November 7th, 1976: Marlene McKinnon

(sixth year)

She must have dreamt about him afterward because, when she's stirring a little and still half-asleep, she can already feel the shame of (what?) bubbling in her stomach. It only takes a few more moments and a grunt from the body beside her, though, to remind her what she did, where she is—where is she? Hoisting herself up by the elbows, Marlene's surprised, then shocked, to feel blankets slipping down her chest and a mattress creaking beneath her. She isn't—she couldn't have—

Bugger.

Losing her resolve was mistake enough; she knows better than to do it in his dormitory. It's too personal, too intimate, to mix in pillows and pajamas and Quidditch posters tacked up on the headboard and roommates—oh, lord, Sirius better have made sure they would be alone in here, else she won't be able to hold her head up anymore. Marlene reaches down and feels around on the floor for whatever she was wearing last night (she's not going to take the walk of shame with his blankets draped around her, she's not), and she's relieved when her hand hits her dressing gown. Only after she's donned it does she dare open the curtains and check whether they have company.

They do—not Remus, he's stuck in the Hospital Wing, but James and Peter are snoring away in their respective beds. She gathers her undergarments and hightails the hell out of there before either of them wakes. What time is it, anyway? After miraculously finding her watch in the pocket of the dressing gown, Marlene checks and sees that it's quarter to six in the morning: too late (for her, at least) to go back to bed, too early to find Lily and sort herself out. All she wants is to curl up in bed, her own bed, and go back to sleep and forget that she slipped up again, after all these weeks of staying strong; but she doesn't think she can face the girls, not yet, not ever.

So Marlene makes a break for the nearest bathroom and takes the hottest shower she can stand. She can't scrub away that shame that's filling her up and boiling her over, but clearing her head and remembering… she can't say it helps, but at least she isn't blocking it out. It isn't the sex itself that bothers Marlene—it's the implications, the what-did-I-do and the where-do-I-go-from-here.

Their pattern is misleading. She quickly cycles through their history: he approaches her, she accepts him, she has enough and cuts him off until the next time. Only Marlene's the needy one, and Sirius rejects her over and over, every day, every minute. It's not about who kissed whom first, it's about how he can't even look her in the eye until it's over, and then he just sneers at her like she's served her purpose and walks away for the rest of the day, or two, or ten—however long until he's ready again. Her power over him is only an illusion: it's Sirius who decides whether he has any use for her. She has every right to give him up, humiliate him, even—so why does she apologize between kisses for the nights they spend apart?

But last night—it was different, in part because she'd gone longer without him, but also because of the interest he showed in her. Less like his usual detachment and borderline apathy, more like the time it all started in fourth year. He held her back in the common room long after everyone else had gone up to bed—god, she's remembering now—just studying and trading the occasional comment. And then Sirius was looking at her properly for the first time in weeks, and her breath caught in her throat, and he crossed the room and leaned in over her so they were nose to nose, and he paused to breathe her in for a moment, and then—

Downhill from there. Marlene shuts out the details, knowing she isn't ready to recall them just yet (ever). But he took her up to his dormitory when it wasn't empty, there was a first, and he stayed after—she's not sure what to make of that. He always dusts himself off and leaves her hanging after, always, but last night… last night was different.

Marlene turns off the water abruptly and steps out of the shower, toweling herself off. She has nothing else to take care of—except maybe the regret in the pit of her stomach, but it's not like she can do anything about that—so she shuts the hangings around her four-poster, curls up under the covers, and waits for a distraction.

None comes. Instead, she finds herself worrying about Doc—what's happened to him and whether she'll ever, ever see him again. She used to blame him (and Mum) for Doc not being present enough in her life, for him living most of the last sixteen years as though he only had a daughter on Christmas and her birthday at Mum's request. Especially the last couple of years, she's felt caught between so many stigmas—bastard child, teenage slut—and if not for Mary (and, lately, Lily), she's felt totally alone through it. Mum never understood her, but Doc—maybe he could have, if Marlene had only been able to keep him.

And they did keep each other for the whole second half of her summer when she and Lily moved in. He'd promised to write regularly, and she'd been so looking forward to monthly or maybe even weekly letters from him—and then he had to go and disappear without a trace. It's been almost two whole months, and there's been no word of where he's gone or whether he's ever coming back.

She hopes desperately that he comes back. Marlene doesn't know how she's going to cope if she loses her father.

Although this train-wreck of a day has her stomach twisting too much to eat, she has nowhere better to go than breakfast in the Great Hall, so she takes a deep breath and steps through the doors. Who will even be here to shield her from Sirius? Almost everyone has an internship, except the two of them, Remus, and Em, who (of course) isn't even in the hall.

It's too late to back out now—she's reached her usual seat at the Gryffindor table. Sirius glances up from his overflowing plate, then instantly looks away. "'Lo, McKinnon," he says softly between bites.

"Black," says Marlene in turn, sitting awkwardly across from him, and it strikes her that even sex wasn't enough to put them on first-name terms. Sure, Black's sort of like her nickname for him, and all of the boys switch off between calling the girls by their first and last names, but that doesn't seem like enough to her.

They sit there watching each other awkwardly for a second, like they didn't just spend the night together in his dormitory, and then Sirius, clearly floundering, asks, "Any news about your uncle?"

They haven't really talked one-on-one about Doc's disappearance up until now: Sirius doesn't know Marlene and Doc's true relation, so he didn't really get the full impact of what Doc being missing meant to Marlene. She wonders how it is that she's been sleeping with this boy for the last two years and it's somehow never come up.

"Nothing yet. It's been almost two whole months now. I keep reading the Prophet, waiting to see his name in black, or expecting Dumbledore to call me out of class so he can tell me…"

"He's going to be okay," Sirius says gently. "I'm sure he is."

It's a lie, of course. In this world, no one's safety is guaranteed. "Can we talk about something else? Anything else."

"Sure. Uh—are you going to the Quidditch game next weekend?"

"Yeah, I reckon I'm going with the other Gryffindors like always, rallying behind you and Jay and all that, not that you'll need luck on your side to demolish Slytherin."

Sirius replies through a mouthful of beans, "Lily and Mary and Remus will go with you, I reckon. Peter's taking the girl he's been seeing, you know, Siobhan Flynn from Ravenclaw—Abbott is going with Cresswell and Longbottom, I think it's a double date—Em never goes to Quidditch games anymore, but you know that already."

"A double date? Who's Frank seeing? I thought he was single."

There's a wicked glint in Sirius's eyes. "He was until a few days ago, when he got with Dana Madley." Marlene spits out her mouthful of pumpkin juice. "I know, I couldn't believe it when I heard, either."

"Scourgify," she says to clean up her mess, then laughs a bit incredulously at the news. "The Dana Madley? That daft bitch who somehow landed herself in Ravenclaw? I didn't think Longbottom would go for someone that… er, busty, or that much of a gossipmonger, for that matter. Didn't she and Jay have a thing briefly last year?"

Sirius shakes his head. "Almost. She was really pushing for it, and you know what James is like sometimes, so he led her on a bit more than he ought to have—but he never could have gone through with it. Whatever he says, he's always been holding out for Lily."

Not that Sirius knows anything about holding out for her, even when he knows he's already got her. Marlene drops her eyes; Sirius drops his voice. "You know I can't," he reminds her, sighing. "There's too much baggage, I'm too… I wish I could, but I can't, I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry," she says slowly, clenching her fist around her goblet.

"Marlene—"

Glaring, she stands. "I know you can't, I just can't fathom why not, or why me."

"Don't go, we can talk about this, I know I owe you that," Sirius protests, struggling to keep his voice down. "Last night—"

"I have to go; I promised Mare I'd meet her after lunch," fibs Marlene, and she feels so tired again, not that she's felt anything else all day. "I'm going."

So she goes.

xx

When it first comes up, Marlene doesn't realize yet how it's going to snowball. How could she? She's up in the dormitory with the rest of the girls, laughing, when Alice starts it by saying, "Remember when we were first years and worried about just passing our classes?"

Marlene laughs derisively. "You know, I lied that summer—I did fail Herbology, with a D."

"Out it comes, four years later," says Em, absentmindedly scratching behind the ears of Lily's cat, Aquarius. Marlene glares at her; the rest of them burst into laughter—even Lily.

"Those were the days," Alice reminisces. "Remember the train ride? I came with Marlene, since my parents knew hers, and we ended up in a compartment with Dana Madley, Gilderoy Lockhart, and Veronica Smethley—"

"—I still reckon you don't like Ver just because she accidentally spilled pumpkin juice on your only new pair of robes, and you had to find a second year to use Scourgify because you didn't know any magic—" continues Mary, grinning.

Marlene rolls her eyes, but she's unconsciously fingering the hem of her robes. "Hey, I didn't know who Dorcas Meadowes was when I asked her—it wasn't my fault that she was a right little bitch when she was prepubescent! She wasn't halfway decent like she is now!"

"I didn't know you think Meadowes is decent," says Mary.

She shrugs, flicking back her hair. "Well, nowadays she doesn't go around hexing first years for fun. Lucky that the Prewett twins were in the compartment one down from theirs and knew the countercurse."

"Remember how Fabian used to hate Meadowes?" says Lily. "He went off about how all Slytherins are evil scum and would have gone on for a good quarter-hour if Snape and I hadn't been sharing the compartment with him and Gideon since we left the boys'."

"Meanwhile, Em was getting into a rather noisy row with some Gryffindor third years for insulting her height, and Mary was preoccupied bonding with all her future boyfriends—not that you knew it at the time, Mare," chuckles Marlene.

Alice sighs contentedly, stretching out on her four-poster and letting Em's Kneazle, Moonshine, scamper back to Em and Aquarius. "We were so different back then, you know? Mary, you were a tomboy, of all things, and Em was so outgoing…"

Em says nothing, but the corners of her lips turn up; Mary fiddles with her split ends and smiles. "The boys were, like, identical, though, don't you think? Except Sirius and Em were inseparable, and James used not to follow Lily around—"

"Whatever happened between you and Black?" asks Marlene, rolling onto her back and yawning. "You two were always so close, and then…"

"He got too interested," says Em airily. The rest of them stare. "At the worst possible time."

This gets Marlene thinking enough that she flags Peter down after lunch—he's just as likely as the others to have answers, and he's the one Marlene trusts most not to tell Sirius about what's to follow. "Can you keep a secret?" she asks first, just to be sure, once they've locked themselves in the boys' dormitory; he tells her that the others have taken a trip to the kitchens without him. It's more than a bit messy, and Marlene rolls her eyes a little as she clears a food-free space on Sirius's bed to sit.

"As long as it's for a good reason," he says honestly. He's a lot more confident outside James and Sirius's shadow, and he carries a set jaw and a steady gaze.

"Depends on how you look at it," Marlene admits. "It's, um… it's about Sirius and Em."

Something tightens in his expression, and Peter nods, his eyes fluttering shut. "Did she say something about him?"

"Pete—"

"Her exact words, Marlene—please."

There's something desperate about the way he's looking at her, so she complies. "She said, er, that he got interested in her at a bad time."

"That's what I thought," says Peter as he starts to pace, and he cuts off her questions, gaining momentum, speaking faster now. "He didn't get interested in her romantically, he just—noticed."

"What are you talking about?" Marlene asks, her interest sparking. "Noticed what?"

"Did you really think it was a coincidence that Em and Sirius drifted apart in fourth year?" Peter suggests, his voice getting higher. "That it was right around the time when Emmeline drifted apart from all of us, that it was right around the time when—"

He breaks off abruptly and meets Marlene's eyes again. "Oh, god." He doesn't seem willing to tell her the details, so she doesn't push it and just waits for him to go on. "Oh, bloody hell, I think it was her."

"But—"

Peter shakes his head and slowly sits on the edge of his bed. "You really, really ought to talk to Emmeline."

"What do you know, Pettigrew?" Marlene demands. "What aren't you telling me? Why won't you—"

"I'm sorry, Marlene, I want to, but it's not my place to jump to conclusions and then spread rumors about it," Peter sighs. "Just—ask her what happened. Okay?"

But Em is a ghost these days, always on the outskirts but impossible to get alone, and Marlene eventually forgets all about it—at least, until the night after the first Quidditch game of the season. Gryffindor wins, which means the common room is rowdy with celebration into late hours of the night. Marlene's grateful for it: it gives her something to do and people to talk to so that she doesn't slip again with Sirius. It's easier to stay away from him when the common room is stuffed full of people offering her butterbeer and roping her into dances.

It gives her, too, something to think about besides Doc's disappearance. She hasn't forgotten, has never forgotten, but it gets a little easier when she can pretend like none of it is real—like her father is Neil and Doc is just a distant-cousin-uncle who rarely crosses her mind.

Lily skipped the game to go to her Ministry internship, so Marlene finds herself, Sirius, and James filling Lily in on the particulars of Gryffindor's win around midnight. "When is it that you're leaving for your first trip to France again?" Marlene asks after about ten minutes of this, taking pity on Lily, who's never been particularly interested in Quidditch.

"Next month, on the tenth," Lily replies, breaking into a proper grin at the mention of it. "I leave after History of Magic, right before dinner. Brinn says I can Side-Along-Apparate to Paris with him and do a little sightseeing the night before, and then they're having a two-day convention with the French seats on the International Confederation of Wizards that I'll be sitting in on. The Confederation is having a full meeting in January, so beforehand, they'll be discussing the issues and deciding what propositions that France as a body will bring to the Supreme Mugwump. That's Dumbledore, actually, but all he can really do is mediate the discussion, it's a very democratic setup."

She pauses for breath, full of excitement. Marlene can tell she's been very much looking forward to this, which figures: even before they were friends, she knew that Lily wanted to go into international magical cooperation as a career. "Do you know whether the war with the Death Eaters is going to be discussed?" James asks.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," Lily assures her. "I know the British are seeking to get international backup for the war at the meeting this winter, and if we can get support from France, that'll be a huge step in convincing the rest of Europe and, in turn, the entire Confederation. It's hard to predict how France will react to the request, but since there's a chance that You-Know-Who's going to set his sights globally and would probably take on France next if he conquers Britain, we're hoping they'll want to keep his influence out of their country and prevent the problem before it even starts for them."

"Well, we'll all be hoping for the best for you and your ambassador when you leave," says James as Marlene mulls this over. The most she knows about the war are the names of her classmates' parents or friends who have been claimed by Death Eaters already. She doesn't know a lot about international politics, but even so, she hopes to god that France will see sense and step in.

The real highlight of the party comes around three in the morning, about twenty minutes after they break out the Firewhiskey. Marlene's just coming back down the stairs after walking Mary up to the dormitory for the night when she hears whooping—and when she looks around, she finds none other than Emmeline, who's been who knows where all night long, kissing Peter next to the portrait hole. "What?" Marlene yells across the din to Lily, who's caught her eye.

"I know."

"What?"

"I know!"

Em and Peter have broken apart; Marlene's close enough to them now that she can hear what they're shouting over the music. Emmeline's saying, "I'm going to regret this tomorrow, and I don't know what the hell I'm doing here, and I know you have a girlfriend—"

"Siobhan isn't my girlfriend," says Peter breathlessly. "Not officially, anyway. We went out a couple of times—"

"Stop talking so much," says Emmeline. It's like she's a whole new person, even though Marlene would bet Galleons that she hasn't had any of the Firewhiskey. "I'm going to kiss you again," she says now, matter-of-factly, and she's glowing, vivacious, alive.

"You shouldn't," Peter says, but it doesn't sound like either of them is convinced, and neither, for that matter, is Marlene. Em's beaming, and he's nodding, and he kisses back the second time she leans in.

Marlene's guessing that Peter talked to Emmeline about whatever it was he thought he figured out about her, and apparently, Em's very pleased with what he said to her. She seems to be regretting her outburst by the following morning, though, when they all start bombarding Em with questions. "Hold on a minute," Mary says dramatically, ripping open the hangings of her four-poster. "Am I hearing this right? Em made out with Pete last night? Em? And Pete? Who has a girlfriend?"

"He said Siobhan isn't his girlfriend," mutters Emmeline, not making eye contact.

"She's as good as," says Alice, a little gentle and a lot scandalized. "Really, Em, what were you thinking? Stealing someone else's boyfriend is no way to start a relationship—"

"I don't want a relationship; it was just a bit of kissing," Emmeline says steadily.

Alice shakes her head and tuts, "Then that's almost as bad, isn't it, risking breaking up Peter and Siobhan over a bit of kissing! I thought you were more sensible than that."

Marlene breaks in, "Don't kid yourself, Alice, we all know you and Lily are the sensible ones." Mary glances quickly at Lily; she's blushing a little, rolling her eyes. "Em's just the least, you know… rash. I mean, god, have you ever had a boyfriend before?"

"No," says Emmeline, pulling on her robes.

"Kissed a boy?" Marlene persists.

There's an ever-so-subtle pause, then: "Yes."

"Who?" asks Mary eagerly.

Try though Mary and Marlene might, they can't get Emmeline to say another word on the subject. Alice keeps Emmeline talking, though, interrupting, "All right, then—damage control. The whole of Gryffindor must know about this by now; how in god's name were you planning to explain yourself and spare Siobhan what little heartache you can?"

"I, er, wasn't?" says Emmeline, very hesitantly. "Peter can take care of himself."

Alice looks fairly indignant at that, but Lily says calmly, "It's not all Emmeline's mess to clean up, Alice. It's not like she came onto him intending to steal him away no matter what he wanted; the whole thing looked pretty voluntary on Peter's part from my angle. If he were really all that faithful to Siobhan, he wouldn't have, er…"

"Snogged the daylights out of Em in front of the whole house," Marlene fills in without a trace of modesty. "He's the one who'll have to explain himself to her."

"But why did you kiss him in the first place, Em?" asks Mary. "Maybe it doesn't matter to Siobhan, but that doesn't mean it doesn't matter."

"We had a row," says Emmeline. "He called me out on some things… it was sweet of him to notice. I had to—well, I had to thank him somehow, didn't I? Show him that he, erm, got to me. And maybe, er, that wasn't the smartest way to, but… I was lonely… we'd won the game, and everyone was so happy. It felt a bit like it would all work out, like I could do something bold without worrying about the consequences for once."

Sheepish, Marlene realizes: that's the word for Emmeline's behavior. It's still not friendly, but it's personable, at least, a step closer from the coldness of the past year or two. Whatever Peter said to her must be working—Marlene just wishes she knew what it was.

xx

All the shit comes to a head in December, when an otherwise carefully controlled session of dueling practice in Defense Against the Dark Arts spirals out of control. It seems like an explosion of spellwork and hostility at the time, a whirlwind of anger and tension unleashed that ends before it feels like it's started. In retrospect, though, Defense class that morning doesn't so much explode as fall apart, all their suppressed resentments unraveling into a mess of an illegal duel, curses flying everywhere, no allies, nobody safe.

Now they're in detention, their first time together since the incident, and Marlene is passing her wand to Professor Tonks and wondering how such a close-knit group of nine witches and wizards devolved into this.

"I'd like all of you to clean the classroom by hand," announces Tonks as she tucks the wands into her robe pocket. "I want the floor swept and mopped, blackboard cleaned, tables scrubbed with the gum scraped off from underneath, windows wiped, essays filed by year and house—you get the idea. You'll find all the necessary Muggle supplies in the cabinet by my desk. I'm locking you in and giving you until midnight; when I come back, this room better be sparkling, and you all better be on fantastic terms with each other, do you hear me?"

Marlene still feels ready to put up an indignant fight but, mercifully, restrains herself as Tonks sweepingly departs. The door clicks shut.

Lily is the first to break the silence. "Can I just say—I'm sorry I hexed you, James. It wasn't my place—Marlene can fight her own battles—"

Awkwardly, James shakes his head. Marlene guesses that this isn't the kind of thing he wants to confront her about until they're alone. "It's all right; you were just defending your mate. I got carried away, it's my fault we started dueling, I retaliated—"

"Can you just snog and make up already, spare the rest of us from having to hear all the sap?" snaps Marlene.

"Shut it, McKinnon, it's not like that," James says. He stares at the floor and avoids all eyes for a moment, then adds with an edge to his voice, "And even if it were, from what I hear, you're not in the best position to judge what a healthy relationship looks like."

Marlene feels ready to lunge at him, but she holds back. "All right, fine, I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life, but that doesn't mean I need anyone else's happiness shoved down my throat."

James starts to speak up, surely in Lily and his defense, but Lily interrupts before he has the chance. "We're not happy, Marlene," she says; "none of us is—why else would we be sitting in detention right now?"

"Speaking of sitting around," Peter pipes up quietly, "we should really get a move on and start cleaning. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish."

They break out the supplies in the cabinet and set to work. Broom and dustpan in hand, Marlene assigns herself to floor duty and starts sweeping. How do Muggles stand this, honestly?

Of course, compared to the task of patching up the holes in these friendships, cleaning the classroom will be a piece of cake, Marlene realizes within minutes.

Emmeline talks next. "So are we going to get group therapy over with or what?"

"Yeah, Marlene, what possessed you to defy the rules and throw enough unruly hexes at me to land me in the Hospital Wing for the day?" says Sirius mockingly. He's still nursing wounds from this morning, holding up to his left eye a cloth dipped in some healing solution or other.

There's a slight, uncomfortable pause. "What's there to say? We used to be friends; now all we have is sex and lies—"

"Marlene—"

"Just shut it, Black, I don't want to hear it," says Marlene without even attempting a shred of patience.

"It's not like…" Sirius says slowly, inhaling. No one else dares intrude. "You do matter to me—"

Marlene accuses, "Just not as much as any of the rest of it."

"You know that's not fair. I'm not saying what we have is healthy, but you're just as much a willing participant in it as I am. I never forced you into this cycle. You could have stopped it at any time if you'd wanted to—"

"Could I have, though? I was the one who fell in love with you. You knew I was lonely and needy and pathetic, and you took advantage of—"

"Oh, don't even start with that. Who says I don't need you? Who says I don't have a void to fill? I'm not some grandmaster manipulating your reality. Hell, I probably wish as much as you do that we could have figured out years ago how to do the thing properly instead of sticking ourselves in this circle of feeling ashamed of it and avoiding each other whenever we're not going at it."

"If you wanted something better for us, you could have just asked me."

"So could you," Sirius retorts.

"I can't believe you're playing the victim after all this time," says Marlene hotly. "For all that time, you treat me like I'm never going to be enough for you, and now you're trying to rewrite history like it's all just some simple misunderstanding. I gave everything to you! I'm there for you as a friend when you need me, not that you seek out my friendship often—I let you sleep with me repeatedly even when there are strict wizarding laws against it for minors—I go along with your dysfunctional cycle of codependence—"

"I never made you do any of that. If you want to talk about rewriting history—"

"Well, I wish I hadn't done it. I wish I'd never even met you."

He closes his eyes tightly. "Let's back up. I think we're losing sight of things here. Marlene—I love you."

"How convenient."

He looks like he's been slapped in the face, physically recoiling at Marlene's answer. Another pause—and then, out of the blue, Mary tells them, "My parents are Catholic and got divorced because Dad couldn't accept that his daughter was a witch. I just thought you should know that, like, you're not the only ones with messy problems."

Marlene doesn't quite know how to react. "Mare, not that I'm not sorry, because I am, but—we've been best mates for over five years, and you've never told me—?"

"Yeah, well," Mary says, anger creeping into her voice. "Not everything is about you and Lily, Lene."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Cut the crap, Marlene, you know exactly what I mean!" shouts Mary. "You've replaced me with her, poor little orphan Lily, just because her Death Eater best friend dropped her and her parents died, but, like, that doesn't mean I'm petty and worthless just because I used to dye my hair blonde and read Witch Weekly. Dammit, Lene, you were the closest thing I had to family; I thought that meant something to you!"

"It did. It does. How insecure do you have to be not to realize that I'm still your best friend? Just because Lily's my friend now too doesn't mean—"

"No, it's fine, I get it," interjects Lily, shrugging. "You miss your friend. I can understand that."

Confronted with Lily's personhood—with her understanding—Mary slumps a little. "You haven't done anything wrong, Lily. You were just—you were alone, and she was kind to you, and I don't blame you for that. Plus, like, I know I was never very nice to you for the five years before that. You were my roommate; I should have been better to you."

"It's in the past now, right?" forgives Lily, smiling weakly. "You didn't trust Severus, so you didn't trust me. I get that."

There's a long silence as Marlene scrubs the floor and wishes desperately that she were anywhere, anywhere, but here—but Tonks has spelled them inside, and there's nowhere to go until midnight. Finally, Lily adds, "While we're sharing secrets, I may as well tell you, er… when my parents died…" She swallows thickly, then continues, "They left everything—our house, our savings—to my sister, Petunia. I always knew Mum got along better with Tuney, but I never would have expected…"

Remus takes a deep breath. "I may as well tell you all, too, that… that I'm a werewolf."

"What?" says Marlene blankly, but she heard him perfectly: what he's said is unmistakable, even though he muttered it.

"I'm a—"

"I know. Sorry. I heard you. I just… I'm really, really sorry to hear that, Lupe. I can't even imagine."

Marlene glances around. Alice's mouth is open; Lily's covering her own mouth with her hand; Mary starts babbling apologies. Even Emmeline, usually so cynical and aloof, actually goes right up to Remus and pulls him into a hug, mumbling something soft in his ear.

Only the boys look unsurprised, but it figures that Remus would already have told them. Sometimes, Marlene thinks the boys in their cohort have something figured out that the girls are still working toward, still learning.

"Remus, why didn't you just tell us?" asks Mary, distress laced into her expression, her intonation.

After a moment, after Emmeline lets go of him, Remus answers, "I didn't want to burden you with it. It's a lot of responsibility to carry that around."

"Says the werewolf himself," Mary says to this, smiling faintly. "You don't have to carry it alone."

"How was I to know whether it would have been too much to pile on all your plates? Everybody has something they're hiding; I didn't think it was my place to judge my secrets to be heavier than any of yours."

A tentative silence starts to settle in. To break it, Lily says slowly, "You could have come to us—you could have at least come to me. I know I haven't been the greatest mate to any of you before the last few months, but you've all come around for me in ways I never imagined you could; the least I can do is return the favor when any of you are in need."

"Lily's right. I feel terrible, Remus," sighs Alice, resting her hands on the top of her broom handle.

"You would, wouldn't you?" Em murmurs. The hard set is coming back into her eyes. Alice stares. "Always going out of your way to feel the most politically correct emotions in every circumstance… it's getting old, really."

Alice appears to be not quite sure what to say to that, blurting, "Forgive me, but I thought this was about Remus."

"Alice is right," says Mary stiffly. "All of us are here baring our secrets, and you're still—you owe us, Em. You owe it to us to tell us what happened to make you into this…"

Emmeline's facade starts to crack; she looks desperately at Peter, but he just shakes his head and mutters, "You should tell them. You…"

But Em doesn't say what's wrong with her. Em doesn't say anything at all.

A moment too late to work as Emmeline's excuse, the classroom door bursts open. Marlene frowns and checks her watch: it's barely even nine o'clock.

"Professor?" says James, frowning. "It can't be time yet, can it?"

"It's not," says Tonks. Her eyes flick straight to Marlene. "I've been instructed by Professor Dumbledore to come and get you. It's about your uncle."

"My uncle?" All the breath seems to zoom out of Marlene's body.

"He's back," answers Tonks, and Marlene feels like she's going to collapse right there in the corridor. "He's with Dumbledore, and he wants to see you."

Everything suddenly seems more manageable than it did before, even her problems with Sirius. "Can I see him? Can we go right now?"

So they leave everybody else in detention and head up to the headmaster's office on what feels like the longest walk of Marlene's life. It's all she can do to keep pace with Tonks and not start sprinting the rest of the way there. Doc is back. Doc is safe. Nothing else matters.

When the stone gargoyle steps aside, Marlene takes the stairs two at a time and positively pounds down Dumbledore's door. When he lets her in, she pushes right past him, walks right up to where Doc is sitting on top of the desk with a coy smile on his face, and engulfs him in a bear hug.

"Where were you?" she demands, her voice muffled by his robes.

"I can't go into detail," Doc says, sounding much more amused than Marlene thinks he should, "but let's just say there's one more innocent person out there who's been freed of the Imperius Curse. I had to go in deep, but I'm back now."

"You better be," mutters Marlene. "I was so worried. Don't you ever, ever do that to me ever again."

Dumbledore and McGonagall are talking behind her, but Marlene doesn't care enough to pay attention. She folds herself into her father and, before she knows what's happening, feels herself starting to sob.