So I'm actually back. If you care for a terrible explanation and apology, check the end of the chapter. Without further ado...
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November 11, 1981
When Marlene woke, her pillow was wet beneath her cheek and her eyes ached. The only revelation that she seemed capable of processing—the only one that didn't make her stomach turn in horror—was that she had been the one to burn her house to the ground. That was unexpected.
Addie's stirring pulled her from bed, and she hastily donned a dressing gown to combat the cold; November had come with a freezing vengeance that year. She reached down into the crib to retrieve her daughter, but she paused, hands suspended in the air. They were pale with a few freckles, long fingers, and bitten—but not ragged—nails. And yet they had held a wand that killed. She was a murderer. She'd made a man explode. How could she touch her innocent baby daughter with those hands?
Tripping over her own feet, she backed away from the crib and sank down to the edge of the bed with her arms limp at her sides. She knew she was being ridiculous, that they were just hands, and no more sinister than any other part of her body. But any sense of rationality seemed to have deserted her.
She was a killer several times over. She'd thanked Sirius for torturing a man within an inch of his life, but still leaving him breathing so that she could one day finish the job—
Addie was calling her, her frustrated baby demands beginning to escalate to tears
—But she hadn't finished the job. Travers had surely escaped when she broke the wards, and the thought filled her with rage. She hadn't gotten revenge for her family; she hadn't even been able to protect them. It was her faultthat Max was dead. That curse had been meant for her, but she ducked even though she knew he was behind her. She'd as good as killed him.
Addie was crying.
She'd killed her baby brother.
"Mumma!" Addie demanded through her tears, and Marlene jolted to her feet.
She shoved down her guilt and horror into a place it could not reach her from and staggered to her feet. She wrung her hands once, twice, a third time, before lifting her daughter into her arms.
"Sorry angel. Mummy's just a bit distracted."
She buried her nose in Addie's soft hair, inhaling her baby-smell. She didn't even notice she had begun to cry until Addie began to fuss at the moisture falling on her hair and forehead.
She looked up at Marlene with a disgruntled expression that could have been copied right from Sirius' face. Merlin, she had to get out of Edinburgh and back to London. She knew everything that had happened now, and though it was a dangerous world she would be bringing her daughter back into, and her family was dead, there were people that needed her. People that probably thought she was dead, she realized with a start.
Sirius would be destroyed, thinking he had lost her and their then-unborn child. She had to go. She had to go right away.
Brought to life with purpose, Marlene quickly went downstairs to feed Addie a hurried breakfast. Fiona was at the hospital with a double shift and wouldn't be home until late that night. That gave her plenty of a head start.
She found an old duffle bag in the hall closet into which she shoved a change of clothes for herself, most of Addie's clothes, and the rest of their meager belongings. She bundled the two of them up against the cold, and with a last look around the sparse room that she had inhabited for almost two years, she made her way downstairs.
After much deliberation, she left a hastily scrawled goodbye, which she left on the countertop with a 20-pound note.
Fiona,
I remember now. Thanks for everything.
Marlene
ps. the money's for the duffle bag.
It wasn't enough thanks for the woman who had taken her in, but with each passing minute, her time with Fiona began to slip away as if it had been nothing but a dream. But she had a life to get back to, a real life. A life where she was strong, a warrior, and a bit of a rebel—not this quiet, lost person she had become.
.
Marlene stepped off the muggle train at King's Cross and smiled faintly at the familiar hustle and bustle. Some of the muggles were hurrying from place to place with purpose, while others wandered aimlessly or chatted with their companions. She watched them wistfully as she set about buckling Addie into her pram and attempting to heft the duffle bag into a comfortable position on her shoulder. Oh, to be as unburdened as the muggles seemed with their simple lives and non-magical problems.
With a little shake of her head, she made her way outside onto the street and hailed a cab.
"Where to?" the driver barked gruffly as she slid into the back seat with Addie.
She didn't have a car seat, and she prayed the driver was safe. Muggle travel was so dangerous.
"Where to?" he repeated his question when Marlene didn't answer right away.
Where to? Now wasn't that a question. The way she saw it, she had two options. She could go to the Leaky and find out what she had missed, or she could go see Sirius. As if she had a choice.
A while later, after a frankly terrifying ride through the crowded streets of London, they arrived at the address she gave to the driver. She paid him without regret, knowing she'd have no need of her muggle money soon, unloaded her belongings, and stepped into a dingy alleyway that smelled faintly of urine.
She approached a rusty, metal door set into one of the walls. To a muggle, the door would always be locked, but when she closed her hand around the doorknob, it reacted to her magic and swung open. She pushed the pram through and right onto a narrow cobbled street lined with a collection of walk-ups and town homes. Haverdam Roadwas a little, hidden residential wizarding street—one of many in London—and the place where she and Sirius had lived after Hogwarts. They'd chosen it because it was very close to an area of muggle London that was overflowing with bars and people that dressed in wild clothing who seemed quite fond of dying their hair unnatural colors, piercing inappropriate parts of their bodies, and playing music at deafening volume until the wee hours of the morning. Sirius and Marlene had fallen in love with the area immediately. Marlene's staunchly proper and politely-pureblood family was horrified, naturally.
Lamenting the loss of her wand that would have made juggling a child, a pram, and a duffle bag an easy task, she strapped Addie into a front carrier and dragged her belongings up the stairs and into the nearest building that sported a cheery yellow exterior with orange painted doors. She and Sirius lived on the second floor, so she left her things in the entry and took the stairs two at a time with Addie in her arms.
When she knocked at apartment 2B and the door swung open, she was expecting to see Sirius' handsome face on the other side. What she was not expecting, however, was for an elderly man with an annoyed expression to answer and demand to know what she was doing pounding on his door and interrupting his afternoon nap. After explaining rather awkwardly that she was looking for her fiancé and could have sworn he lived there, the man finally informed her that he'd bought the flat and moved in January of 1980.
That would have been right after Marlene had gone home to see her family, she realized. After a bit more fishing, she learned that the man had never met Sirius, but the lady who arranged the sale told him the previous owner had decided to move into a little cottage in the West Country. At that, Marlene hastily thanked the man and dashed back down the stairs.
A cottage in the West Country! It had to be the little one by the sea in Lynmouth; Sirius had been so in love with it. It was far fetched, but it wasn't like she could just go waltzing into the Leaky and asking if anyone knew where Sirius Black lived. Last she remembered, there was a war on, and she and Sirius had targets on their heads in the Death Eater's eyes.
She checked her watch—half two in the afternoon—if they hurried, they might be able to make a train that would get them there in time to get a cab. It would be a late arrival, but it was worth it, she reasoned. Thankfully, Addie was having a good day, and hadn't been too fussy. She thanked Merlin for that; she had enough problems.
.
It took a while to search through all her returned memories, but she was eventually able to recall the way out to the little cottage clearly enough to give the driver directions even in the dark. Addie slept soundly in her lap, exhausted from the long day of traveling, but Marlene was wide-awake with excitement. It was like someone had lit a spark under her skin, and her every nerve ending burned brighter the closer they got.
When they pulled into the driveway, the cottage windows were dark. She asked the driver to wait—which earned her a baleful glance and a reluctant nod that she countered with a sharp glare—while she dashed up to the door to check and see if her hunch was correct, that Sirius had indeed bought the cottage. She let out a sigh of relief when she recognized a familiar pair of his shoes by the door. She dashed back to the waiting car, unloaded Addie and her belongings, and paid the driver with the remainder of her meager supply of muggle money.
Hiking a sleepy Addie higher on her hip, she knocked hard on the door several times. The windows were dark, so he had to be asleep, so she made sure to knock hard enough to wake him up. But when there was no answer after several minutes, her heart sunk a little in her chest. He must be out, she reasoned. Probably with James or Peter. Or maybe another witch, her mind supplied unhelpfully, but she shook the thought away. Sure, it had been a while, but he wouldn't...he couldn't...
She tried the door, and to her surprise, it swung inward on creaky hinges. She dropped the bag and folded up pram just inside and groped along the wall until she found the light switch.
The den flooded with light, and the first thing she noticed was the collection of bottles on the coffee table: fire whiskey, muggle beer and liquor. Sirius had certainly always liked his alcohol—so had she, for that matter, she admitted to herself. The hardwood floors were filthy; she noticed the pretty rug they'd had in the flat rolled and leaned against the wall in the far corner of the living room. The fireplace had been magically enlarged since the last time she'd been there, and she noticed a small pot of floo powder on the otherwise empty mantle. There were boxes all over the place with familiar belongings spilling out of them.
Her arm was beginning to tire from holding onto Addie, so she swept a pile of food wrappers and old copies of the Daily Prophet from the sofa to the ground and lay the sleeping child down. Addie stirred slightly, but did not wake, so Marlene removed her jacket and draped it over her as a blanket, bunching it slightly in a way that would prevent her from rolling off and onto the floor. Confident that her little girl was out for the night, Marlene made her way down the hall to the master bedroom. The sight that greeted her was not the sleeping Sirius she had optimistically wished for, or even the empty bed she'd expected. It was just a room full of boxes.
Curious, she pulled open the flaps on the one nearest her. It was full of shoes—Marlene's shoes. The next three boxes held her books, mostly potions texts and a mix of muggle and wizarding literature. The rest were full of her clothing, beauty products, and trinkets and things she'd been particularly attached to. Her Hogwarts trunk was there as well, with her old uniforms and school supplies still inside.
Feeling distinctly unnerved, she left and shut the door quietly behind her.
The first bedroom upstairs was entirely empty. The second bedroom, however, was a sorry sight.
Sirius' clothes and other belongings were scattered haphazardly across the floor, and the bottom drawer on the single dresser seemed to have fallen out, as it was sitting overturned with its contents spilled around it. The large mattress from their bed at the apartment lay on the floor with a messy nest of blankets and sheets atop it. There was nothing on the walls. In fact, there was nothing on the walls anywhere in the cottage.
Was this really how Sirius had been living all this time? Hadn't anyone seen this mess? She had a hard time imagining James and Lily letting it happen.
Having deduced that Sirius was still out (it was only one in the morning, and he had always been a night owl) she made her way back down the kitchen to find something to eat. There were unwashed dishes in the sink, and she could smell the plate of food on the counter the moment she entered the room. It looked to be a very rotten plate of what had once been a half-eaten piece of pizza, maybe two weeks old judging by the state of it. Something niggled at the back of Marlene's head at that. It was clear Sirius didn't pick up after himself (not that he ever had), but this was ridiculous. It stank. And thanks to Padfoot, he had a sensitive nose. She opened the fridge, only to be greeted by nothing but sour milk and a handful of muggle beers.
Realizing that she would not be eating after all, she collected Addie from the couch and made her way upstairs to Sirius' room. She deposited the girl in the middle of the mattress before settling down herself.
The sheets and pillows didn't even smell like him.
The mess, the rotting food, the scentless bed...it didn't sit right.
Where was he?
.
November 12, 1981
The next morning, Marlene fed Addie the last of the baby food she'd packed, but her own stomach was painfully hollow. Sirius hadn't come home as she'd hoped, and she was as without answers as she'd been the night before. She had to find out what was going on, and she had to do it right away. She decided to just floo to Lily and James' place in Godric's Hollow. Hopefully they hadn't moved. Hopefully Lily would be there to give Marlene the hot meal and comfort she was so desperately craving.
It took her almost thirty minutes to muster enough wandless magic to make a fire. She couldn't help but think that she should have been able to manage that much quicker; she was much too out of practice. Finally, she settled Addie on her hip, snatched up a handful of floo powder, and shouted "Potter Cottage!"
Nothing happened. Well that was odd.
She tried again and got the same result. Maybe they'd disconnected their floo? Lily had never liked the idea of people just being able to pop in unannounced—especially since she and Sirius had made a habit of flooing straight into the Potter's living room as if they lived there themselves.
So after much waffling back and forth, she decided to just stick her head through to the Leaky to make sure it was all right. She could just pop in, and if it was safe, she'd go through all the way with Addie and figure out what was going on. She was wandless with a fourteen month old; she couldn't afford to be anything but overly cautious. It was certainly a new mode of operation for her when compared to all her memories before the attack.
None of the patrons noticed as her head appeared in the fire of the wizarding pub, but she saw plenty of witches and wizards in high spirits. The atmosphere was jovial and light. When she came through with Addie—who was thoroughly shaken from her first floo experience—no one noticed either. It was just as well; she had a feeling the Wizarding World wasn't expecting to see Marlene McKinnon ever again.
She inhaled the familiar scent of butterbeer and the polish Tom used on the tables and bar. She'd been away far too long. But her brief moment of anonymity didn't last. The crash of glass hitting the floor and a sharp intake of breath was the first indication that she had been spotted.
"Marlene McKinnon?" a shocked voice called over to her left.
She whipped her head around and spotted its source: Preston Sanders.
She didn't have a chance to reply before she felt hands wrap around her shoulders and shove her into the wall. She found herself looking down the barrel of Tom's wand. Addie started to cry in her arms.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" he snarled, the expression entirely foreign on his usually kind face.
"Marlene McKinnon." The unspoken, obviously, you idiot, hung silently in the air.
"Like hell you are." His blue eyes narrowed, and he jabbed the tip of his wand into her neck. Addie screamed louder, but the sound barely registered to Marlene. She did not appreciate being threatened, and her fingers twitched, itching for a wand she did not have. "Prove it."
"How do you expect me to do that?" she challenged. She was at a loss; she barely knew Tom.
"Sanders! Get your arse over here!" he bellowed unnecessarily; the pub had gone entirely silent.
Preston hurried over, his face having lost all its color.
"You went to school with her. Ask her something only she would know," Tom barked.
Preston looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he licked his lips nervously.
"Er—on our Hogsmeade date in sixth year, what were we talking about before my butterbeer exploded in my face?"
Marlene thanked Merlin, God, and all the Founders that she had all her memories back.
"Quidditch," she answered. "You wanted me to root for Hufflepuff in the upcoming match, but I was planning on rooting for Ravenclaw because—"
"It's her," Preston's hoarse whisper interrupted.
"Sweet Merlin," Tom breathed, an unreadable expression on his face.
He exchanged a loaded glance with Preston.
"Come with me," he said kindly, taking her by the elbow.
Addie quieted in her arms, seeming to feel the tension dissipate.
"Wait!" Preston's frantic call halted them in their tracks. When she turned around, his gaze was fixed on Addie. "Is that...is that Black's?"
Marlene's eyes narrowed at the odd tone of his voice.
"Yes, Sirius is her father."
Preston's eyes widened comically before her gave a jerky nod of his head and backed away.
"We're getting Dumbledore, but first, let's get you away from all these nosy idiots," Tom grumbled, directing her out the door in the back that led to the guest rooms.
Tom deposited her in one of the guest rooms before backing out again so hastily she thought he was going to trip over his own feet, and Marlene was left alone with her daughter and her worries.
"Well it looks like you'll be meeting Dumbledore, little angel," she murmured.
"Dum'do," Addie repeated, causing Marlene to snicker. She'd like to see him called that to his face.
"Yes. He's the greatest wizard alive, you know. I bet you'll like him; he seems like the grandfatherly type."
Addie had nothing to say to that, but she was fussing about in Marlene's arms, so she let the little girl down to toddle about and explore the small room on her unsteady little legs. As Marlene watched her bouncing dark curls, her thoughts drifted to Sirius. Where was he? Hopefully not asleep in some ditch after a long night of drinking—it wouldn't be the first time. Although, now that she thought about it, she had joined him in said ditch upon occasion. What had she and Sirius been playing at, thinking they were ready to be parents? They'd thought it was going to be so easy. That their lives would barely change. Sure, they'd have to stop going out to muggle bars so often—reserving that activity for when they could leave the kid with the Potters or the Longbottoms for the night—and figure out how to fit a crib into their shoebox apartment, but other than that, it had seemed like just another adventure to them. She remembered how they'd fondly joked about meshing their irresponsible lifestyle with raising a child...
January 3, 1980
Marlene and Sirius sat side by side on the sagging sofa in their little flat. They had their feet propped on the low coffee table—Sirius barefoot despite it being the dead of winter, Marlene in a pair of his too-big woolen socks—and were sipping tea from steaming, oversized mugs.
"You know," Sirius said absently, running a finger over the rim of his mug. "This tea would taste better with some Ogden's in it."
Marlene snorted. "Everything would taste better with some Ogden's in it."
Sirius nodded in agreement and held his mug out to her, shooting a significant glance in the direction of the kitchen.
"Are you seriously asking me to get off the couch and go spike your tea for you?" Marlene gave him her Not Amused expression.
"Er—yes?"
She rolled her eyes and pushed his mug away.
"I'm not getting off this couch to go put whiskey in your tea, when I can't put any in mine." She gestured towards her stomach. "Since it's your fault I can't drink, after all, you can do it yourself."
"How is it my fault?" he asked indignantly, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes to get a better look at her.
"I'm fairly sure you're familiar with the mechanics of making a baby, Sirius."
He glowered at her in response.
"But don't look so glum," she said slyly, leaning forward and reaching into a box of records, tapes, books, and miscellaneous items. "It's not like we even keep the liquor in the kitchen!"
She pulled out a half-empty bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey with a flourish and presented it to him.
"What—you—" he spluttered. "How long has that been in there?"
Marlene shrugged and handed him the bottle so he could add some to his tea.
"I found it about a week ago, and it seemed like a convenient place to keep it, so I left it."
Sirius stuck the bottle back into the box and took a sip of his newly enhanced Earl Grey.
"I think we should keep all the liquor in the living room," he said.
Marlene chuckled. "Right next to the baby toys?"
Sirius almost snorted out his tea. "Lily would have our heads. She already thinks we're going to make terrible parents."
"She does not!" Marlene exclaimed, slapping his shoulder lightly. "She just said it's a good thing we won't be the only role models available."
"Because that's so different?"
"It is! We'll be like the..." she trailed off, thinking. "The cool parents! We'll take ours, James and Lily's, and Alice and Frank's to do all sorts of fun stuff, and leave our boring friends in charge of the dull, responsible activities."
"I like this plan," Sirius said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I've been telling Prongs his kid is going to like me best anyway. He didn't seem to find that very funny, oddly enough."
"He's just worried that you're right."
Sirius nodded self-importantly and clinked his mug against hers.
They'd been so unprepared. Losing her memories had been good for her transition into motherhood. She had been unburdened by the reckless, wild darkness that had plagued her and Sirius and gotten them banned from going on missions together by Moody. But now, she didn't know if she would become that person again, or remain the meek, responsible young woman she had become while living as a muggle. She felt that after over a year of managing it successfully, she should be perfectly capable of caring for Addie, but she had always had Fiona before, and now she would be on her own with Sirius, who was such a child himself. For the love of Godric, what was she going to do? The state of the cottage was worrying. How would Sirius react to having a daughter now that he seemed barely able to take care of himself? She needed him; she didn't want to do this by herself.
A soft tap on the door was the only warning she received before Albus Dumbledore was standing before her in all his magenta-and-turquoise-robed glory.
"Miss McKinnon, is it truly you?" His blue eyes held no twinkle, but were wide and slightly distressed.
"It's me, professor." She shrugged and gave him a half smile. Addie chose that moment to half crawl, half stumble over and latch onto on of her mother's legs. "And this is my daughter, Adara."
Dumbledore's white eyebrows crawled impossibly high up his forehead for a split second, and his jaw tensed before his expression softened.
"I believe you have a story to share with me, my child."
Marlene nodded, and gestured for him to sit on the bed, it being the only suitable place for sitting in the room. The professor only winked and conjured himself a chair instead, leaving her the bed. Merlin's lacy underpants, she needed to get her hands on a wand.
"But first, professor, where's Sirius?" she asked. She needed to know he was all right.
"All in good time, Miss McKinnon." She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to silence her. Her teeth clicked audibly as she snapped her jaw shut, and she felt her face heat, but she kept quiet. "Please tell me the story of how you sit before me now, and where you have been for the better part of the last two years."
It wasn't really a request.
So Marlene told him the tale of what happened when she went home to visit her family, of waking up in the hospital without any clue as to her identity, of having Addie, of her memories returning, and of going to the cottage in Lynmouth the night before.
Dumbledore's mouth had flattened into a grim line, but he nodded sagely as she finished. "You have been through quite the ordeal; I applaud your strength, and I am glad you have returned to us."
"Thank you, sir."
"The Wizarding World believes you to be dead," he said delicately.
"I figured as much," Marlene shrugged. She'd worked that out long ago.
"Much has happened in your time away," he paused, looking almost regretful before he spoke his next words. "Lord Voldemort has fallen."
Her grin split her face in two as she sagged with relief. She looked fondly over at her daughter where she stood with her little nose pressed against the windowpane, looking out on Diagon Alley below. She'd never have to know a world bathed in death and terror.
"How?"
The way his expression darkened and the light in his eyes seemed to disappear made a stone settle in her stomach.
"There was a prophecy that foretold the coming of a child that would bring about the downfall of the Dark Lord—a child born at the end of July." He took a deep breath. "There were two women carrying children that were due to be born at the end of the seventh month that fulfilled the other requirements of the prophecy: Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom."
Marlene gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, but her eyes pleaded with him to continue.
"Voldemort heard of the prophecy and decided that the child spoken of was the unborn child of James and Lily Potter. They went into hiding under the Fidelius Charm, but they were betrayed."
"No," she whispered, her nails digging into her pals as her hands clenched into fists. Please not James and Lily.
"He attacked them in their home. The boy, Harry, survived, but James and Lily perished and Voldemort along with them."
Marlene whimpered, clutching at her chest. No, no, no. It couldn't be true. It couldn't.
And then a sickening thought occurred to her.
"Who was it?" she whispered hoarsely. "Who was their secret keeper?"
"I'm so sorry, Marlene."
She thought she was going to vomit.
"Where is he?" she demanded, fire igniting in her voice as the desperation set in. She couldn't even process that he had as good as murdered their closest friends. She had to see him. He was Sirius—he wouldn't—couldn't—she needed—
"Sirius Black is in Azkaban."
.
November 17, 1981
Sirius backed into the corner of his cell as the dementors swept past. His happy memories were wrenched from his heart and pulled until they strained just beneath the surface of his skin. He wished he could hold onto them physically with his hands that were bloody and tattered from clawing at the stone and the bars. It would be easier than leaving his mind to frantically scrabble at the threads of times he held dear, times lost to him.
They left him breathing ragged, pale, and slumped like a scarecrow without a post in the farthest corner from the door for the second time that day. They patrolled his wing twice a day, every day. It was the fifteenth day, the thirtieth patrol. He was safe until tomorrow at least.
And then he heard something he did not expect to hear—the clicking of several sets of shoes on the grimy, beaten stone at the end of the row of cells. He was the last cell in his row in the maximum-security wing. They got double the dementors and double the patrols, but never visitors.
Sirius was on his feet and pressed against the bars in the space of a breath. He wrapped his long fingers around the bars and tried to crane his neck to see whom the footsteps belonged to. But the bars were sunken back in the stone façade, so he could not see until they were right in front of him.
It was Millicent Bagnold, the minister, flanked by two Aurors.
"Minister! Please—I didn't—he's STILL ALIVE—INNOCENT—DON'T LEA—"
Sirius' shouts turned incomprehensible as they rose in volume and he threw himself against the bars, arms reaching through with fingers grasping desperately at the empty air. Minister Bagnold let out and almighty shriek, dropped the pocketbook and copy of the Daily Prophet in her arms, and took off back down the way she'd come. The Aurors stunned Sirius simultaneously, sending his body flying back into his cell to slam against the far wall and slump to the ground.
.
She'd woken up in the hospital wing. Apparently, she had fainted in the guest room at the Leaky, come to, become so hysterical that she had to be stunned, and Dumbledore had taken her and Addie back to Hogwarts. She didn't remember any of it.
But she remembered everything since waking up to the sympathetic face of Poppy Pomfrey. She remembered Dumbledore assuring her that James and Lily were most certainly dead, and that Sirius was going to waste away behind bars in prison for the rest of his life. She remembered that Peter was dead, Remus had disappeared into the muggle world, Dorcas was dead, Mary was dead, Frank and Alice were in St. Mungo's, half the Order was missing, dead, or worse. She remembered, but she wished she didn't.
After two days on a heavy dose of calming draughts strong enough to incapacitate her so severely that Pomona Sprout had needed to take over care of Addie, Marlene found a new solution to dealing with the horrific revelations of what had transpired in her absence: she just didn't think about it.
She took all the emotions that threatened to take her breath away and locked them away behind a door in the back of her mind she vowed never to open. She knew that everyone she'd ever cared for was dead, mad, or locked away, but she refused to feel it. She just couldn't do it. She tapped into the hardness that marked her character and had always allowed her to turn a blind eye to and indulge Sirius' destructive behavior, and to commit terrible atrocities in the name of war, and then she let it shield her heart from the pain she could not bear to face.
So when Dumbledore had approached her two days ago about the Daily Prophet requesting an interview with her regarding her "return from the dead" and her status as the mother of the child of a mass murderer, she refused point blank. She could not sit and be questioned about all the things she'd locked behind the door without falling to pieces. So she told the headmaster to tell the Prophet they could publish a small note stating that she had survived the attack on her family, suffered temporary memory loss, and subsequently returned with her fourteen-month-old daughter. They were not allowed to mention Sirius, and they were not allowed to disclose her location.
Simple, short, and only the necessary details—rather similar to her emotional range at the moment.
She'd been put up in guest quarters in a disused wing of the seventh floor, and it had been recommended that she and Addie not leave the immediate vicinity of her rooms. But being confined to such a small space was going to drive her mad. She couldn't stay stagnant; she was running from too many things now and couldn't afford to let them catch up.
So early that morning, she had informed Dumbledore that she would be going to Diagon Alley with Addie to get a wand, money, and a few essentials. Afterwards, she would be returning straight to the cottage in Lynmouth, and he shouldn't expect to hear from her for a good long while. He'd protested until Madame Pomfrey had declared her stable enough to care for herself and her daughter.
She'd arranged to use Professor McGonagall's fireplace to floo to the Leaky Cauldron.
"Do you require an escort today, Miss McKinnon?" The Head of Gryffindor's voice was as sharp and cold as ever, but there was genuine concern in her eyes behind her spectacles.
"Thank you professor, but I believe I'll be alright."
That was a blatant lie, and they both knew it. She hoped she'd be all right.
"Very well." McGonagall led her to the fireplace. "Do come back and visit sometime. Your little one is very enchanting, and I should like to see more of her."
Marlene practically gaped as the normally stern woman looked fondly upon her daughter. Truthfully, it was refreshing after the distasteful looks some of the professors had given Addie. Something to do with having Sirius for a father, she supposed.
"Um..."
"Perhaps at Christmastime? Boxing Day has always been a pleasant time at the castle," the professor hinted, and Marlene nodded, slightly stunned.
Professor McGonagall laid a hand on her shoulder briefly and gave her an indecipherable moment of consideration before sending her through the floo.
.
As she made her way from the Leaky Cauldron to Gringotts, she kept the hood of her cloak pulled up to hide her face and held Addie close to her chest. Everywhere she went, she spotted people reading copies of the Daily Prophet, which only served to increase her anxiety. The article about her was supposed to be published that day. She hadn't seen the paper, but prayed they hadn't included a photo of her. The last thing she needed was attention.
She entered the wizarding bank with purpose and strode all the way to the counter at the opposite end of the grand room, only removing her hood once she stood pressed against the marble with a goblin peering down at her from the other side.
"I would like to visit my vault."
"Name?" asked the goblin in a bored voice, its wide mouth curling distastefully at the corners.
"McKinnon."
"The McKinnon family is dead. The vault has been sealed, its contents belong to us now."
Marlene's shoulders tensed. She had been expecting this. It would now be her responsibility to sort out her family's accounts. It barely registered that the entire family fortune would now belong to her, likely making her one of the wealthiest witches in her own right under the age of twenty-five.
"Read the prophet," she said as calmly as she could. "Turns out I'm hard to kill."
The goblin sneered, but a defeated expression flashed across his eyes. Marlene bristled as she realized the goblin knew she was alive and was just giving her a hard time.
Proving her identity as a McKinnon turned out to be rather simple. As one of the oldest vaults in Gringotts, there were blood wards on the door. All she had to do was prick her finger and press it against the steel to gain access and extract enough gold to last her quite a long time. She wondered how much McKinnon blood had become a part of that door, how many of her family members had offered a bit of themselves to the steel and stone. However many of them there had been, they were gone now, and only she remained.
After returning from the caverns, she met with a goblin named Ragnok in a back room to sign several documents that would make her the sole proprietor of her family's assets which turned out to include quite a lot of gold and several properties she had never even heard of. When they were finished, she fled the back room so quickly she forgot to pull her hood up again. It was this mistake that led to an encounter so unexpected she would not have predicted it under any circumstances.
"Miss McKinnon."
A sharp, imperious voice stopped her hurried progression out of the main hall. Gritting her teeth, she slowly turned around to see who had recognized her, only to come face to face with none other than Walburga Black.
Sirius' mother looked flawlessly put together as usual. Her deep green robes were slashed with a dark teal, her blonde hair was streaked with silver and pulled back from her face in a no-nonsense chignon, and her lace-gloved hands were clutched firmly around an expensive looking pocketbook. Her face however, looked to have aged ten years since Marlene had last seen her. Her mouth was drawn into a tight line, and her eyes were flat with deep shadows like smears of kohl beneath them.
She looked old.
"Mrs. Black," Marlene inclined her head politely.
"It is a pleasure to see you did not perish after all," Walburga said mildly. Her eyes, however, were trained on Addie.
Marlene wasn't sure what to say to that. Walburga wasn't even looking at her; she might as well have been disillusioned for all the attention she was paid.
"Is—Is this...?" Walburga trailed off, and her eyes flicked up to meet Marlene's.
They were the exact same shade of gray as Sirius', and it took her breath away.
"Yes, Sirius is her father," Marlene all but whispered, tensing her grip on Addie protectively.
It was if the quiet activity of Gringotts had ceased to exist around them. Voldemort himself could have appeared in the lobby and asked to open a vault, and they would not have noticed.
"She's beautiful." The haughty tone had melted from Walburga's speech.
"She looks like her father."
Marlene smoothed a hand over Addie's dark curls. The little girl was nuzzled against her neck with one hand curled against her mother's chest as she peered curiously at her grandmother.
"May I?" Walburga asked, but without waiting for Marlene's answer, she ran a gloved finger from Addie's hairline to jaw, and her eyes fluttered slightly as the corners of her mouth twitched.
Marlene tensed. This was the woman who had stood by and let her son be beaten by his father, who had made him feel so unwelcome in his own home he'd been forced to run away. She was very sure she did not want this woman touching her daughter. Unfortunately, she was also Addie's grandmother.
"And what have you named my granddaughter?" The commanding tone had returned, but it was slightly flat.
"Adara Michelle," Marlene paused as her chest twinged painfully. Michelle, for her favorite brother Michael. "Adara Michelle Black."
Giving Addie her father's name had been a decision painstakingly made during her brief stay at Hogwarts. She didn't necessarily want her daughter to be a Black, but she also didn't want her to grow up feeling ashamed of her paternal heritage. There were good Blacks, Marlene reasoned. She'd tell Addie about them, tell her she could be proud of her ancestors. And even more privately, Marlene didn't feel right giving her the McKinnon name. She felt like she had cheated death the night she survived the attack on her family, and maybe her family name wasn't meant to continue.
Walburga's eyes lit up at the sound of her granddaughter's name.
"Adara, from Sirius' constellation?"
Marlene pretended not to notice how the other woman's voice broke over her son's name. She only nodded in response.
"I would very much like to become better acquainted with my granddaughter," Walburga all but commanded. When she noticed Marlene's nostrils flare slightly, she added, "If that is alright with you, of course."
Marlene could have screamed at her. How dare she ask such a thing after the way she treated Sirius?
"I'm afraid that is not going to be an option," she said coldly and turned to leave.
An iron grip with pointed nails clamping around her arm made her pause. Walburga would never lower herself to beg, so she kept the line of her lips firm, but her eyes were pleading, shamelessly begging in a way she would not dare with words.
Marlene had never seen her look so vulnerable.
"I—I will think about it," she acquiesced. "I will write you when I come to a decision."
Walburga's grip on her arm loosed instantly, and she withdrew her hand. She straightened her spine and raised her chin, looking almost every bit the regal, cold woman Marlene remembered for her childhood.
"Thank you." Her tone was clipped and her nod was stiff, but her eyes had gone slightly glassy, and Marlene suddenly felt terribly awkward.
The two women stared at each other with loaded gazes before they both turned and went their separate ways. Over her mother's shoulder as they hurried from the bank, Addie peered at her grandmother with curious eyes.
.
November 18, 1981
When he finally awoke, it was colder. Before even opening his eyes, he felt it, a gut-freezing chill that seemed to suck the air from his lungs. It was an unnatural cold that he recognized, and keeping his eyes shut and cheek pressed to the hard stone of the cell floor, he waited for it to pass. But the cold did not pass and the crippling despair that accompanied did not lift.
Sirius opened his eyes, knowing what he would surely see, but hoping desperately that he would be wrong. Hoping for anything in Azkaban turned out to be a grossly foolish endeavor.
They were not stationed just outside his cell, but instead across the wide corridor. The two dementors were not so close as to incapacitate him, but they were near enough for Sirius to feel their crushing presence at an intensity that would surely, slowly drive him mad. He supposed that was the point.
Sirius pressed the heels of his filthy hands into his eyes until he saw white spots bloom across the back of his eyelids. He pressed until he was sure he would make himself blind, praying senselessly to some unnamed entity that when he opened his eyes once more he would not be greeted with blindness, with the sight of dementors and stone, or even with the bare walls of lonely, cottage by the sea. He wanted to see a little, messy flat in London decorated with Quidditch posters and Gryffindor banners. He wanted to see a dresser full of neatly folded muggle band shirts with a glass top of carefully arranged scent bottles and jewelry boxes—because no matter how much of a rebel Marlene had become over the years, her upbringing still showed through in the quietest ways.
But when he peeled his hands from his face and let his vision clear, he was greeted by none of those sights. His gaze had fallen immediately upon a rolled up bundle of paper in the corner where the outside of his cell bars met with the stone of the dividing walls. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, still weak from the double stunning spells and the dementors, and shoved his arm through the bars, twisting awkwardly until his fingers closed around the roll at last. With his prize clenched tightly to his chest, he made his way into the corner of his cell farthest from the dementors and spread the paper flat on the stone floor before him.
It was a copy of the Daily Prophet, a copy Sirius vaguely remembered flying from Minister Bagnold's arms as she ran from him, screaming. His eyes swept over the headlines with a strange detachment. While it seemed an eternity he had been within the unforgiving walls of Azkaban prison, the pain of losing Lily and James burned with the raw intensity of a fresh wound. And yet the newspaper before him confirmed that neither of his senses of the passage of time were at all correct. Not one of the front-page headlines mentioned the Potters, but they still spoke unmistakably of the war. There were trials, convictions, and acquittals of Death Eaters, as well as one particularly notable manhunt for the Lestranges.
If he had not been taking such care to absorb every precious word, he might have missed the two, small paragraphs in the bottom right corner of the third page that bore the headline:
MARLENE MCKINNON, HEIR TO THE MCKINNON FORTUNE, LIVES!
And time, no matter how its passage had seemed to ebb and flow without reason, stopped.
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Okay, so firstly, thank you so SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed during my long absence. You guys are the reason I came back. Anyway, I want to apologize for disappearing for so long. RL is kicking my butt right now. I recently made some major lifestyle changes, and I honestly haven't had a lot of time or inspiration to write. I'm sorry to desert you, but I hope you all understand. But you can be rest assured that I'm back now, so I hope there are still some of you who haven't forgotten about me.
Until next time - blue