The evening of the Vigil, hours into the night after a series of disastrous decisions.... @siriusrefuge
The wind had been knocked out of her since the swirl of their beings had pushed through space, landing harsh with just moments before the thumping of branches was to begin. Even with the burn of firewhiskey in her belly, she’d landed them so particularly to the base of the tree that she was still quite proud on top of the rage that pumped blood loud enough to hear in her own head. Her auror eyes clicked on and saw that they were indeed n o t followed.
She braced herself wand in hand, ready to either jump, roll, or blast should the Whomping Willow’s sentient limbs come thrashing for her. But that didn’t happen. It was still for the first time since...since so many hours ago in the frigid January air. What time was it? Much later than she could imagine, but time was not of the essence - not anymore anyway. Adrenaline, alcohol, and adolescence collided once again that evening for Marlene and Sirius. But in that moment her anger had dissipated and she rolled over herself to the comfort of their black hair, just a slightly lighter sheen than the dark around the pair.
“Your place or mine?” A little grin broke over her lips, finding her breath was shaky still. It didn’t matter since Marlene was sure that most people would refer to either of their living conditions as a pixie sty. Odd to think that it was hearing the slight tremble in her own voice that perhaps she had been afraid, but it was the best she could do after the havoc that...was admittedly her own fault. Sour guilt filled her mouth as she grasped lightly for where she assumed Sirius’ hand would have been. “We’ll get the bike tomorrow, I promise I’ll go myself I will”
