"do not fear death, but rather, the unlived life. you don't have to live forever. you just have to live."

*

When the time came, Marlene McKinnon was not afraid.

Blood coated the inside of her mouth, trickling from the lips she used to paint red, the lips that uttered so many false romantic sentiments, the lips that kissed Gideon Prewett much less than they should have. It dyed the tips of her dirty blonde hair a garish red. It gushed from scrapes up and down her bruised body. It soaked into the scarf draped around her neck, white charmed into blue, tainted with red.

Marlene was the only one covered in blood. The Avada Kedavra had been used on her parents and Mitchell. They, at least, hadn't suffered, but she wasn't so lucky. An incantation she'd never heard of before caused painful slashes to cut through her skin all over. It was agony, but she refused to die a coward.

A rough hand wrenched her head up by the hair, causing a faint moan to escape her lips. Many Death Eaters had crowded into the McKinnons' once-beautiful living room, but she only paid attention to one man who stood near her fireplace.

"Miss McKinnon," the Dark Lord drawled in a silky voice. "Do you know why we have you tied to a chair? Do you know why your family is dead?"

Marlene took a deep breath, willing herself to keep breathing. Even weakened, there was still venom in her words. "Because of you."

"That's not quite the way I'd put it." His smile was almost demonic, his features waxy and distorted in the firelight. "I'd say that you've been a thorn in my side for far too long. Exposing my followers, fighting against my forces, and writing everything you can to protest my noble cause." Lord Voldemort held up a newspaper dated October 14, 1981. Underneath the headline, her name stood out in bold print. "You're foolish, my dear. Bold and foolish. You've evaded us for months, but now, you met your end."

"So do it," Marlene breathed. She coughed involuntarily, splattering blood across the hardwood floor. Several Death Eaters flinched backward. Her body trembled from the pain of sitting up straight, but she couldn't stand the thought of going limp before her time. "Kill me."

A smirk twitched on the Dark Lord's lips. "Is that what you want?"

To stop this pain, yes. It wasn't a physical pain she was thinking of. For years, her heart had been poorly stitched together over and over again, never having enough time to heal before another trauma ripped it open again. If I die, I'll be with Mum and Dad and Mitchell. I'll be with Dorcas and Kriss and Fabian and everyone else we've lost.

And I'll get to see Gideon again.

"Is that what you want?" Lord Voldemort repeated, kneeling down in front of her. His closeness reminded Marlene of the many boys who'd lusted after her, and repulsion mixed with the agony. "I have been known to be merciful, my dear."

Marlene spat in his face, the small action sending waves of new pain through her body. The mix of blood and saliva stood out against the Dark Lord's pale cheek. Several Death Eaters pointed their wands at her for that audacity, but he waved them off, smiling wider as he stood and wiped his cheek off with his robe.

"You're too young to understand this world, Miss McKinnon. You think yourself a prophet, armed with ideals and an inkwell. You believe that your words are a weapon capable of fighting my sheer power. I almost admire you, but more than anything, I pity you. A Pureblood daughter, a talented young witch, a brilliant writer, a mind wise beyond your years. All of this could have led you to greatness if your faith wasn't misplaced in Albus Dumbledore and your band of filthy friends."

"I... pity... you." 

Heads turned as silence swept across the living room. A cold breeze blew through a shattered glass window. Slowly, Lord Voldemort turned to face her. 

"Oh? Do tell."

Each word took immense effort from the young woman. Marlene knew that silence would buy her time and save her strength, but deep down, she knew that her minutes could be counted on her right hand. 

"When I die, m-my friends will mourn for me," she whispered hoarsely, tears streaming down her cheeks. For the next sentence, she looked him right in the eyes. "But w-when you die, there will be... celebrating in the streets. N-no one will cry for you."

With a slash of the Dark Lord's wand and a flash of green light, Marlene McKinnon slumped down in her chair. 

"Travers, take the girl." No one moved. There was a fit of new anger in his voice. It sounded more dangerous than ever. "Do as I say! We'll see what Dumbledore thinks of his foolish little prophet now." 

Lord Voldemort watched as Travers untied her hands and lifted Marlene's limp body from the chair with indifference. Scarlet blood stained the Death Eater's clothes. 

Carefully, the Dark Lord dipped The Daily Prophet into the fire and let the flames consume her name. Then, he dropped it, letting her words destroy everything she cared about most. 

*

"-And if we are not careful, then everything will collapse." Dumbledore surveyed what was left of the Order with a tired expression. It used to be such a lively group, full of joking across the table and running into things. Now, the remaining members were only there because they knew no other way. They all sat in Sturgis Podmore's living room, discussing last-straw ideas to win their losing game. "The Death Eaters are getting smarter, I'm afraid. They outnumber us. They outrank us. We must keep our heads."

"Are you saying we just give up?" Sirius asked incredulously. "No, we've come too far for that. We've lost too many for that."

"We aren't suggesting it, lad," Moody replied in his gruff voice. He clapped Sirius, his newest protege, on the back. "No one's giving up. We've just got to be smarter than them. In the last two months, we've only convicted two ruddy Death Eaters. That's a problem."

Eva twisted her wedding band around her finger worriedly. "Professor, Marlene's not here yet."

It was all she'd been thinking about through the entire meeting. She couldn't focus on Death Eaters, not when Marlene was missing. 

"Miss McKinnon is currently wanted by the Death Eaters, and therefore in hiding," Dumbledore reminded her with a faint, patient smile. "She's all right. Don't worry about her."

A grinning Peter nudged Eva. "Besides, even if she did show up, Marlene's always the last to show up for everything."

"Fashionably late," Remus added. Everyone except Sirius laughed at his joke. 

Sirius looked worse than he ever had. The lack of sleep and the stress of his work wasted him away. Being the Potters' Secret Keeper made matters worse, though he'd never admit it. He was still handsome, but something about his appearance seemed haunted now. 

Secretly, Sirius had convinced himself that Remus was the spy. 

He didn't share this thought, not even with Eva, but he believed it so much that his heart ached just thinking about it. Remus never remained with them for long, always disappearing. His visits always felt different, like a wall had been built between two men that once considered each other best friends. If Voldemort won, Remus was the only one who stood to gain anything, and it was because of his lycanthropy. The world Voldemort promised the werewolves offered him a higher place in society.

Remus noticed Sirius' silence, and it unnerved him. He'd just arrived back home from Blakeney a few hours ago. The full moon was still two weeks away, but he could already feel it wearing on him. Anymore, he'd been more careful about what he told people. 

Secretly, Remus had convinced himself that Sirius was the spy. 

In the last few months, he'd noticed a change in his friend. Ever since he became the Secret Keeper for the Potters, he'd become more distant from his friends. He'd stopped laughing. The only thing that didn't make sense was the fact that Sirius hadn't betrayed his friends yet. 

"We've got a lead on Travers," Frank volunteered, leaning back in his chair casually as he said this. "Sturgis and I are gonna get him tomorrow. We'll have him in Azkaban by the end of the week."

Professor McGonagall glanced at the clock a few times, then straightened her glasses. She didn't like seeing her former students like this, so terrified and grown-up. They were in their early twenties. That was a time for dancing and laughing and finding who one is supposed to be. It shouldn't have been tainted with violence and hatred. 

The room immediately fell silent as the sound of the front door slamming reached their ears. Kingsley Shacklebolt ran into the room, breathing heavily, looking more disheveled than Eva had ever seen him in her entire life. 

"Professor Dumbledore," he said heavily, "Death Eaters set the McKinnon house on fire. The... Dark Mark's above their home, and outside here..."

Eva didn't remember moving, but her chair scraped the floor and she ran, shoving past everyone who tried to shield her from whatever waited outside. A pit was forming in her stomach, deepening by the minute. 

In her twenty-one years of life, she'd seen death too many times. It orphaned her at seventeen. It took away her husband's younger brother. It took away many of her closest friends. It stole too many innocent lives. 

But when she saw the bloodied corpse of a girl she thought of like a sister, pain like none she'd ever felt before ripped her heart into pieces. 

Marlene's body lay in the middle of the road, surrounded by hundreds of newspapers covered in blood. Her gray-blue eyes were open, staring at the cloudy night sky, searching for something they'd never find. 

Eva nearly tripped down the concrete steps as she hurried to her friend's side, gripping her hand even though she understood it was too late. 

"Marley?" She whispered weakly, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was no knowing smile, no sparkle in her eyes, no sarcastic quip. Just silence. "Marlene, come on. Come on, you can't be gone. You're okay. You're here. You're safe now, we're all here. We're all here, you're safe now. We're all okay. We'll go to James and Lily's right now and we'll... we'll..."

Someone pulled her into their arms, and she knew just by the feeling of that embrace that it wasn't Sirius. Peter held her tightly as she screamed into his chest, a haunting, terrible, gut-wrenching sound. Both of their bodies shook with sobs as they mourned. 

Remus stood next to Newt Scamander, tears slipping down his scarred nose, but Sirius stood alone, his face void of emotions. Too many emotions were running through his heart to pick just one. He dreaded having to tell James and Lily most of all. As he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, his gaze shifted from Marlene to Peter, and a desperate idea formed in his mind.

One by one, each of the members of the Order of the Phoenix raised their wands for Marlene McKinnon, the boldest witch of their time. 

They played 'Stairway to Heaven' at her funeral. 

I'M SO SORRY AND SO EMOTIONAL RIGHT NOW