MARLENE MCKINNON & THE FIRST WIZARDING WAR

It was a cold evening. The weather outside of Number 12 Grimmauld Place hung heavy and warm, yet the temperature inside the house brought an unpleasant chill. Marlene McKinnon tugged her shawl tightly around her shoulders, her choppy blonde bangs swinging as she sipped from a steaming mug of cider with a grin. She’d cooled down considerably from the wild, party-loving teenager she’d been at Hogwarts, but had retained the spunky sarcastic essence that her friends knew and loved.

As everyone took their seats in the dimly-lit Black family parlour, Marlene’s gaze, as it so often did, drifted over to Gideon Prewett.

Ever since her induction to the Order, as well as her introduction to the enigmatic man, Marlene felt a strange sort of pull to him. His hair appeared rather messy today, fluffed in some places and spiky in others. Reasonably, this was due to the hasty scrape with some Death Eaters she’d heard about, but Marlene couldn’t help admiring the look all the same. It matched with her own spiky, short hair, although hers was white-blond in contrast to his copper.

Her eyes darted away once Gideon seemed to catch wind, and she grabbed her cider once more, licking the comforting taste of apple off of her lips. It was too hot—steaming, but the burn was delicious.

The silence broke as Lily drummed her fingers on the table anxiously. She’d been doing that more often—so often that everyone had begun to notice. It was to be expected, though. Who wasn’t anxious with the brewing war? Although, of course, Lily's anxiety was surely heightened by her pregnancy hormones. As much as Marlene loved the idea of a baby Lily or a baby James—they didn’t quite know yet—Marlene felt awful for her. Her heart panged painfully at the thought of such a precious child growing up in their war-torn world. She could only hope that the baby Potter would remain safe with their parents.

“Is Dumbledore coming?” Lily questioned abruptly, looking rather impatient as she leaned back and folded her hands over her baby bump.

“Soon, love,” James reassured her, kissing her on the cheek tenderly.

As it always did when viewing such affectionate displays, Marlene’s heart hissed and steamed with envy. They were the picture-perfect couple. And even though Marlene had her fair share of boyfriends during her seven years at Hogwarts, none of them stuck around long enough. None except Sirius, with whom she’d had a long and convoluted relationship with until the two decided they simply didn’t fit together romantically.

Now, as Sirius nestled comfortably against Remus on the loveseat, she had a pretty good idea as to why.

After ages, the flames in the fireplace finally flashed green, spitting out a rather disheveled looking Albus Dumbledore. “My apologies,” he said gruffly, looking around at the various Order members clustered in the room as he dusted down his robes. “I’ve gathered you all here to inform you of a matter of grave importance.”

He paused and Marlene gnawed on the inside of her cheek. She’d always thought that at his core, Dumbledore was a showman. He could truly act dramatic at times, even when the matter was of seriousness like this one.

After a tense moment, he spoke at last. “There is a spy in the Order.”

Calamity.

Almost instantly, the room buzzed with life, except for the central circle of people. Marlene could feel her heart beating uncontrollably in her chest. A spy was the last thing they needed. She could see her friends tense up, petrified looks in their eyes as realisation seeped into their veins.

“How do you know?” she dared to ask Dumbledore, her eyes bright as she glared at him defiantly. “How can you be sure that anybody in this room has betrayed us?”

He stared right back at her, his gaze unblinking and unwavering. “Because they leaked the location of Molly Prewett—pardon me, Molly Weasley’s safe house.”

Both Fabian and Gideon jumped up instantly with alarm, but Dumbledore quickly raised a hand to quell their protests. “They are safe, yet that is the reason I arrived late. The safe house’s location was revealed only to the people in this room—a select few of you. The person who revealed the location to Voldemort and his allies caused them to burn it down—”

Marlene’s hand flew to her mouth in horror, her other hand nearly tipping her mug over as she set it down shakily.

No. “—However, the Weasleys managed to escape with everyone intact.” Dumbledore’s voice was hard, but unmistakably underlined with anger.

Molly had been married to Arthur Weasley for about two years, Marlene remembered. They’d had two children already—Bill and Charlie. Sweet little things. She had visited a few months back, cooed at Bill’s attempt to high-five her and Charlie’s stubborn clinging to the dragon plush she’d gotten him from a Muggle market.

To even think of taking that away—

It was cruel. Monstrous. Unthinkable.

Her eyes scanned the room, shoulders curled inwards. Everyone looked shaken. Lily and James had both gone pale, terrified looks in their eyes. Sirius had pulled away from Remus, both of them looking like they had just aged several years. Peter—Peter had always been hard to read. At most times, he was fidgety and nervous, which was how he was acting now. The only problem is that one person couldn’t possibly be scared all of the time, right? But, it was Peter. Surely, he would never have the courage to spy for the enemy. He was a mousy thing, always tagging behind his friends. Marlene hadn’t known him to be spiteful, ever.  

Obviously, Fabian and Gideon were also out of the question. That left only a handful–oh, forget handful, it was barely anyone. A scrapful of the odd and ordinary, oddly ordinary and ordinarily odd.

Marlene’s head was spinning. A spy. A spy. A spy. No matter how much she repeated the words in her head, they didn’t make sense—refused to make sense. It was as though they were an impossible anagram, an unsolvable puzzle. Lily used to say there was no such thing, yet now she looked so unconfident, so extremely anxious, that Marlene highly doubted she would still deny its existence.

For who could possibly—out of their tight, inward circle, ever dare to turn to the hands of death?

...

My hair is getting out of control, she thought absent-mindedly, patting it down in the reflection of the microwave before setting the timer to ten to cook her leftovers. A knock sounded at the door and she whirled around, suddenly aware of everything around her. Advancing carefully, Marlene stopped right behind the closed door, breath hitched in her throat. “Name yourselves,” she demanded quietly, wand at the ready.

“Sirius Black.” Sirius’ steady voice came.

She wracked her brain for a safety question. “Where was the very first spot we kissed?”

Sirius groaned. “Bloody hell, did you have to bring that up?”

“Answer the question, Black,” her tone was serious, but had a slight edge of amusement to it.

She could almost hear the grimace in his voice before he answered reluctantly. “In Hagrid’s pumpkin patch.”

“Specifically?”

He grumbled and groaned again. “Specifically in the clod of dirt where we later learned that he liked to drop that stupid hippogriff’s droppings in as frickin’ fertiliser, the sappy sod.”

Marlene smirked. “And I’ll never let you live it down.” The door swung open and she smiled broadly, opening her arms for a hug. Sirius rolled his eyes before obliging, squeezing her tightly and then moving past to take a seat.

“Yeah, yeah. I hate you.”

“Sure didn’t seem like it back then,” she teased, taking a seat on her couch. “Whaddya need, Sirius?”

Sirius’ attitude shifted, a solemn expression on his face. “It’s… it’s a tea conversation.”

Marlene’s eyes narrowed, furrowing her eyebrows. That was their signal—it was something serious. “Earl grey?” The war?

“Black,” he responded softly.

Well, shit. She nodded tightly, rising to make the tea. Once she’d put on the kettle, she returned with two mugs, dipping a couple sugar cubes into hers. “What is it?”

“The spy.” Those two words somehow managed to bring complete and utter dread into the room, which began to feel rather chilly all of a sudden. Goosebumps rose on her arms.

“The spy,” she repeated rigidly, taking a small sip of the steaming hot tea. The burn didn’t make the words any less bitter.

“The spy,” Sirius said heavily. He stared into his cup. “I…”

“You know who it is?” Marlene whispered, but Sirius continued to stare into the cup, his gaze weighted. And within those dark eyes that Marlene had seen so damn often, she could recognise a familiar emotion: heartbreak. “You have a guess on who it is.”

The words were softer, for Marlene knew inexplicably what he was about to say. And she hated it, loathed it deeply, coated it in revulsion but couldn’t spare the glimmer of possibility that peeked through.

“Remus.”

“Remus,” Sirius echoed faintly. He looked up, his gaze pleading and swirling with a murky mixture of emotions. “I don’t want it to be him, Mar.”

“It’s not,” Marlene said firmly. “We’ve known him for seven years. Eight. Whatever. It’s not him, Sirius, I’m certain.”

“Who else?” His voice cracked. “You know he’s been with the werewolves recently. And you know who the werewolf community supports.”

She shook her head hard, tipping back her mug to burn her throat some more. “No. It’s not him.”

“You think I want it to be him?” Sirius asked helplessly. “But who else? Peter—bloody Peter, he’s a mouse, not a rat. He’s timid. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. If you even mention eavesdropping, the guy would be scandalised. And it wouldn’t be James, nor Lily. Dorcas—no. Fabian and Gideon, of course not. Mary—hell no, they wouldn’t accept her as it is. That’s only leaving you and me.”

“I could be the spy,” she offered, trying to make a weak joke. It didn’t land.

“You’re not,” Sirius said—so much conviction in his voice that she felt honoured. “I know you. Also, you’d probably piss Voldemort off so much that he’d have you killed after five minutes.”

The both of them snorted. It was true.

She set her mug down on the table, leaning back. “But, not Remus…”

Sirius closed his eyes, took a resolute swig of the mug of tea and coughed before leaning back. “No,” he said softly. “No, not Remus.”

...

The smooth, white tent looked like it could’ve covered the entire Ministry of Magic when Marlene stepped in. White tablecloths covered circular tables, crystalline vases holding delicate blossoms adjusted neatly on top. “Mary!” Marlene called, seeing her friend. Lifting her long bridesmaids dress, she ran over to give her a hug. “Have you seen Lils?”

Mary turned, giving her a wan grimace. “No. She’s in the house and…she didn’t look so good. The poor thing is still waiting for that wretched Petunia to show up.”

Marlene sighed. “She’s not, then?”

Mary looked down, shaking her head gloomily. “You’d better change into the maid of honour dress. There’s no way that—” Marlene swatted her.

“—Is coming,” Mary finished.

Marlene chewed her lip resignedly before nodding. She’d hoped that Petunia Evans, now Dursley, would bother to show up for her sister’s wedding, but apparently not. She pointed her wand at herself and uttered a soft incantation to let it spin into a different dress—similar to the other red one, but now with golden flowers dotting the skirt to show the differentiation.

Then, she walked towards the house.

The moment Lily caught sight of her, she burst into a fresh round of tears. “Oh, honey,” Marlene soothed, walking over to crouch by her form on the sofa, awkwardly moving around the mass of white fluff that was her gown.

“Tuney’s not coming?” Lily managed to sob out.

Marlene bit her lip. “No, she’s not, darling.”

Lily gave a wet laugh, bitter and miserable. “I’d hoped she would show up. I sent her news of my pregnancy. I sent her and that stupid toad of a husband an invitation. But neither came!” she cried more, dabbing uselessly at her eyes with a great wad of tissue.

Tactfully, Marlene lifted the tissue out of Lily’s hands to vanish away indiscreetly and accio’d a fresh box. She wiped away Lily’s tears tenderly. “There, there, sweetheart. Look, this is the happiest day of your life. You’re getting married to James Potter—quidditch star extraordinaire.”

Lily gave a very small sound that might’ve been another laugh. “The one who’s annoyed you for seven—or six—very long years and will now continue to annoy you for the rest of your life,” Marlene continued. “This is what you’ve been dreaming for—for years. Don’t let that god-awful sister of yours spoil it.”

Lily gave her a slightly reproachful look before sighing and throwing her head back. “She promised,” she said smally. “She would tell me, always, before I came to Hogwarts, that she’d be the maid-of-honour at my wedding. When we played that we were getting married, she was the one that fished out my mother’s old dress and pinned it in all sorts of places until my tiny self was satisfied.”

Marlene stroked her hair. “Oh, darling.”

“I just wish—” Lily choked out one last tear before casting her head down. “I just wish Hogwarts had never happened. We’d still be close.”

Ouch. Marlene took a deep breath. “Lily. Lily Evans, soon-to-be Potter, tell me one thing,” she stared into her eyes. “Who are you in love with?”

“James Potter,” she answered readily.

“Who are your best friends?”

“You. Mary. Alice. Dorcas. Emmeline. Molly.”

“Who are your other friends?”

“Remus. Peter. Sirius. Fabian. Gideon. But—”

Marlene quickly held up a hand, silencing her. “That is a list of people who care about you, Lily. And Petunia Dursley? She’s not on that list. And she hasn’t been since first year. I know it hurts, sweetheart, I know it does, but you have to let go. Because if you’re holding one side of this weight and she’s gone, it’s burdening you. You have to leave it behind.”

Lily breathed in, out, one, two, three times. Once more for good measure. A shaky exhale. “Marlene?”

“Yeah?”

“You better be the best goddamn maid-of-honour I could ever have.”

Marlene patted her hair and helped her stand up, fanning out her dress. “Yes, ma’am.”

She began to steer her towards the bathrooms. “My very first duty will be to get you some fresh mascara.”

The two of them giggled.

..

The reception was hushed, but from the spot that Marlene stood after having walked down the aisle with Sirius as best man, she could tell that James was very nervous. The poor thing, she thought wistfully, laughing internally. The march began—some famous Muggle tune Lily had absolutely insisted on being played.

And then, she appeared.

My Merlin, Marlene thought admiringly. The dress was beautiful, and it had somehow managed to look even more lovely since the hour or so ago that Marlene had seen Lily sobbing within it. Lace cluttered the corset in a myriad of florals, loose sleeves reminiscent of their Hogwarts robes accompanying. The dress flared out beneath the hips into a soft red flourish near the bottom. The dress swished and swayed in the wind, this way and that as Lily walked down the aisle with Mr. Potter, her face flushed and beaming.

Forget James—perhaps she would cry. Seeing Lily this happy… it just occurred to Marlene that it was a sight she’d rarely seen over the past few months. The realisation made her heart crack, but she quickly shrugged it off and flashed a smile at her best friend.

She made her way to stand opposite James and lord, the star-struck boy was gazing at Lily with such adoration that it might have made Marlene’s heart explode. Tears were quickly gathering in his eyes, and Lily wiped them away lovingly.

Merlin and Morgana, they’re beautiful together.

Dumbledore then began officiating. By the time it was over and Lily and James had spoken their own handwritten vows, Marlene was struggling to hold it together and keep from sobbing. It seemed as though Remus had already failed, spurring on Peter, and from the looks of it, Sirius seemed to be in a completely silent awe.

From behind her, Marlene could hear Mary, Alice, and Molly sniffling. It was just so beautiful to see the two of them, the couple she’d gossiped about happening since first year when she’d caught James staring at Lily’s hair. Lily’s baby bump was prominent, her smile large and her eyes teary. Happy.

Dammit, I can’t cry!

She took in a shaky breath as the couple kissed and James swept her up into bridal style, Lily squealing madly with laughter and joy.

When the whole affair was over and the fun part came—don’t let her fool you, the ceremony was wonderful, but far too much emotion for her to handle—Marlene was quite glad.

She was sampling a bit of champagne when a familiar redhead sidled up to her. “Hello Marlene,” Gideon grinned dashingly.

Marlene snorted, setting down her drink. “Gid, hi. Enjoying the wedding?”

“I’d enjoy it more if a certain maid-of-honour would agree to dance with me,” he returned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

She laughed, taking his offered hand. “Alright. But do be warned, I am not familiar with the waltz.”

“Heard of the tango?” he wiggled his eyebrows, making her giggle once more.

“I don’t think this music is fit for the tango.”

“Anything can be the music for the tango!” Gideon protested, looking sarcastically hurt.

“In any case, it’s not too appropriate for a wedding,” Marlene reminded him amusedly. He tutted.

“My dear Miss McKinnon, I will show you the most wedding-appropriate tango you have ever seen in your entire life!”

With that, he spun her onto the dance floor and she yelped as they began to move in a quick tempo, dancing comfortably back and forth. Marlene could not lie—the tango was not a friend's type of dance. Rather, it was much more intimate. And while the supposed “tango” that Gideon was performing was not a traditional tango by any means—in fact, it seemed to be rather a combination of dance moves from various cultures—she was quite certain that she’d seen a muggle star perform the same moves on Lily’s television a few weeks back. But, getting back to the point, while the dance that they were doing wasn’t a traditional tango, she could almost taste the romance in it anyway.

He dipped her then, quite suddenly, into his arms and she stared at him, stared into those amberlike eyes with such fondness and emotion within them. It was only seconds later that she raised herself up, and yet that moment had felt like an eternity, as though a camera was filming  them in slow motion.

He twirled her, tucking her hair as he brought her back to him and for another long moment, and they stared into one another’s eyes. They held each other as if they were the only ones left on the dance floor, and everyone had managed to disappear.

Over the years, Marlene McKinnon had gotten very good at reading the room and picking up people’s signals. She’d practiced various times and concluded that she had a very high success rate.

And it was because of this skill that Marlene could say with almost certainty that Gideon Prewett looked like he wanted to kiss her.

But, before he could lean in—

“Bouquet toss!” Lily shouted, grinning largely. They broke apart, Marlene giving him a lingering glance.

The crowd gathered eagerly as Lily prepared to toss the bouquet.

And after it had been thrown, the crowd would then say that Alice had gotten the bouquet. Everyone would smile and nod and say with the utmost surety that Alice had been the one to catch the bouquet in her waiting arms.

Only Marlene would know, would secretly replay the memory in her head—that before Alice had even touched the flowers, she had cradled it in her own hands for a millisecond before letting them fall into Alice’s waiting arms.

She would be too busy, however, to notice Gideon’s affectionate look towards her as he watched her arms fall from the bouquet, his tilted head as he observed her wistful expression. At that moment, it would not take one with legilimency to know that he had indeed been hoping for her to catch the bouquet.

Written by Sara Rowan. 
Edited by Daphne Clarke. 
Proofread by Hazel Antler.