marloweprewett:
The Leaky Cauldron felt dull. The news of Amycus’ death had spread so quickly, like a wildfire throughout the wizarding community, that when Marlowe had heard she wasn’t sure if she’d fully processed. Now that she had, now that the thought had sunk into her brain that Amycus wasn’t here, everything felt wrong. Numb. Colors weren’t as bright, even fire didn’t feel as warm. As she sat at the bar, Marlowe was wondering what kind of war she’d really returned to, and her thoughts of the Order were growing less and less high. However, she almost slunk down in her chair when she saw Alecto Carrow angrily grabbing a bottle and stalking through the crowd. Maybe it was the Hufflepuff in her (or the alcohol), but Marlowe was out of her seat, forcing her way through the crowd to Alecto. “You want something stronger?” she asked, offering her own bottle, not even sure why she wanted to help her. But, she’d just lost a brother. Her twin. Marlowe’s heart broke at the thought of losing either Gideon or Fabian to begin with. But this was Amycus they were upset about. Maybe the two could bond after all. Too late, of course. The thought made her choke back a sob.
Never in her life had she been on the same page as Marlowe Prewett. In all fairness, she’d never given the girl much of a chance. Seeing her as some goody-two-shoes, little miss perfect who both she and her brother were better off knowing. Of course, most of it had to do with her relationship with the other twin. Thick as thieves her and Amycus had always been, but it was Marlowe she feared who’d tear them apart. The redhead was just too different, at least that was what she told herself. Admitting to jealousy? That seemed pointless, even in simply admitting the fact to herself. Although it was the truth, she was just that; jealous. Amycus had someone he wished to see at the end of the night, yet where was she? Alone, with no one to call her own. At least before Marlowe stepped into the picture they were alone together. Just another instance of Amycus having it all while she was left with nothing. She didn’t typically resent her brother for it, groomed to believe he was better than she, but there were the moments it all set in. Amycus, the better twin, the twin who mattered -- “I need a lot of things, Marlowe.” she sighed heavily. Her tone, however, not quite up to par with its typical sprouts of annoyance. “What’s it to you? I’m sure you wish it was me instead of him too. We don’t have to pretend.”















