"i think i've seen this film before and i didn't like the ending"

*

MINISTRY FIGHTS TO KEEP DEMENTORS UNDER CONTROL: MINISTER TO RESIGN?

Marlene sighed and set down today's newspaper, propping her feet up on the desk. Since she liked to work without shoes, her patterned socks were her current footwear in the slightly drafty office space set aside for her at the Ministry. This was precisely why she preferred to work from home, but she had to come in a few times a week to prove she was still alive. 

Personally, she couldn't care less whether the Minister for Magic resigned or not. If Harold Minchum finally cracked and quit, then the big wigs in the Wizengamot would just replace him with another stiff old person with no guts. That was her thought, at least. 

The blonde raked a hand through her hair, unkempt and messier than usual. She hated wearing no makeup, but lately, she'd formed a habit of crying it off by midday, so it felt appropriate to just forget it for a while. No use wasting perfectly good cosmetics. Staring at her bare face in the mirror scared Marlene. No one ever saw her like that, so vulnerable and honest. Each morning, she spent far too much time carefully crafting her tough girl persona, but as Peter often pointed out, that wasn't who she really was.

Kriss always thought she was meant for more than breaking hearts.

Stop thinking about her.

Marlene raised a hand to rub her temple, to rid herself of a headache that never seemed to go away.

The funeral was a small event, just close family and friends. Kriss led a quiet life and met a quiet end. None of it felt real until they saw the gravestone in the cemetery, until she read the words carved onto snow-covered stone.

Kriss Marie Klarkson
October 14, 1960 - January 28, 1979
"In the future no one will kill any one else, the earth will beam with radiance, the human race will love."

The last was a quote chosen by Remus, who found it underlined in his worn copy of Les Miserables. Knowing she must have loved that particular sentence enough to annotate his book, he showed it to her parents, who agreed that it suited their daughter's legacy. Marlene wrote a small obituary for her in The Daily Prophet. However, the piece became buried in the back pages, overshadowed by a Puddlemere United Quidditch win. Not many would remember Kriss Klarkson, a quiet Ravenclaw who cared too much and loved without fear.

As the snow fell gently on top of the small group of mourners, James held Lily in a loose embrace, his chin resting on her head. Remus moved apart from the group, but Peter moved close enough to his friend so that he knew he wasn't alone. Sirius wrapped an arm around Eva's waist and she laid her head on his shoulder.

Marlene remembered the feel of cold soil between her fingers as she dropped it into the grave and stepped back, retreating to the warmth of no one. The wind whipped around her and she pulled her coat around herself more tightly, shoving her hands in her pockets. They were back to an odd number, back to someone always being left out.

And she was terrified for it to be her.

The night after the funeral, Marlene found herself in a dimly lit bar in Muggle London, clutching a tall glass of whiskey like a lifeline, desperate for the false sense of security the drink would bring for a short period of time. The bartender eyed the young woman with concern but continued to serve refills. It's not like she had keys to take, anyway. And as a phony warmth began to fill her chest, she realized how very wrong it was, sitting on a rusted red stool trying to forget her friend, but the alternative was moving on, which seemed even more impossible.

Instead of facing the truth, she ducked into the bathroom, reapplied scarlet lipstick, and strutted back to the counter like she didn't have a care in the world. Perfectly timed winks kept her drinks free and endless. She toyed with a few boys, danced with a few more, even letting the whiskey recklessly lead her into a stranger's apartment, but the moment her lips met his, she fled, feeling dirtier than she had in her entire life. Peter found her on his doorstep, wearing nothing but a fitted red dress, sobbing into her hands, mascara and lipstick smeared everywhere.

"What's wrong?" He exclaimed, crouching down next to her. "It's two in the morning! How long have you been out here?"

"I dunno." She sniffled and let him wrap his arms around her. "I just didn't want to go back to my place. I thought Lily might get all... judgmental."

"What do you mean? Lily's not like that."

"If she saw me like this, she would. Do you know how many looks I got after I ran from that guy's apartment looking like this?"

That guy? Who is that guy? Peter vowed that if that guy had laid a finger on her, he would regret it. "Marls, you're one of the best people I know."

She shook her head, wiping a sticky mess of makeup from underneath her eyes. "No. I'm a terrible, terrible person."

These were the words she kept muttering over and over, even after Peter persuaded her to come inside and made her sit on the couch. He disappeared and James stumbled out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes blearily, eyes that cleared instantly when he saw his broken friend.

"Hey, McKinnon, what's going on in that sharp mind of yours?" He asked quietly, kneeling on the ground in front of her. With a flick of his wand, a merry fire lit in the brick fireplace. 

"Too many things."

"Cheer up. Spring's coming."

Shaking her head again, she whispered, "It's only February."

"Spring's always coming." He tapped her chin up with his finger before standing. "You hungry? The kitchen's always open around here."

"Yeah, that would be nice," she said gratefully. "Just whatever you have is fine."

"Whatever I have, coming right up." He began to sort through the jumbled contents of the refrigerator. "Leftover mac and cheese? Wait, we should have ditched this days ago, shoot."

A small chuckle escaped Marlene's lips as he dumped slightly-green noodles into the garbage can. "You're really good at adulting, James."

"Clearly," he responded, rolling his eyes. "I can make you a peanut butter and jelly."

"You don't have to."

"Oh, but I will. I'm an expert." He winked at her as he pulled out the ingredients. "I'm actually a decent cook. Mum taught me, but let's face it, it's two in the morning and I'm half awake. No oven for me."

Peter walked back into this room, a bundle of clothes in his arms, which he held out. "I thought you might want to change," he said simply. 

Marlene took the clothes from him, smiling. "Thanks, Pete."

Once she was in the bathroom, she slipped out of that stupid red dress - she didn't even like it, so why wear it? Because it got free drinks? How terrible was she? And she'd left her overcoat at that guy's apartment. Merlin, she couldn't even remember his name.

Her slender form was lost in the flannel pajama pants and striped Henley, a fact she was immensely thankful for. The clothes were soft and comfortable, exactly what she needed. 

When she walked back into the main area, Marlene balled up the dress and threw it into the fire, an action that alarmed Peter and James but satisfied her. Trying to explain the events that led to her being on their front steps turned into an alcohol-induced sob session. The boys sat up with her all night and she woke up snuggled between them on the couch. 

Now, she sat hunched over at her desk, a worn blue cardigan falling off of her shoulders because her office was never quite warm enough, blond waves messy around her pale face. Each person who walked in to drop off papers or wish her a good morning did a double take. 

This wasn't who she wanted to be, but she couldn't change who she was. Every time she reapplied the makeup, every time she painted on a fresh suit of armor, her tears washed the disguises away, leaving nothing but Marlene McKinnon behind, a person she didn't think was quite enough without the mask. 

Alone, it felt nice to let her guard down. In an odd way, she felt closer to Kriss in moments like this, when she wore oversized sweaters and no makeup and spoke hummed under her breath as she worked. 

Something tapped on the tiny window in the corner of her office. She crossed the room and let the brown tawny owl in. It shook the snow off of its wings and stuck out its leg, where a wrapped parcel and note had been attached. Curious, she sat on the corner of her desk and opened the envelope first, pushing her too-long sleeves up a bit.

Miss McKinnon,

Firstly, I would like to offer my sympathy. I know the last month or so must have been incredibly hard for you. Losing a friend is a tragedy that I have personally been through, having lost my own best friend a few years ago. We expected it, but nothing ever softens a blow like that.

Remus collected Kriss' things last week from my home, but he missed one thing, which I am enclosing in this delivery. It's her journal. Whenever she wasn't working with me, she was busy scribbling away in it. I always respected her privacy and didn't ask, but I couldn't help taking a look when I found it in my guest bedroom, and what I found floored me.

Kriss always spoke highly of you, Miss McKinnon. She used to bring me the articles you wrote, excitedly pointing to your name in the byline. She was such a sweet soul, so undeserving of an early end, but then again, no one deserves that. I've read some of your work, and it does impress me. I admire people who speak their mind without question. My wife, Tina, is one of those people. When I found this journal, my mind immediately went to you. I can only hope that you are able to do something with it.

My deepest condolences,

Newt Scamander

Marlene bit her lip and set the letter down before moving on to the package, small and compact in her hands. Pulling at a stray thread on her sweater sleeve, she tore the brown paper carefully and let it flutter to the ground.

Slowly, she flipped open the leather bound notebook and ran her fingers over the blue words, inked by her friend, before sinking into the pages, never moving until the she flipped the book closed.

Wow. 

Then, she grabbed a quill and began to write.

She wrote for hours, feverishly scribbling on parchment over parchment, all different sizes and styles. Occasional guests popped in, but she waved them away, not even sparing a word. Someone (she unfortunately suspected Gideon Prewett) dropped off her lunch because she was too engrossed in work to get it herself, but she ignored that, too, letting the bowl of soup go cold on her desk as the owl nibbled on the crackers. 

When the ink dried, Marlene stared down at the words she'd written with something close to pride, knowing she couldn't complete the job alone, but knowing that she was on track. For the first time in over a month, she felt like her heart had purpose once again. Like she wasn't done just yet.

A small, proud smile crossed her face as she grabbed the stacks of parchment and ran out of her office, almost running over Mad-Eye Moody and purposefully running over Dolores Umbridge. By the time she got off the lift at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she was out of breath, but still didn't stop running until she reached a desk, where a familiar blonde glanced up.

"Oh, hi! Aren't you supposed to be working?"

Eva looked tired. Marlene assumed it was partially due to her own grief, but a few weeks after Kriss' funeral, Dumbledore sent Sirius, James, and Frank away on a secret mission for the Order. Something about tailing Death Eaters, she couldn't really remember. Either way, Eva hated living alone and spent too much time worrying about her friends as it was.

"Yeah, but I'm kind of here to talk about that," Marlene said hurriedly. "Look at this."

With careful fingers, Eva picked up the little notebook and silently read the first page. "This is insane," she said, whistling hollowly as she shook her head. Tears filled her bright green eyes but she blinked them back. "She really wrote all of this?"

"Yeah. Newt said she spent all of her free time on this project. Essays against discrimination. Like this one: In the Defense of Lycanthropes. There are so many. Muggle Borns, house elves, merpeople, Squibs, Muggles, Seers... the list goes on and on. I read them all, Eve, and they're incredible. I never knew Kriss was so good with words. It's inspiring."

Some days, Eva couldn't believe that her friend was really gone. Every Monday morning, her body naturally woke her up before dawn. She hurried over to the window and waited for the weekly letter from Dorset filled with Polaroids of magical creatures before she remembered that those letters would never come again. 

"I'm not surprised," Eva murmured, the smallest smile on her face. "I'm guessing you have a reason for being here, Marley."

Nodding, Marlene held up a thick stack of papers. "I wrote companion essays. I don't know if they're as good as hers, but they tie everything together into something more cohesive."

"So what do you need from me."

"I need to get these on Barty Crouch's desk. ASAP."

A beat of silence passed between the two friends. 

"You want me to tresspass in my boss' office to drop your papers off? I could get fired for that!" Eva hissed in Marlene's ear. 

"I mean, you don't have to, but-"

"I'm in."

new chapter! tell me what you thought!

taylor swift's new album 'folklore' is an absolute must-listen. the songwriting is incredible!!

qotd: ginny, luna, or hermione?

aotd: hermione