#innocensstarter

Working in a book store was anything but interesting (or anything positive, really). Peter did not even like books - unless they had a lot of pictures - and had only taken the job because there was a spot open and the boss didn't care who it was, as long as the employer had two arms, two legs and enough time. Peter happened to have all five of those things, and so it was, that one month after graduation he had started sorting, stacking, cleaning, fixing and unpacking books. It was depressing, really, but a more than fantastic way to get his mind off of things.

His mind was going all over the place, after all. Most of the time during work, he wasn't focussed on the titles of books (which was why quite often the books weren't stacked alphabetically), but his thoughts were in stead occupied by his own worries and doubts. Whether it was his financial state, an upcoming mission or just his stance in the war in general, Peter's mind was always racing when he was at work. Often, this resulted in him brushing away customers when they wanted to ask him something, directing them to his boss or one of his co-workers, just so he could continue to lose himself in the maze that were his thoughts.

But that day, after Peter had directed the tenth customer that day to his boss, a grumpy man with a brushy moustache and a fat stomach, he had took him aside and told him that if Peter didn't started communicating, he'd fire him and employ that girl that had stepped by three days ago. And so it was, that Peter was not alone trying to focus on his thoughts and the books, but also on whatever costumer that would come his way. It was rather unfortunate, that it was that day that one of Peter's rivals was entering the store.

Panting, Marlene sprung up on her bed. Her heart pounded, fast and hard, in her chest. Her sheets were sticky, duvet on the floor. Her pillow was clear across the room, lying next to a broken flower pot and surrounded by dirt. She’d feel bad for the house keeper if she weren’t paying good money at the inn for the service. Marlene heaved a tired sigh. How many more of these bloody nightmares would she have? There were only so many times she could take seeing little Marnie bl – No. She didn’t want to think of it anymore.

She peeled her shirt off her skin. How the hell was she so sweaty in November? Bloody innkeeper must be keeping the fire on for too long. He’d get a piece of her mind in the morning. What time was it? Two? Three? Probably still morning but Mars didn’t have the energy to raise hell just then. Maybe after she woke up a bit.

Marlene tossed her shirt into her ever growing pile of clothes to be laundered. The rucksack filled with clean clothes had significantly fewer items; it lay listlessly off to the side. She really had to get around to doing that. Mars grabbed her wand off the bedside table, not even bothering to look as she flicked it. Silently, she summoned a new shirt and a pair of trousers. There was no way she’d get anymore sleep in that state; she might as well get up. Marlene dressed herself quickly before exiting her rented room. Another flick of her wanted locked the door. Not that anyone would want to steal her dirty robes.

Lazily, the eighteen year old trudged through Diagon Alley. Nowhere to go – nowhere she could go – Marlene looked over the shops still closed for the night. She looked at everything, but not closely. At some point, her eyes went out of focus. She couldn’t be bothered to fix them and continued walking in a blur. Some twenty minutes into her slow walk, Marlene finally noticed the nearly quiet sound of footsteps behind her and off to the side. Mars rolled her eyes.

Apparating with a crack, Remus found himself outside a very familiar house on a cool autumn evening. Through circumstance more than choice, he had been spending more and more time away from his friends, either busy with the Order or trying to make ends meet by taking on extra shifts at work. To make up for all of the absences and missed dinners, he had come upon a free evening and decided to visit a friend he figured could use the company and a treat more than most.

Stray leaves covered the cobblestone sidewalk as Remus made his way down the road, a homemade chocolate cake under his arm. His sandy brown hair was covered by a wool beanie that had been knitted for him by his mother as a Christmas present a few years ago, necessary in the late October chill, albeit unarguably funny in appearance, a factor that the Marauder had long ago stopped caring about.

Passing through the wall of enchantments put up to protect the home, Remus continued towards his friend’s home, opening the gate and approaching the door slowly. Lifting a hand to knock, he rapped against the the wooden surface and waited patiently, hoping that the redhead would be home.

Andromeda had taken time in the morning packing a bag. Though she hoped for the best, hoped her family would be understanding, perhaps take into account the fact she was one of the most talented in the family and also the one who showed so much promise, she was doubtful. She had seen the family tree at Walburga’s house, she had walked past it many a time. She knew what happened to Blacks who betrayed the family and the blood-line. 

A sickening feeling had settled in her stomach as she turned her back on her bedroom for what could possibly be the last time. She loved Ted, she loved him with all her soul, and knew that no matter what happened today, Ted was her choice. He meant so much to her, and if it meant she had to leave her family home, then so be it. Since she’d started to get to know Ted, her views had changed. What was so filthy about muggle-borns, really? Why did they have to be so purist?

A small clutch bag held everything she needed, everything she wanted. Extended with an undetectable charm, of course, she held it close as she made her way downstairs to where she knew her family were gathered together in the dining room, eating what they thought was to be a peaceful meal. She lingered for a while, holding the clutch close as she tried to stomach a little breakfast, but she was too nervous.

Marlene’s eyes scanned the classified section of The Daily Prophet. Again. It must’ve been the third time she’d read through the job openings of that same paper, as though new positions would appear where they hadn’t been before. It was hard to focus in the loud bar, she told herself. Maybe she just missed something. Something promising. She couldn’t just stop looking. Marlene McKinnon wasn’t going to be a shop girl for the rest of her life. She was destined for more; she felt it in her bones.

Just as Marlene started to read all the ads for a fourth time, a drunkard fell forward onto the bar. His firewhiskey flew out of his hand. The amber liquid seeped across the bar at an alarming rate, consuming the middle McKinnon’s paper until it was a sopping mess of bleeding letters and warped pictures. It should have made her upset, but she couldn’t help but laugh. The woman on page eight’s face started to melt. Maybe it was a sign. After all, all work and no play made Mars a dull girl.

“Barkeep!” Mars patted the bar in front of her. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

The bartender mopped up the soaked paper before pouring Marlene a glass of firewhiskey. She flashed him a smile before spinning around, curls flying, to examine the room she’d spent the last hour ignoring. The old drunks were in the corner, nursing drinks. She saw middle aged women off to the side, gossiping near an abandoned pile of novels for the book club. People her age drank and mingled. Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon would have been aghast at the whole seen but Marlene loved it. As much as she wanted a place of her own, there was something to be said for living in The Leaky Cauldron. There was just so many things going on, so many opportunities. So much life.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mars saw a familiar face enter the crowded bar. She grinned.

Walking towards one of the quieter shelves located in the back of the little bookstore where he worked, Remus lowered himself down to his knees, shifting the stack of novels in his arms as he began the slow process of putting them back in their proper spots. They were expensive, thick textbooks, the kind that Remus figured muggle students might purchase for a University course, shuffled to the back of the shop until a desperate student happened to knock on their door with an odd request for Garrison's History of Neurology.

Slipping one of the heavier books into place, Remus bent over, coughing painfully in the dim lighting, the sound disrupting the otherwise quiet bookstore. However, as he did so, he couldn't help but pick up on a set of muffled footsteps behind him, the hairs on the back of his neck raising automatically, the uneasy feeling of being watched impossible for the werewolf to ignore.

Turning his head with a light, carefully placed smile, he rose to his feet to face the advancing stranger, speaking automatically.

"Can I help you find anything?"