September 11th, 1976: Marlene McKinnon

She leaves to meet him in the kitchens for a six o'clock breakfast, only after the first quarter-hour of waiting she knows he's probably forgotten, and she's halfway through helping herself by the time he gets around to showing up.

It doesn't take much to push down the building disappointment and act upon the sudden swell of happy surprise. Even though she knows Alice is right about him, she can't help thinking he's the best she'll ever do, or that his less-than-best is barely, just barely, good enough.

Sirius Black is anything but ordinary, she decides (again) as he casually clasps her hand under the table and flashes a trademark Gryffindor smile, overriding her attempts at conversation. She can only imagine the kind of man he might have been—she likes to think that he's done the best he can, because then at least he has some sort of moral compass, even if she doesn't apply.

He won't talk about it when she asks between forkfuls of eggs, but Maggie's told her enough that most of her questions have already been answered. Still, she'd prefer to hear from him about the night his parents found his motorbike and his brother talked with some Death Eaters, because then at least she'd know that he wanted her to hear it.

So she grits her teeth and reminds herself that this is what she's always wanted, that Black isn't simple, and she sucks it up and tries not to remember that he only agreed to this for the quick broom closet shag she allows him after.

There's so much more she gives than she'll ever get with him.

As usual, he straightens his robes and leaves without a word, and she pushes back the urge to nick a Firewhiskey from his stash because god, McKinnon, it's only seven in the bloody morning and she has an internship to get to in two hours, pull yourself together, woman, he's only a boy.

(Only he's every time she's ever felt alive, and he's everything wrong when she looks in the mirror…)

(Later that day at Auror training, she makes it through combat testing with flying colors but is thrown out of the program after her character assessment. She's not surprised.)

xx

The next half-week passes fairly uneventfully. Jay is back to following Lily around like a lost puppy, though with more determination, humor, and occasional sexual innuendo than a dog could ever convey, and she's actually letting him—almost like she did last summer, but there's always that same sad color in her eyes now. And then there are the rumors—do people ever tire of them? Thanks to Marlene's common room row with Black, the entire castle knows about more than she would like: Maggie starting the rumors, both of them leaving home, the shagging. At least word hasn't gotten out that they've been doing it since fourth year; in the wizarding world, that would be the kind of scandal that Marlene doesn't have the patience to put up with (it's bad enough that they're only sixteen—younger than the legal age).

Then, of course, there's the fact that she didn't pass Auror testing, always a fun thing to hear discussed throughout the corridors.

Alice has been trying to act normal since her outburst, refusing to explain herself whenever Marlene brings it up, and Mary, surprisingly, is hanging around the Gryffindors a lot more than the Hufflepuffs—Marlene reckons Veronica Smethley's finally gone too far. In exchange for Mary's company, though, Em's started spending most of her time with Maggie. Marlene doesn't blame her for what Maggie did, but Lily, apparently, does. It must have been something she said—there's always something Em said.

The boys are just as close-knit as ever—so much so, in fact, that they won't give Black one moment to get away. Marlene reckons she's supposed to be grateful for that, but she's not.

Wednesday, though, breaks the routine they've fallen into. Herbology is a pain, of course—but instead of Catchlove and Smethley, Mary wants them to work with Alice and Cattermole, a nice change. Marlene can't say she's fond of Cattermole—he's a little, well, wimpy—but he's still much better than the likes of Smethley. And Alice, though something of an annoying goody-goody at times, is still a Gryffindor—almost like family, not that Marlene can say much for her real one.

Though they're at times distracted by the looks Jay and Pete intermittently give them from across the room (their partner, Benjy Fenwick, is clearly not amused), Alice keeps the four of them on task—and thank bloody god for that, since Marlene probably couldn't survive class without her. However, it's the end of class that catches her interest, a lot more than Cattermole's meek ramblings or staring at Mary—as they pack up to leave after the bell rings, Sprout holds Marlene back, specifically sending Mary and Alice on without her. "McKinnon," she says unceremoniously (is that a hint of pity in her voice?), "the Headmaster asked me to send you to his office after class. Password's 'Cauldron Cake.'"

Marlene is startled for a moment—he couldn't possibly have heard…? "But what—"

"Well, go on, then, don't keep Professor Dumbledore waiting," instructs Sprout, waving Marlene out of the greenhouse. "Go on!"

She shoves the curious Veronica Smethley out of her way as she catches up to Alice and Mary (Pete and Jay have gone on ahead to find the other two boys). "Dumbledore wants to see me," Marlene says in a low voice, fully aware that the Hufflepuff girls are trying to eavesdrop.

"Dumbledore?" repeats Mary, stricken. "But not about…"

"Maybe. I dunno," Marlene snaps, suddenly touchy. "I'd better go on my own; it must be personal, if Sprout didn't want anyone to know I'm going to see him. Don't wait for me, yeah? Could be a while."

Quickening her pace, Marlene leaves them behind as they reach the castle and directs a hasty "shove off" to Smethley—she doesn't have the patience to deal with her just now. She hardly feels herself rising the stairs to the second floor and approaching the stone gargoyle that guards Dumbledore's office: her attention is more concerned with the looks she attracts as she pushes her way through the corridors. Damned Black.

Thankfully, the hall outside the Headmaster's office is a safe haven—students, for obvious reasons, tend to avoid it. "Cauldron Cake," Marlene snarls, panting—the gargoyle lets her in, but not without grazing her shoulder as she brushes past it.

She hesitates before knocking—she can hear voices from outside the door. "—don't see why you think this is any different," says Dumbledore's guest—male, from the sounds of it. "Not even Slytherin respects her authority—how can you expect the rest of the school to?"

"Perhaps, Mr. Prewett, the problem lies not with Miss Meadowes's views but with the rest of the school's," answers, unmistakably, Dumbledore. "Your brother, I have heard, has gotten along quite well with her—I suggest you learn to do the same."

Gideon Prewett, then, apparently complaining about Dorcas Meadowes. No surprises there. "But Professor—"

Marlene chooses this moment to knock, loudly enough that they'll have to notice. There's a brief stretch of silence, then the sound of footsteps—Gideon flings the door open and leaves in a huff, leaving her alone with the Headmaster. "Good morning, Miss McKinnon," he greets her, indicating a squashy armchair opposite his desk that Gideon must have been sitting in. "Please, take a seat."

She remembers her anxiety and takes slow steps across the office. "Good morning, sir," Marlene replies, cringing inside at the hard note in her voice. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes," says Dumbledore with a small sigh. "I don't mean to pry, Miss McKinnon, but please, tell me—what reasons did your Healer cite for rejecting you from the Auror training program after your character assessment?"

Deflating a little—Marlene should have known it wouldn't be about Black—she says sullenly, "She said I'm too rash to make effective decisions, and my distrust of my peers and condescension of my presumed inferiors hinders my ability to cooperate for a common goal."

He just smiles again, and she adds in a muttered rush, "And I lack the confidence and self-esteem necessary to be a proper leader."

Dumbledore's smile, at least, falters at this. "Though many a rumor has reached the staff room about your personal affairs," he admits (to her surprise), "I will not ask you to change yourself or your doings for the good of the Ministry. What was it about the Auror program that allured you?"

"The war," Marlene says immediately—she doesn't need to think this one out. "I want to fight. My best friend's a Muggle-born—"

"Miss Macdonald, I presume?" She nods but don't trust herself to speak. He heaves another sigh and leans in from across the desk. "Miss McKinnon, I have not brought this to your attention until today because I believe that students here at Hogwarts should not be exposed to the battlefronts of war, but given what would have been expected of you in your internship, I feel that this conversation is not much of a stretch. Aurors are not the only wizards equipped and ready to defend their beliefs, and to that end, I have spent the past few months constructing a small group of friends and colleagues to aid the war effort against Lord Voldemort. Now, you must understand that you would not be allowed to join until after your graduation from Hogwarts—"

There's a flash of recognition at his words. A small group of friends and colleagues to aid the war effort… Doc's organization. "I'll do it," Marlene says simply. "I want to start now."

Dumbledore clasps his hands together and pulls back. "I'd like to give you the next two years to consider my offer and know that your skill can still be put to use. Until you receive your diploma, though, I'm afraid my offer is inactive."

He rises—Marlene's bursting to say more, but he's made it clear that the discussion is over. "If you could not mention this conversation to anyone…"

"Right," she complies, nodding and turning to go. "Right, of course."

True to her word, she doesn't mention it to anyone, not even Alice or Mary—not even Lily, whom she's already told about Doc's… extracurricular activities. But the secret eats at her all day, to the point that Pete—Pete!—pulls her aside after dinner, locking the pair together in an empty classroom outside the Great Hall.

"I don't know what the girls think," he starts anxiously, "but even though Sirius tries to ignore you, and James thinks it's a good idea to let him, and Remus doesn't want to muck around in anyone's love life—something's been off with you all day. I can tell."

Marlene pushes past him and crosses the room, her hand leaping into her pocket to grip her wand. "Thanks for the concern, Pete, but I'm fine—well, no less fine today than any other day this week."

"You've been a bit grouchy but otherwise normal. Today—you're jumpy. Rattled, almost," Pete argues—perceptive little blighter, that boy is.

"I'm not rattled," she says smoothly.

Pete is unconvinced. "Sirius didn't do anything stupid, did he?"

Sighing wearily, Marlene resigns herself to tell him the truth—at least enough of it that he'll let go of his suspicions about Black. "Look, Pete, it's nothing really—just—Dumbledore called me down to his office today to talk about the Ministry thing."

"The Ministry—oh. That," mumbles Pete, eyeing the ground. "That must have been…"

"Yeah. It wasn't a big deal, it just—threw me a little," she says vaguely, moving back toward the door. "Don't worry about me, all right?" He nods his compliance, but something about the way he looks at her gives her a moment longer of pause. "Pete—thanks for noticing."

He shrugs and escorts her out, closing the door behind them with a snap. "Anytime."

By the following morning, she's relaxed enough that Pete doesn't give her any suspicious looks over the breakfast table, and it's not with anxiety but with interest that she joins the other Gryffindors in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Black looks almost nervous at the sight of his cousin as she sweeps into the classroom, but Marlene doesn't bother trying to calm him—he'd just tell her off for it, anyway.

Tonks heads straightaway to her desk, rummaging through papers. "The past two classes have been enlightening for me," she begins, pulling out a thick stack of files and starting to pass out their contents, "and I thank you for your patience and effort during the review. I have here your corrected written examinations and commentary on your ability and technique from last fortnight's duel. For those of you who earned Outstanding O.W.L.s, I ask you only to continue to progress above and beyond and consider my advice guidance, not corrective action. For a few of you who did not—" Marlene notices her looking straight in Alice's eyes as she hands her a file "—based on what I've seen, the proctors may have gotten it wrong."

Marlene flips open her file upon receiving it and looks first to the red marks at the top of the page: Week 1—Outstanding; Week 2—Exceeds Expectations. Ah, well, she's never been one for essays. Before she can more than skim the comments, though, Tonks speaks again. "From what I've seen, there's a huge discrepancy between each of your skills—in a lot of cases, two people who earned the same mark know none of the other's expertise; in others, one student is far more experienced than another. Though structured lessons would be easier to teach, it seems only appropriate that we continue class in an independent fashion, so that everyone will be brought to the same level and caught-up students don't waste time on needless review.

"In the back of your file, you'll find a study schedule for this term, listing the spells, concepts, and theories I'd like you to master in the next few months. Review of past spells will be necessary in some cases, and you'll have to work at a faster pace than you'd like to finish the work in time—but to be fair, more advanced students will also be covering additional topics and forced to work at that same pace. By the end of term, you will all be practiced in the content of your O.W.L.s and have learned a shared core curriculum—some of you, though, will have continued into next term's work if you began more advanced. Textbook pages are referenced under each item to help you along, so be sure to consult your textbooks thoroughly before asking for my help—you will have to work for the answers before I provide them."

They're not all skilled at Defense, and Marlene can see some of her classmates' dismay—Pete certainly looks nervous, Mary incredulous, though Em barely bats an eye. Black is perhaps the most upset of all—though this has more to do with Tonks herself than her lesson plans. Jay seems far too excited about the whole thing, and Lily and Alice—she'll just say that the unsuccessfully hidden competition between them is tangible.

This should be fun.

"Partners are listed by the week in your schedules: since you'll all be learning different spells in different orders, I've paired you off so that at least two people are studying the same concept each week, and the odd one out will either study from the book or work with me for that week," says Tonks authoritatively, clapping her hands. "You'd best get started now—you'll need the time. To that end, please wait until after class to read your comments in full; until then, consult my notes on the magic you'll be studying today."

Marlene flips to the back of her file and consults Week 3: she's been assigned to work with Lily. Her eyes briefly meet Black's, then flick hastily to Lily's—relief sets in, but not before she feels the telltale disappointment.

It feels good to work with Lily: Marlene hasn't had proper one-on-one time with her since they lived together last summer, apart from ten minutes at the start of one Potions class before Slughorn split them up. They're just reading today, so Marlene casts a quick Muffliato and takes her chance to talk to her privately. "How've you been holding up?" she asks, flipping open her textbook.

Lily puts a hand to her temple and closes her eyes, resting her elbow on the desk. "I'm all right," she says finally, starting to read. "Starting school was rough—all those rumors… but it's sunken in, all of it. My parents—" she swallows thickly "—I miss them, but they'd want me to move on with my life."

"You're making a brilliant effort," Marlene encourages her, smiling a little. "People have been all right to you? Apart from Maggie and the Hufflepuffs, the prats…"

Laughing, Lily reads another paragraph or two before answering—always on task, that one. "It's not just the Hufflepuffs—Pol Patil's a Ravenclaw, you know. And some of the Hufflepuffs are decent; Elisabeth Clearwater and Benjy Fenwick are all right, and your own brother—"

"I maintain that they're all prats," Marlene says airily, turning a page but not really reading. "As are the Slytherins, and some of the Ravenclaws—everyone but us, really."

"And you wonder why people don't like you," Lily mutters, grinning at Marlene.

She rolls her eyes but don't complain. "You've been hanging around Jay a lot lately—any particular reason for that?"

Lily shrugs, tucking her hair behind her ears. "He made me talk to him—we were in his dormitory for, er, a Transfiguration essay—and I just figured, what's the use in ignoring him? It won't change what he knows, or what he did."

Marlene knows a secret when she sees one. "What did he do again?" she says carefully, training her eyes to her book.

"He…" Lily trails off, shaking her head, and resumes reading.

"Lily," Marlene say quietly, even though there's no need because of Muffliato, "we're lucky that Maggie didn't tell everything—about which Auror we stayed with, about Doc being my father and not my uncle—if it weren't for what little sense of empathy she has, everyone in this school would know that you went missing for three days before you came to Doc's flat. I saw the way you were looking at him when he showed up at the funeral, and I know he was staying at your parents' place when—it happened, so just… talk to me about it. What happened between you and Jay in the three days before you came over to Doc's?"

It's a full two minutes before Lily answers—Marlene was starting to think that she wouldn't, so it catches her off guard. "Tuney kicked us out," she finally says, her voice eerily steady. "I didn't want to face Doc and the Aurors yet, so Potter took me to his place—his parents and Black would have found out anyway, with the wedding cancelled, so I didn't mind them knowing—and I stayed in his room and wouldn't come out. He brought me meals; he brought over my things from the house and worked out funeral arrangements with Tuney… I wouldn't let him leave the room at night, so we shared a bed. He made me leave after three days of it because I…" Lily trails off for a moment, shaking her head from side to side "well, his mum found out about the bed sharing and got the wrong idea. She thought Potter was going to take advantage of me and that it would be healthier for me to stay with someone like you."

"Was that the wrong idea?" Marlene can't help asking.

Lily colors even further but still scowls. "Don't be ridiculous, Marlene; I had more dignity than that, even then. Oh, no, I didn't mean—" she adds, glancing at Marlene.

Marlene turns a little pink herself but wave it off. "Different situations. Don't worry about it." She gives Lily a second to collect herself before asking, "Does he know about the will?"

"Potter?" She leaves it hanging, and Marlene know how she's going to answer. "No."

Defense Against the Dark Arts entirely forgotten, Marlene rests her elbows on her copy of Confronting the Faceless and buries her face in her hands.

Black brushes past her on his way out the door after class and says in her ear, "Fifteen minutes, ground floor closet." Like a puppet on a string, Marlene nods and meets him there.

Maggie finds Marlene by chance, after, and collects her—the whole ordeal feels more clinical than sisterly. She Vanishes the broken bottles and heaves Marlene onto her shoulder and helps her into the Ravenclaw common room, then into her empty dormitory. "This one's my bed," she directs, not that Marlene needs her to tell her after so many times, and she curls up on the mattress and cries into the pillow and wishes that she were back home with her cot and crowded bedroom, squeezing herself into an eight-person, four-bedroom ranch, not living in a castle with luxury bedding and spending holidays on the couch in her secret father's bachelor pad and sneaking off to Helene's Manor and its silk sheets…

"I said what I said," professes Maggie through Marlene's drunken haze, "because I'm sick of the secrecy. Mum may act like you're second-rate, but you're not, and someone needs to show you why you're not—that's not going to happen if you keep acting like everyone's fine at home. You're not, Doc's not, Lily's not—"

"You should have left Lily out of this," Marlene sniffs—apart from the staggering and tears, she's holding her Firewhiskey well. "If you want to destroy me, that's one thing."

Maggie retorts, flaring up, "I don't want to destroy you. But you needed a wake-up call, both of you did—now just you, I bet." Marlene tries to argue, but Maggie cuts her off: "Be honest, Marlene; how many times have you slept with Black since school started?"

"One… two… three…" she tallies, counting blurrily on her fingers, "four… five… Five. Maybe—maybe six? Five or six."

"That's five or six too many times," Maggie informs her frankly, scooting in a little closer (Marlene doesn't notice until now that Maggie's sitting at the foot of the bed). "Are you trying to get pregnant or something?"

Marlene rolls her eyes—it's exaggerated from the liquor. "There's spells to prevent—"

"Save it. I don't want to know," interrupts Maggie, holding up a hand in a clear message to stop. "My sister is—"

"Half-sister," Marlene reminds her drowsily—the room starts spinning; the alcohol is sinking in.

"My half-sister is better than this, so you'd better start acting like it," she says strictly, leaning in close.

Marlene smiles and limply grabs her hand. "You're bossy," she says lucidly, just before she nods off to sleep.

The next thing she knows, someone's taken her back to Gryffindor Tower, and she has a massive headache and an empty stomach, which is a blessing in that she doesn't have to worry about possible effects of her nausea. She moans and sit up—she's haphazardly strewn beneath one thin sheet, the others stripped down and fallen around the bed.

"Welcome back," comes a serene voice—Em's. "Lie down. Margaret brought you to me," she explains when Marlene start to ask.

Oh, Maggie—she always means well but has funny ways of showing it. "Did I miss lunch?"

"Yes." It's clean and direct, no-nonsense—not much empathy, either, much like Em herself. "Mary is getting something from the kitchens for you."

"I'm not hungry." Marlene's stomach chooses this moment to roar indignantly. "At least, I don't think I can hold anything down."

"You're within your rights to wait before eating," Em informs her. She's perusing Unfogging the Future again—her love of (and talent at) Divination is more than a little unnerving.

Marlene says, as coolly as she can while feeling this ill, "I'll wait, then."

The waiting is longer than she thought—by the time Mary comes up with a plate of lunch, Marlene's more than ready to scarf it down, nausea forgotten. "Thanks, Mare," she says, gulping down water.

"No problem," Mary replies, shrugging. "How do you feel?"

"Bad," Marlene mumbles through a mouthful of salad. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh, erm… Alice is, like, waiting for Cresswell to get out of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Lily's with James," says Mary, handing me a napkin.

Marlene nods, then furrows her brows as she glances around the background: "Where'd Em go?"

She's nowhere to be found—Mary seems just as surprised as Marlene is. "Yeah, well, Em's always a little, like, out there," she dismisses, closing the hangings around Marlene's bed and brushing a bit of hair from her forehead. "It's weird, isn't it? We include Em in things she doesn't even care about, but like, Lily was always the one we didn't like—"

"I always liked Lily," Marlene says stoutly—thanks to something Mary must have slipped into the salad dressing, her headache is fast dissipating. "It's Snape that was the problem, and Lily was never seen without him—"

"We saw her without him," murmurs Mary, shaking her head; her straggly hair whips at her face with the movement. "In classes, in the dorm. I know you, like, think she's your best mate now—"

Marlene spews (potentially spiked) salad back out onto the plate. "We went through shit together last summer, that's all! Even before that, I was mates with her—I invited her to stay the summer with me, didn't I?"

"You told me the night after you asked her that it was, like—it was only out of pity," she reminds me, not meeting my eyes. "That day at the café, at Alice's house—you weren't very interested in her then."

"So you're jealous, then?" Marlene accuses, her voice rising.

"That's not even the half of it, Lene," says Mary—as unnervingly quiet as before. "Yeah, it was a shock when you came back to Hogwarts attached at the hip to a girl you never even liked, but like, you won't even admit that you used to be anything but best mates. That's selective memory for you."

"So what are you saying?" Marlene demands, lunch forgotten.

Mary looks melancholy enough to make her nervous. "I'm saying that if you were as close to Lily as you act, then, like, you'd at least be honest about what you used to think of her. God, Lene, does anyone at all mean enough to you for you to be honest with them? Do I?"

Something hot and shameful starts to bubble up in the pit of Marlene's stomach. "C'mon, Mare, you know it's not like that."

"Sure it's not," says Mary—she's gone starkly emotionless, rising from her perch on my bed. "And you think I'm more than just a shallow gossip to get your news from, and, like, you don't judge me by my mates in Hufflepuff, and you don't care that I dye my hair blonde or talk like I'm thick or…"

Marlene doesn't know what to say to this, so she scrutinizes her for a moment and chews tastelessly on some lettuce. "Your roots are getting a bit long," she says finally, for lack of anything better.

Mary twirls a lock of hair around her finger, her eyes hardening. "Let them get long," she decides, opening the hangings to leave. "Or would you feel better about yourself if I didn't?"