November 3, 1983
Marlene flooed directly into the downstairs parlor of Grimmauld place and stepped lightly from the fireplace, checking to make sure she didn't trek any soot across the expensive carpets. No matter how many times she visited, she didn't think she'd ever get over how grandly decorated Number 12 was. The townhouse had been expanded by magic, and even McKinnon Manor which was at least five times as large, had never felt so lavish. It could never be said that Walburga Black didn't know how to maintain her home.
But despite its beauty, it was by far the last day she would ever want to set foot inside the place. It felt wrong to walk though these rooms on Sirius' birthday. Until recent months, the last time she had been in Sirius' childhood home they'd been giggling children, still eagerly waiting to start at Hogwarts.
Her arrival must have made more noise than she thought, because at that moment quick footsteps sounded from the hall before Addie tore into the room, dark hair flying freely behind her.
"Mummy!" Addie threw her arms around Marlene's knees, almost toppling them both to the floor. "We go home now?"
"Yes, it's time to go home for dinner. Where is your Grandmother?"
After their lunch in Diagon Alley, Walburga and Marlene had worked out a monthly visitation schedule so that Addie could get to know her grandmother. The visits quickly became bi-weekly when it became clear that Addie absolutely adored Walburga, much to the mystification of all parties involved.
"I'm here," Walburga announced from the doorway, surveying Marlene from down the length of her nose.
Marlene dropped into a small curtsey on reflex. She hated the ridiculous show of formality, but etiquette dictated it. And Walburga loved her etiquette.
"I'm so glad you could make it on time," the Black matron said with acid politeness, giving a very small curtsey of her own. Marlene had to resist the urge to roll her eyes; she'd been five minutes late last time, and it didn't look like she'd be living it down any time soon. "Adara Michelle, that is not how we greet our mothers."
Addie's gray eyes widened under her grandmother's stare, quickly realize that she'd forgotten her manners. Again. She stepped back and made to grab awkwardly at the sides of her dress before Marlene laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
"Addie, sweetheart, manners are very important to you grandmother, but I don't care so much. As long as you greet her properly, you don't have to worry about me." She smiled, running a hand over her daughter's thick waves that had come free of their braid. She'd have to start charming them into place.
"Yes, Mummy," Addie replied sweetly before batting her eyes in Walburga's direction. Sometimes Marlene worried that she had a budding Slytherin on her hands.
Walburga sent Addie to collect her "things"—whatever that meant because she certainly didn't bring anything with her from the cottage that morning—while the two women seated themselves on the dark blue velvet sofas to wait. Marlene found her eyes pricking as she looked around the room. The parlor was plenty familiar to her now, but the memories of the person who had given her her reason for being there felt especially fresh. She noticed Walburga looking at her with a critical expression, no doubt making note of her mood and preoccupation. It was not a good feeling.
"So did the two of you have a nice time?" she asked, trying to dispel the tension. They had gone to an afternoon performance of the Wizarding ballet; Marlene thought that Addie would be bored, but Walburga thought it was an important cultural experience.
"Yes, thank you. The ballet was lovely," Walburga answered, looking impossibly restrained with her stiff back and high-collared robes. The emerald brooch at her throat glittered slightly in the light form the gas lamps.
"And did my daughter enjoy herself?" Marlene probed. Talking with Walburga was exhausting. She never knew how to act around the other woman, and she detested feeling like she had to pick up the mantle of all the pureblood customs that she had long ago cast off.
"I believe that Adara enjoyed herself more than either of us expected." Walburga tilted her head upwards to indicate the sound of Addie's feet pattering lightly down the hallway above them. "You shall see what I mean in a moment."
Marlene raised an eyebrow at the statement but waited patiently as Addie came down the stairs and back into the parlor. The three-year-old had reappeared dressed in a leotard, tights, slippers, and tutu—all in the softest shade of pink. Her clothing from earlier was balled up and promptly tossed carelessly onto an armchair.
"Look Mummy! I'm going to be a ballerina!" She twirled in a clumsy circle with her arms over her head. "Look how pretty I am."
"You look beautiful, sweetheart," Marlene assured her daughter before turning to Walburga with pursed lips.
The Black woman sighed delicately. "Well, of course that's a ridiculous ambition for a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and I told her as much." She paused to shoot a stern look at Addie, who chewed on her lip and looked reasonably repentant. "But she was very insistent, so I took the liberty of purchasing her a bit of dancewear. It wouldn't hurt to put her in a ballet class—in fact it might be good for her."
"Good for her how?" Marlene asked suspiciously.
Walburga sniffed. "I thought it might teach her some discipline."
This time, Marlene did not resist the urge to roll her eyes.
"Do you really want to start ballet classes, Addie?"
"Yes yes yes! Please, Mummy, please!"
"Adara, Blacks do not beg," Walburga chimed in.
"Sorry Granmum. Mummy, may I please take ballet classes?"
Marlene wasn't sure how she felt about Walburga trying to teach her daughter to behave so properly, but it was certainly nice when she asked for things so politely.
"You certainly may. I'll look for a studio tomorrow."
Addie threw herself at Marlene, wrapping her little arms around her mother's neck. Marlene returned the embrace for a moment before directing her to say goodbye to her grandmother.
As she collected and folded the outfit that Addie wore to the ballet, she watched her daughter and Walburga out of the corner of her eye.
"Granmum?" Addie asked, rocking back and forth on her slippered feet. "Do you think I could be a ballerina if I really really wanted to?"
"You're a daughter of the House of Black. You will never need to dance or work at all to support yourself." Walburga looked down at the little girl before her, her gaze stern.
"I know." Addie sighed and ducked her head. "But do you think I could?"
"Adara Michelle Black." Walburga used one of her manicured fingers to lift Addie's chin. "With enough ambition, you can be anything."
Addie smiled so widely that her nose scrunched up until the freckles on its bridge touched. Marlene felt traitorous—to whom, she did not want to think—for finding the scene so touching. With a little shake of her head, she herded Addie into the fireplace and watched carefully as she flooed home first.
"Miss McKinnon." Walburga's hand on her elbow stopped her.
"Walburga, you know I've told you to call me Marlene."
"Marlene." Walburga paused, pursing her lips for a moment and shifting down to grip Marlene's hand instead. "I know that it is a difficult day. You are not alone in that feeling."
She had to force herself to keep from letting her jaw drop. Had Walburga really just recognized Sirius' birthday and implied that it was difficult for them both? She didn't know whether to be disgusted or not.
She nodded stiffly and stepped into the floo-her last glimpse of Walburga's stony expression before she disappeared.
December 24, 1983
"Marlene, I really am glad the two of you came."
A hand closed over Marlene's forearm as she washed the dinner dishes by hand. She looked up into Andromeda's soft gaze. With seven years between them, Marlene and Andromeda had never know each other particularly well, aside from moving their families moving in similar social circles when Marlene was still very young. After Andromeda was disowned for marrying a muggleborn, they'd seen each other a few times, but the Tonks never joined the Order, and war didn't leave much time for social calls.
Marlene had been understandably surprised when she received Andromeda's invitation to join her family for dinner on Christmas Eve. She almost hadn't accepted, but if she were allowing for Addie to become acquainted with her Black relatives, she'd be remiss in excluding the ones who didn't hold political ideals that made her stomach turn. More accurately, Andromeda hadn't given her much of a choice—tracking her down the muggle way, practically ambushing her at work and demanding that she come for a visit. Even disowned, Andromeda was a Black and expected to get her way.
"Thank you for—uh—for inviting us." Marlene tried to be polite, but she stumbled over her words. She'd been nervous all evening, finding herself unable to enjoy Andromeda and Ted's hospitality. And it had been wonderful hospitality—the Tonks' home was modest, but comfortable and every inch of it was unmistakably wrought with love and sacrifice.
Andromeda took the dish from her hands and sent it flying to its place on the shelf with a flick of her wand. "I'm not a fool. I know you didn't want to come, but I know that you did anyway because of your little girl." She nodded her head in the direction of the living room where a ten-year-old Nymphadora was attempting to teach a three-year-old Addie to play exploding snap while Ted stood watchfully by.
"I didn't not want to come," Marlene protested, unable to express the true reason for her wariness. "I just wasn't sure—"
"Wasn't sure why we'd want to be in the same room with you, let alone have you at our table?" Andromeda's eyes grew sharp, making her look far too much like her older sister for Marlene's comfort.
Marlene flushed. That was exactly what she wasn't sure of.
"I don't see him when I look at you, just like I don't see all those people he killed when I look at Adara." Andromeda took a step back, turning her head away slightly. A muscle jumped in her jaw, and she braced one hand against the tiled countertop. "The people we love, the people we come from…their actions don't define us. They can't."
Marlene stayed silent. Of course she knew, logically, that Sirius' actions didn't say anything about her character, but it didn't always feel that way. Her engagement ring rested against her breastbone, hidden beneath her shirt, and its chain around her neck felt like a yoke. The love she still held for him was traitorous, and she deserved to wear it like a brand so that everyone could see what a monster she was.
There were some mornings where she woke and felt it deep in her bones that Sirius could not be guilty of those crimes—that because she hadn't been around to see him betray everything they'd fought for, there was no way it could have happened. But then she remembered Lily and James' cottage with the roof blown off and the windows shattered. Just because she was unaware at the time, didn't mean it didn't happen. Just because she never saw the proof didn't mean that Sirius wasn't…wasn't what he was.
But she couldn't help but wonder. If she had been there, would she have seen before he could hurt anyone? If she had been there, not hidden away in blissful ignorance, none if it might have even happened.
But she hadn't been there, and it still happened, and everyone she'd loved was dead or gone. Marlene felt like she was a lone runner standing on the finish line of a race she'd never wanted to win.
"At least it's over." Her voice slipped out as a whisper, as she stared at her reflection in the darkened kitchen window. Her hair was a pale curtain, hanging limply around her face. Her eyes—how long had they looked like that? She was a ghost.
"Over?" Andromeda's voice was harsh, thick with emotion. "Nothing's over. The Dark Lord may be gone, but not forever. And even if he is, too many of his supporters remain, and too many of his ideals live on."
Marlene didn't want to hear that. The war had taken so much—she looked at Addie, giggling and smiling with her cousin—and she only had one thing left to give. Not that. "But the war—"
"Never ended. That was only the first act."
December 25, 1983
Marlene had once thought about perpetuating the muggle myth of Saint Nicholas to ensure Addie's good behavior leading up to the winter holidays. As it had turned out, the only thing needed to get her headstrong daughter to behave was a stern lecture from Walburga Black on the comportment expected of a daughter of the House of Black. Oddly enough, Addie seemed to take her duty to appropriately represent her family very seriously. As a result, the little girl never let anyone catch her putting so much as a toe out of line. Marlene felt a certain amount of pride that her daughter conducted herself so well, even at barely over three years old. She'd had to keep the smug smile from her face over the past few weeks, as she watched Delia Dabney frequently threatening her own rambunctious children that they would not receive any presents if they didn't behave themselves.
Although, without any mythical man in a red suit to use as an excuse for overindulgence, Marlene had to forcefully restrain herself from absolutely showering Addie in gifts. She didn't want her daughter to grow up spoiled, but she also felt guilty that she had so few family members to bestow presents upon her little girl. But when she saw Addie's face absolutely light up at the small pile of gifts under their modest tree on Christmas morning, she concluded that she was worrying for too much.
From "Aunt Emmeline", Marlene and Addie had received a new set of scales and a porcelain doll, respectively. From Andromeda a very sincere letter that had left Marlene unable to speak for several minutes and a toy broom for Addie, much to her mother's horror. Walburga sent child's bracelet for Addie from the Black family vaults—a silver circlet studded with three emeralds (disgustingly Slytherin, in Marlene's opinion)—and nothing for Marlene herself, unsurprisingly.
The real surprise had been a rectangular package wrapped in pretty silver paper with a pink bow and addressed to "Miss Adara Michelle Black." It turned out to be a very fancy set of dress robes. They were made of a shimmery, but inexpensive lilac fabric with silver embroidery and studded with faux jewels. They were dress-up robes, meant for pretend play, and Addie promptly discarded her nightgown in their favor and demanded to be called "Princess Adara Michelle" for the rest of the day. In the bottom of the box, beneath the robes, was a card that Marlene almost didn't believe could be real.
It simply read:
For Miss Black, on Christmas, from Narcissa Malfoy.
Marlene informed Addie that the robes were a present from her Aunt Narcissa, whom she had not met, but wished her a very merry Christmas. Addie was so taken with the robes that she declared Narcissa to be her favorite aunt. It was unsettling, to say the least.
After the morning's festivities, it which mother and daughter opened their presents in their pajamas and dressing gowns, Marlene set about writing her thank-you letters, as she had been trained. She rose from the dining table an hour later, armed with several envelopes, and made her way into the living room to try and cajole Midge to go and deliver them all. She found Addie seated on the floor in front of the crackling fireplace and coloring away with her new set of crayons.
"What are you drawing, sweetheart?" Marlene asked over her shoulder as she tied the bundle of letters to one of Midge's legs and sent the owl out the window. She then seated herself on the carpet and leaned her back against the armchair.
Addie did not look up from the paper she was working on—bearing a green blob that looked like a misshapen version of their Christmas tree—and only slid a small pile of completed drawings across the carpet towards her mother. "Pictures."
Marlene rolled her eyes at her daughter's smart-mouth response; not even Walburga had been able to temper that much.
She picked up the sheaf of papers and flipped through them one by one. First, there was a drawing of Holly's Watch, with its white walls, blue shutters, and front garden in full bloom. Addie had clearly rendered their home with a great deal of affection. Next was a clumsy image of a ballerina with an enormous pink tutu and a round bun on the very top of her head. The dark hair and gray eyes identified the dancer as Addie herself; Marlene smiled at the thought of her daughter, a witch of two prominent families with considerable means aspiring to be in the ballet. Then there was one of Tantomile, Midge, and Puppy (the stuffed animal) all in a line. Finally, there was a picture of them, Addie and Marlene, hand in hand.
"These are very good, Addie," Marlene told her daughter sincerely. "Do you want to hang them up when you're finished?"
Addie shook her head and sat up, looking at Marlene with bright eyes. "Nuh-uh. They're a present."
"A present for whom?"
"For my Daddy."
Marlene felt the blood drain from her face. She couldn't say a word. She had forgotten how.
"I heared you tell Auntie Delia my Daddy's in prison because he did sumpthin bad, and you put me in time-out when I'm bad to think 'bout why I should be sorry, but prison lasts longer than time-out, so I drew my Daddy some pictures so he wouldn't miss what we did when he was thinking 'bout why he's sorry for bein' bad." Addie smiled, her grin enormous on her tiny face, and panted slightly, out of breath from her thorough explanation.
"That's…very t-thoughtful of you, sweetheart." Marlene's voice was brittle, and she wasn't sure what her face was doing, but Addie didn't seem to notice anything amiss.
"Can Midge take my Daddy the pictures? They're his Christmas present."
Marlene felt her chest constrict, air unable to reach her lungs. She wasn't ready…she didn't want to explain…and if Addie started asking questions…it was too soon.
"Of course. It's a wonderful present," she gasped out.
Addie spared her shocked mother a single, concerned glance before turning back to her drawing, humming tunelessly as she added a star to the top of the tree.
.
That evening, Marlene and Addie joined the Dabney family—including Edith, who could give Walburga a run for her money on any day—for Christmas dinner. Mr. Kirby and his son, Trace, a handsome man that turned out to be the childhood best friend of Kent, Delia's husband, joined them. The food was wonderful, the children were adorable, and Marlene smiled and passably enjoyed herself.
Then she came home, tucked Addie into bed, and put the drawings into the most innocuous container she could find—a breakfast cereal box. She put the box on the top shelf in her closet and resolved to forget all about it. What else could she do?
December 26, 1983
For the first time in over four years, Marlene McKinnon walked through the doors of Hogwarts Castle. The click of her heels on the flagstones was enough to bring on a staggering wave of nostalgia.
She was quite sure this was a bad idea.
She hadn't recovered from another Christmas without her family, from her conversation with Andromeda, from Addie's drawings. The last thing she wanted to be doing was wandering the halls of Hogwarts; it felt like her memories were pouring from the cracks between the stones. She just wished her ghosts would leave her well enough alone, if only for a day.
But Professor McGonagall had invited her for tea, she had foolishly accepted, and now it was too late to back out. Not to mention that she promised Addie she'd show her the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall. She had a feeling the former would be easier to get out of than the latter, anyway.
"Mummy?"
Marlene looked down to where Addie was tugging on her hand. Her daughter looked like a proper wizarding child in her dark green wool cloak (a present from Walburga) and her little dragon skin boots. Marlene looked like a muggle, as she was often wont to do these days, in her thick coat and denims.
"Yes, sweetheart?" she answered, already knowing exactly what her daughter was going to ask.
"Can we go see the ceiling now?"
Marlene sighed. "Addie, didn't I tell you that we were going to have tea first?"
"But—"
"No buts. Tea first, ceiling after."
"Yes, Mummy," Addie grumbled, jutting out her full lower lip.
Addie pouted for a few more seconds, but her attention was quickly diverted elsewhere when they passed a portrait of a pair of wood nymphs that cooed sweetly down at her. Addie announced that the portraits at Hogwarts were much nicer than the ones at "Granmum's" and that perhaps Grimmauld Place could use a redecoration. Marlene snorted at that and assured the three-year-old that she was not wrong.
When they reached McGonagall's office, the Professor welcomed them in with a warm smile that still managed to look somewhat stern. She'd had a small tea service prepared for Marlene's visit, and while conversation was somewhat stilted (how Marlene had expected tea with Minerva McGonagall to be relaxing, she'd never know) the hour passed pleasantly enough. Addie entertained herself with Puppy and her new doll while Marlene filled Professor McGonagall in on her quiet life in Lynmouth.
Though Marlene had to admit it was at least a bit enjoyable to catch up with her old professor, the true reason that she had been called for a visit to Hogwarts became abundantly clear when she was making ready to depart.
"Oh, Marlene, Albus has asked if you would pay him a visit in his office before you take your leave," McGonagall said in a voice that brooked no room for argument.
"But I promised Addie that I would show her the ceiling in the Great Hall," Marlene protested feebly. It wasn't that she didn't want to see Dumbledore. She just didn't feel like sitting on the other side of his stately desk and feeling like she'd gotten in trouble for helping the Marauders with a prank again.
"Then I shall take her." The professor waved her hand as if to indicate that it was an obvious solution.
Marlene opened and closed her mouth before kneeling down in front of Addie. "Would it be alright if Professor McGonagall showed you the ceiling?"
"Uh-huh," Addie replied, looking up shyly at the stern professor.
Well it seemed she had no choice. Feeling like a misbehaving student, she made her way to Dumbledore's office. He seemed to know when she arrived, because the spiral staircase opened for her, beckoning her in.
Not two minutes later, Marlene found herself seated across from Dumbledore at his desk, looking somewhat stubbornly out his window at the fresh snowfall while the headmaster peered at her over the tops of his spectacles.
Deciding she was being childish, Marlene turned to face the man and asked politely, "Did you have a nice Christmas, Professor?"
"Pleasant enough, thank you. And you, my dear?"
Marlene cast her eyes about his office, admiring the various instruments, the moving portraits, and Fawkes on his perch. It was just so magical. She felt a twinge of nostalgia deep in her gut. "Lovely. It was very quiet."
Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the desk and steeple his fingers. "Quiet—yes, that's why I asked you to join me here today."
She blinked, but kept her mouth shut.
He continued, "I worry that you've become isolated."
Marlene bristled. "I have Addie."
"A three year old is not a companion."
She counted to five, forcing down her indignant response, before responding with chilly politeness, "I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm not sure I see how my social life is any of your concern. I am no longer a student, sir."
"That does not mean I do not worry about you, Miss McKinnon." Dumbledore sighed. "You must stop punishing yourself."
"What on earth would I be punishing myself for?"
She rose from her chair and excused herself, feeling his pitying stare on her back until she shut the door.
.
Sirius thought it might be Christmas. But it might also be tomorrow. Or maybe yesterday. He wasn't sure anymore. He couldn't remember. He'd lost track months ago—or was it years now? He would fall asleep and not know for how long. He would stare at the wall and not know for how long.
But he was fairly sure—as sure as he could be based on the last time he'd been able to get the date out of a patrolling auror—that the holiday would arrive shortly, or had passed a short time ago. He reminded himself that it mattered, knowing the day. It did. It did.
He could not remember his last Christmas before. Before Lily. Before James. Before Peter. Before Azkaban. The memory was there, somewhere, and he could feel its ghost warming something inside him. But the important bits, the details, had already been buried by the dementors. Maybe he'd get them back, if he were free. Maybe they were gone.
But he could imagine this Christmas. Not spent in a cell, but in James and Lily's cottage. James would be wearing antlers, a joke he found hilarious, but wasn't anything impressive to anyone else. Lily would be in a sweater that matched her eyes, her laughter buoying them from one moment to the next. Remus would be healthy, nowhere near his full moon transformation, and he'd have brought a girl 'round who he would naturally think was much too good for him. Harry would be playing with a little girl, the two of them running around in circles, driving Lily crazy. The girl would have blonde hair and brown eyes that were always warm. And Marlene would be in his arms, beautiful and perhaps a bit sharp around the edges. They'd be laughing and drinking a bit too much. They'd be h—
Sirius buckled at the waist, palm flattening against the floor as he gasped for breath. The cold wrapped around his chest and ran down his spine, robbing his ability to even move.
Stupid. Stupid.
He knew better than to think about that. About things that made him happy. It only made them hungry. And when they were hungry, they took.
"We pooled our resources for yours, Padfoot."
James and Lily's living room lit up like nightmare, fairy lights dangling from everything. Someone squeezed his hand excitedly.
"It's outside." The same someone pulled on his hand. He swayed. He was a bit drunk. "Come on."
Sirius shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes, fingers digging sharply into his scalp. No. No you can't have it. Not another one. He could feel it slipping away, to a place he couldn't reach.
"Am I dreaming?"
"No, Pads. You're awake."
Sleek metal. Chrome finish. His finger twitched, itching for the power.
"It is the one you wanted, right?"
"We charmed it—
—try it out."
He pulled on the hand. Legs swung around, settling behind him.
"Is this thing safe?"
"Safe as life!"
a roar beneath him
the ground falling away
a scream in his ear and arms around his middle
a laugh—his own
blonde hair whipping around and into his face—it smelled like apples—always like apples
freedom.
And once they had taken, then they gave.
"Shame on my House!"
Pain running like fire up his spine.
Green light leaving the tip of his wand. "For your parents."
"When will it stop hurting—
It never does. It never does. Never does.
Skull and snake on a pale arm. Why would you do this?
door hanging off its hinges and cracked glasses on the floor
—she didn't make it. None of them did."
So this is sort of a Christmas special. I didn't plan to time it like this, but it just sort of worked out that way. Sorry that this is the most depressing chapter ever. I even made myself emotional.
Speaking of emotions, I just wanted to remind everyone that Marlene is depressed. She's suffered through some pretty horrible things, and she's grieving for almost everyone she knew before. Her way of dealing with things that are painful is to avoid anything that might remind her of them. Because of this, she's mostly avoiding the magical world, which includes not writing Remus back.
Now, a lot of people want her to get custody of Harry, or at least reach out to him. Legally, Marlene can't get custody of Harry because she has no claim on him, not to mention that Harry must remain with the Durselys because of Lily's sacrifice. As for reaching out to Harry, I won't say whether it will happen or not, but I will say that Marlene is not currently in an emotional state to find the bravery to do so.
Lastly, in case you're all worrying that I've talked you into a Blackinnon story when all you're getting is tears and memories, there is Marlene + Sirius interaction coming that happens in the present timeline. I don't have it completely nailed down, but I'll tentatively estimate for about three chapters from now, maybe less.
I hope everyone is enjoying the end of 2014, and for those of you that celebrate Christmas, Merry Christmas!