A/N: Hi, guys! I am extremely sorry that this chapter took so long to be published. I've been travelling and didn't have access to my laptop (horrifying, I know). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this.

WARNING: scenes of moderate violence follow. I might be increasing the rating a few chapters along.

June 1979

"Marlene," came a disgruntled voice. "You can't possibly want to spend your last day of education in the Common Room." Mary was leaning against the wall near the portrait hole, her arms folded and her eyes narrowed. Marlene waved a hand dismissively in her direction, not looking up from the book she was holding. Mary sighed loudly and marched to the armchair, snatching the book and snapping it shut.

"Hey!" Marlene said indignantly. "You lost my page!"

"Yeah, well, I'm losing my patience," Mary retorted. She placed both hands under Marlene's forearms and heaved her to her feet. "Come to the lake. It's sunny outside and we have a very limited period of zero responsibilities and I simply cannot allow you to waste it by reading."

Marlene scowled and crossed her arms obstinately across her chest. "I was enjoying myself."

"Blah, blah. Cry me a river. Come on, let's go."

Marlene reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged across the Common Room, her heart sinking. She had largely avoided wide-open spaces for fear that she would cross paths with Rosier. So far, she hadn't had to face him. The thought of seeing him made her stomach churn, and not in the way she was used to. And that terrified her. So much so that she hadn't even told her best friends.

Before they could open the portrait hole, it flung open and Dorcas climbed through. "Oh, hey!" she said. "I was just looking for you, Marlene. McGonagall asked me to give you this." It was a tightly rolled slip of parchment; when Marlene unfurled it, the handwriting was strangely unfamiliar.

"It's from Dumbledore," Marlene said confusedly, as her eyes scanned the words. Her stomach sank. "He wants me to go to his office. It's about the graduation ceremony."

"That's very official," Dorcas said. "I don't think I've ever been to his office."

"I've never even had a conversation with the man," Mary said.

Marlene smiled weakly, barely hearing the words that were being exchanged. Her mind was focused on the terrifying thought of being in an enclosed space with Rosier. "I better go," Marlene said grudgingly. "Shall I meet you both by the lake?" They nodded.

Marlene navigated the empty corridors, squinting down at the parchment as she went so that she could decipher the directions in Dumbledore's note. Her face twisted in confusion at his sign off: I like jelly slugs. She shrugged it off as typical Dumbledore eccentricity. Marlene almost walked past the entrance to his office on the third floor, casting the giant gargoyle off as mere decoration. Perplexedly, she surveyed the statue with slight confusion, running her hands across the wings in a vain attempt to discover some secret handle.

"I think you need a password," came a voice. Marlene hands dropped suddenly to her sides, her face flushing and her stomach turning in somersaults. She could feel him hovering at her shoulder, but couldn't muster the courage to turn and face him.

"I don't know the password," Marlene said softly, not taking her eyes off the ugly gargoyle.

"Jelly slugs."

Inwardly cursing her ineptitude, Marlene watched as the gargoyle stepped aside, revealing a moving spiral staircase. Hurriedly, she leapt onto the first step and allowed the staircase to ascend.

The door at the top of the staircase was ajar. Marlene hovered awkwardly on the threshold, unsure whether to enter. She rapped her knuckles across the oak. Before Rosier could join her in the confined landing area, Marlene pushed open the door and peered in. "Hello?" she called. With no answer, she stepped inside. Dumbledore's office was a large, circular room, playing host to a number of whirring instruments and a huge collection of dusty books. Portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses snoozed in their frames; Marlene inwardly pleaded with one to wake up so that it wouldn't just be the two of them.

"I guess we wait," she said.

"Are you not going to talk to me?" Rosier asked simply. Marlene turned to look at him then, flinching slightly at how close he seemed to be to her. If she reached out her hand, she would touch his lips. Blinking feverishly, Marlene dragged her eyes from Evan Rosier's lips and looked him steadily in the eye.

"There's not much to talk about." She took a few steps towards Dumbledore's desk, feigning interest in the ancient scrolls that were strewn haphazardly across it.

Rosier cocked his head and watched her. "I'm not going to apologise about what happened."

Marlene surprised herself with what shot out of her mouth. "I don't want you to."

A smile tugged at his lips. "So, why are you avoiding me?"

"Because," Marlene snapped, whirling on him. "I don't know what to think anymore. You – you hurt people. You have evil friends. And you – you – you put my best friend in hospital. And every time I look at her, I think of how – of how…" she stopped suddenly, turning her face so that Rosier wouldn't see the blush rise into her cheeks.

Rosier groaned and pressed a palm to his face. "Look, what happened that night was awful. But it's – it's not what you think. You don't know everything that happened – "

"What?" Marlene interrupted, her eyes narrowed. "What are you trying to say?"

"That I didn't hurt Mary."

The silence was fractured by Marlene's pounding heartbeat. "And why should I believe you?"

"Because you have no reason not to." His voice almost pleaded with her, and Marlene felt an appalling urge to embrace him. She shook her head, more to herself than to him.

"Fine," he said quietly. Rosier turned on heel and crossed the room, coming to rest at a glass cabinet that lay slightly ajar. He opened the door and extracted a metal basin that glimmered with gems embedded into its walls. Rosier placed it carefully on the nearest surface.

"What are you doing?!" Marlene hissed, glancing over her shoulder to see if the portraits had stirred, or – Merlin forbid – that Dumbledore was walking through the door.

"If you won't believe me, I'll show you."

"I don't understand," Marlene said numbly.

"Come here." Based on recent histories, Marlene was extremely reluctant to obey such a request. Her own body had been in the business of betraying her common sense. Curiosity eventually bested her, though, and Marlene crossed the room. She looked into the basin to see a silvery substance, something in between a liquid and a gas. The urge to prod it was overwhelming.

"What is it?"

"A pensieve. My father has one. For unwanted memories." Rosier smiled humourlessly before raising the tip of his wand to his forehead. When he withdrew it, a strand of silver, like a thick cobweb, clung to the wood. Marlene watched with rapt fascination as Rosier deposited the strand into the basin. He looked at her, opening his mouth to say something, before closing it.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Marlene said worriedly, glancing over her shoulder. "Dumbledore could – " Rosier interrupted her by taking her hand. Marlene's mouth snapped shut. As she felt his skin against hers, all she could think about was how it had felt pressed against her neck, her face, her lower back… And then she was falling. Rosier had submerged their entwined hands in the basin and she had been jolted from the earth, tumbling into a hazy darkness. When her feet found solid ground, she had been transported from Dumbledore's office. Now, she was standing in the dungeons. Beside her stood Rosier, staring stonily ahead. Marlene followed his gaze and, with a jolt, realised they were watching another Rosier. His hair was different: shorter, scruffier; and he wasn't as tall.

"What?" Marlene breathed. "What is going on?"

The first Rosier pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at his doppelganger, who was heading deeper into the dungeons. Marlene followed him, the curiosity blooming in her chest like an insatiable thirst.

"Hey, Rosier!" a voice called. From the far end of the corridor, a figure emerged. He was tall and skinny, with a grin plastered across his face that left Marlene with a feeling of unease in her chest. "I wouldn't go that way, if I were you."

"I'm looking for Mulciber," Rosier replied.

"He's a bit busy." The slimy grim grew wider. "He's with some mudblood."

Marlene's heartbeat spiked. She rocked on the balls of her feet, wanting to sprint around that corner and see Mary, but also very, very afraid to do so. Instead, she glanced at the doppelganger's face. It had that stony impassiveness that Marlene was altogether too familiar with. The stranger crossed the corridor, his smirk unfaltering, and thumped Rosier on the arm as he passed. "Catch you later, mate."

Rosier said nothing. He remained still for a moment until the stranger disappeared through a door. And then he ran. His sudden movement startled Marlene and she had to race to keep up with him. Rosier flung himself around the corner and stopped suddenly in his tracks, his breathing ragged and his eyes wide. Mulciber was standing in front of a stone alcove, his wand unsheathed and his eyes full of cruel laughter. Opposite him, Mary's fists were balled and she was hammering on thin air. Her eyes were bright and full of tears and her lips were moving soundlessly. Her wand was on the floor a mere metre from her shoes.

"I'm sorry," Mulciber said loudly, cupping his ear and feigning concern. "What was that? I can't quite hear you." Mary spread her palms in the air and they paled, as if pressing against glass. There was a sharp intake of breath and Marlene was surprised to realise that it hadn't come from her own lips. Beside her, Rosier's doppelganger had slowly removed his wand. A conflict waged in his mind. Marlene glanced back to watch the real Rosier, whose eyes were trained unwaveringly on the ground. His hand was trembling.

"He's going to kill her," Marlene whispered, watching as Mary fought for oxygen. "She can't breathe." A haunting blue tinge was leaking into Mary's cheeks, as if it was replacing the life inside of her. In defeat, she pressed her forehead against the invisible barrier, silent sobs racking her body. Mulciber laughed: a cruel, throaty sound.

"Mulciber!" The younger Rosier strode forward and Mulciber's head whipped around to identify the intruder in his fun.

"Ah, Rosier. Fancy getting a head start on your initiation?" Mulciber said with a grin. With a small flick of his wand, the invisible barrier disappeared and Mary tumbled out of the alcove, her knees crashing against the stone floor. She gulped at the air, replenishing her starved lungs. Mulciber grabbed her by the front of her robes and hauled her to her feet before she could scrabble for her wand. "Now," Mulciber breathed, leering. "What do you say when you see a pureblood?" Mary, still struggling for breath, said nothing. Mulciber gave her a vicious shake. In reply, Mary spat in his eye. With a roar of rage, Mulciber threw her backwards and raised his wand high.

"Mulciber!" Rosier shouted, charging forwards. But it was too late. With a blinding flash of red, Mary crumpled to the ground, blood leaking from a wound on her neck.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Rosier hissed, restraining Mulciber from behind.

"Get off me," Mulciber spat, twisting free from Rosier's grasp.

"You've killed her," Rosier gasped, falling to his knees. He pressed his fingers against her neck.

"What do you care?" Mulciber sneered. Rosier jumped to his feet and whirled on Mulciber.

"You idiot," Rosier shouted. "What use are you going to be to anyone if you're in prison? You've attacked a girl under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for Merlin's sake."

A flash of fear crossed Mulciber's face. "She's not dead," he said quickly. "There's a counter-curse."

"Well, you better hurry up and use it before she does die."

Almost begrudgingly, Mulciber squatted down and waved his wand across Mary's head. As if in reverse, the blood was absorbed through Mary's wound.

"We need to get out of here," Rosier said dully. Mulciber nodded his agreement, stuffing his wand into his robes and grinning as if he were on an adventure. They headed towards where Marlene was standing, invisible. Mulciber strode through the door, but a sound like a strangled gasp made the younger Rosier stop in his tracks.

And as if from some strange dream, Marlene was suddenly looking at herself. Pale face, trembling hands, parted lips. "Mary?" she was whispering. Marlene watched herself sprint down the corridor and fall to her knees at her best friend's crumpled body. "Mary!" the doppelganger shrieked, snatching her cold hand. The second Marlene jumped to her feet and whipped her head back and forth, her eyes wildly and hungrily searching the corridor. The doppelganger's eyes met her own, and Marlene felt the memory of that anger and that fear as if it had happened yesterday. "Rosier!" the younger Marlene screamed. Rosier turned slowly, his wand still unsheathed, his eyes glinting. And then he smiled. A sick, twisted smirk that Marlene hadn't been able to forget. He turned on his heel and strode away.

Marlene didn't need to stay with Mary: she had done that once. Instead, she followed the younger Rosier. She followed him through the door; she followed him as he raced up a set of stone steps; she followed him as he slipped inside a broom cupboard. And Marlene watched as Rosier put his head in his hands and sobbed.

Suddenly, the world burst in a cloud of hazy smoke. Rosier's face twisted into nothingness, his features evaporating in front of her eyes. And then she was back, feet firmly planted in Dumbledore's office. She was clutching the edge of the pensieve, her mouth hanging open and her mind racing. The real Rosier was watching her with the kind of intensity that made her shiver. Words, questions, feelings clouded her mind, but something in her couldn't connect her brain to her mouth.

"You saw me that night," Rosier said quietly. "Why didn't you tell anyone I was there?"

Marlene blinked. "Mary asked me not to. She said you didn't hurt her."

"She didn't know that. You certainly didn't think that."

Marlene shook her head guiltily. "No, I didn't." She didn't know what to think, now. Mary might have died if it hadn't been for Rosier's intervention. And so what if he did it for the wrong reasons? Did he even do it for the wrong reasons? A vision of Rosier with his head in his hands swarmed her mind. "Why?" Marlene blurted out. "Why did you protect her?"

Rosier squeezed his eyes shut; a combination of frustration and pain contorted his features. "I spent my childhood powerless against my father. My mother – there was nothing I could do for her. I am tired of being powerless."

"Then why didn't you tell me sooner? Why do you pretend?" Marlene said, her voice brimming with emotion.

"I am who I am, Marlene. There's no changing that. Our lives are different and what is expected of us is very different."

"You have a choice, you know," she said quietly.

He smiled sadly and shook his head. "No, I don't."

Marlene opened her mouth to reply, to let the words pour out in a torrent of fury, to chastise him for not being true to himself, for not standing up for himself and for other people. For being a coward. For hurting other people to protect himself. For not telling her the truth. For letting her believe he was something evil.

A door slamming shut broke her resolve; she flinched suddenly and whipped around. Dumbledore was standing by the entrance to his office, surveying them intently over the tops of his half-moon spectacles, his silver robes flowing ethereally to the ground.

"Congratulations on decrypting my message," Dumbledore said with a mischievous glint in his eye. Marlene smiled weakly, her face growing hot, terrified that they had been discovered. Rosier shuffled in front of the pensieve to shield it from view, as Dumbledore watched them with something akin to laughter in his eyes. Sometimes, Marlene wondered if Dumbledore orchestrated moments like these.

The Headmaster swept forward, beckoning them to join him at his desk. Marlene obliged, positioning herself so that Dumbledore's back would be turned on the scene of the crime. "Tomorrow morning, you will lead your year group in the graduation ceremony. You will assemble the seventh year students in the Entrance Hall and lead them to the cave below, where the gameskeeper will be waiting with the boats." Marlene listened intermittently as Dumbledore explained their role and their duties. "Once you reach the shore on the other side, you both will officially be dissolved of your responsibilities as Head Boy and Girl. And as your status as a student of Hogwarts."

Those words sent a knife through Marlene's stomach. An unexplainable wave of fear crashed over her. She felt nostalgic and terrified, all at once. "Thank you, professor," Marlene said suddenly. "For this opportunity. For everything." He smiled kindly at her. She felt foolish for her sudden outburst, but he reached out and shook her hand. "Congratulations, Miss McKinnon." And, in that typical Dumbledore manner, Marlene was convinced that his words meant something deeper. She searched his face, but was met with only a twinkle in those striking blue eyes.

"And congratulations to you, Mr Rosier," Dumbledore said, sweeping forward so that they could shake hands. "Both of you have performed your role excellently. I thank you for your service." Rosier murmured a thanks, avoiding Dumbledore's eye. He fidgeted uncomfortably under the weight of Dumbledore's gaze.

"Well, off you pop," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Enjoy your last day." As Marlene and Rosier headed for the door, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Oh, Mr Rosier. You might want this." Dumbledore was facing the pensieve, his hands busy. When he turned to face them, the professor was holding a vial of silvery substance. Marlene's breath caught in her throat, her cheeks turning a deep crimson. With his mouth slightly agape, Rosier crossed the room and retrieved the vial, murmuring a quiet thank you. Marlene swore she heard a chuckle as she descended the spiral staircase.

When they reached the bottom, Rosier let out a breath as a whistle. "That man gives me the creeps," he said quietly, awkwardly ruffling his hair.

Marlene hovered awkwardly at the base of the stairs, unsure how to part ways. Unsure if she even wanted to part ways. "Thank you, Evan," she said softly. "For trusting me."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Likewise."

"Marlene?"

From the end of the corridor, a blonde bob emerged. Marlene jumped away from Rosier, squirming as if she had been caught in some illicit act. Dorcas hovered a few metres away from them both, eyeing the scene suspiciously. "Mary sent me after you," she said slowly, watching Rosier with wariness. "She said you were taking too long."

"It, uh, it took a while," Marlene replied hastily. She directed a curt nod at Rosier. "I'll see you in the morning," she said formally. There was so much more she wanted to say to him. Rosier nodded in reply, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Marlene strode towards the staircase, with Dorcas dashing after her.

"Everything okay?" Dorcas asked casually as soon as they had turned a corner.

Marlene nodded. No! she wanted to scream. Nothing was okay.

The morning of their departure was, as always, a rush of half-packed trunks and half-made beds. The girls had spent their night reminiscing about the past seven years, swaddled in their duvets and rubbing sleep from their eyes until the dawn began to break. Four hours of sleep wasn't enough, but it would have to do.

The night before, Gryffindor House had endured a terrible defeat in the House Cup. Emerald banners had descended from the ceiling and the rest of the school watched as Slytherins leapt to their feet, banging their goblets on the table and whooping with triumph. After stretching the food-induced lethargy from their limbs, the seventh year students had returned to their dormitories for their final night as students of Hogwarts.

After spreading the word to various seventh years, Marlene made her way to the Entrance Hall. The atmosphere was hard to read: on the one hand, the graduates buzzed with excitement at the prospect of freedom. On the other, they stared with wistfulness at every portrait and every statue that they passed on the way down. It was, without a doubt, a bittersweet moment. A hum of chatter filled the Entrance Hall as the rest of the students made their way to the carriages. Marlene watched as people embraced one another, some tearfully, and promising summer get-togethers.

"Are you going to tell us what this big ceremony is?" Dorcas asked. Marlene wasn't listening, though. She was too busy watching as Callista Selywn threw herself at Rosier and kissed him fully on the mouth. He smiled faintly at her before taking a step backwards. A wave of queasiness swept over Marlene and she looked away, lest she vomit over her shoes. Queasiness and unmistakable vehemence. That bitch, she thought.

"Marlene?" Dorcas pressed.

"Oh, sorry. And no!" Marlene said with forced chastisement. "It's a secret."

Dorcas grinned with excitement; Mary merely shook her head. "Traitor."

When it was time, Rosier caught her eye. Together, they led the crowd through the staircase that led to the cave, where Rosier and Marlene were ushered to the first boat. With her hands outstretched to keep herself balanced, Marlene stepped carefully between the seats and perched on the bench at the bow of the tiny boat. Once they were filled, the vessels began bumping across the shallow water. She grabbed the bench to steady herself, only too aware of how close her fingertips were to Rosier's. Shielding their eyes against the sudden ambush of sunlight, the boats emerged from the cave, gliding across the choppy water. As if on cue, the occupants of each boat glanced over their shoulders, watching as their castle shrunk steadily into the distance. A nostalgic smile sat upon Marlene's lips. She thought about everything that had happened to her since she had started to call this place home. She thought of her siblings, of her parents. Her friends. The Order. She thought of who she had become. She wondered whether that would change. Unwittingly, her eyes darted to Rosier, only to find him watching her.

And, as they turned to face the rest of their lives, his fingertips brushed against hers.

END OF PART 1