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“All grown ups were once children…but only few of them remember it.”
- Antoine de Saint- Exupery, The Little Prince.
Fifteen years ago …
“Ready or not, here I come!”
Marlene pressed her back into the coats that were harboured in the cupboard underneath the McKinnon’s stairs. Clapping her hands over her mouth to conceal the giggles threatening to burst free, she hunched further into the dusty darkness as Peter’s footsteps thundered above her. She knew for a fact that James was hiding underneath her brother’s bed because Finn had a perfectly six-year-old shaped gap underneath his bottom bunk.
James had always been rubbish at hide-and-seek because he was so loud and far too trusting of people. And, when you played such a game with someone like Peter who constantly cheated by peeking through his fingers, you basically signed yourself up to be his first victim.
Marlene was proven right when a telltale groan came from upstairs, followed by the excited voices of James, Peter and her younger brother, Finn. Knowing her brother, he’d probably followed James and Merlin only knew that two of them couldn’t fit under that bunk. It was a silly idea in the first place, and Marlene felt slightly smug about the fact that she’d not been found yet.
She wriggled further into her mother’s raincoat, feeling the cold clink of the buttons against her flushed cheek. They’d been playing for hours, ever since the unexpected July downpour drove them inside. Effie had made them hot chocolates next door and the game of hide-and-seek had started there before it gradually moved over to the McKinnons’ house.
“Where could Marlene be?” James wondered out-loud, his footsteps implying that he was close by. Marlene bit her lip and shut her eyes because maybe, if she couldn’t see anyone, they couldn’t see her either.
“I don’t know,” came the voice of Marlene’s older brother, Michael, which meant she was the last one to be found. Take that, boys.
“I do,” Peter sounded smug, and Marlene didn’t even have a second to prepare before the cupboard door swung open, a slant of bright hallway light charging in and blinding the blonde girl.
“Found you!” Peter’s smile was wide.
“You cheated,” Marlene grumbled, crossing her arms. “I saw you look.” And then, because she refused to lose, she darted past him and sprinted down the hallway. “Doesn’t count if you don’t tag me! Catch me if you can!” She called over her shoulder.
“No fair!” Peter cried out but he chased her nonetheless.
Marlene giggled shrilly as she hurtled into the kitchen, colliding with Janine Pettigrew. “Whoa, Marls, careful!” Peter’s mum scolded her gently, halting her in her tracks.
“Gerroff, gerroff!” Marlene squirmed, trying to get past her friend’s mum. “Pete’s gonna get me!”
“Don’t be silly,” Janine said, but she obligingly let go of Marlene so that the girl could round the kitchen table, where all the mums had been sitting with brews. Peter wasn’t far behind her, and he chased her around the kitchen as Marlene’s giggles reached a high pitched decibel, and he was gonna get her—he was gonna get her—he was gonna get her—
Present day …
To say that being back at home after everything she’d seen and done was strange for Marlene would be an understatement.
The thing is, when you’re living through (and fighting) a war, your heartbeat pounds against the cage of your ribs to the beat of Death Eaters’ footsteps behind you. Wariness creeps into telephone lines, and knocks at the front door are to be treated with suspicion, not pleasantries. Wandering outside alone is frowned upon, and every corner of the street poses a threat.
Marlene, at only twenty-one years old, knew all of this. Order protocol had been drilled into her veins before she could even celebrate being free of school rules. Every letter home penned paragraphs of paranoia but a severe lack of information regarding the Order in case owls were intercepted. Only Order members were to be trusted but, ever since February when Dumbledore revealed there was a leak, polyjuice questions became a necessary precaution.
But that was in London.
Back in the Peak District where she’d grown up, it was a completely different world. It seemed like the war had barely reached the villages of Derbyshire. Or, at the very least, there was a severe lack of scuttling people and side-eyed glances as was the case with places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Maybe such a thing was down to Cromford’s diluted wizarding community and the fact that Muggles lived more commonly among them. But, if Lily’s letters were anything to go by, that didn’t stop the war from crippling Godric’s Hollow.
“You can’t just let me in like that, Mum,” Marlene had scolded her mother yesterday, when she arrived back home for Finn’s eighteenth birthday, steeling herself away from a meltdown when she saw the For Sale sign at the house next-door. Effie and Monty Potter had been like second parents to her, along with Janine Pettigrew.
(Marlene hadn’t been back to Cromford since the funeral last year).
Of course, Mrs McKinnon hadn’t understood the depth of her paranoia. She’d looked at her only daughter and blinked owlishly behind the reading glasses that she - most regrettably - had to wear now. “Why not?”
“Because I might not be me.”
“Why would you not be you? Don’t be so silly, Marlene. If a Death Eater wanted to come and murder us all, they wouldn’t knock on the bloody door.”
Marlene supposed she had somewhat of a point but she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of uneasiness from her shoulders. She’d tried to get across how serious the war was to her family but, as people not on the front lines, they clearly didn’t see a risk. Naturally, they didn’t know about Marlene’s involvement with the Order so, as an old wizarding family, they believed themselves safe.
The war, to Marlene’s family, was for Muggles, muggleborns, half-bloods and Squibs. It was for people who were openly against You-Know-Who’s regime, not purebloods. Marlene didn’t have the heart to tell them that - no matter how pure their blood - if Voldemort didn’t have their support, they were still in danger. The McKinnons weren’t blood traitors by any means, but they weren’t prejudiced either.
And that was where the danger lay, in the invisible lines that determined which side of the war you were on, whether you chose or not. Not to mention Marlene’s involvement with the Order which, with every new mission, only increased the risk of her family being targeted. But she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t give in. No matter how much Mary had begged them all to.
Marlene McKinnon didn’t simply give up. That wasn’t something she did. She had always prided herself on her determination. There was a reason why her Patronus was a beaver.
Marlene had set up wards around her childhood home yesterday evening, and Michael had said she was taking this “war thing” too seriously. She’d bitten through her tongue so harshly that it bled in order to prevent herself from spitting out, “Have you seen one of your mates get blown to pieces, Michael? No? Then shut your trap.”
(To pieces, to pieces, to fucking pieces—)
Instead, she’d smiled shakily and laughed it off. “I’m just making sure,” she’d said. And then she’d ripped a hangnail off with her nervous nibbling that night, during Finn’s festivities. The party itself had felt like a fever dream. Marlene didn’t think she’d laughed so carelessly for years, at least not after Lily, James and Harry had gone into hiding. That had put a damper on all of their lives. It had been the first time that someone in their friendship group had been directly in the glare of danger.
And it had only got worse.
It was a rainy July evening, nothing like the sunshine of yesterday. Marlene supposed that such weather was only typical of an English summer - one day sunny, the next a downpour. She was sitting in her childhood kitchen, tearing off chunks of Finn’s birthday cake with her hands and thinking about the engagement ring sitting neatly in a box upstairs. She was still waiting for the right time to propose to Dorcas.
Life recently had been so chaotic. Order members were dropping like flies. Marlene had been witness to Benjy Fenwick’s unfortunate end, causing Dorcas to force therapy upon her because she kept waking up at night clinging to her girlfriend, making sure her body was still in one piece. Dorcas herself had been fairly close to Caradoc Dearborn and so, when he’d been announced as missing (presumed dead), she’d fallen apart.
War didn’t allow much space for love. Between her own breakdowns and Dorcas’ spirals, all the two of them could do was hold onto each other at night. Marlene just had to count herself lucky that suspicion wasn’t tearing them apart in the way that it was eating away at Sirius and Remus’ relationship. Dorcas was her anchor in the storm, her lifeboat when she was drowning, and nothing could come between them.
The time just hadn’t been right.
(Yet).
“That’s grim, you know.”
Marlene turned at the sound of Finn’s voice. Her younger brother was clad in his snitch-patterned pyjamas, clearly settling in for the night. He’d been Gryffindor’s Keeper whilst at Hogwarts - hence his birthday cake in the shape of a broomstick - and had recently been scouted to go professional and play for the Tutshill Tornados.
“What is?” Marlene asked, whilst shoving another handful of cake into her mouth. Something about her brother, especially Finn, made her inherently childish.
“Mauling my cake,” Finn scrunched up his face and straddled a kitchen chair backwards.
“Cake exists to be eaten,” Marlene reminded him, with a mouth full of cake.
“Yes, with a fork, you heathen,” Finn rolled his eyes.
“Why are you eating cake with a fork? You fucking snob. Use a spoon like a normal person!”
“Well, you’re not using either so who’s the normal person now?” Finn argued back.
“Definitely not you, I can assure you,” Marlene threw a piece of icing at him and her brother ducked but not quickly enough. It hit him right in the eye, and she cackled.
Finn pulled a face, “That’s disgusting, Marley. Your saliva has been on that.”
“Should’ve moved quicker,” Marlene shrugged, not apologetic in the slightest. “Aren’t you supposed to be going pro? Amateur.”
“At least I’m doing something with my life!” Finn retorted, cheeks scarlet.
Marlene stilled, the comment stinging her in places she didn’t even know could hurt. “I am doing something with my life,” she said slowly because she was, she was working for the Order, and they were going to take Voldemort down, and end this war for good. Because good was supposed to always triumph over evil. Right? Right?
“Yeah, like what?”
“I’m doing an apprenticeship for curse-breaking. You know this.” Because she was. Due to being absolute whizzes at Ancient Runes in school, Dumbledore had assigned herself and Benjy (in pieces, in pieces, in fucking pieces—) to cracking codes on secret messages between Death Eaters, and suspicious Dark objects.
“Whatever,” Finn conceded. A moment of silence passed between them, and then her brother reached forward and tore off a chunk of cake with his hands. Marlene’s mouth fell open but, before she could even belittle him for it, he spoke again. “How’s Dorcas, by the way? Haven’t seen her in donkeys.”
Marlene automatically smiled, like she always did at the mention of her girlfriend. They’d been dating since sixth year, and she hadn’t come out to her family as a lesbian until after graduating Hogwarts. But it had all been nothing to worry about as her parents and brothers had been accepting, welcoming Dorcas into the family without question. She’d been invited to Finn’s birthday but hadn’t been able to make it due to “a prior commitment” which was code for Order duties.
Marlene wished she was here. Whenever they were apart, she felt like half of a whole.
“She’s good,” Marlene lied, thinking of Dorcas’ tears the other day after Edgar Bones and his immediate family had been murdered. They’d both chatted to his adorable daughters, Isabella and Olivia, at Amelia Bones’ wedding last year, and the tragedy had rocked the pair. “She told me to tell you happy birthday.”
Finn smiled. He’d always loved Dorcas like another sister, and it was for that reason that Marlene suddenly found herself blurting out, “I’m gonna do it, you know.”
Finn’s brow crinkled, “Do what?”
“I’m gonna…” Marlene suddenly felt unaccountably nervous. “Ask her to marry me. The whole shebang.”
Finn’s mouth dropped open, and then he promptly shut it so that he looked rather like a goldfish. “You’re gonna—” his eyes lit up, “Oh, Marley, that’s amazing!” Her brother threw himself at her, giving her a tight hug for what had to be the first time in years. He’d gone through the classic awkward teenage boy phase where hugging your sister was weird but, clearly, something as big as a proposal required a hug.
Marlene embraced him back tightly, tears welling a little in her eyes. “D’you think she’ll say yes?” she asked Finn.
He nodded enthusiastically, chin knocking against her shoulder, “Of course she will. You two are made for each other. Why would you think anything less?”
“It’s just…” Marlene picked at her cuticles as Finn pulled away slowly. “The war, y’know,” she shrugged, despite knowing that Finn …didn’t know. He hadn’t seen the consequences and the horrors of the war in the same way that she had. He knew of the tragedies from the newspapers, not the frontlines. “It’s not going to be over anytime soon, I don’t think.”
“All the more reason for a wedding,” Finn waved his hand aimlessly. “James and Lily did it, didn’t they? And it was a welcome light amidst all of this darkness. I think you should do it. S’long as I can be the best man and embarrass you with my speech,” he grinned.
Marlene laughed, “Please. If you think you’re beating James or Peter out for best man, you’ve got another thing coming. I guess you can do a speech, though. Knowing you, you’d probably convince Dorcas even if I said no,” she rolled her eyes. Finn had always had Dorcas wrapped around his little finger.
“You know me too well,” Finn stuffed another handful of cake into his mouth.
“So, you think I should ask her, then?” Marlene continued because this was something that she truly wanted to get right; something she had to get right. Finn had a point - love during war only provided the light that is vanquished so easily - but Marlene would understand if Dorcas said no. If she wanted to wait until after the war was over, when paranoia didn’t dog their every footstep. “It’s just—”
But she never got to finish her sentence, for there was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it!” Her dad called from the living room, where he had been playing chess with Michael. Her mother was in the bath, and had strictly demanded that no one disturb her.
Marlene felt the fear grip her like a vice, as she dashed into the hallway with her wand up her sleeve as always. “No, Dad, don’t—” she called out, because she’d had the chat with her mum about answering the door and she hadn’t understood but, at the very least, she might exhibit some caution from now on. Her dad didn’t have a clue.
“What?” her dad turned from where the front door had already swung open but he wasn’t lying on the floor (in pieces, in pieces, in fucking pieces—) so maybe everything was fine, and Marlene was the one falling into pieces of paranoia. “It’s just Peter.”
Just Peter.
“Oh,” Marlene deflated in relief, though there was still a flare of worry flickering in her stomach. It didn’t make any sense for Peter to be here. He didn’t even know that Marlene was visiting her family because she had only told Dorcas. She hadn’t seen him since the last Order meeting and, before that, it had been Mary’s birthday in May. Why was he here? Was he just swinging by to see the McKinnons?
“Hey Pete,” she smiled. “Everything okay?”
Peter looked uneasy, as if he, too, was wondering whether this was a good idea. “Not really,” he bit his lip. “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Marlene didn’t even hesitate but then added, “You know the drill, though, Petey. I broke my arm when I was little. How old was I, and how did I do it?”
Peter smirked at the memory, which was a sure sign that he wasn’t an imposter. “You were seven years old, and you fell down those very stairs—” he pointed at the staircase behind her, “---because you were running away from my water gun.”
Marlene huffed, and then drew her childhood best friend into a hug. “It’s good to see you,” she said in his arms before pulling away slightly to gaze at him in concern. “What’s wrong?” she asked in a quieter voice because her dad had left the living room door open.
“It’s Lily,” Peter’s lips were barely moving, and his eyes darted around as if he was checking that none of her family could hear. “She’s—”
“Pete!” Finn appeared in the hallway, crying out in delight. He went straight in for a hug, “How’re you doing, mate? Haven’t seen you in some time. Are you up north to see your mum?”
“Yeah. Oh, happy birthday, by the way,” Peter smiled but it looked a little shaky, probably because he had news to share with Marlene and Finn was interrupting. Because Lily was clearly in some form of danger, and Marlene needed to know but she didn’t want to cause her family any alarm because she’d been trying so hard to keep them out of this war.
“Cheers! Our mum’s in the bath but I’m sure she’ll want to see you later. Would you like some cake?” Finn started to lead Peter into the kitchen.
“I’m okay, ta. I could do with speaking to Marls, really. Maybe in her room? Marls?” Peter glanced over his shoulder wildly. Marlene felt her stomach stir like the starting signals of a storm on the horizon. Something was deeply, horribly wrong.
“Yeah, no worries,” Marlene tried to keep a calm face for her brother. Peter would tell her what the matter was in a minute. “Grab some of that cake, though. You may not want any but I do.”
Peter laughed, “Of course you do,” and reached forward for some of the cake.
Finn scoffed in amusement, “Should’ve known that you’re a heathen, too, Pete. Important question, though - can cake be eaten with a fork? Because Marley seems to think that—-”
The back door burst open. Just like that.
Finn’s words died in his throat, and a blast of green light.
Marlene let out an animalistic scream of horror as her little brother fell to the ground, and she didn’t even hesitate before blasting the Death Eater in the doorway with a jet of red light.
“PETE, DUCK!” she yelled, running backwards and shooting off more spells because there had to be at least three - no, fuck, five - Death Eaters surging through the back door. And she hadn’t even known it was unlocked but of course it was unlocked because her parents weren’t as paranoid as her and—and—
Oh, fuck. Her parents. Michael.
“Peter, cover me!” Marlene shouted, a curse flying from her wand and knocking one of the Death Eaters down to the ground. His body landed mere metres away from Finn, who had died in his snitch-patterned pyjamas with buttercream staining the smile on his mouth. Her brother was dead, oh fuck, her baby brother was dead—
(In pieces, in pieces, in fucking pieces—-)
“Marley, what’s going on?” Michael appeared in the doorway to the living room. He was still holding a chess piece - the King - in his hands.
“Mikey, get back!” Marlene yelled. “Where’s your wand?” she threw a look over her shoulder, expecting to see Peter duelling with Death Eaters. But he was nowhere to be seen. Had they got him, too?
“On the sofa somewhere, I dunno—” Michael started to panic, and that was how Marlene knew that the Death Eaters were behind her. But that didn’t make any sense because Peter was supposed to have her back, so that meant that he’d been maimed or killed, and she hadn’t even found out what had happened to Lily—
Footsteps thudded behind her, to the beat of her heart. Every corner of this house was now a threat, in the way that streets of London were, and the way that her childhood home was never supposed to be. Where was Peter? Was he okay?
Her answer came in the form of a shaky voice, “Upstairs. Bathroom.”
But Peter wasn’t in the bathroom. Marlene’s mother was because she’d wanted some peace, and had forbidden her children from coming near her for a few hours. No, Peter was telling the Death Eaters to go upstairs but that didn’t make any sense because Peter was supposed to have her back, and he was letting the masked enemies slide past him and up the stairs to Marlene’s mum and—and—
“No,” Marlene whispered, as the cold realisation slid around her neck like a deathly snake. She whirled around, locking eyes with Peter, as Death Eaters’ footsteps pounded on the stairs. “NO!” she screamed louder, a knife of betrayal slicing at her guts and causing them to bleed out onto the carpet. “NO! MUM! MUM!”
A flash of green light answered her shout, and Marlene felt her last scrap of innocence shrivel up and die.
“No, no, no,” she was shaking her head, and backing up into the wall as tears gathered in her eyes. Peter was a blur in front of her and Michael and her dad were duelling Death Eaters, but she was thinking back to the past few years and wondering when the golden apple of their friendship had turned rotten. When had temptation slithered into the stem? When had Peter been poisoned against her?
Because it had been him - it had been Peter all along. He was the rat, the leak in the Order. He had cried with her when she’d told him about Benjy’s death (in pieces, in pieces, in fucking pieces—), and he’d attended the Edgar Bones’ funeral, and he’d let Sirius and Remus rip each other apart with claws of accusation, and he’d kept quiet as Caradoc Dearborn went missing, and as Order missions got busted over and over and over again—
He had cried with her. He had bled with her. He had held her, throughout the great war. But now Marlene’s wounds weren’t his wounds, and his left forearm blared with a snake as, somewhere in the haze, she got a sense she’d been betrayed. And he was in her childhood home that they’d all run around, and he’d let her brother - a brother who’d classed him as one, too - die in front of his eyes without blinking. Finn had trusted him; they’d all trusted him. Marlene’s dad had let him into the godforsaken house because it was just Peter.
It was just Peter. And their friendship and trust was in pieces, in pieces, in fucking pieces—
It was just Peter. And no one had noticed, which was fitting for a spy, wasn’t it? It was just Peter. He’d stabbed them all in the back, pulling the strings and laughing when they all fell down like ring-a-ring-a-roses. It was just Peter. He was standing in the hallway of her house, staring her down, and Marlene realised that there was nothing wrong with Lily at all. Lily wasn’t the one in danger.
She was.
“How could you?” she choked out, and then she was running. Marlene was running, and she was six years old again and Peter had just found her in the cupboard under the stairs.
“Found you!”
Her heart was breaking into pieces (pieces, pieces, fucking pieces) and shattering around her feet as the staircase carpet brought her tumbling back into the past. Marlene fell on the top stair, and she was seven years old again and Peter was chasing her with a water gun but she was falling, falling, falling.
When she’d broken her arm, Marlene didn’t think she’d ever feel pain like that again. But, when two Death Eaters ran past her downstairs, to her older brother and father, the agony ripped apart all of her bones. She was crying, and she was staggering to her feet, and Peter was assuring the Death Eaters - the other Death Eaters, his fellow Death Eaters - that he’d, “--get her, I promise.”
He was gonna get her—he was gonna get her—he was gonna get her—
“No,” Marlene whispered because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Peter had been like a third son to her mother but now she was running, and she was falling to her knees in front of her mother’s cold, dead body. Peter had been her best friend through thick and thin, but he wasn’t chasing her with a water gun anymore. Her giggles weren’t reaching a high decibel, her sobs were. He had his wand, and he had his mission. And it didn’t involve keeping Marlene alive.
“Stop trying to run, Marlene!” Peter called after her.
“Catch me if you can!”
“Gerroff, gerroff! Pete’s gonna get me!”
Marlene was running, and she was eleven years old on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, sprinting for the train because she’d forgotten the friendship bracelet she shared with Peter and James, and she’d had to rush back for it. Marlene was running, and she was twelve years old and Peter was pulling her back from the Whomping Willow because Davey Gudgeon had lost an eye, and she couldn’t afford to be reckless like that—
Michael’s scream, as he was presumably tortured, ricocheted off the walls.
Marlene was running, and she was thirteen years old and Peter had just bought her favourite fudge from Honeydukes. Marlene was running, and she was fourteen years old and Peter was hugging her because he didn’t care that she liked girls, because she was still his Marley. Marlene was running, and she was fifteen years old and Peter was crying about fucking up his Herbology O.W.L. exam—
“Marlene, please. You’re only making this more difficult for yourself!”
Marlene was running, and she was sixteen years old and Peter had allowed her to do his eyeliner because Sirius looked pretty cool with it on, so maybe he would, too. Marlene was running, and backing into the corner of her childhood bedroom, and she was seventeen years old and Peter was trying to ease her out of her dormitory bathroom because she’d cut her hair really short and didn’t like it—
“Why, Peter, why? We gave you everything!” Marlene sobbed. The screams had stopped. Michael was probably dead, as dead as Finn in the kitchen, as dead as her mother in the bathroom. In pieces, in pieces, in fucking pieces—-
Marlene was hiding in a corner from her childhood best friend, and she was eighteen years old and Peter was curled up next to her on a beach in Cornwall. Marlene was hiding in a corner, and she was nineteen years old and Peter was her partner on an Order mission. Marlene was hiding in a corner, and she was twenty years old and Peter was convincing her to dance at James and Lily’s wedding. Marlene was hiding in a corner, and she was twenty one years old and Peter—
Peter was going to kill her.
Peter, who she’d baked cookies for at age four because the Pettigrews across the road were new neighbours and her mother insisted that they had to be welcoming. Peter, who she’d chased in the rain, laughing and laughing and laughing. Peter, who’d got cream on his nose when Effie made them hot chocolate, and James had teased him. Peter, who’d cheated in hide-and-seek. Peter, who’d written his name in glittery pink ink on Marlene’s cast. Peter, who’d giggled with her in Divination.
Peter, Peter, Peter.
It’s just Peter. Just Peter.
“Don’t be so silly, Marlene. If a Death Eater wanted to come and murder us all, they wouldn’t knock on the bloody door.”
The house was silent. Her dad was probably dead, too. Her dad, who’d let Peter in without a care in the world because that was a man who he’d seen as a snotty little boy; because that was a boy he’d come to regard as his son; because Peter hadn’t had a dad who wasn’t deadbeat, and Peter had found a dad in the McKinnons’ patriarch.
Marlene was hiding in a corner. She was twenty one years old. And she wasn’t ready to die. But life - and death - rarely waits for us to be ready, does it?
“Ready or not, here I come!”
Peter’s face was ashen. His hand trembled as he raised the wand. Marlene hadn’t even noticed that he’d taken hers; hadn’t even realised the moment where she’d dropped it. Had it been when she saw her mother dead in the bathroom? Or when she heard her brother’s screams?
“I can’t use my own,” Peter whispered, shaking. “They’ll check.”
Marlene was suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of panic. The Order. The Order didn’t know that Peter was the spy. If anything, all the suspicion had been directed towards Remus recently which she had hated. She had to tell them. Oh fuck, they had to know. But how? How could she—
“Can I send a message to Dorcas?” she asked.
Because she had so many things she wanted to say; so many things she wanted to do. Marlene was twenty one, and she had so much of her life ahead of her; so much of her life that she’d been looking forward to, after the war. She’d wanted to see her godson, Harry, grow up. She’d wanted to drink to her heart’s content and laugh until her ribs hurt with Mary and Lily. She’d wanted to annoy James for his entire life; to dance at Sirius and Remus’ wedding; to make Dorcas her wife—
“What?” Peter was taken aback before he shook his head. “No. Why would I let you?”
“I need her to know how much I love her,” Marlene’s voice shook, and she wasn’t even acting. Of course, she was trying to break Peter but this wasn’t fake. She needed Dorcas to know that, even if she died in the corner of her childhood bedroom, she’d still been intending to put a ring on her finger. “I was gonna marry her, Peter.”
Peter’s face crumpled, but his grip on her wand didn’t waver. He did, however, weaken and Marlene took that opportunity to launch herself at him. He struggled underneath her but Marlene had grown up with him, and she knew his weak spots. She tickled his side and he writhed away in a move so reminiscent of their innocent, childhood days.
But this wasn’t childhood.
This was life or death.
In Peter’s haste to escape being tickled, Marlene grabbed her wand. She shut her eyes, desperately bidding the ghosts of her family to the back of her mind, and conjured up the memory of Dorcas smiling after they kissed for the first time. A warmth bloomed in her heart and, despite everything, a small smile twitched at her lips as her Patronus - a glowing beaver - jumped into the air.
“I love you, Dorcas,” she gabbled, and Peter was crawling back towards her but she kicked out with her foot and burst his nose with the force. He groaned and fell back, and she continued, “I was going to make you my wife. I wish I could’ve, baby. I hope you know that. Tell everyone that I love them. And tell them that the traitor is P—”
Her words - breath wasted on a desperate love confession instead of jumping straight to the point - died in her throat, and a blast of green light.
“Ready or not, here I come!”
Marlene McKinnon fell to the carpet of her childhood bedroom with a thud, her wand dropping beside her. And Peter, in his grim satisfaction of finally completing the task of murdering his childhood best friend, didn’t notice the beaver sneaking out of the window.
But, for the first time since he’d switched sides, he felt something inside of him die along with Marlene. Whether that was his boyhood, his innocence or his heart - something rotted within Peter Pettigrew that night. Like an apple turned bad.
And he’d remember the way that Marlene collapsed to the ground for the rest of his miserable life.
…
A few months later, Mary MacDonald would tell Remus Lupin about the Patronus that Dorcas had received that night, whilst the two of them were hanging out. And, in the wake of a fateful Halloween night, they would both grimly agree on the fact that the P in Marlene’s message had stood for Padfoot.
…
Thirteen years later, in the wake of an eventful night under the full moon, Remus would realise that Marlene had tried to warn them, all along. But out of the two people he could tell, one of them had erased the past, and the other was on the run. And Peter was still walking free; still playing the game that he’d cheated his way through.
After all, we never lose our inner children. They are tainted and blackened at the edges, and many adults don’t remember the intricacies of hide-and-seek.
But others do.
And it’s those people who continue to win, time after time.
Until they don’t.
Until karma chokes them with a cold, metal fist and calls out in a taunting voice reminiscent of a childhood game played inside a house, away from the rain:
“Ready or not, here I come!”