Sirius nursed a tumbler of whiskey, his free hand rested against his aching forehead. It had felt a long night – although he'd done close to nothing. His life consisted of sleeping, reading, and feeding Buck beak. He received visitors as often as any of the Order members could spare and spent most days in the home of his nightmarish youth alone.

He'd been sitting only a few minutes – occupying his father old armchair by the fire - when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to find a familiar face glancing down at him from the doorway of the living room.

"Sorry," Emmeline apologized. Her strawberry blonde hair was soaked, water dripping from the ends. Sirius craved the feeling of fresh rain against his skin. "I haven't got any food at my place and I know Molly always leaves things here…" her violet eyes dropped shamefully. "I didn't think you'd be up—"

"She has a leftover pot roast in the kitchen, just a few days old," Sirius told her. She nodded and turned away with a robotic precision. Sirius sat back in his chair and exhaled deeply. He knew why she'd really come – to check up on him for the sake of the others. Sirius couldn't pretend he didn't appreciate the company though.

He waited patiently until she reentered the room, a plate full of food in one hand and a tall glass of wine in the other. She settled in the chair across from him and ate in silence, Sirius finishing off his drink and filling himself another. He'd seen Emmeline only a handful of times since his return from Azkaban. Mostly she kept to herself – and avoided Remus and him like the plague. It seemed she had escaped her past, unlike many of them, and wanted nothing to do with it now.

"You can stay the night," Sirius spoke in order to break the heavy silence. "If you like." Emmeline fork and knife came to a clattering halt as she stared across at Sirius.

"Do you want me to?"

Sirius felt the blush rise up his neck embarrassedly, "I'm just saying—"

"I'll stay," Emmeline agreed. She rinsed her food down with a healthy gulp of wine. "I wouldn't mind the company."

"It's usually me saying that nowadays."

"Well, you haven't seen my life for the past fourteen years."

"I'm sure you were doing much better than me," Sirius joked. He worried at first it might rub her the wrong way but she smiled, the same charming grin he remembered from all those years ago.

"Can't argue with you there," Sirius remembered, from just that short glimpse, the carefree, happy, young woman Emmeline had once been. Before the war had torn them apart and robbed them of their youth before the ones they loved had been slaughtered on the battlefield. There had been a time – long ago – when they had been happy.

Sirius finished off his second glass and stood to grab another. "Pour me one," Emmeline suggested. "Gin if you've got any."

"Oh we've got some," Sirius assured her. He ran his eyes along the collection of bottles – leftovers from his parents' collection – before landing on the bottle of gin he knew had been his mother's. By the time he turned around to hand it to Emmeline her glass of wine was emptied and her plate clean. She took the alcohol between her hands gratefully and gulped back the drink with surprising ease.

"Here I was thinking I'd developed the alcohol problem," Sirius teased. Emmeline glared at him from above her half-finished glass of gin.

"I'm freezing," she told him, "and soaking wet."

"I'd offer you something to wear but," Sirius motioned around the home, "we have few women around here."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"It's the only charm I've managed to hold on to." It was that comment which made her pause. She stared at Sirius with unease, eyes flickering down. They finished off their drinks in silence after that, both too afraid to disrupt the peace. Sirius was the first to rise – a little unsteadily – and announce he was off to bed.

He ascending the stairs and tried hard to forget the nostalgic feelings that had stirred inside him during those brief moments. Suddenly he was not a roughly aged thirty-four-year-old man but a boy again; still arrogantly charming and full of life.

Sirius got ready for bed and curled beneath the covers – struggling not to think about those years from so long ago. He was given little time to ponder though before his bedroom door flung open and a body slithered beneath the covers with him. Her mouth was warm and tasted sweet from the wine she'd drank before.

It was the first time he'd been with someone in years. He hadn't expected it but he took her in his arms anyway, holding her close. She was warm and smelt like some kind of flower. Sirius felt like damaged goods beneath her now, as their bodies moved together.

When they had finished, Emmeline fell back on the pillow beside Sirius and he pulled open his bedside drawer to pull a cigarette from a pack within.

"Pass me one of those," Emmeline said, reaching out her hand.

"I didn't know you smoked?"

"Never did before." She placed the cigarette between her lips and let Sirius light it with the tip of his wand. "Nasty habit I picked up after the war. Helped with the nerves."

Sirius lay back and exhaled deeply. He watched the smoke twist and curl its way up and out into the room. He drummed his fingers along his bare chest, barely noticing the naked woman who lay beside him.

"Are you thinking about her?" The question caught him off guard. He looked at her – his face caught between shock and horror.

"Why would you ask that?"

"I'm sorry." Emmeline turned away, returning to her back. "I was just…remembering."

"Well I wasn't thinking about her," Sirius snapped defensively. "She's been dead for fourteen years there's nothing to think about anymore." He regretted the words the moment they'd left his mouth. They left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though his very words had betrayed Marlene.

"I wouldn't care if you were," she shrugged. Sirius doubted Emmeline cared about much anymore. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

"I'm not going to spend my life chasing a fucking ghost."

Emmeline smirked and turned her head towards him once more. "If my mother were here she'd warn you that lying is not very becoming."

"I don't want to talk about her."

"No," Emmeline understood, "I suppose not." She exhaled smoke, the room growing misty. "I worked with my father for a while, right after the war," Emmeline started to explain. "I'd help gather uniforms and broomsticks. I often went on runs for the players, making sure their loved ones got the right seats in the stands. One afternoon I was guiding the seeker's wife and father-in-law to their seats when I heard two young women talking. One was telling the other an awful story about an old Wizarding family wiped out by Voldemort. She spoke about them as though they were an old wives tale…" Sirius' stomach sank. "I'm certain no one speaks of them now. Not anyone who knew them at least."

"We're still here aren't we?"

"And we haven't even got the guts to say her name," Emmeline responded. She gave him a sharp look. Sirius cringed and turned away – too ashamed to face any more judgment. He'd uttered her name many times since her death. Mostly in his sleep – as he lay freezing on the floor of his cell. In his dreams, she would come to him and he would lay his head in her lap. She sang and ran her fingers through his hair until his crying ceased and his heart didn't feel quite so heavy. She never stayed though.

"Did you love her?" Emmeline asked.

"Did you love Prewett?" Sirius snapped right back. He expected to find her as uncomfortable with the question as he was but she gave him no such satisfaction.

"I'll love him till the day I die," she confessed. "I've loved him since we were seventeen years old. I loved him even when I knew things between us might never recover. For me, it was real."

"It was real for him too," Sirius assured her. "He was pissed as hell when he caught you and Jones together because he thought it meant you'd stopped loving him."

"And how do you know that?" Emmeline asked with one eyebrow raised.

"I've been in his shoes before."

"So you did then?" Emmeline pushed him. "Love her."

"What difference does it make? Either way, she dies."

"But first she lived." She had lived. She had been a bright light in a world of darkness and when that light had dimmed Sirius felt that everything had begun to crumble. He sat up, Emmeline watching him all the while, and rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

"I spent a lifetime thinking about her in my cell in Azkaban. I'll probably spend the rest of my life thinking of her still." He lifted his arm and let Emmeline curl up into him. She rested her head on his chest in silent contemplation, the way another young woman once had. Sirius twisted and turned the ends of her hair around his fingers and sighed.

"What was the point?" He finally asked. "After everything we've lost."

"Maybe there is none," Emmeline agreed. "But it was wonderful while it lasted wasn't it?"

Sirius could see it all. His old flat, her blonde hair left all over the place as a reminder of who he shared his bed with most nights. Late evenings in pubs with James, Remus and Peter, before their group had been poisoned. The rush of power and strength that came from each winning duel. The feeling of a woman in his arms every night. The joy.

"Yes," Sirius nodded, "it was."


Fall had rolled in with the influx of chilling wind and changing leaves. Lily enjoyed the changing weather of course, as it allowed her to wiggle Harry into all kinds of knitted sweaters and cosy trousers. She had insisted that since the family was confined to their tiny neighbourhood for the majority of their time they would dress the house up in Halloween decorations and hand out candy to the muggle children in the neighbourhood.

The night before Halloween James went out shopping and returned home with a bag full of candy and a pumpkin for them to carve – Harry's first big holiday. Lily was surprised by how much their son had grown in two short months. His head of black hair had thickened and his eyes – once a startling blue – had darkened and changed to a startling green like his mother's.

It was just after five when James returned home, a rush of chilly October air coming in with him. Lily had been sitting on the couch breastfeeding – Harry seemed only to want to eat when he wasn't sleeping – and looked upon the arrival of another adult with joy.

"Were you successful?"

"One large pumpkin and a big bag of candy," James nodded. "And also," from within the bag, he produced a package of caramel cauldron cakes, Lily gasping with excitement.

"Where did you find those?"

"Bathilda stopped me on my way back home," James said, placing them on the coffee table so Lily might devour some once Harry was finished eating. "She wanted to make sure we were doing okay shut up in this house."

"She's a sweet woman isn't she?"

"Yes," James nodded. "She seems keen to talk about little Dumbledore too doesn't she?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't be so pleased he introduced us if he knew that." Harry finished suckling at her breast and pulled away with a fulfilled sigh. He always got a funny smile on his face when he was milk drunk.

"Dada's turn," James said, reaching out for his son. Lily was more than happy to pass him along. She hadn't expected to find breastfeeding so exhausting. A task which required little action on her end left her feeling as though she'd gone on a forty minute jog by the time she'd finished.

"I hope you don't mind, I invited Remus over for dinner," James told her as he patted Harry lightly on the back. "I don't want him to feel like he's being passed over for Sirius."

"I think it's a good idea." Lily tore open the cauldron cake package – unable to wait any longer. "Especially now that you boys don't hang out together quite so much…"

"It seems impossible for Sirius and him to be civil in a room any longer and it just gets Peter upset when they fight."

"I think it upsets all of us." Lily failed to seem knowledgeable with a mouthful of cauldron cake. Her husband didn't respond. As tensions between Remus and Sirius had grown James had seemed to try harder and harder to ignore it. What could be done? Only time and the unveiling of the try spy in their midst would solve the wounds that had grown and festered.

Once James had successfully burped Harry he placed the baby down for his late afternoon nap and began to tidy up the living room as Lily focused on cooking. A few months ago she would've been furious with James for announcing guests so last minute but nowadays it was a happy relief. Confined to Godric's Hollow, for the most part, Lily found herself going stir-crazy.

Lily had been planning to make spaghetti in meat sauce for her and James regardless and began to process now for four. She was halfway through preparing the sauce when James entered the kitchen and snorted with amusement.

"Are you chopping vegetables?"

"I am."

"The most exciting thing for me about becoming of age was no longer needing to chop vegetables."

"As if you chopped vegetables before that."

"No," James laughed. "I suppose you're right." He came up behind Lily, hands coming around her waist. She ignored his hot breath tickling her neck and his wandering hands.

"Stop trying to distract me from my muggle cooking!"

"What? Muggles don't cook like this?" He teased her.

"I'll accidentally slice a finger off if you keep touching me like that."

"That's why we can do this." James flicked his wand and the knife in Lily's hands slipped from her grip and began slicing the onion she'd been working on with perfect precision.

"God you're irritating," Lily grumbled as she turned to face her husband. "Anyone ever told you that?"

"You, often, mostly as you rejected me." Lily's laughter was silenced my James kissing her. Long and sweet until they parted with a smile. It was difficult not to feel defeated in their current state, their family in such a state of danger, but James was the only person Lily could dream of going through it with. His presence was a comfort and she was grateful every time they got to have such a normal moment in their days.

"Remus and Dorcas will be here soon," Lily reminded him as James pressed her back against the counter.

"Not too soon." He kissed her again, her next protest lost in the action.

"Cooking requires some attention!"

"Then we should be quick."

"You're right," Lily grinned. She leant in once more and kissed him deeply, her hand slowly sliding down, beneath his pants. "So I guess that means you'll help me finish up this cooking?" James inhaled sharply as she wrapped her hand around his cock. "The sooner that gets done the sooner…"

"You're evil."

"Some would say productive."


Patrick was out of the house for the night, sleeping over at a friend's, and Reg had decided that they were spending their teenager free evening getting dressed up and going for a nice dinner. Mary couldn't protest. She always loved the opportunity to doll herself up and she'd gone shopping with Emmeline not too long ago and purchased a gorgeous blue dress she needed an excuse to wear.

Reg had surprised her and whisked them away to a gorgeous restaurant in the heart of downtown London – a bigger treat than Mary had imagined. It was an Italian restaurant called Carisma with dim lighting and candles at every table. Their jackets were taken at the door and the waiter kept referring to Reg as "Mr Cattermole." Mary felt like royalty.

"I can't remember the last time I ate out somewhere nice," Mary exclaimed. She felt out of place, especially when her heart raced at the prices on the menu, but Reg insisted she ordered whatever she liked. They got a bottle of red wine for the table and finished off half of it before their food had even arrived.

It felt nice, Mary thought, getting out of the Wizarding world every once in a while. No one in the restaurant would so much as flinch at the mention of Voldemort's name. They knew of no war except the ones they had won or were being fought overseas. No, life was peaceful, serene even, filled only with mundane details.

Mary basked in it. She filled herself with the rich food and delicious wine and melted each time Reg looked up at her and smiled. They'd been together just over two years now. Mary had watched the rest of her friend's struggle through their relationships as time took its toll, not Reg and her though. No, it seemed time only made them stronger. They had been living together happily for over a year, they had both found careers that brought them joy, and Patrick had become as much Reg's family as Mary's.

"Can I get you two anything else?" The waiter asked once he had come to clear their dinner plates.

"Two glasses of champagne if possible?"

"Of course sir."

Once the man had waltzed away Mary looked at her boyfriend with curious eyes. "Champagne?" she asked. "What are we celebrating then?"

"Well, you can't really think I just brought you to this fancy restaurant for fun."

"Have you been promoted?" Mary nearly leapt from her chair with excitement. "Reg, you've been promoted haven't you!" He smiled sheepishly and shook his head.

"No," he told her, something dancing across his eyes. "Not quite."

"You're pregnant?" Mary teased him. "I don't think I can deal with more news of babies—"

"If you'd stop guessing I might be able to tell you."

"Sorry," Mary laughed, finding herself suddenly nervous. She watched Reg across the table. He sat perfectly still, smiling at her, and then fumbled for something in his pocket. He slid a little black box into the centre of the table without a word. Mary stared down at it for a while before the meaning of it sunk in.

"Holy shit," Mary gasped. Reg flipped open the box. It was a beautiful ring, a gold band with a sparkling, circular diamond in the centre. Mary couldn't take her eyes off of it.

"I've been thinking a lot over the past year about the happy home we've made for ourselves," Reg began to explain. "I know it may feel rushed, with how young we are, but it doesn't feel rushed to me," Reg reasoned. "I've loved you since I was seventeen years old and we went out on that awfully orchestrated blind date." Mary made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "You were nothing like any of the other girls I'd ever met, you're still nothing like them."

Mary's brown eyes swelled with tears as she finally found the strength to look away from the gorgeous ring in front of her. Reg looked just as anxious as he had that day, three years ago, when they'd first gone out.

"I know it feels sometimes like the world is going to shit and I know you've lost people that you cared about…but this love between us is the only thing that makes sense to me. It's the only thing I can be certain I'll have when I wake up every morning. I know it's what I want, forever."

No one had ever wanted forever with her. They'd wanted a few hours in bed or a short few weeks of "dating." If they were here father they'd wanted only five years or, her mother, as long as it took her to finish her chores. No one had ever asked Mary for forever, she'd never expected anyone would. The concept had seemed a fairytale to her growing up.

"Mary McDonald," Reg began, very formally. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes," Mary exclaimed, "of course I'll marry you."

Reg exhaled with relief and came around the table to embrace her before he'd even put the ring on her finger. Heads around them turned as they kissed, both laughing and crying all at once. The waiter returned with their champagne and hooted with joy when he realized what the occasion was. Suddenly the whole restaurant had been asked to congratulate the happy couple.

Reg slid the ring onto Mary's finger and they walked out of the restaurant hand in hand. Mary was positively glowing the whole trip home. Once they'd entered the house clothing seemed to be torn off immediately and for the first time, with the promise of forever, they made love. Reg fell asleep in Mary's arms soon afterwards but she couldn't seem to close her eyes. Every time she tried her eyes gravitated towards the rock on her left hand and her stomach filled with butterflies.

It was just after midnight that Mary gave up on sleep and crawled carefully out of the bed. She picked up her clothing, strewn across the floor, and put it back on before she left the house. Unable to sleep Mary went to visit the one person she couldn't wait to share her news with.

Emmeline was still awake when Mary used her spare key to enter her home. She was sitting up at her desk, scrawling something onto a piece of parchment, and looked up at her intruder in shock.

"I thought this was your night alone?"

"It was," Mary grinned. Emmeline watched her blankly until she lifted her left hand and let the ring glitter in all its glory. Emmeline gasped, hands flung to her mouth, and leapt from her chair to pull Mary into a big hug.

"Oh my god!" she squealed with joy. "Oh my…" she pulled away; hand pressing to her lips once more.

"I should shut up before Mrs Smith kicks me out but, you're engaged!"

"I had to tell you first."

"I'm so happy for you Mary. Come, sit," Emmeline motioned towards her bed – as her small boarding room had no table or chairs beside the one at her desk. She grabbed a bottle of sherry and two glasses from her kitchenette and returned with the biggest grin Mary had seen her wear in a while.

"I can't believe it," she enthused as the two women drank. "Lily and Alice are mother's, you're engaged."

"I feel like we've aged a thousand years."

"It's crazy isn't it?" Emmeline agreed. "That Hogwarts was only two years ago…" Mary couldn't help but think of how much had changed in two short years. Some of them were married, some parents, others dead. She looked towards Emmeline, lost in her own train of thought, and wondered whether it was Gideon she was thinking of now.

"Do I need to worry?" Mary asked. She reached for Emmeline's hand, squeezing it to remind her that she was there. "You're doing okay aren't you?"

"I'm surviving," Emmeline assured her. "That's the most any of us can be expected to do isn't it?"

Mary wasn't so sure. What was the point in surviving if there was nothing left to live for? Emmeline had once been filled with such life and love. When the Prewett twins had passed it felt that a vital part of Mary's best friend had too.

"What about Hestia?" Mary dared to ask.

"That's over." Emmeline turned her gaze away so that Mary could never see how she truly felt about it.

"I know right now it feels wrong but maybe…maybe you shouldn't close the door—"

"It just feels wrong now," Emmeline told her. "If I'd never been with her Gideon would've never lost his temper and…" Mary watched her friend clench her face together in pain. "I just can't."

Mary would've done anything to protect Emmeline. She would go back in time and take the deadly blow for Gideon if it meant preserving her friend's happiness. She couldn't help but be furious with him for leaving Emmeline with such guilt. She watched Emmeline's face grow long and sorrowful now, as her guilt returned, and cursed herself for bringing up Hestia in the first place.

"You know I think you've quite outgrown this place," Mary said, her eyes glossing over the boarding room. "If you ever wanted to stay somewhere with people who care about you, you know we have an extra room—"

"I don't need a babysitter," Emmeline insisted.

"No," Mary agreed. "But I wouldn't mind having my maid of honour close by for wedding planning. At least for a little while." Gratitude seemed to flicker across Emmeline's violet eyes and she gripped at the cup of sherry quite intensely.

"Really?"

"Who else?" Mary had needed to think very little about her choice but it seemed to leave Emmeline shocked. She threw her arms around Mary once more and hugged her tight.

"I've always wanted to help plan a wedding."

"So you wouldn't deny a bride's first request then would you?" Mary wanted Emmeline near for her sake more than anything. If she was close by she could know that her friend wasn't lonely, or wallowing in a pit of sorrow. At least she could be surrounded by life, and joy, and the sound of punk-rock music whenever Patrick was home.

"Only for a little while though," Emmeline warned her, a finger pointed at Mary's chest. "I'll look for my own place as well, somewhere that I can feel is really home."

"I think that's a brilliant idea."

"And what do you think of helping me polish off some more of this sherry before you return home to your fiancé?"

"I think I could be convinced," Mary smirked. The two ladies clinked their glasses and drank – giggling when they surfaced – and for one shining moment Mary pretended they were just schoolgirls again.


With the sun gone an awful chill had come upon the night – one that Marlene had come ill-prepared for. She and Kingsley were camped out in a ditch behind an abandoned train station. The area was quiet – except for the occasional freight train to keep them on their toes – and as midnight approached both of them were beginning to wonder whether Dumbledore had sent them out on ill-advised work.

"I'm trying to remember why I'm out here," Marlene grumbled, "struggling to feel my toes."

"Dumbledore believes we might be able to catch a few of them off guard. He doesn't believe more than three of them frequent this spot and he wonders whether they're holding some important."

"Like Sarah Harding perhaps?" Marlene inquired. Despite being a valuable member of the Order, those not part of the Auror office were often kept in the dark about the more specific details of missions – especially as distress over the spy in their midst grew stronger.

"Perhaps," Kingsley nodded, blowing hot air into his cupped hands. Another train passed them by, it's bright lights blinding and the noise – the tracks being so close to their ditch – deafening. Marlene bowed her head until it passed and when she looked up again saw the shadow of a figure entering the abandoned shack. She didn't need to alert Kingsley who had already tensed up in anticipation.

"We'll wait in case there are more," Kingsley whispered. "We'll circle the building first, try and see if we can hear or see anything, and then you'll enter first, make them think you're alone."

"Okay," Marlene agreed. She would make little protest when given instructions these days, as Dumbledore needed the Aurors to keep a handle on things, to prevent any more casualties like the death of the Prewett's. Marlene's heart was pounding in her chest as she crouched down in position, waiting for Kingsley's signal before they rose up and scurried across the train tracks. They circled the house as he had advised and Marlene pressed herself up against the wall near a foggy window.

Two voices could be heard from inside but no more than that. Marlene kept in position, trying desperately to hear what it was being spoken about so intently, but only words could be caught.

"Kill."

"He'll be relieved."

She was listening so intently she didn't notice Kingsley reach out for her, gripping her arm and mouthing, "NOW!" as he pointed towards the door. Together they moved gingerly towards it, Marlene taking her position to enter first. She had her wand at the ready and Kingsley counted her down before kicking the door open for her so she didn't waste a second.

"EXPELIARMUS!" The wands flew out of the hands of the two women inside, both of whom looked up in shock. Marlene didn't get a good look at them before one had toppled her to the ground. A fist was thrust into Marlene's jaw with such force it made her head spin and she used all of her strength to press her knee as hard as she could into the belly of her assailant.

They lost their grip for a minute, the wind knocked right out of them, long enough for Marlene to get her right hand free and throw a weak punch from her position. The woman toppled the slightest and Marlene made to toss her onto the ground when a pair of hands dragged her away roughly. The second woman gripped Marlene's hair so that she yelped in pain.

With her neck drawn back at a frightening speed, she watched her assailant rise to her feet, wobbling the slightest. Marlene didn't get a good look at her face. The cabin was dark and she had hair covering it – it seemed that she wanted to keep it that way. To the back wall of the small space was a body tied limply to a chair. Marlene couldn't tell whether the person was alive or dead nor who it was tied up.

"Where are your friends?" The gruff voice of the woman holding her back demanded.

"No friends," Marlene answered, "I've come alone." The woman kicked her in the back so that she lunged forward heaving for air that wouldn't come.

"Do you know her?" The woman demanded as Marlene remained bent over, gasping for air.

"She's a McKinnon," the second woman answered, spitting at Marlene. "Blood traitorous bitch." Marlene kept her head bent until the second woman stepped forward, reaching out a hand as though to caress her cheek. When she was close enough Marlene lunged forward and bit down hard on the first thing she made contact with. The woman howled with rage and Marlene tasted blood before the woman got her hand free. She smacked Marlene hard across the face.

"I'll take some joy in killing you—"

The woman holding Marlene back let her grip loosen and Marlene leapt forward, throwing herself into the second woman, both of them flying to the ground. She heard pounding footsteps and knew Kingsley had taken his chance to catch the one that had been holding Marlene off guard. Marlene clawed at the woman's face, skin scraping beneath her fingernails. Finally, on top, she got a good look at the woman. Her fist froze in the air before it could make contact, the dark eyes below her recognizable.

The woman smirked proudly. If she had wanted to surprise Marlene she had won. The shock weakened her and within a moment she was being thrown onto her back, a pair of hands wrapping around her throat. Her hands clawed at anything they could, a desperate, animalistic need for oxygen setting in. Everything seemed to go blurry at once, vision and sound, but she could still see those eyes as things went dark.


Dorcas had worked alongside Kingsley Shacklebolt for years and only seen him in such a state once before – when Donovan's had been burnt to the ground. He arrived on her doorstep ashen-faced and shaking. She'd been sleeping peacefully in Remus' arms and drawn awake by a pounding at their front door. Remus had hurried to get dressed while Dorcas had answered, Kingsley practically falling into her arms.

"Dorcas I…I messed up," he confessed, gripping her shoulders with such intensity she nearly toppled to the ground.

"What do you mean? What's happened?"

"I thought I…I thought it was…under control…" he seemed to be talking nonsense and once Remus emerged from the bedroom Dorcas made him help her guide Kingsley to the couch, his heavy frame sinking into the cushion. He was dirty, as though he'd been lying in the dirt, and his fingers were cold as ice when Dorcas grasped them in her hands.

"What happened Kingsley? Just tell us what happened and we'll figure it out."

"So fast…it was all so…"

"Just tell us where you were," Remus suggested. "Where were you?"

"T-train," Kingsley stammered. "Train tracks."

"Who were you with?" Dorcas asked now. She was struggling to keep the panic from her voice but, from the looks of it, something had gone gravely wrong. Kingsley's brown eyes, rounded in shame, looked up towards Dorcas.

"Marlene," he finally admitted. "I took her to the hospital I…I did my best…" Dorcas' stomach felt as though it plummeted twenty-two stories as she turned to Remus. He had been sturdy moments before but now fell slack, looking like he might topple to the ground at any moment. Dorcas rested a comforting hand on his forearm.

"Fetch the others," she commanded. "I'll send word to Dumbledore and Moody."

Remus nodded silently and rushed from the room – not even bothering to grab a jacket. Dorcas waited until his footsteps had disappeared down the hall before turning to her co-worker once again. Kingsley was watching her with fear in his eyes as she crouched down to her level.

"Is she dead?"


Peter had received two messages that shook him from his sleep with urgency. The first had been from Remus, informing him that Marlene had been seriously injured while out on a mission. He had scrambled to get dressed to meet his friends at St. Mungo's when a knock at the door had roused him. He threw it open, expecting one of his friends behind it, but instead it was Alecto Carrow. She had a large gash above her eyebrow and a busted lip.

"Let me in," she ordered. Peter barely had time to open the door wider before she'd pushed her way inside and stomped right towards their bar cart in the living room. She poured herself a whiskey and threw it back like water, getting herself another. "Here," she poured a second glass and handed it towards Peter. He looked down hesitantly – he had little love for whiskey – but gave in and accepted.

"What I tell you next will be upsetting to hear," Alecto said, dropping down onto the couch. She wasn't looking at Peter but instead staring deeply into her glass of alcohol. "Aldora is dead." The statement made no sense. Peter stared around the apartment he shared with Aldora and saw her alive everywhere. "You friends murdered her in cold blood."

"I don't…" Peter stammered in shock. "H-how…" his head was spinning as he stumbled towards the nearest armchair.

"That blonde slut, the McKinnon girl, knocked her over the head with a brick. Aldora had nearly killed her too," Alecto took another deep gulp from her glass, "a waste," she mumbled. She spoke about Aldora's death casually, as though it were just a disappointment, but the news made Peter sick. He hadn't realized how violently his hands were shaking until the glass of whiskey slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground with a clatter and a smash.

"Good," Alecto nodded. "Be upset Peter." His lips were trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks without any sign of pause. "They killed her. Your own friends." He couldn't think about that now. All he could do was think of the heavyweight that had fallen upon him. The difficulty to breathe, twist and turn of his anxious belly. He had loved Aldora, he'd followed her into hell, what had all of his betrayal and deceit been for if not to live happily ever after with her?

"I had to get rid of her body quickly," Alecto continued without empathy. "My brother Amycus is taking care of it now. We'll burn her, so they can't trace her back to you and scatter her ashes. No one will know." Peter couldn't see with the tears that had blurred his vision. He'd had no goodbye, no final I love you. He hadn't known that the last time he'd seen Aldora would be the last forever. He didn't even have the opportunity now.

"Your blood traitor friend didn't get a good look at her," Alecto said, as though that were some reassurance, "I made sure of that."

"She's not my friend," Peter snapped, fury burning in his beady eyes. He imagined Marlene now, lying weak and feeble in the hospital, and wanted to turn her to pieces with his fists. She'd robbed him of the only person he'd ever loved, the only person that had ever made Peter happy. She'd stolen his chance at a happy ending.

He hoped she died. He hoped Sirius cried over her body and felt the pain that stabbed Peter through the heart now. He tossed back his drink in three gulps and slammed his glass down on the coffee table with a thud. He would never forgive them for this. They, who laughed behind his back and called him a coward when he wasn't listening. They had stolen the only woman Peter had and would ever love.

"I tell you what Peter," Alecto said, leaning forward, "I'll let you kill her yourself when we get our hands on her next time."

"When is next time?" Peter demanded. His teeth were clenched as he fought to stop them from shaking. Tears still drained from his eyes, his throat tight with a heavy lump. He wanted next time to be tomorrow. He wanted to hurt Marlene the way she'd hurt him.

"Soon," Alecto promised with a sinister smirk. "You'll get your justice, we all will. The dark lord has a plan to wipe out that whole blood traitor family. They're a thorn in his side."

Peter looked up, his eyes filled with anger and pain. Alecto caught his gaze with a prideful look in her eyes.

"You can tell him I'm ready," Peter said with finality, "to do whatever is needed."

He would never dream of turning back again.


Marlene pulsed in and out of consciousness. She saw a woman, plump-faced with rosy cheeks, staring down at her. She opened her mouth to speak but all that escaped was a pain filled moan and darkness crept in again. She saw Kingsley, leaning over her with fear filled eyes.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I'm so sorry." She meant to reach for him, to promise it wasn't his fault, but darkness came again.

When she finally came to she wished for the pull of sleep to come again but it didn't. Her throat felt coarse and dry so that when she breathed it pricked the back of it.

Marlene turned her head to see a jug of water on the bedside table beside her. The room was dark - she assumed it was some time in the evening - and she was buried under a mountain of blankets - dressed in a hospital gown underneath. She reached one long arm out for the water but pulled it back when a jolt of pain went shooting up it.

Her body felt stiff and weak. She could feel bruises and cuts all over her. She could see a chair in the corner; a figure slumped over in it asleep. With what little strength she had Marlene opened her mouth to speak.

"Sirius." The name came out a hoarse whisper and still made her sore throat burn. "Sirius," she repeated with some urgency. She made a third try, ready to give up from the pain when she saw him stir. He rubbed his eyes and rose to look at her.

"You're awake!"

"Water…" Marlene just barely got the word out. Sirius was thrusting the cup into her hands within seconds. She threw the drink back and then another and another. When the jug was half emptied she lay back with relief, Sirius still watching her in awe.

"You scared the shit out of me you know that?" He demanded - no anger in his voice. Marlene could only nod, no strength left in her to speak. She sunk back into her pillow and felt the darkness start to creep in again. "Kingsley said you would've died," Sirius confessed. "Were it not for that blow you delivered."

She'd meant to ask what he meant but sleep came faster.

When she woke again it was early morning. Her head felt clearer than it had before and had enough strength to lift her hands and rub at her bleary eyes. Sirius was still there, although he'd moved from his chair to lie beside her in bed. Marlene was curled up against him, one arm wrapped around her shoulder protectively. She rose and the motion made Sirius stir beside her.

"Water?" he asked instinctively. Marlene nodded and gulped back this glass with more restraint than she had the others. Sirius watched her closely all the while. When she finished he reached out to draw her face in close to his. They kissed – short and sweet – and he exhaled deeply with relief. She didn't need to ask the question eating at her; he knew immediately what she wanted to know.

"You got in over your head with a pair of Death Eaters. Kingsley said you were fighting with one and seemed fine but something went wrong. She got her hands around your neck and…" Marlene felt at the raw, bruised flesh around her neck. "By the time he realized what was happening he said you were near death but you grabbed the closest thing to you – a rock or something – and flung it into her head."

Sirius ran a delicate hand along Marlene's forehead, which she was certain, was painted with bruises and marks. He seemed afraid she might break, like glass under pressure. She almost had.

"Did I…" the words came out a hoarse whisper.

"He doesn't know. Her friend got hold of her before Kingsley could and they disappeared." Marlene fell back into her pillow. She couldn't tell if the uncertainty was a relief or a curse.

"Did we succeed at least?" she asked him. "Did we get…"

"She's safe," Sirius nodded. "You saved her." At least Marlene could find some relief in that. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I'll get the Healer," Sirius finally suggested, climbing out of bed. Marlene had only bits and pieces of the night in her memory. The woman on top of her, the names she'd been called, the vow to kill her. She could remember being in power, having the upper hand, and losing it in one swift blow. She just couldn't understand how or why.

When Sirius returned he brought with him a man in Healer robes who poked and prodded at Marlene, insisting the damage to her throat was so severe she might never sound the same when she spoke. The news might have weighed on her but she was merely grateful to be breathing. She could still feel fear rumbling through her like a lingering storm. Death had been so close and yet, she was still here. Sirius grey eyes watched her anxiously from the end of the bed and when the healer had finished with his spells and enchantments, all meant to provide relief to her pain, he handed her a bottle of healing potion and promised it would speed the process up.

He left the room with a casual stride, assuring Marlene could expect a full recovery, but Sirius didn't look very happy about it. Marlene waited, watching him closely all the while, for what would come next.

"You could've been killed."

"But I wasn't," Marlene reminded him. "I'm okay—"

"What am I supposed to do if you die?" Sirius demanded. He watched her expectantly as if she was supposed to have any idea how to answer that. "Don't you see what you've done to me? I can't lose you." Sirius around the bed and clutched her hands in his own. "Promise me, promise me you won't be stupid like this again."

"Come here." She cupped his cheek in her hand and pulled him in close. Their lips met with great affection and Sirius' face had calmed considerably when they drew apart. "You know I can't make promises like that," Marlene whispered honestly.

He didn't say anything as he leaned down, his head dropping against her chest. She ran her fingers through her hair as she always did when something without a solution troubled him deeply.


The perfect day Alice had imagined for her son's first Halloween was brutally interrupted with the news of Marlene's accident. Instead of a joy-filled first holiday spent together they day had a gloomy fog hanging over it. Alice and Frank still dressed Neville up like a pumpkin – as they'd hoped to – and taken many photos of him (even when he began to cry in his costume). They'd kept to their plan to hand candy out to the kids on their street and yet still, something felt amiss by the end of the night.

Frank had put Neville to bed – he was a restless baby when taken off his routine – and Alice had begun clean up downstairs. She had the dishes washing while she wiped down the countertops and cleared the living room floor with the flick of a wand. When her husband appeared again, stepping off the final step, she was making up a pot of tea.

"There'll be years of Halloweens to come," Frank assured his wife when he noticed the sullen face she had on. "Five years from now he won't care that today wasn't perfect."

"I can't stop thinking about it…how scared she must've been…" turned her back on Frank, hands clutching at the end of the counter as the water boiled. "They say a minute longer…"

"Stop it," Frank snapped. "Don't talk like that."

"It's the first time in a while I've thought about my mother," Alice confessed. "What did they do to her?" the thoughts horrified Alice. Her perfect mother, always so happy and kind, spent her last moments in terror and pain. How could Alice ever be okay with that? How could she forget it?

Alice hadn't heard Frank move but she felt his arms, large and strong, wrap around her middle. He drew her to him and nuzzled his face into her neck the way that made her swoon.

"That's not going to happen to our family."

"I never want him to have to imagine something that awful," Alice to him. "I don't want him to grow up afraid the way we did."

"Come here." Frank drew her around slowly, Alice's head bowed in defeat. With a light touch, he lifted her chin and smiled. "We are not going to let those bastards win, you hear me?" She made no move to respond. "We're going to fight until we've won and then we will put this all behind us."

"It could've been him," Alice said – a tremble in her voice. "That prophecy could've pointed to our boy…" at the sight of the panic in Alice's eyes her husband drew her in closer.

"He's safe," Frank, told her, "Neville is safe."

It meant little when a baby boy a few towns away was in grave danger. How could Alice sleep comfortably at night knowing that the Potter's had simply lost at a game of chance? Their son was the target of great peril while the Longbottom's got to live carefree. Alice carried a heavy guilt in the pit of her stomach and she had since Moody and Dumbledore had sat them down and shared the news.

"Come on," Frank soothed his wife. "Let's have a cup of tea and go to bed."

They did. Frank let Alice head upstairs while he made her cup just as she liked it – two milk one sugar – and brought it to her where she waited upstairs in bed. Cozied together beneath the covers they escaped from their fears for a short while. They drank from their cups and spoke of happier times.

Alice remembered aloud a moment, years ago, when they'd first started dating. The night Frank had first met her family. He had shown up at the house dressed sharply, pale with nerves, and Alice had greeted him at the door with a sloppy kiss that left him blushing bright red.

"I'd forgotten what we were like back then," Frank smiled nostalgically from beside her. "Puppy love."

Her mother had adored him immediately. She'd listened to Alice rambling about Frank Longbottom since first year and was thrilled to see they'd finally come together. More than that Frank had been polite, a proper gentleman, and he'd spent the whole dinner stealing glances with his girlfriend across the table.

"I didn't know back then how deep into it I was."

"Really?" Alice teased. She flopped onto her stomach and grinned up at him with pride. "I knew from the time I was eleven years old I'd marry you."

"Liar," he laughed.

"Really! You should see my journals from back then. All filled with descriptions of your big brown eyes and how sweet you were to me." Alice batted her eyelashes at her husband as though she were still a flirtatious teenager. "You were my first everything."

"Mine too." Frank reached out to touch her. "The boys used to all tease me for following your every whim. I used to spend hours swearing we were just good friends."

"First you were just that chubby-faced boy who sat beside me in the Great Hall and then you were my potions partner. I hated how you'd stumble your way through all the recipes, never paying attention, and still wowed Slughorn."

"You always were jealous of my potions talent—"

"More like your dumb luck," Alice grumbled. Years later and she still had a sore spot when it came to her weakest school subjects. "My favourite was when you were my best friend and all I ever did was dream about the day you'd pluck up the nerve to ask me out."

"It did come!"

"Yes," Alice smiled. "I thought you might faint before I could give you my answer." Frank had been pale as a ghost that day, standing in a disserted corridor. They'd wandered off for a "chat" and returned with plans to go on a date the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.

Alice wiggled her way back up to Frank, their lips meeting. There was little chance in-between being heavily pregnant to giving birth for romance. Tonight seemed an exception though. Alice couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted him so badly. Sexual desire had gone out the window with sleep but now she could only pull him closer.

Clothing seemed to be off instantly and Alice melted beneath the touch of skin against skin. They seemed hungry for each other, desperate to have the other near, and Alice felt relief flow through her every time Frank's lips nipped at her skin, reminding her that he was there.

Things ended with her on top, riding him the way she knew he loved. His hands slid along her bare stomach, not the flat, flawless thing it once had been and grasped at her breasts with desire. Nothing mattered in that moment except for them. Alice could think only of how good it felt to have her husband inside of her, how happy she was to need him close and feel him answer the call.

When they finished an hour later, both exhausted, Alice nuzzled herself into Frank's side and prepared for the blissful sleep she seemed just on the edge of. Of course, Neville didn't let that last long. His high-pitched cry rang out from down the hall.

"I've got it," Alice assured her husband, rolling out of bed to snatch her robe. Neville was squirming around in his crib, arms outstretched for one of his parents to grab him. Alice pressed him against her chest so he might feel the warmth and hear the rhythmic beat of her heart. She sat in the rocking chair and swayed him back and forth until he was lulled back to sleep.

Alice wondered how often her mother had done the same with her. How many times had she calmed Alice's unsettled spirits? Part of her wished she never had, maybe then it would be easier to live without her. Alice had everything she'd ever dreamed of – Frank, a healthy baby boy, a beautiful home – but her mother wasn't there to see any of it. The war had robbed her of that and by its end, she was certain it would take much more.