horseheartedmarlene

[horseheartedmarlene]

The Last Good Fight

empoweredevans​:

The voice didn’t register, but the words did - and Lily followed it. It didn’t matter whether it was friend or foe because, if someone was yelling ‘duck,’ it meant a spell was coming their way. 

It passed over Lily’s head, blowing her hair in the wind of it as it brushed by, narrowing missing her. And, when she straightened and saw it was Marlene (not quite a friend anymore, but definitely not a foe), she didn’t have time to feel conflicted because the Death Eater had recovered at the same time as her and their wand was shooting another spell towards them.

Lily thought quickly, putting up a shield between her and the Death Eater, protecting Marlene alongside herself. The spell - a nasty green that meant death and reminded Lily too much of James, even though it was a different spell that time - hit the shield and burst. “Marlene!” Lily shouted, trusting her old friend to just know without words that now was the time to take them down.

It was easy -- almost heartbreakingly easy -- to fall back into step with Lily Evans. Once they had been so simpatico, when the Dissendium Task Force had been freshly-formed and tottering to its feet on her family farm, and Lily and come and all but linked arms with Marlene to push their case, their cause, forward; to keep it from being brushed-aside and overlooked into forgetfulness like so many other well-intentioned plans of the Order that had fallen to the wayside on the altar of necessity and the prioritizations of needs-must. Once they had barely needed to discuss something to act on it, knowing they were of one mind -- and perhaps that had been the problem, because they hadn’t been, and the assumption to the contrary had tangled everything up in feelings of disappointment and betrayal that could have been avoided if they’d just talked properly in the first place...

But now wasn’t the time for talk. Now was the time to be glad that even rusty bonds carried over into muscle memory; now was the time to fight not one another, but the enemy. The reason the Task Force had existed in the first place; the reason they had become friends; the reason they had argued themselves apart.

She bared her teeth and thought Conjunctivitis! and flung the red bolt from her wand. It wasn’t the most overtly destructive of spells, but Marlene had had good luck with it in the past; the masks the Death Eaters wore were charmed to fit their faces and thus had little to no impact on their vision (at least not that Marlene had ever been able to detect from the outside; it wasn’t as though she’d ever worn one of the things!) but they were still masks and thus tended to get in the way when one’s eyes started to sting and swell and--

Yes, right on cue the Death Eater clapped a hand to their face and swore as their fingers encountered hard silver instead. Their wand-hand was still raised in guard position and it wouldn’t take them long to dispell the spell now that they’d realized what it was, but Marlene wasn’t concerned about that because the momentary distraction had given her the opening she needed to throw an Incarcerous that tangled around the Death Eater’s legs and toppled them off-balance to the hard marble floor.

Again, that was more of a buying-time spell than an attack -- but Marlene wasn’t buying time for her own attack. She was flying point so that Lily could come in behind her and throw the Quaffle through the hoop while the Keeper and Beaters kept their attention on her -- to use a metaphor from a time before she’d even known Lily Evans. But the fact that they’d never flown together had little impact on how it felt to fight beside her. It felt like they were part of a team--

And for all their differences and strife and struggles, Marlene had no doubt at all that Lily would be right there beside her taking advantage of the opening she’d offered.

#empoweredevans #date: may | 2 | 1982 #c: into the last good fight #Event: Final Battle

[horseheartedmarlene]

The Last Good Fight

LOCATION: Ministry of Magic DATE: May 2, 1982 @empoweredevans​

Marlene had been in worse fights in her life -- or perhaps more accurately, Marlene had been in fights where she had come off worse than she was doing so far. (There was no Cursed iron fence here trying to tear her flesh from her bones, anyway.) But even with as many years as she had fought for the Order of the Phoenix, as many times as she had put her life on the line, as dire as the straights had been in which she had found herself time and time again -- all that, and she didn’t think she had ever fought tor stakes this high before.

That put a certain weight on this fight for which no mere wounds could account.

But weight and wounds or not, the only thing to do was keep going. Stopping to assess the import of the situation would help no one -- and there were plenty of people in need of help. Marlene hardly knew where to turn. At least her family wasn’t here--

But her friends were. Or sort-of former friends...allies? Whatever she and Lily Evans were to each other now, Marlene certainly didn’t want the other witch hurt. So when she limped around a corner and turned to see a Death Eater peering around a smashed door to take aim on Lily, she didn’t hesitate before shouting “Duck!” and throwing a hasty Stunning Spell at the back of that black-robed head.

She probably should have cast the spell first and then shouted, since by alerting Lily she also alerted a Death Eater in time for them to conjure a Shield Charm -- but if Lily had been hurt (or worse) because Marlene was more concerned with fighting her enemies than protecting her friends (semi-friends?) she would have never forgiven herself.

#empoweredevans #date: may | 2 | 1982 #Event: Final Battle #Location: Ministry of Magic #c: the last good fight

[horseheartedmarlene]

Marlene had repaired her ankle as best she could -- thanking her lucky stars for all those lessons about tending to injured horses with Uncle Gavin, and the things she’d learned there about strengthening and immobilizing muscle damage -- and while she could tell that she would need to see a real Healer sooner rather than later, she could walk or at least limp on it now without too much trouble. As long as she remembered she was hurt and didn’t try to throw all her weight onto it or sprint anywhere for more than a few steps, she should be okay -- would have to be okay, anyway, because she wasn’t about to let her wounds keep her out of this fight, not with the stakes facing them now.

Not with what they’d already lost.

Marlene was in no mood to lose anything else, so when she saw Alice Longbottom attacking from concealment without apparently being aware that someone else was using the same tactic to get a fix on her, she lost no time in niceties or negotiations: “Frigus!” she snarled, and while she landed only a glancing hit, it was enough to abort whatever Curse they had been aiming at Alice. The black robes flailed, then crumpled as Alice’s quick reflexes took one of their feet out from under them. Marlene hobble-ran to Alice’s side, being careful to keep her wand up and ready for further attacks as she moved.

“Is there a plan?” she asked, throwing up a quick Shield Charm to give them a few seconds of breathing room for strategizing. Marlene was desperately hopeful now that she had found an Auror -- found someone who was supposed to be in charge. The Order had been caught flat-footed and off-guard by the sudden attack, and had had no chance to plan for anything other than frantic defense, but maybe the Ministry -- or the Auror Department within it, at least -- had come up with a better strategy by now. Hell, maybe they’d had contingency plans for just this sort of situation sitting around in the back of their desks for years. Maybe this was where the tide of battle was going to turn in their favor against the dark...

As The World Falls Down

She’d been what felt like miles away from her office when chaos hit. She’d been halfway across the Ministry, looking for someone to stop the rainstorm that had been hovering over her rubbish bin for the better part of the past week. Then she heard the screams.  Frank. She had to help people get out and get back to Frank. 

Wand at the ready, she bolted, ready and alert for trouble. She kept running until she reached the beginnings of the horror- people running, falling, trying to escape. There was no openings for any large spells to cut off civilians from the battle, so she’d have to make due. Using her surroundings to her advantage, she made her way forward steadily, taking cover behind whatever she could, shooting off spells. That’s when she saw a spell whiz over her shoulder and clip a death eater. A brilliant smile lit up the auror’s usually cold expression. “About bloody time! Get over here!” She shouted as she shot off another spell, catching the same death eater in the leg, causing them to stumble. 

#eventually marlene has to separate so she can run into lily #so whenever you have another idea or thread you want to throw alice into we can split them up again #but i thought it would be fun to let them fight together a little bit! #c: as the world falls down #date: may | 2 | 1982 #Event: Final Battle #alicealongbottom #ref: uncle gavin

[horseheartedmarlene]

Into the Last Good Fight

moaningmaddy​:

Maddy had been in the phone room at the House of Bones, specially set up for Mister Maurice, but which she’d newly begun to use for something other than those who called in for the radio show: to scout for locations. The Task Force was having more and more difficulties to get the Muggleborns overseas, with news travelling fast, people telling on each other, and ‘this young Muggleborn was asking if I knew someone overseas’ at risk of becoming common knowledge all too fast. So Maddy had suggested to simply telephone people overseas. Telephone agencies and ask for places opening up, or ask for Muggleborns if they knew other Muggleborns who had enough space for one or two new family members. The suggestion had been accepted and she’d been set on phone duty.

It was a strange contrast. Helping Muggleborns flee the country and this sudden call for action. 

She stumbled out into the main hall, watching people talk and scurry with tense energies hanging in the air. She listened in to some conversations as she made her way to find Alice Longbottom and understood, bit by bit, what had happened. A chill ran down her spine – though it was not entirely negative. Why she was looking for Mrs Longbottom, she wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps because she had chaperoned her during the last attack, so perhaps she’d do it now again? It wasn’t a very clear thought, just an instinct, as Maddy ran through the hall. 

When, instead, it was Marlene McKinnon who she ran in to, she therefore didn’t pause long to accept. “I am,” she nodded. This felt strange, too. To go into battle by someone’s side who she’d admired for so many years. Admired for totally different reasons. “Do you think we’re going to die?” she asked, non-chalantly, genuinely curious, as she hastily took off her scarf, gloves and cape for better agility out there. “Because it sure feels a bit strange to leave with you, but not being sure if it’s with you I’m going to come back.” Then she took her hand and was ready to leave.

She’d rarely been to the Ministry, so she had no idea where Marlene was apparating them to. Not that she had much time to figure out. The battle was already growling and spitting fire like an angered dragon, and Maddy thought about what Miss Branwen had taught her: don’t hesitate. And thus she didn’t. 

She didn’t even know how much time was passing, only that somehow, she was there to witness it passing, still there, still fighting, still following Marlene until suddenly she wasn’t anymore.

Suddenly they’d been torn apart and she stood with her back against a wall, literally inside a chimney, not entirely sure how she’d gotten herself in there, but quite sure that with that wand pointing straight at her face, she wasn’t going to get out of there anymore.

@fletchermundungus​

Maddy’s question about the potential of their imminent deaths -- the matter-of-fact way she referred to the liminal strangeness of standing next to someone on the brink of a battle from whom one or both of you might not return, trying to wrap your brain around the concept of ‘a future without you’ when every evolutionary human instinct balked at recognizing such a potentially disadvantageous possibility in attempt to avoid the inevitable inaction that would follow -- made Marlene’s heart clench.

She didn’t want to lie, which meant she couldn’t think of a good answer -- couldn’t spend the time or attention necessary to craft a good answer, not when she had to think very clearly and precisely about their destination if she wanted to get the both of them there safely in one piece -- so she said nothing. But her heart broke a little, and she squeezed Maddy’s hand a little tighter in an attempt to compensate for her silence with physical presence.

But they couldn’t walk through this battle hand-in-hand. Maybe if they’d been more experienced at fighting in concert, it would have been not just a possibility but a strength to fight physically linked to an ally -- but she had never fought beside Madaléina Warren before and they did not know one another’s paces, one another’s spells, one another’s timing well enough for such a link to by anything but an anchor to a grave. So she let go of Maddy, still meaning to stay close without being tied to the girl, and threw herself into the battle.

The hardest part wasn’t finding a silver mask to hex, or even shielding oneself against them; the hardest part was getting a clear shot through all the panic and disarray of people trying to flee, trying to help, trying to hinder, trying to help the wrong people -- it was chaos, and while ordinarily chaos was simply ordinary to Marlene these was something about this chaos that made her skin crawl.

Possibly it was the bodies crumpled or moaning on the floor every few feet.

“Stay with m--” she started to say to Maddy, but a jet of vicious purple light overhead had her ducking mid-word and Marlene had no time for further counsel then because she needed all her focus to batter back the attacks of the Death Eater in front of her. He was still masked, unlike many of their number, tall and thin and trembling -- the effects of some other Curse, Marlene suspected, but if she had hoped that weakness would be enough to befuddle her foe and make him easy pickings she was quickly disabused of the notion as spell after spell slashed through the air. One half-dodged Curse left a deep gouge in her shoulder which sprouted boils that oozed a stinging yellow pus, and one half-deflected Curse only brushed the lightest of glances across her ankle but still did something terrible deep inside that made the muscles ache and sag and Marlene had to grab the lip of that stupid, simpering statue that Malfoy had finally gotten placed in order to keep herself upright.

Her own spellwork was far from shabby, and tatters of black cloth half-exposed the blistered and blackened flesh of her opponent’s wand-arm while his own footing was impaired by the deep cut she had landed across one of his ankles. When she managed to attack a light-sticking charm (a spell too small and seemingly insignificant for most wards to bother to deflect) to his mask, blinding him, she took advantage of his distraction to throw a tangle of spell-ropes around his shoulders and fasten him to the floor like a spider’s lunch.

He managed to claw the mask off before the ropes bound his limbs together, trapping his wand impotently against his side. Marlene recognized the haggard face thus revealed: Antonin Dolohov. She shuddered, but put him out of her mind; now that he was no longer a threat, he could be left for the MLEP or whoever ended up taking responsibility for the clean-up of this battle to deal with once the fighting was over.

Finally free to catch her breath, Marlene looked behind her to see how Maddy was faring -- and her heart jumped into her throat like a startled frog. The girl was gone. Marlene’s eyes darted, frantic and searching, through the thinning crowds and chaos and corpses but she could see no sign of her. She tried to console herself with the thought that at least that meant Maddy was upright and fighting still, or at least had been when she’d left Marlene’s line of sight, but that was cold comfort in the face of such danger...especially when for all she knew, the girl wouldn’t have even come to join the fight had Marlene not offered her a hand and a side-along. How good a fighter was the younger witch? Marlene should never have let Maddy leave her side!

When she looked back around, there was blood on the floor between the hacked-apart shreds of her spell-rope and Dolohov, too, was gone.

#moaningmaddy #Event: Final Battle #c: into the last good fight #date: may | 2 | 1982 #i had no idea you didn't like writing battle sequences tbh your event threads were always so delightful i never noticed! #so i suppose there's always the chance that hell won't realize it either and will fail to implement the torture #i learned fighting writing from tamora pierce and way too many star wars novels so i'm all like ''s'cool i got this let's fight bro'' lmao #anyway yes maddy and mundungus i love them together wheeeee! #and if marlene is still alive at the end i (and she) would LOVE to have her find maddy again #if not during the battle then AT LEAST in the aftermath wrap-up emotional stuff #because marlene is going to spend the entire rest of this fight worrying about maddy #and wondering if by bringing her here she got her killed and it's all her fault fuck #also you'll notice that this time i just said ''fuck short embrace your verbosity if you're going to do this then DO THIS''

[horseheartedmarlene]

Into the Last Good Fight

LOCATION: House of Bones / Ministry of Magic DATE: May 2, 1982 @moaningmaddy​

Marlene had come to the House of Bones to look for Remus Lupin -- not that she was expecting to find him there (but maybe he would be, with the wolves now in the woods; was he staying with them now? It was odd to not know) but she was sure she would be able to find someone who could direct her on to wherever it was he was...and, admittedly, she was hoping that the someone she was going to find from whom to beg further direction would be Edgar. It would help, she thought, to talk to Edgar first. He could bolster her spirits for the trial ahead -- and she was sure it would be a trial, clawing her way through her own still-bruised feelings to find Remus’s pain on the other side, and try (hope) that there were enough tattered threads of friendship left to reweave their bond...

She hadn’t expected a different sort of trial to rear its head instead.

Marlene was just preparing herself a cup on the go (of all the many things she’d learned from Edgar, that was one of her favorites) when a patronus burst onto the scene. She thought it was Lily’s at first, that familiar silvery doe who’d so often brought news of a family in trouble or a chance to smuggle someone to safety -- but the voice that came out was not Lily’s. It was Severus, and he was in trouble -- they were all in trouble.

But he was the first one lost today.

Marlene stumbled back against the nearest table, trying to catch her breath as her head spun and everyone around her began to babble. They had to make plans -- there was no time to make plans! Voldemort was already at the Ministry -- the battle had begun.

She forced herself to push the loss of her friend for later -- later, if they lived, they could mourn the lost -- and focus. “Apparition Wars are down on the Atrium -- hurry!” Severus had said, and while she didn’t think that exactly qualified as a last wishes statement, Marlene was inclined to honor the command nonetheless. Which meant she had to pull herself together enough to focus, enough to Apparate -- and to help those who couldn’t. Always, always, to help those who needed it; Marlene had been a big sister for too long to ever think to do anything else.

She looked for Edgar, knowing that Apparition wasn’t his strong suit to begin with (knowing that she’d never not feel a pang in her heart when she thought of what Spinching had cost him already) but there were too many people rushing hither and yon; she couldn’t spot him. She wasn’t sure if he’d even been there, or if the House of Bones was empty today of those whose bones called it home. She did see Maddy, though -- Madaléina Warren, new and young and beautifully bright-eyed, now looking shaken.

Marlene put down her teacup (maybe she was the one shaking; the china clattered in her hand, the light sound oddly sharp and loud against her ears despite the tumult that filled the Order’s headquarters as they hustled to war) and drew her wand. With her other hand, she reached towards the young witch. “You want to Side-Along?” she offered. Then, not wanting it to sound like she was trying to baby Maddy, she added, “It’s safer to go in pairs when we don’t know what will be waiting on the other end -- or, I suppose, in this case when we do know, and know it won’t be good. Come on -- if you’re coming?”

It wasn’t untrue. They would be safer going in ready to watch one another’s backs, or as much “safer” as it was possible to be when one was getting ready to trade hexes with Death Eaters and their vile leader. Maybe if Severus had had someone with him, someone else there hidden in among the silver masks on whom he could rely, he would be...

But that was for later. Now there was the fight. And Maddy’s hand, tight against her own, and the tighter press of the air around them as they spun away with a CRACK and stepped forward against the tide of death.

#moaningmaddy #date: may | 2 | 1982 #event: final battle #location: bones estate #location: ministry of magic #this counts as short by OUR standards though right? everything is relative.... #c: into the last good fight

[horseheartedmarlene]

APRIL 1982: (NOT)FACING YOUR FEARS

A person can cope with something by ignoring it, right? Marlene has been counting on that for a while now, but no more so than in the weeks following the attack on Diagon Alley. It was bad enough when Alaric got hurt; bad enough when Ainsley betrayed them; bad enough when Remus showed himself to be a liar...but now the Death Eaters were going after people at large. Not just targeting their enemies and their prey, but anyone in the vicinity...anyone at all.

Does that mean that Marlene’s family is going to be the next on the target list?

Marlene always knew they were under threat, simply by dint of being the McKinnons and the way they were; she knew that her joining the Order, and opening her family’s home to the them and all the refugees and werewolves who needed a safe place to go, was adding to their danger -- but this, somehow, was different. This was another level of threat...

And it was her fault.

That was the worst part; it was her fault. Talking to Edgar, knowing that she wasn’t the only one who had somewhat inadvertently ended up in such a position, helped...but it also didn’t change the facts. And that was what she could not face...because facing it meant facing an impossible choice: leave the order or risk her family? Neither of those options could be born -- which meant the only to cope was to plaster a big smile on her face and pretend there was nothing to cope with. That was doable, right?

APRIL 1982: (RE)FACING YOUR FRIENDS

Distractions helped. Fortunately Marlene had always been sociable, and while she’d told herself to give-up on the flirtations that had occupied so much of her attention during her younger years in favor of focusing on the war, that didn’t mean she had to become a hermit. She kept herself busy...and maybe not wanting to face bigger issues made it easier to tackle smaller ones...

Or at least pettier ones.

Marlene had never thought herself prejudiced before (and still didn’t; it wasn’t prejudice to be aware of the world!) but she had, perhaps, thought and behaved on occasion in a less-than-admirable way to certain people -- or certain kinds of people, anyway, specifically half-breeds.

Specifically veela...and werewolves.

But Efa Chittock was so much more helpful and less coy than Marlene had expected. And Artem Tremblay so calm and casual and neither of them felt in any way seductive or conniving or manipulative. Neither of them...well, acted like Veela. Or like Veela were supposed to act, anyway, which Marlene was willing to grudgingly concede might be the problem which meant that the problem wasn’t with them being dangerous but with her being...well, being a little skittish maybe. Yes, that was the word for it: skittish. Like a bashful filly afraid to run too far from the safety of mama’s stable. Maybe it was time to grow-up and stop being afraid of people just because they were a little too pretty.

Maybe it was time...to face the wolves.

#marlene mckinnon headcanon #homenumcharacter

[horseheartedmarlene]

spellnbone​:

//

When Marlene left again, many hours later, Edgar felt both light and heavy, revived and nailed into a tomb. He had told her everything concerning his family, about Rigby, about the House of Bones, about Amelia, and she had told him about hers. About bringing a family into a war, about knowing you’d be the responsible one if ever something happened to them, about her worries concerning the werewolves. For the first time, Edgar had understood what people meant when they worried about them being in the forest nearby, finally managing to picture himself in the McKinnon’s shoes, and finally connecting his own need to see Amelia safe with Marlene needing to see her family safe.

So he’d offered to move the werewolves to the House of Bones. To many this might’ve seemed like a nonsensical conclusion, but to Edgar it made sense. It made sense to keep it all close, where he could ward and protect, it made sense, it made sense.

He walked her all the way out to the outer gates again, and bid her goodbye with strings of conversation that wanted to go on and on, and yet it was only when she was gone and he was already back at the house that he realised that he hadn’t even asked her about the thing for which they’d met. It made him laugh. Perhaps because that would be an excuse to just meet again, or perhaps because it proved that for those few hours, Marlene had truly managed to distract him.

END.

#ugh the two of them are so lovely though #family connections ahhhhhh #i wish there was time to do more with them <3 #so so SO different on the surface but so many similarities at their core ugh #spellnbone #c: omnia mutantur #date: march | 28 | 1982 #end

[horseheartedmarlene]

bristlybranwen​:

//

Bran had said she would leave now, but something made it impossible. Something held her back and had her hover in the courtyard. Perhaps it was the memory of this place.

When she was little, truly little, her family would come here to discuss business with the McKinnons. What exactly that business was she’d never really understood. Something about horses, surely. Buying them, selling them abroad, using them for races, whatever. And because children were noisy and cumbersome, McKinnon and Yaxleys alike had been sent to play outside instead. Many fist fights again Corban had been won here, and the first slurs against people of less noble blood had been thrown. But all in all, they were all happy memories, childhood memories, scuffles and tears of anger so very momentary and harmless at that age.

And the truth was, Bran enjoyed being at the McKinnons. Yes, they lived among horseshit and needed business to survive like Corban said, but that was exactly what Bran enjoyed. How free this clan was. How wild and unfettered she was allowed to play here and no adult ever seemed to reprimand her for getting her sleeves dirty and her knees scraped. Over the years, she got more and more excited coming here: not only were they eventually allowed to take the horses out, but there was also one McKinnon boy who Bran loved hanging out with more than anyone else. In her opinion, he was he was the funnest to be around, and because he was a few years younger than Bran and thus at first not allowed to ride out the horses without supervision, it always felt like they were partners in crime when Bran took out two horses anyways and the two of them galloped away over the wide green planes.

Perhaps that was why Bran hadn’t talked to Marlene for so long since they’d seen each other again in the Order. In a way she resented her. To Bran, girlhood, womanhood, had always been a cage, a jacket made of restrictions, and here was her childhood best friend who loved to be wild as much as she did and who chose girlhood freely, as if for Marlene, this was actually freedom. And Bran had felt betrayed. As if Marlene had done this only to never have to ride out with her again.

So, when Marlene showed up next to her and asked to go take the horses out for a ride, Bran felt like time was slowing down, just a little, just for a while, just enough for her to remember her childhood at the farm and all the reasons why she could not let her pride decline this offer. “Let’s.”

In a way, it was one of those lessons she seemed learning over and over again these days. That often it weren’t the people around her who changed and moved away from her, but that they changed and she was the one who, scared, pushed them away. Prejudice and pride, going hand in hand, corrupting what had once been and could one day be, beautiful friendships, and – at least momentarily – left behind as Marlene and Bran once again galloped over the wide green planed.

END.

#oh my gods my HEART #this was TOO MUCH i love it #c: oi #bristlybranwen #date: feb | 17 | 1982 #end

[horseheartedmarlene]

Tea and Troubles

marywithoutthelamb​:

Even after fuck knows how many years in the wixen world, sometimes Mary still felt so out of place that she doubted she could ever truly belong. Now was one of those moments too because for all McKinnon seemed so shocked and confused about Muggle practices, it would’ve never crossed Mary’s mind to think of toothflossing strings or cleaning charms either. And like most things did, it annoyed her; she was part of this world, she was fighting for this world, and she still didn’t belong. It was bullshit. “They brush them,” she said, deadpan. “You buy a toothbrush and toothpaste and you brush your damn teeth. No fancy spells. So yeah, everything you’re so used to doing with magic, muggles have their ways of doing without.”

And for all McKinnon was cracking up, Mary did feel she deserved an apology for even hearing that crap. Snape. Or Evans. As if. “While you’re at it just Obliviate me so I don’t have to remember.” And she didn’t talk much to either of them anyway if she could avoid it, but now she felt she’d go out of her way to keep away; not because of what people thought or whatever but just for her own peace of mind. Disgusting.

She let McKinnon drag her around with only an eye roll, which felt very mild by Mary standards. She was getting soft, god forbid. “I can tell a horse’s arse from its face,” she snapped back as if to make up for it. “And I really can’t explain enough how much I don’t care about this derby. If I come at all, it’ll only be to piss off the rest of your pureblood pals. Which would work better anyway if I don’t know shit about horses.” And yet, she was still following McKinnon. Only because she had nothing better to do, though, she was quick to justify. And she was definitely not getting on one of those winged things. Really, it was only practice for pissing off the other purebloods at the derby; she had to see which stupid questions would push their buttons the most, after all.

“No one ‘makes my heart pound’,” she rolled her eyes as they walked. “That’s dumb. And guys are all idiots anyway. But if you wanna hear about that time my brother tried to kidnap the tooth fairy, sure, knock yourself out.” She didn’t talk much about her family, she knew. Ideally, she tried not to think of them too much either. But fuck it, she was feeling nostalgic and if that meant telling McKinnon a dumb story then it was whatever. At least it was more fun than horses.

“Maybe I’m talking about metaphorical horses arses,” Marlene teased with a wink. “After all, like you said, there’ll be lots of snooty pure-bloods there. I mean, the Malfoys come to the derby every year, and it would be awful if you wasted your best insult behind Lucius’s back instead of saying it to his face because you got confused.”

Why didn’t she hang-out with Mary more? The witch was hilarious. Busy, too, that was probably it; it was hard to hang around someone who was never around. And, all right, the fact that Mary had been asked to join the Inner Circle before someone so obviously more suited to the role (Emmeline, for instance!) had rankled a bit, but that was no reason to take it out on the other witch; Mary hadn’t asked the Inner Circle to snub Emmeline...

No, it was time to grow-up and make an effort to befriend Mary MacDonald properly. Which obviously started be getting her up on horseback and asking her about all her previous crushes. Or at least all her previous crushes on witches; it sounded like if Mary did fancy gents too, she wasn’t in the mood to talk about that right now. (Bad break-up, maybe. Or something unrequited gone bitter. Or--well, there would be time for that gossip later.) But for starters...

“I absolutely want to hear about your brother trying to kidnap a fairy. Tell me everything.”

END.

#no one can plan for lucius #he's like a force of nature only better dressed and lazier #and yes i absolutely could have just let it end on your post...but i couldn't resist the chance to insult lucius whoops #c: tea and troubles #marywithoutthelamb

[horseheartedmarlene]

Boundaries (Legal and Otherwise)

emmeoutofline​:

“Not now,” Emmeline snapped, “but you’re clearly setting a precedent that you don’t have any concerns for privacy and confidentiality and gladly would do so later if it suited you.” Perhaps that was reaching when Marlene had looked in her brother’s, but Emmeline stood by it. Someone so willing to do it once would surely do it again. And that was assuming she never had looked in someone else’s. Plus, if she was doing it, Morgana only knew who else had taken an attempt. 

Emmeline snorted. “But isn’t that exactly what you’re doing? Snooping through your brother’s records instead of asking him? Clearly you’re not terribly concerned about seeming polite.”

As Marlene went still, something in her gaze suggested it was her own mind that had caused it, not Emmeline’s words. Clearly she didn’t particularly care about anything Emmeline had to say. Seemed par for the course around here. People needed her when they needed a healer, but the rest of the time? Most didn’t care whether their supplies were stocked or whether Benjy had made it home for a few hours rest before his next shift. They just cared that someone was there when the moment hit.

She pursed her lips and looked away. “He doesn’t seem to have any long-term effects from that bad spell. He’s fine, but I still say if you’re that concerned with his wellbeing, check on it. Don’t go snooping through files as though they can fix whatever you’ve got going on.”

🐎

Emmeline sounded like a Gryffindor with that self-righteous bilge about “precedent setting,” and Marlene almost told her as much -- but a schoolyard barb had no place here. They were both adults, even if neither of them were maybe acting quite like it at the moment. Besides, her sharp comment about the files not being to fix whatever Marlene had come here seeking was pure Ravenclaw insight...and the last thing Marlene wanted to talk about with anyone, even Emmeline. Instead she snapped, “Fine -- maybe I will go check,” and banged out of Emmeline’s precious office.

She wouldn’t, though. Asking Alaric would mean acknowledging that it wasn’t just her fault but the Order’s fault that her brother had been hurt; the Order’s fault that her family was in danger. And letting that thought take form would mean forcing herself to make a choice she knew she couldn’t face. Because helping the Order was the right thing to do, and Marlene wasn’t going to quit until the war was won...

But how could she let protecting her family come second?

END.

#emmeoutofline #c: boundaries (legal and otherwise) #date: march | 11 | 1982 #end

[horseheartedmarlene]

artemthevictorious​:

Artem nearly laughed at the confession, not out of malice but because it seemed so foreign from their day to day. Maybe slightly at Marlene’s expense, though. Artem wondered if she realized how often her brother stopped by, but if that wasn’t comment knowledge, they certainly weren’t going to rat Alaric out. “I know there used to be a time when women weren’t allowed through the door, but that’s changed. You’re welcome to stop by and get a drink, maybe play some cards or dance with someone pretty enough to pretend you don’t have to pay them for it at the end.” Artem winked. “You might find you like it.”

They grinned at the easy way she dished things back, the friendly sass of it. Artem had friends here, of course, but they often wondered if there was anyone they hadn’t known before that they could actually call a friend. Perhaps if this continued, Marlene would fit that bill. 

Still, they bristled slightly at the next comment. Artem knew they didn’t put as much time in as some people, but they tried to be around. “I try to stop by at least once a week,” they said, trying to keep anything defensive from their voice. “Bring some things and all that. I can’t say I hang around long, but I’m sure if you asked around, I’ve been seen.” Even with the work Artem did to hide it, they still tended to be pegged as part veela or at least remembered, even if people couldn’t say why.

🐎 

Marlene snorted. “If women weren’t allowed, I’d probably go there more; I’d feel obligated to stick my nose in and rub all their noses in the fact of my presence.” Contrariness was almost as deeply integrated a part of the McKinnon Clan as the horses. “But maybe I’ll make the effort of stopping-in sometime even though it won’t mean breaking the rules,” she bared her teeth in a savage grin, then started with self-inflicted surprise as she remembered her brother singing the place’s praises once upon a time. “Oh! You know, Alaric is always griping at me to get out on the skite more,” she told Artem, although not so much lately as he once had; Marlene tried not to think about the change or about possible explanations for it. “Maybe I’ll finally give-in and we’ll do a night out on the town together.” It would be nice to hang-out with her brother more, and if he was there with her she wouldn’t have to worry so much about the possibility of making a fool of herself by trying to flirt with captivating half-Veela bartenders when she got distracted and forgot to keep her guard up.

This particular captivating half-Veela bartender didn’t seem so bad, though, or so scary; maybe Marlene was just paranoid. Maybe she wasn’t a bumbling teen anymore, awash with unruly hormones and unfamiliar potions, all clumsy coltish limbs and clumsier tongue. Maybe she could let her guard down a little more around Artem, and nothing scary would happen.

Distracted by her own thoughts, she missed the sudden change in their demeanor and simply shrugged-off their defensive protests. "Dinnae fash,” she said, flapping a hand dismissively. “I realize farm-life isn’t for everyone. Especially fine and fancy city-folk such as yourself.” Marlene pulled herself together enough to smile at Artem -- wholly, directly at Artem, rather than at safer sources like their eyebrows or their chin or their shoulders; she didn’t catch fire or start swooning, so maybe she could stop avoiding them so assiduously; maybe neither they nor Efa were quite the threat she’d always seen them as -- and hoped that Artem’s avoidance of the farm was just what she’d teased them about, and not due to any sense of unwelcome from her. “You come around as much or as little as you like,” she insisted, speaking as much to herself as to Artem, “that’s just fine with us. With me.”

#artemthevictorious #c: time for a cuppa #date: march | 9 | 1982

[horseheartedmarlene]

bristlybranwen​:

Bran nodded. “Nice, yes.” It wasn’t the word she would’ve used, but she also knew it wasn’t the world Marlene meant to use. People were like that sometimes. Hiding a lot of thoughts behind a simple word like ‘nice’. “I mean, she is in charge of injured and wounded. Of all those that jump in as healers sometimes. It’s not like no one knows how important she is to the Order.” The idea of Emmeline being out one day was a terrifying one, and surely not just for Bran. 

Bran wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said that Marlene suddenly heard Bran’s mother wasn’t uptight, but she didn’t correct her. “Can you imagine?” she asked, giving it a lazy smirk. “Using Yaxley Castle to sell cauldrons to school kids?” And what she really meant by that: Can you imagine having a Squib work metal with mud-means in the basement of Yaxley Castle? But of course she didn’t say that. Boris was her secret, and she didn’t trust Marlene enough to tell her about him. “D’you sometimes wonder who you’d turned out to be if you hadn’t grown up around horses?” A question uncharacteristically pensive for Bran, but she made sure to make it sound casual, more like a joke-type of question.

“Oh, yeah, at least horses get you done. Stairs are fickle things. One day they just want to startle you, the next maybe hurt you a little bit. Horses, when they kick out, at least you know it’ll be a brisk and easy death.” She was trying to mock Marlene’s opinions here. Or at least she thought she was? Or was she joking along? It didn’t matter. A moment later she wasn’t thinking at all anymore; Marlene had gotten out of bed and more than casually undressed herself before her. Bran immediately tore her gaze away, turning around herself and fixated a spot on the door before her while her heart pounded more heavily than a Muggle baker pounded his bread. Marlene was still talking, right? Nothing reached Bran. Oh by the gods. Oh by Morgana. Oh by all the cats the gods created and Morgana owned. Oh fuck. No, yes. This made sense. Of course. Sure. Anyone with half a brain could’ve seen this coming. Right? No. Right. Oh fuck. “Boots!” she then suddenly declared, gratefully, because she knew where the boots were. “Door! Here!” She pulled the door open, indeed revealing the kicked-off pair of boots she’d left on the landing last night, picked them up, stalked over to Marlene and reiterated, in case of doubts: “Boots!” Marlene was dressed right now so in a moment of brilliant eloquence, Bran remarked on it: “Dressed! Good. Very blue.” The boots were pushed into Marlene’s hands before a thumb pointed at the door. “Will wait outside. You’re on your feet. Great. Will … wait outside.”

She had no reason to stay at the McKinnons Farm for the day, and in fact, she did have to go home eventually to show herself alive to her mother. But in her attempt to get out of Marlene’s room as fast as possible, she’d promised to wait outside, and being a woman of her word, she now found herself caught in that promise. So she did wait, walking the dark red shade on her face off. Even if it was to properly say goodbye once Marlene would show her face.

True, everyone agreed Emmeline was important to the cause -- when they needed a Healer. Marlene knew that the other witch was so much more than just the person who did-up your wounds when you were hurt, but she wasn’t sure how to articulate that just now -- not even to herself. So she nodded, but said nothing. Emmeline was important, and Bran knew it. That was what mattered, not her own vicarious half-formed feelings rankling at inadequate recognition. Besides, Bran worked with her in their makeshift hospital. She doubtless already knew everything Marlene could have said.

Marlene started to grin, a quip already forming on her lips in response to Bran’s suggestions of selling cauldrons from the family castle, but it evaporated unvoiced as she continued. Who would Marlene be if she hadn’t grown-up around horses? The question hit her hard and sideways, unexpected enough that the thought nearly bowled her over. Who would she be, without the horses? Who would any McKinnon be? “I’m...I’m not sure...I certainly wouldn’t be me, but...I don’t know. I don’t know...”

Marlene was so caught-up by the thought that she barely heard Bran’s joke about a quick and easy death, her responding smile more of an automatic response than an amused one. She certainly didn’t notice when Bran herself stopped talking smoothly; Marlene moved through the familiar motions of dressing like she was in a daze, only wrenching free of her reverie when Bran broke the spell by shoving the boots at her. “Oh! Thank you,” Marlene said. “Blue, yes. Right. Thanks. Okay.”

She shook her head, trying to pull her thoughts together, and laced her boots hurriedly enough that she missed two eyelets with the laces of the left one and didn’t notice even when she knotted them. She mustered-up a smile and followed Bran out of the bedroom -- the sickroom -- that, wobbly as she felt, she was nonetheless anxious to leave. “Right!” she said, her cheer gradually becoming less forced and more cherry as she spoke, “So, there we are then. All dressed and upright and leaving a mournful, un-breakfasted bed behind.” She reached for Bran’s arm to walk them both outside. “Shall we brave the treacherous stairs and get you mounted?”

#a day that will live in infamy #lucky bran distracted the ravenclaw with existential questions before she could notice the blushing lmao #or WAS it lucky? hmmm #bristlybranwen #date: feb | 17 | 1982 #c: oi

[horseheartedmarlene]

Tea and Troubles

marywithoutthelamb​:

A sharp exhale of something like relief was Mary’s only reaction to Marlene’s understanding. Finally. She’d just started to nod along too when McKinnon had to open her mouth again and for a moment, Mary didn’t have in her to even react, wasn’t sure if she wanted to react with more indignation or exasperation or whatever else was even left. Because it was a stupid question, no doubt about, but it was less stupid than the shit McKinnon had said previously. Not that that deserved an award or anything. “Er, no,” Mary said at last, a little hesitant still. “I mean, it doesn’t happen that often? ‘Cause, y’know, teeth don’t just grow back. In the Muggle world, at least. So you gotta take care of them and dentists help with that. Do wix not get cavities and stuff? Like if you eat too much candy? That’s… an illness, I guess, that hurts the teeth.” Then again, for all she knew, wixen candy was made of ingredients that cleaned and strengthened teeth.

But for all she’d been ready to drop the Snape-Evans conversation, suddenly Mary found she had so much more to say on the topic. Her eyes widened. “What! No! God! Fuck! Ew!” The mere thought– A crush! On Snape! Or Evans! Both were just so fucking wrong! “What the hell?! Where– Why?! How is this your takeaway from this?” Was this the impression she left on people? Mary was absolutely horrified by the thought.

The derby, in comparison, sounded like just about everything she’d expected; old, fancy, and with lots of rich people. Thrilling. Still, she kind of liked McKinnon’s insistence she’d save Mary a seat. Not because she actually wanted to go, god forbid, but she’d almost forgotten how… nice it was to be invited to things. And not just one of those half-arsed invitations that people didn’t actually mean. She glanced away from Marlene with a little humph, but the corners of her lips were twitching. “Whatever. If you want me to be there and pick everything apart that badly I guess I can spare a few hours. Is it hours? How long even are these things?”

And she’d had every intention of sticking to her refusal, but then McKinnon had to go and make it into a challenge. Mary held her eyes for a long moment, her own narrowing. “I know exactly what you’re doing and it’s not working. I’m not just going to agree to shit because you call me a chicken.” Except. Another moment and then Mary let out a groan and stood up too. “I’m still not doing this because you called me a chicken,” she clarified, a finger pointed right at McKinnon. “I’m doing this because you’re being pushy and annoying and I’m bored. And also because I’m considering trying to lose you on the way there.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Marlene breathed, equal parts fascinated and repulsed by Mary’s explanation. “I guess they can’t just go to a Healer for a restoring spell and a gargle of Skel-e-grow when their teeth go bad, can they? I never thought about that. I guess they don’t have Toothflossing Stringments or Teeth Cleaning Charms, either...huh.” She blinked, utterly nonplussed as she realized quite how much she just didn’t know about life in the Muggle world -- and more than that, how much she’d never thought about it. All those simple basic parts of life that one never paid much attention to, that just existed in the background of every moment -- how many of them were different for Muggles, without magic? How many of them didn’t exist at all? It was fascinating...and a little frightening. “So...how do Muggles clean their teeth, then?” she asked, frowning curiously as she leaned forward and propped her chin on her hands like a little girl settling in for story-time.

She fell back chortling at Mary’s vehement denial of either Severus or Lily as possible objects of affection. “Okay, okay!” Marlene relented, waving her hands in surrender, “dully noted! You don’t fancy either of them! I’ll make a note.” She mimed scribbling a quill across the palm of her off-hand, as though a mental note was insufficient without the corresponding gesture. “My sincere apologies.” She grinned unrepentantly.

Marlene didn’t waste time that might have allowed Mary to change her mind; the moment the other witch capitulated she laced her arm through Mary’s elbow and led her gallantly to the door. “Hours, yes, the sense that days are made up of hours. But the only real way to learn about the Derby is to experience it properly,” she continued in a lofty voice. “And getting you familiar with horseback is an excellent preliminary -- or prerequisite, maybe. Now you can attend as my guest and I shall not need to fear embarrassment because you don’t know which end of the horse is which or anything like that, and I shall promise to never refer to you as any form of poultry...and to tell anyone who asks,” she added with a wicked grin, “that you fancy neither Lily Evans nor Severus Snape and your heart thus remains a mystery to all and sundry. And in between bridling and mounting, you can tell me who really does make your heart pound -- or at least tell me all about the fascinating arts of Muggle teeth cleaning. What a glorious day for us both!”

Marlene laughed and pulled her half-willing victim to the stables.

#omg that gif is DESTROYING ME #that is the ''wtf mckinnon?'' face to a fucking tee #also i'm now picturing mary pulling a full ''my fair lady'' at the derby #all ''dover more your blooming arse!'' while walburga and druella GASP and lucius cackles himself to death #then invites mary to sit with him for the rest of the event to which she doubtless punches him in the throat #and then it's just time to get the popcorn lmao #date: march | 13 | 1982 #marywithoutthelamb #c: tea and troubles

[horseheartedmarlene]

Chasing Colts, Not Quaffles

islaselwynmacmillan​:

‘Isla always felt such joy when she was speeding through the air on her broom. Or well she supposed this wasn’t her broom it was one from the farm but still it was familiar and wonderful and she loved it. Even when chasing after a colt she found the experience to be exhilirating and full of joy. She spent so much time in school just out flying in the pitch practicing. It was why she had been so successful at the sport. She had practiced more than she had studied and though her grades weren’t as good as they could have been she had still been a fairly good student. 

She wondered at times if she had peaked in school. If her greatest accomplishments would come from her school years and the few years that she had played Quidditch. It was an odd thought to have at the moment she could admit but flying didn’t take much of her focus and it always brought doubts and concerns to her. Did she make a mistake quitting the game? She truly had she knew it but still she couldn’t go back now. Things had happened that locked her in to where she was in life now. 

She watched Marlene flying higher and took in the familiar hand signals thrown her way. They were rough and not as fluid as those who she used to play with but she could understand. She moved to fly off to the side of the colt. The loud noise driving him towards her as Marlene had most likely planned for it to. She didn’t swerve away from him. She used her wand to make a loud popping sound to scare the colt and drive them back towards the direction of the farm. 

At least that had been the plan and she thought it would work but instead of driving the colt towards the farm he ended up going in the opposite direction. Isla shot Marlene an apologetic smile as she signaled that she would move back into position for another try. “This one sure is a stubborn one!” She called out the other girl as she moved to try once more to scare the colt towards home. 

🐎

“Stubborn is a compliment around here!” Marlene shouted back, laughing gaily. Sure, the plan hadn’t gone exactly according to, well, plan...but the colt wasn’t in any danger, not yet at least. They’d made it into the air fast enough, they were too close on his tail for him to elude them, and they’d bring him down eventually; there was no reason to worry.

There was no reason to do anything reckless, either, but on the other hand: she was flying with Isla Selwyn. How many witches could say they’d done that? True, it wasn’t in a match and there was no Quaffle in sight, but they were mounted alongside in midair chasing an agile opponent. Given Isla’s retirement from the professional leagues some time ago, that was as close as anyone was likely to come to sharing a pitch with the former idol. Could anyone blame Marlene for wanting to show-off a little?

Probably, but that wasn’t about to stop her. “I’ve got an idea!” she shouted, pointing overhead. “Get some air, so that when it works, you can swoop down from overhead to pressure him down!” If it didn’t work, she’d need Isla to dive downwards instead in hopes of catching Marlene before she hit the ground -- but she doubted she needed to spell that possibility out for Isla to be aware of it. Besides, why undermine her own confidence by dwelling on the worst-case outcome?

“Oh, and snag my broom if you can!” she tossed over her shoulder almost as an afterthought as she leaped off her broomstick and out into open air for one heart-pounding, breath-stealing second -- and then there was a flurry of feathers in her face and she was landing on the back of the colt. He was too small to be safely ridden by a full-grown woman of her size, but Marlene wasn’t intending to stay mounted long enough to hurt him; just long enough to get him down. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned in and wrapped her arms around the colt’s neck. “Now!” she shouted to Isla, and held on tight.

#islaselwynmacmillan #date: march | 12 | 1982 #c: chasing colts not quaffles

[horseheartedmarlene]

Stealing The Blues Away

fletchermundungus​:

Mundungus couldn’t help the laugh. Between the question that was directed back at him, and the way Marlene would flutter her eyelashes exactly the way a comical character would in a caricature of the flirty and swoony damsel, he couldn’t hold it in. “Marlene, luv, I may—allegedly—be a thief, but I do draw the line at stealing body parts and marriage,” he replied, though, in the moment believing his own words. “Well,” he added, after a brief pause, “when they are still attached to the body, anyway.”

His eyes went wide and his mouth hang open a moment at the words ‘cheap trick’, looking almost offended again. Except that there was still that lingering amusement in his gaze and the corner of his lips, as if he couldn’t keep his face straight completely but always give away that he was more amused than anything else. “Cheap! I let ya know me tricks are priceless. And if you’re a right sozzler, ya never really notice the carpet until the day after. Or two of those.”

But numbers didn’t matter, what did was that Marlene wasn’t saying ‘no’ to the idea of a heist. 

“I can see two options. We go for something that will be dearly missed and absence will be noticed almost right away,” he said, thinking something akin to a personal diary or a favourite item of clothing. “Option two, we go for little small things whose absence will slowly be notice until it’ll drive everyone mad as a hatter. What do ya say?”

“’Allegedly,’” Marlene repeated with a giggle and a snort, “right, yes, allegedly. This whole conversation is one big hypothetical, of course. We aren’t really talking about thievery, because if we were that would be a crime, wouldn’t it? So we aren’t, of course. Allegedly not, anyway.” She flashed her teeth in a wide, horsey grin and pressed her hand to her heart (it squelched slightly, because her clothes were still wet, which admittedly did undercut the weight of the gesture somewhat) in a parody of sincerity. “And I promise to no longer, hypothetically, malign you alleged skills by implying that you would turn them to the arts of matrimony or grave-robbing. At least not whole-cloth grave-robbing, right. Please, accept my sincere apologies,” she giggled again.

Mundungus’s not-entirely-mock offense at having the word cheap applied to him in any way kept the laughter going. Marlene made a valiant but not-very-impressive effort to sober-up and said, “That’s good to know about the carpet, thanks. Always nice to consult an expert on a subject...and I apologize again for my--” a snicker slipped out “--my poor word-choice. I should indeed have said priceless, not cheap. Your tricks are completely devoid of applicable price, absolutely. I know better, I’m so sorry.”

Marlene leaned in to listen avidly to Mundungus’s proposal. “Oh, the hatter plan, definitely.” She gave a firm nod and reiterated with zeal, “Definitely. If we’re going to burgle my family, playing long-game mind-fuckery is the way to go for sure. It’ll take ages for anybody to realize that things are really missing and not just misplaced or carried-off by some relations or another for some oblique purpose nobody thought to mention ahead of time -- which, one, gives us longer to enjoy the game, and two, makes for a much more satisfying conclusion, don’t you think? Sure, it’d be a bit of a lark to watch da or Niven or Maraidy or somebody go spare right-off -- or to run for our lives if you pick Aunt Culla to trifle with,” she chuckled, “but one bout of screaming, a bit of hurled crockery or two, and it’s over.” Marlene flapped a dismissive hand. “Nothing to write the grands about, nothing to build a yarn over -- just one, quick little piffle and it’s done. Nah.” Her eyes glittered. “I say let’s drive ‘em up the bloody wall, that way when the dam finally breaks it’s worth a story.”

#fletchermundungus #date: march | 4 | 1982 #c: stealing the blues away #ref: aunt cullodena

[horseheartedmarlene]

kiranawaynow​:

Kiran had figured that once Marlene was awake, she’d be shooed out immediately, not welcome to see that kind of vulnerability. Instead Marlene was being conscientious and kind in a way Kiran hadn’t ever seen directed at anyone but her family. She was being almost friendly.

The dismissal was easy enough to read, and Kiran could have taken it. She didn’t think Marlene would have have judged her for it later, escaping when the moment was presented. It was perhaps the rational thing to do, especially when they weren’t that close. But Kiran heard the break in Marlene’s voice, and she reacted without thinking. She didn’t know what fence Marlene meant or why she’d been at the Nott home in her dream. Kiran did know how to comfort, though. She knew her mother’s version of it, and without debating whether Marlene would appreciate it, she sat back down near the top of Marlene’s bed. Her mother would have maneuvered Kiran’s head into her lap, but Kiran couldn’t quite go that far. She could reach a hand out, and she did, gently stroking at Marlene’s hair. 

Ainsley and Remus weren’t names Kiran knew. She thought there had been a Remus a few years above her, a prefect maybe. Kiran didn’t know enough of the story to know how they fit into the dream, but she didn’t ask. Instead she reached out with her other hand to run it along Marlene’s arm in echo of the other’s actions. “Shhhh,” she said softly. “It’s all right. It was a dream. It wasn’t happening. They aren’t here.” She rubbed along Marlene’s arm, hoping to soothe away such an awful sensation as what Marlene described. “You’re here. You’re right here. There’s no fence.”

Marlene was not one of those standoffish, stiff-upper-lip, icewater-veined pure-bloods; none of the McKinnons were. They were a family of raw, rough-and-tumble affections and casual embraces and affectionate abuses. Marlene had grown-up in a house full of hugs. When gentle hands stroked her curls and brushed soothingly along her arm, Marlene reacted instinctively. It didn’t matter that Kiran was something like a stranger, only a little bit worse -- because one doesn’t yet know whether or not one is going to like a stranger when one meets them, and when it came to Kiran Marlene did know and the answer was not -- she was there and kind and Marlene was upset.

She flopped sideways into Kiran, head landing on the other woman’s shoulder and arms falling into a loose curl around her waist, accepting the unspoken invitation to what had probably not been meant to be a hug but undoubtedly was one now.

“I was so glad it was them, then,” Marlene mumbled into Kiran’s collarbone. “When the fence -- when I -- I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to be cut to pieces, slow, sliced apart down to my bones. And they were there, and they saved me, and the whole time I remember thinking -- even though I was scared and angry and terrified -- thinking that I was glad that of anybody it could have been, it was them. Ainsley, who knows more about and was better at picking apart Dark Magic than anybody; Remus, who knows the persnickety nature of our potions and the little tweaks you sometimes have to make to account for their effects on the body...I couldn’t have picked better if I’d done it on purpose, right? There wasn’t anybody I’d have trusted more to deal with that, to save me. That’s what I thought, anyway. Them. Isn’t that stupid?”

Marlene turned her face away with a bitter laugh. “So stupid. Of all the people...and now, now that I know how stupid I was, I just keep thinking...why am I alive? Why’d they save me? Did they even mean to -- was it an accident? Am I supposed to be dead right now? Maybe I am dead,” she added in that grim, ethereal sort of musing that only manifests after midnight. “Maybe I am, and that’s why I keep dreaming about the fence. Maybe that’s what you do in a grave: you dream about being alive, but can’t escape the nightmare of what killed you...”

#tw death mention #this got kind of dark folks sorry about that #kiranawaynow #date: march | 23 | 1982 #c: cry in the night

[horseheartedmarlene]

a-glasshalfempty​:

He gave a sombre smile and a half shrug. “I don’t think anybody is reasonable all the time.” It was kind of her, to joke, to try and put him at some ease, she didn’t have to and he appreciated it. It felt like something he’d do, something he did very often in fact.

He nodded, glad to have said his piece, and glad she seemed to have understood. “I’m not sure if worked out for the best is exactly true.” He wasn’t a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’ he’d seen too much crap to believe in silver linings behind every cloud, even if there seemed to be one here. “Please don’t mistake me, whatever path I’m on now, if I could go back and ensure no harm came to Alaric, or you, I’d do it in an instant.” He sighed slowly and pressed out another smile. “But thank you anyway. What’s done is done, I suppose. I’m just glad we can move past it.”

The prospect of the new adventure brightened his spirits considerably. Poking about in shadows of the Bones house ironically felt just the remedy for all the shadow poking they’d just been doing between themselves. “Lead the way,” he invited, returning her grin wholeheartedly.

“Well...you’re probably not wrong about that,” she admitted. He was definitely right when it came to McKinnons, anyway, for all that Marlene wasn’t about to say that out loud -- but it was his apology that really struck her. It wasn’t as though this was the first time that Fabian had said he was sorry about Alaric’s injury, but something about the way he said it sounded different -- or maybe it was the way Marlene was listening, this time.

At any rate she gave a brisk nod and said, “Right. Same here.” She crooked her elbow and offered it to him, as though she were a fine gentleman escorting an elegant lady to a fancy party. “Shall we?” And they walked off together towards the old, mysterious House of Bones and whatever their futures held.

END.

#yes! more threads for fabian and marlene especially please #the awkwardness is CRUSHING i love it #''personality wise we ought to be mates but you being a dumbass almost got my brother killed so....?'' #a glasshalfempty #c: a fool's paradise #date: march | 7 | 1982 #END #still no gifs because work but then again...not really a need for one in this case since it would just be marlene walking away lol