Blackmailing Memories *James & Marley*.
Going through some of Mum and Daâs old trunks and came across this.  Look at you⌠all dressed up⌠knobby knees and little bows in your hairâŚ
This is one of the nicer ones. Show up with a bottle of your oldest and best scotch or the next one goes to MacDonaldâŚ
Marley stared at the letter in her hands with desbilief, before studying the photo attatched to it. Indeed, there they were. She and James at one of the many pureblood society parties they so much hated, all dolled up and fancy looking. To say it was embarrasing to see was an understatement. Marlene prayed for the ground to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole.
The owl beside her screetched insistently, expecting a treat in return for its service. Marlene looked at the bird with a frown.
âIâm not gonna give you anything, your workâs not doneâ she snapped.
If James wanted to play dirty, well screw him. It wasnât Marlene who was wearing short pants from 1915, hight stockings and a big fluffy flower in her chest. Grabbing a piece of paper and her quill, she scribled a short message back to her annoying âfoster brotherâ.
Sure, you make this photo public and I sink. But if I go down, you go down with me, fancy pants. You think Iâm gonna give in to such lame blackmailing? You ainât worth a sip of my scotch.
The I-will-not-be-bribed Girl.
PS: Look at you, bowing to me like a slave. Thatâs how itâs meant to be, honey.
Smiling pleasently, Marlene folded the paper and tied it to the owlâs leg. She watched the word take off across the London sky with a very self-satisfied grin.
