DESERTER

Mark stiffened in his stance. All interactions seemed to be awkward as of late. Well, he had just put the icing on the cake with that emotional outburst but he didn’t want to think on that.

This wasn’t a fraction of how they used to be. Mark would bore her senseless with quidditch trivia and she’d give him the best advice on his bold strategies and lines of play.

Leaning back against the wall, he slid his hands into coat pockets.

His head tilted in her direction and he held his tongue. The smell of smoke lingered in the air as did the aroma of alcohol. He’d have done anything to sneak down to the Three Broomsticks as a seventh year, now, these places didn’t have the same charm and excitement.

“Who’s been talking about me?” he queried. Dropping his head for a moment, he didn’t expect an answer to that question. “Yeah,” Mark nodded. Looking back up, he met eyes with her. “War ended and it was kinda just there. So I took it,” he replied. “I saw you were on the Cannons?” 

she missed the days he’d pull her out of the library for quidditch - as if she needed an excuse to leave such a suffocating room of books. he deserved better, they all did. but some things were just inevitable. 

Sirius whistled a merry tune as he wiped out the wet glasses that sat on the counter, but he hardly noticed what he was doing; his eyes were drawn to the door, and his smile grew wider and wider as the trickle of people turned into a steady flow. Unfamiliar faces made their way into the pub – witches, wizards, hags, even a man who looked like had to be part troll – chatting amongst each other and occasionally eyeing the devilishly handsome man that stood behind the counter, or whispering in anticipation about the oddly dressed musicians that had settled themselves right in front of the hauntingly real statue of a dragon. 

Sirius knew that half these people never would have stepped foot in the place had it not been for the celebrations, the anniversary – it was “for a good cause” after all. While Sirius claimed that The Green Dragon simply had a lot of character, it was what others might have called dingy, dirty, perhaps even used the word foul. The stone floor looked as if blood had been spilled in places, tables looked as though they might have had vomit on them at one point or another, and some of the chairs were on their last legs. This week was going to give The Dragon the biggest crowds they’d had in a long time. 

While newcomers settled themselves at the seemingly questionable tables, The Green Dragon’s regulars treated Sirius like an old friend, and he greeted them in the same fashion. “Gladys Gibbon, you little minx, you, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you out tonight. A gillywater, I’m guessing? Don’t know how you stand the taste of it, myself.” An older witch with flyaway hair and several missing teeth grinned at him and waved ferociously. A couple strode up to the bar, the man instantly familiar, but Sirius couldn’t have picked the woman out of a line up. “And Andrew, mate, how are ya’? Oh, no brandy tonight? You’ve brought the missus out for date night, then? ‘Bout time you showed her ‘round the place – just a butterbeer? You got it.”

The band had begun their warm up, tapping out rhythms on the drums and strumming chords on their guitars, and Sirius could already feel their energy radiating throughout the crowd. He’d sent Gladys on her way with a gillywater and Andrew back to his wife with two butterbeers in hand, when he turned back to the bar, letting out a surprised bark of laughter. 

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing here? I’d’ve pegged you as The Three Broomsticks type, somewhere a little cozier.” Sirius shot a glance towards the stage, and quirked an eyebrow at the visitor, “Or maybe you just came for the view – couldn’t blame you for that one, the bass player’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

it was rowdy. she supposed that was a good sign - especially for a party. but her barely recognizing anyone made her feel like an outsider. all she did was sip on her cherry wine, wondering if perhaps she should have made her way to the leaky cauldron instead. a few more minutes, and then perhaps she’d just walk along diagon alley - or even better yet, go home. as if counting the very seconds, she heard what she could only remember to be sirius black’s voice. she hadn’t read or heard much about him or regulus and seeing him there now, meant they were probably both alive. 

she let out a soft chuckle. “guess i wanted to try something new tonight.” he still held some resemblance to the child she once knew, long before now - before even hogwarts. the two of them chatting, awkwardly stuck in dress robes in parties force by their parents. they had her believe she hated functions like those and now as she awkwardly stood, without an insistent parent in sight, maybe she was right. “he is. you think he’s got any plans after this? because i haven’t.” 

Yet, here he was, stood outside of the Leaky Cauldron listening to mindless chatter. He hated these things. Mark wouldn’t allow himself to even consider celebrating such an occassion. How could he after all he’d lost? The self-punishment had lasted four gruelling years and it was taking its toll on him. He was tired. The war was over but Mark was still fighting his conscience. 

He’d been quiet, as he usually was now. – Mark wasn’t the hyper chatterbox full of charm and enthusiasm. He wasn’t the smooth-talking tease he’d paraded around Gryffindor common room as. He was quiet. That was him now. Quiet, stoic and a little distant from the present.

Resting against the cold, stone wall, his mind was absent again. That was until a familiar voice sang like notes in his ears. His attention followed the direction it came from before his face fell.

Over the years, Mark had witnessed Marlene rekindle with old friends. He’d stood back in the shadows and said a prayer for those he knew. Names of people who never graced him with the sight of their face again. The problem was, most of Mark’s year and above had been sent to the slaughter while Marlene was still at school. He was relieved for her. He wanted that for her.

Without hesitation he pushed off the wall and encompassed her in a tight hug. 

Had he been thinking straight, that probably wasn’t the introduction he’d have chosen. Yet for someone who had lost everything, finding something meant a great deal now.

Stepping back, he hung his head and cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he confessed, at heart he was still the dorky fourteen year old, way in over his head. “I- I..” Mark stuttered, his eyes fixed on her face as he tried to form a sentence. “I don’t know-” he let out an embarassed breathy laugh before composing himself. Fixing his stance, he took a quick breath before starting with a, “Hi.”

whatever reaction she expected, it wasn’t the one she received. dropping her cigarette, her eyes widened at the hug. arms remained in the air as she was caught by surprise. it had been so long since she experienced a hug or a high five or any form of affection really. 

emma shook her head. “don’t worry about it.” maybe some things really didn’t change. her lips parted to form a sentence, only to be met with silence. that was something that seemed to follow her around now, a newfound hesitation before speaking. a sudden drop in confidence that took over. back in hogwarts, she had no issues voicing her concerns or simply just using her voice. socializing had been easy, she had mastered it down to a t. but that was years ago.

Lyanna had a palpable level of excitement as she heard the clicking of her own heels against marble flooring. It was a telltale sign that she was on to something for her work as well as an inkling that she might get to sit down. Her work was seldom the kind to be achieved while sitting behind a desk. Though her feet ached for reprieve as she marched her way towards her office, she knew that she would only have a few moments to scribble down her findings with disappearing ink before some fool would come banging on the door with claims that one of her subordinates were using curses against the guidelines they had been provided following the end of the war. Lyanna knew already that she would feign innocence, her preferred form of ignorance and before long the problem would become nothing more than a silly what if. 

Desire grew inside of her for those few moments where she could pop on her glasses and be alone with her thoughts, not the hungry urgency she felt when offered physical release, but rather the kind of yearning her heart craved silently. It was the kind she would not often admit to for fear of ruining the facade she had spent the last few months building. The woman who was fine, the one who kept pressing forward, who did not have time to stop to be sad or, because she was busy, but because she was better. Lyanna did want to stop, she wanted to cry and perhaps not remove herself from her bed for a few days though she knew that would not provide her heart with the peace it deserved. 

Just as she would not receive that peace, it seemed as though her immediate peace seemed in jeopardy as well as she came to find somebody waiting outside her office door. She rolled her shoulders back, relaxing into the idea of being whatever this person needed from her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Lyanna asked as she greeted them with a curt handshake. Her voice was warm although measured and she smiled graciously, her other manicured hand curled tight around the briefcase locked shut with a charm. 

she hadn’t visited anyone after the war ended. what was she going to do or say? how was battling for your lives while i ate brunch every day and drove myself to boredom? then again, why did she feel so bad? as her parents explained, it was the simplest way to stay alive. it was logical, but still - this new wizarding world she returned to felt foreign to her. it felt like she didn’t earn it. but it was about time she moved on - or at least tried to. the war was over and perhaps there was some way she could salvage her old life, her old relationships. so there she stood, outside of lyanna rowle’s office. 

a cigarette hung loosely from her lips as she stood outside the leaky cauldron. she needed a minute to get away from the event. it felt stifling, to be around so many people after everything that had happened. there was a cacophony of sounds and voices, all of which had an underlying tone of ... dejection. but one word cut through the noise - a name. mark. her eyes quickly fell to the wizard. the last time she had seen him he was just a cheerful fourteen year old, ready to dominate the quidditch world. but that was ages ago. everyone’s changed, it was the price of war - at least for those who fought in it.