SOMEDAY OUR GRAVES WILL LOOK THE SAME WHEN WE BOTH DIE
marlene is a mess of memories.
— “my hero!” she announces with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek and laughing in that way she has of being both amused and absolutely sincere at the same time, like laughter can mean happiness instead of just joking, like boys can be heroes because they take girls to secret places and jump in front of gnomes for them, like they’ll always defend them —
it’s tearing her apart.
— two kids, huddling under a table, whispering secrets and holding something that felt like hope in the palm of their hands. “ya know, men are fucking monsters. they are, really. i’ve seen my dad and his friends- how they treat their wives. i wonder what it’s like to be able to choose the person you marry. i bet that if you ever got betrothed to some monster, that i could get you out of it. i mean, my dad can nearly buy anything and people have been trying to get him to make me marry their daughters since before i was born. i bet i could pick you. i could keep you safe from them. we could just- we could ride our brooms and catch salamanders in creeks. marrying your best friend couldn’t be so bad, right?” —
"what does a monster look like to you, marlene?”
— she turns to her side, slight smirk on her face and quip at the ready, prepared to launch into a muttered snarky commentary, same as ever, but he’s not there. it’s the first time she’s ever realised people aren’t necessarily permanent, no matter how etched into your soul they are. it’s the first time he’s not been there, and it’s her fault. she reflects on him walking to the slytherin table, and then her sorting, and how she didn’t even think to protest, to ask. she’d thought he was forever. she thinks about him sitting under the lake, his heart wild and golden and nobody there to remember that his laughter holds the sound of freedom —
“someone who takes.”