#remvsjohn

PRIZES

001. duelling wands They pair off in twos for class today; no household pairings allowed. Over his head, Marlene sends mournful expression in Emmeline’s direction, makes faces, laughs - but when it’s down to him and her, Remus and Marlene, she’s got all of her attention on him. Remus, who in their years has been pleasant, kind; the sort of distant that she knows to expect from boys like him, all PROPER PUT TOGETHER, with whom her newly made image appears as a stark contrast. Smudged liner, 80s riot girl everything, she’s a far cry from the prim and proper pureblooded girl that had entered these halls years before, with all that weight, that prejudice, upon her shoulders.

Now she’s got a ready smile, bubblegum that POPS, acid pink, within her mouth. “Have you done this before?” always, she’ll look you directly in the eyes, without a hint of fear, or hesitation. “I’ve been practicing a bit of this in our study sessions with the girls, so if you need a bit of help, don’t worry too much, alright?” they stand at a respectful distance, with the blonde helping to showcase the flick of the wrist required, the necessary enunciation within the spell, it needs to all come together, she explains, to work the way they expect it to. “If you do it right, it’ll send me flying!” that bright spark of excitement within her gaze - she’s all too ready for a proper match up.

“You ready?” she asks, before counting down from 3. 2... 1... and she’s quick, isn’t she, a snap to her movements, or perhaps she’s practiced more than she really accounted for - but he’s soon left flying and knocked right back onto his arse, Marlene’s expression, focused, serious, immediately crumbling into CONCERN. “Oh shit... Remus? Remus are you okay?” others have stopped to watch, but she’s flying across the space between them, kneeling to help him up with her palm grasping firmly to his own until she can see him blinking, following along. “Oh, thank Merlin- I’m so sorry!”

002. winter wonderland It’s gonna be fun, she tells him - because she means it at the time. Of course it’ll be fun to go to Hogwarts, to make themselves a mess of who they ought to be. Between herself and Dorcas Meadows, they’ve COOKED UP a new potion to make them seem older, wiser, the kind of glamour to fool even the most experienced of barkeeps - and won’t he come? A hand on his shoulder, which seemed to do the trick, Remus is all colours in anxiousness and nerves, but he nods all the same, eliciting a whoop of excitement from her as she tells him to find something smart to wear and to meet them out front - and be ready, she warns, to run if they must.

                  “Nothing wrong with a little exercise, right?”

That ends in laughter, a mess of it trailing behind her as she leaves, to outfit herself for the night - a lashing of red lipstick, a black leather jacket that smells worn out, the pocket at the front filled with a carton of the illicit things that Lily brings back from home, muggle cigarettes and the lighter that they figured out how to use together, though, that time someone lost the ends of their hair. It’s JUST ANOTHER ADVENTURE to be had, isn’t it, smoothing her fingers through dirty blonde hair as the three of them take the doses of the potion that they’re meant to, and take off for the village…

And it turns out better than they expected, ordering drinks for the first round herself, as she had the best POKER FACE amongst them all, fire whiskey a terrible mix for those unaccustomed to the taste and the effects it gave, though she laughs and hiccups both, and feels fire trace along her lips. Remus looks as gone as she feels, sweaty palms and hunching shoulders, though her arm moves about them to sway, the two of them, as Dorcas leads them off in a round of song. They only order four drinks each; it’s more than enough, and they’re stumbling on the way out as their glamour begins to fade, Dorcas walking ahead because, she announces, she needs to throw up in a bush as she holds Remus steady in the walk, though her own feet feel clumsy.

How unexpected when he looks at her, all red, her name spoken with a stutter on his lips, head turning to look at him with concern when those same lips catch at her own, tasting like cinnamon and fire and APOLOGIES, all at once, as she realizes she doesn’t know what to do with her hands, her feet, herself, as they trip and nearly crash into the cobblestones leading back to the castle, her shock written clearly across her features, whiskey-stained and with smeared makeup lining beneath her eyes.

003. do you dare? “There’s a really beautiful poem,” she tells him once, idly, as they browse for books on some rainy afternoon. They’ve come tumbling into this shop, seeking a way out, an escape from the persistence of the torrential downpour, careful as they pad about this place that smells like HOME to not drip and drop their way over the pages that they paw through. “That I really loved that Lily showed me once. I can’t remember all the words of it,” that’s a lie. But she’ll pretend, as she waltzes about the aisles like a seasoned veteran of the place. “About being daring, and the idea of disturbing the universe, and chasing after mermaids. To dive deep, so to speak.”

She’s thoughtful, a pop of gum, a sideways glance his way - as if measuring to see if he’s really listening, or if she ought to stop. In small ways, he’ll see the cracks, the things within all that brimming confidence within her that isn’t all there, how she’s, less at ease than she ever lets on. “I always wondered if he was a wizard or not, TALKING LIKE THAT. But I really loved the sentiment of it. That to be great, you have to be willing to do strange things. And to be good, you need to be uncomfortable sometimes. I wonder if it’s foolish sometimes to chase that feeling, but it’s still there. That curiosity.”

A future someone else has planned for her, her parents making rumbling sounds for what they expect, how this phase of hers has to come to an end. The book’s lowered. Blue eyes cutting keenly into his as she reaches out to take his hand, steps closer to brush away the wet strands of his sandy hair. She won’t speak again; no. Maybe this could be greatness in her own way, a quiet rebellion, lead in the way she CLOSES THE GAP to kiss him, at first exploratory, and then again, and again. The book drops - a laugh is muted, and swallowed. And right now, she would say, she does dare.

004. summertime sadness Inside, she’s giddy -- and selfishly it has only partially to do with him, but the other part has to do with the fact that they’ve climbed, climbed, climbed skywards. Balanced on beams on skyscrapers, with just a hint of magic to help guide their way (oh, take me somewhere grand). It had been her idea, of course, a night out on a dull evening, with a sweet boy who’s life, she’s sure, she could ruin. How GOOD he was, with floppy hair and sad boy eyes, and a wholesomeness that she’d never deserver, she holds his hand and makes him know what it’s like to find religion in her kiss, but right now she’s savouring the chill of the air of this place that they’ve found.

“I’ve seen photographs, you know.” she rambles instead, turning on sneakered shoes on the very daring edge of this, her balance, swaying, gently with the breeze. “DAREDEVILS do stunts like that, but it feels a little bit like we’re cheating, you know? We don’t have the same fear. If we fell, we’d just.. you know. Summon a broom, or something to cushion our falls. Don’t you feel that takes away from the thrill? The whole... dare, I think, is in the potential closeness of death or dying, and that’s what makes it exciting. Then I think. Why the hell are people so excited at the thought of throwing away their lives? Do they have nothing to live for?”

There’s a pause, as if she expects him to answer, but there’s none, really, to be found to the satisfaction of what she would require. Pale fingertips, run up along the length of his arm, drawing him close and feeling the warmth of him bleed through his clothes, a giggle warming up on her lips. “Where next is up to you, Mr. SHINING STAR.” he was supposed to be one of the goodest of them all, uncomplicated by the moral shades of gray the rest of them were required to wear, just to make it through this war. And now? Now he’s positively drenched in it, isn’t he? “You need to be the one to tell me. To your place, or mine?”

005. unfortunate timing Love is all a matter of timing, isn’t it.

If there wasn’t this war, would things be different? If her assignment had had another shade, if she’d gone not undercover, but onwards, upwards, would it have made a difference? Could it be them together, instead of what’s been dealt out like this, with Marlene dressed, pinned, proper, pretty, with a ring on her finger and a betrothal announcement photo taken for the papers to announce yet another SOCIETY MARRIAGE to be had. There’s a faint smile on her face there, that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but, most people wouldn’t care for that. It’s the names, the who’s who, the planning of a wedding, the distraction.

                 Nobody wants to talk about the war, after all.

                                         Marlene’s just trying to survive another day.

It doesn’t look right, they tell her. She’s come home, she’s doing everything right, so why won’t she get engaged? There’s only so many but I don’t like them, that they’ll take, until it becomes a matter of that it isn’t about love, Marlene, it’s about the union of family. The war still wages on - and she, she still needs information. So if she’s going to SELL HER SOUL, better make it worth the price of it, so here she sits, alongside Travers who is as equally unsmiling; this is business, and they both know the stakes. What doesn’t help the whole affair is afterwards, how she slips away, from work, from dinners... all to see him.