felt her freeze, heard her breath stop; she knows he knows when he whispers, "Marlene—"

"Go to sleep." She rolls over, her back facing him, and waits until she's sure he's asleep. Then she clamps her hand over her mouth and lets her tears soak the pillow.

The next day, he wakes her with a bouquet of flowers before they're swept into a raid. He kisses her every moment he can. It feels like each kiss is a promise that he's sorry, that he loves her, and Marlene lets herself release the anger coiled in her chest, lets herself be convinced that it was a one-time fling.

Just a mistake is the mantra they both repeat as they lay in bed together, nestled in the warm cocoon of each other's arms. Marlene's gaze drifts and stops. The ring's still on the dresser, the gold unpolished and slightly dull. Tomorrow, she tells herself.

They look at each other and think, this is love. (Maybe.)

It's the kind of love that survives the secrets, the kind that glitters bright and gold. (But only for a little while).

As they fall asleep, they forget that it's easy to make promises.

Sirius fumbles with the key, barely managing to open the door. He stumbles inside, tosses the key onto the table, and sinks into worn leather of the couch. His head throbs—"You here alone, handsome?"—and he cradles his face in his hands— "It appears that I am. Can I buy you a drink?" He hears the bedroom door open and Marlene's soft, steady steps approaching.

"Where were you?" she asks, her voice trembling.

"At—at the club," he mumbles.

She leans closer and grimaces at the stench of alcohol clouding his breath. She starts to move away until she sees it.

Dark crimson lipstick—Marlene's never worn that color; she prefers pale pinks—speckles the pale hollow of his throat illuminated by the moonlight.

And she's freezing, she's barely breathing, she's clenching her fists, she's remembering how Emmeline Vance held Sirius's hand a second more than necessary when Apparating with him, she's remembering how Sirius has forgotten to put on his wedding ring for the past month, she's feeling the fury uncoiling within her—and then a cold calm settles over her as she wonders, am I surprised?

"Marlene—"

"Go to sleep."

As he lays on the couch and as she returns to bed alone—it's not the last night they'll spend this way—they wonder when they started thinking, this isn't love.

They wonder when they stopped feeling free and started feeling trapped in this marriage.

They had the kind of love that glittered bright and gold. (But only for a while.)

And they start to realize that it's easy to fall in love when you're young and in a war, but it's hard to stay in love.