ficlet | equal and opposite reactions [erwin/levi; sfw]
tentatively set in the same universe as this, taking place sometime after the energy of activation
“I don’t remember the first time I fell in love with you.” Erwin says in that irritating rehearsed way of his, catching Levi’s eye in the mirror’s reflection.
Levi, who just finished rinsing shaving foam off a razor smooth jaw, stares back at mirrored Erwin leaning against the door, watching him Levi with a tenderness he forfeited months ago in a blaze of self-loathing and choked apologies.
Levi, who pushes down the reflexive discomfort that rises alongside Erwin’s habit of pinning their emotions on the corkscrew board hanging between them for the world to see, raps his razor against the sink in rapid successions of three instead of humouring him. A part of him is angry, almost viciously so, and he wonders if Erwin will wait for Levi to ask how high he should jump.
“What are you doing?” He asks, unease creeping up his spine and settling around his neck in a noose. He turns around, partially because he feels like this is a conversation he shouldn’t be having with the man’s reflection, partially because he isn’t sure what to do with his limbs.
Which is a bad move on his part because suddenly, Erwin’s stepping into his space and crowding him against the sink in a motion that leaves him breathless, aching under the nearly-there proximity. “I’m serious.” He says, low and intimate. The noose tightens, and the heat radiating from Erwin’s bare chest is so heady that he has half mind to let it slide tight around his throat, that this wouldn’t be the worst way to go.
His arms stay stiff at his sides, Erwin’s rhythmic breathing anchoring him safely to the ground. Levi looks up, eyes locking with piercing blue, gentle around the edges in a way that suggest that maybe, maybe Erwin’s as terrified as Levi is, navigating through newly reconstructed territory guided by a flickering flame.
Erwin’s about to upset the precarious balance they took so long to establish, the landmine between friend and lover, between Erwin getting back on his feet and Levi not suffocating him in the process. They’re just getting the hang of navigating around each other and he’s about to send the scales flying, spinning out of control in a way that Levi’s ribs grinding to a vicious halt to keep his bruised heart tucked safely in his chest and out of Erwin’s palms.
His arms cage him against the sink, close but not oppressively so, and Levi’s breath stutters out of his chest. “I think the first time,” he murmurs, leaning down like he’s about to press his lips to the faint lines marring Levi’s forehead, but thinks better of it, “was in our first year chemistry lab, when you yelled at me for overshooting the titration.”
Levi snorts, shattering the mood into shards that releases the pressure in his chest. “You actually believe the shit coming out of your mouth right now?” He asks, finally letting his fingers hook through Erwin’s belt loops, a habit he never quite broke.
Erwin laughs, “okay, no, but that was when I first noticed you, I kept wondering if you were one of those kids that graduated really early–”
“–you can leave.” Levi cuts him off, shoving him slightly. “Goodbye, Erwin.”
Erwin laughs, and the balance tips back into place. “Seriously, though.” He says, and then his knuckles are skimming the length of his cheekbone, coming down to settle against his neck and shoulder where Levi’s pulse beats strong and rapid under his fingers. “I don’t remember. One day, I was looking at you and it was just there, and I knew I didn’t want to be without you.” He says.
Levi’s breath shakes out of him, the weight of his confession heavy, cracking the weak foundation beneath them.
But it could be bearable, if Erwin doesn’t change his mind again. He can carry this, if Erwin’s willing to share the weight. “I get it.” Levi murmurs, hands sliding up Erwin’s neck, fingers curling in his hair when he brings his head down to rest lightly against his.
“No, it’s–”
Levi cuts him off. “You don’t have to explain.” He says, doesn’t want to put Erwin in that position. He doesn’t need to explain himself, not for his illness, not for the way he chooses to heal. Levi gets it.
Erwin doesn’t listen. “I’m finally starting to feel like myself again.” Erwin breathes out in a rush. “And I couldn’t have done it without you, and I want you back, Levi.”
He loves this man, he does. Erwin is important. Necessary. He isn’t quite sure he knows how to be without him, friend or lover, and Levi isn’t quite sure how to feel about that, nor is he prepared to deal with the underlying sense of responsibility that comes with Erwin’s words.
“That was all you,” he reminds him. “That was all you.”
But, he knows that right now, this is what he wants. So he does what comes naturally; rises up on tiptoe to touch his lips to Erwin’s, and God, Levi’s missed this.
And when Erwin kisses back, his hands coming down to grip Levi’s hips in an upward motion that sets him safely on the counter, tipping the scale, it’s instinctive. Levi hands drop to his neck, thumbs stroking circles against the hollows of his jaw, tilting his head to the side, Levi pushes scale back into place, ignoring the actions that upset it in the first place.
I know you're not really asleep, pink haired boy of the future...
He was seventeen when he'd first met Jean Grey. She was even more beautiful than Logan had described her. And what a mind! So intelligent, so nuanced. He could have lost himself in her mind, if she'd let him...but she didn't. This Jean Grey, this red-haired girl of the past had lost the ability to allow anyone inside her mind.
I can't love you like she did, I can't love anything like she did.
That's what she'd said to Scott, and Quentin didn't want to believe it because, whether he was willing to admit it or not, Quentin had fallen in love. No. Not love. Something he couldn't quite put a finger on.
Wake up, Kid Omega, wake up my little rebel...
She was always Jean and she was always the Phoenix. To host the Phoenix was to leave his mind an open book to Jean. Her consciousness, twisted and warped by rifts in the space-time continuum, permeated even his most private moments.
Do you still love me like you did at seventeen?
She was toying with him, trying to make him weak by conjuring up the most vulnerable moments of his life. She'd break him, cause him to lose control and give into his carnal desires...and then the Phoenix would be free, free to come back to her. He couldn't allow that, not with what she had become.
"I'm not seventeen anymore!" he said out loud "I'm not Kid Omega, and I'm not a little boy anymore! Get out of my head!"
I'm going to kill you, pink-haired boy of the future. I'm going to kill you and rise from the ashes. I will have what is rightfully mine.
"Let’s love, like 17.
I’m in love with poisoning.
Only bring your pretty, frightful gifts to me.
Let’s love, and kill like 17 now."
"I used to think I loved you, Jean...no Xorn, that's who you really are! Manipulative and horrible just like him! I used to think I loved you but I was wrong! I was in love with who I thought you were...
...And I'm going to be that person now. I'm going to learn to love myself."
Marlene just rolled her eyes. Ever since she'd told Elias she was pregnant, he'd gotten touchier; he always managed to find some way to be connected with her, and he'd started trying to get her to go wherever he'd gone. It was cute, she had to admit, but it was also a little annoying. She could take care of herself. She'd been in the Order for a little over a year. "Shower by yourself," she mumbled, swatting his hands away and settling herself back into the couch. She ran a hand over her stomach; she shouldn't have been showing already, she was only thirteen weeks pregnant. But she'd been so thin (from the stress of the war and just generally forgetting to eat) before that it seemed like her tiny child was already making itself known.
She heard him walk back into the back of the cottage and turn on the water, and Marlene let her head rest against the back of the couch. Dumbledore had taken her out of the field the second he'd heard about her pregnancy, and now she felt like she was just an honorary member. If there was one thing she hated, it was feeling useless. She loved Elias, and she couldn't be happier about their child, but... she just wished the timing had been different.
There was a small noise outside the cottage, but she paid it no mind. Ayo had taken to lurking right outside the windows lately, and besides, they'd put the best spells Dumbledore knew around the house to protect themselves. It was a pain having to reset them every week, but...
Her eyes shot open. Every week. It was Sunday; they were due to have reset them that morning. The cottage was unprotected. Malrene grabbed her wand, beginning to mutter the necessary spells, but the door opened slowly, creaking with every move.
"Good evening, McKinnon."
Marlene couldn't move; she couldn't even breathe. That voice... the voice that haunted every nightmare she'd had since sixth year. High, cold, and cruel; everyone knew that voice.
"You seem a little surprised to see me. That's surprising to me, since you should have been expecting me," Voldemort said silkily, almost cooing at her. "You killed Wilkes, didn't you? You destroyed one of my men; surely you realized that I'd come looking for you, McKinnon. It is still McKinnon, isn't it? You haven't married that dirty halfblood yet?"
"McKinnon," she croaked out, fist still curled around her wand, but it hung limply at her side. She couldn't even begin to fathom how to defend herself.
"Good. Where is he, anyway? Not rushing to your side to protect you?" He clucked his tongue. "Tsk tsk! Falling down on the job... or is he simply in the shower." The falling water had finally come to his attention, and he just grinned.
Marlene was suddenly able to focus; her life might have been done, but she could still save Elias. She blocked her mind, shaking her head. "No. I was about to get in the shower. Elias is out at his clinic."
Voldemort just laughed, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand straight at attention. "I see. Well, McKinnon, I see no reason for us to continue this much longer, do you?" It was a rhetorical question; it was almost like he was giving her time to defend herself, to see if she'd fight back. He raised his wand, smirking a little at her, and she had every opportunity to Apparate away.
But she couldn't. She couldn't leave Elias, especially when she wasn't sure if Voldemort believed her or not. So she did what felt instinctive: she hunched to the side, wrapping her arms protectively around her stomach as she watched him form the words, unconsciously trying to protect her unborn child. She closed her eyes to avoid seeing the flash of green light; she didn't want to scream and alert Elias.
Marlene felt her body get very, very cold, like she'd jumped into a pool of ice water. It started in her chest and spread quickly, consuming her. She waited for what felt like eternity, before all of a sudden she could see a very bright light behind her eyelids. Bracing herself for the worst, she cracked one open.
She was in a bedroom. It wasn't a familiar one to her, but she recognized a few of the personal items: a jewelry box her mother had given her, her father's old Wizengamot badge. Like it was furnished just for her. This made her smile a bit; if this was death, it wasn't so bad. She turned around just in time to see the archway shrinking away into nothing.
This was death. Marlene took another moment to glance around at her surroundings before walking over to the window. A giant smile formed across her face: she could see Doc working out and Benjy sitting by the tree reading. They looked up and waved. There was a knock at her door.
"Marls?" Marlene whipped around, her mouth falling open in shock as she stared at Mary for the first time in a month. She couldn't even speak, she just ran forward and embraced her best friend.
"Is this real?" she whispered, tears in her eyes. Mary just nodded, before a concerned look flitted across her face.
Marlene spun around once more, feeling slightly dizzy, just in time to watch the second personal item appear: an old, battered watch she'd given to Elias for his birthday the year they started dating. "No," she whispered, hand flying up to cover her mouth as the arch appeared, dropping Elias on the bed.
"Elias," she breathed, rushing over to him, brushing some of his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes, the blue eyes she loved so much, and cupped her hand with hers.
The blinds were drawn closed across the windows though somehow light still managed to pierce into the bedroom. Nadia was curled into a tight ball high up on the bed. The blankets were twisted around her, the sheets kicked haphazardly to the bottom of the bed. Tissues littered almost every surface. The trashcan near the bed was half full of tissues already, a handful of them circled it as if Nadia had attempted to toss them into the trash can and missed, a lot. Nadia glared at the bottle of NyQuil on her bedroom side table and reached for it again. Her eyes were swollen, nose red and cheeks flushed with a fever that she had yet to conquer. As she swallowed a swig of medicine, she screwed up her face at the sickly cherry flavor and pressed her flushed face into the cool pillow hoping that her head wouldn't spontaneously pop open under the incessant pressure that felt like two sides of a vice pressing against her skull.
Nadia sniffed and the air that puffed from her sore nose fluttered against her dark golden brown bangs. She could hear the rumble of the cars outside, and she scowled at the window. She knew even though it was the middle of January, there is no blanket of snow outside. She had wished for snow in her heated, fevered dreams, but awake now, she knew the elements were conspiring against her. The sun high in a cloudless, blue sky. She scowled at the shafts of light that break through the blinds; she frowned, fuck you, California, she thought, fuck you for conspiring against me. Nadia wished desperately that the outside world would be just as miserable as she was at the moment, was that too much to ask?
She nose started running again, and she grabbed a tissue from the almost empty box on the bed next to her. The sharp and blundering nose of her blowing her nose shattered the world around her, and Nadia groaned. She threw the used tissue toward the trash can and missed, again. Nadia reached blindly for the bottle of NyQuil, and practically sobbed when she found it empty. She shook the bottle a few times, wishing that there was at least one more drop. She licked her reddened, chapped lips, and sighed in defeat. She flung herself back on the bed, cursing softly the world outside, her lack of medicine, the flu, the flirty new intern at work who gave her the flu, even herself.
She layed on her back, staring at the ceiling her bedroom for some time, unable to fall back into sleep, when the the sharp click of a key in the lock startled her. She caught the faint nose of the front door opening and then closing shut, and the heavy footfalls of boots on the hardwood floors of the entry way.
“Nadia?” A voice called from the other side of her bedroom door.
Nadia blinked and rubbed her eyes, and attempted to sit up. It took her more than three times, and her head swam dizzily. She almost face planted on to the floor when she was finally upright. “I’m in the bedroom,” she croaked out.
There are more booted footsteps, and then the creak of the bedroom door opening.Nadia stared at the door, trying to form coherent thoughts around the fuzzy mush that is her sick brain. She couldn’t help the happy sigh that pressed against her lips and escaped when she saw Chris’s face as he opened the door. The sleeves of his work shirt were bunched up around his elbows, and his tie was loose. He fixed his blue eyes on Nadia, and she couldn’t fight against the smile that twitched the muscles in her face. He smiled back.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he crossed to sit down next to her on the bed. He was frowning slightly, probably, Nadia figured because of the truly disgusting, pasty sight she made, sick and half-wrapped in the blankets.
“I feel gross,” Nadia replied, “and awful.” Nadia sniffed. “How did you get in?”
Chris chuckled, and offered up a bag he had brought into the room. “Uh, Byron let me use his key. I hope you don’t mind.”
Nadia shook her head. If she had been well and completely in charge of her own brain, she would have been probably hatching schemes to get back at Byron for letting Chris use his key to get in while she was sick. But that could wait for later.
“Good.” Chris started digging into the bag he brought. “I got you more DayQuil, NyQuil, and some vitamins. And some soup from that place you took me to a few week ago, saltines, that diet ginger ale you like, and your favorite tea from that little Russian shop in West Hollywood.” He started picking things out of the bag and placing them on the dresser. Nadia rested her head against his shoulder, and the blanket that she had wrapped around her shoulders slunk down her knees. Nadia shivered at the cold air suddenly against her skin. Chris looked back at her; he was biting his lip anxiously. “Is this okay?” he asked, running a hand through his short, slightly greying, auburn hair. “I can go back out and get you something else if you want me to.”
“No,” she sniffed again. “Thank you. You shouldn’t be here though. I don’t want you to get sick too.”
Chris shrugged. “Don’t worry about me, love. I’ve got a immune system like a rock. Anyway,” Chris gestured, grinning, toward her baby pink pajamas with teddy bears all over them. “now, I’ve seen you in your pajamas.”
Nadia huffed. “I’m too sick to make too much of this, but thank you, Chris. You didn’t have to do this. You’re amazing.”
He smiled and kissed her nose. “I told you,” he gathered Nadia up and placed her back against the pillows at the headboard. Nadia was too tired, too sick to fight it. “I’m always going to take care of you.” Nadia watched silently as he stared unlacing his boots and then tucked them both under the blankets. Nadia smiled and closed her eyes as he wrapped his body around hers, warm and comforting. Nadia was slowly drifting off to sleep. Chris had wrapped one of his arms around her middle, and their legs were tangled together. The hand that wasn’t splayed against her side was carding through her hair; his fingers scratching and rubbing wonderfully soothing patterns into her scalp.
“Thanks,” Nadia murmured sleep tugging at her consciousness; the safety of Chris’s embrace lulling her, making it just that more easy to feel guarded enough to just let go.
“I love you too.” Chris grinned brightly. “Plus, you’re kind of adorable when you’re sick, and you’re a lot less vicious.”
Nadia tried to smirk, and glared at Chris’s through half lidded eyes. “When I’m done being all gross and disgusting, I am so getting you back for that.”
Almost as if on cue, a barrage of owls landed in front of Marlene. The first. the usual owl who delivered her Daily Prophet every morning, gave her an affectionate nip as she placed a knut in the pouch on his leg. The second she recognized as her family's owl, Eris, carrying four letters in her beak.
Marlene felt instant guilty. She'd not told her family she'd changed her plans and had gone to Paris instead of staying in the castle, just in case they'd decided to check up on her. She wasn't ashamed of Elias, far from it, but she didn't want to ruin their first real vacation by having her parents discover them in bed together. She ignored the first two letters and chose instead to open the most recent ones.
The first one she opened was dated on New Years Day.
Dearest Marliz,
You must be having a great time with your friends to not respond to my letters! In any case, thank you so much for the perfume and other gifts. My favorite scent; you always remember.
Being back at home is a little strange, of course, but your father has that important Death Eater case tomorrow, so it was necessary to stop touring Europe I suppose. He's staying in the Ministry quarters for the duration of the trial, so if you need him, contact him there. He does send his love, though, and says he misses you as well.
Please write soon.
With all my love,
Mum
Marlene's heart dropped. She'd forgotten all about the trial. But nothing had happened to her father, surely. This sort of thing happened to other people; she witnessed it in the hall and read about it in the paper. This didn't happen to her. Her parents were going to live forever, not be murdered in some attack.
The second letter had only one line, and no greeting or signature:
I'm coming to get you.
Eyes swimming with tears, Marlene finally saw the third owl: sleek, black, and menacing, it was this owl that ripped a scream from her throat. She'd seen that owl before; it starred in many students' nightmares. A similar owl had been on Dumbledore's desk when she received the news about Aunt Astrid. She was acutely aware of someone wrapping their arm around her, of someone whispering something to her, but she had no idea who or what. Her vision was completely obscured by tears.
"Come on," Elias whispered in her ear, having been the first professor to reach her. "Marley, darling, come on. Professor Dumbledore's office."
She reached up and clung to him. "Don't leave me," she whispered, barely having the presence of mind to add, "Please, Professor, don't leave me."
He must have nodded (she still couldn't see), because she suddenly felt herself lifted and carried into the Entrance Hall. She refused to loosen her grip on his robes, drawing some comfort from the sheer fact that this was Elias, and he was here. He was risking exposing their relationship to make sure she was okay. She pressed her face into his chest, mindless of the stains her mascara was undoubtedly leaving on his clothing.
It was a small comfort in the face of having lost her father.
A loud, female shriek drew her from her safe haven and caused her to swipe furiously at her eyes, trying to clear the tears as feminine hands scrabbled at her, tearing her from Elias' grip and tugging her into a very familiar, rose-scented embrace. Marlene clung to her mother, sobbing with her as they stood in the Entrance Hall, oblivious to the world around them before feeling soft hands on their shoulders.
"Let's take this into my office," Dumbledore suggested, the usual twinkle having disappeared from his eyes.
Marlene finding out about Mary's death
Requested by Sara
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even attempt to breathe; she couldn’t even think. Subconsciously, she was aware of her surroundings: of Elias’ hand on her back and Sirius gripping her forearms. James was saying something in the background, but it no longer mattered what he said. What anyone said.
Because Mary Macdonald was dead.
She wasn’t ready. She’d been preparing herself (or at least trying to prepare herself) to receive bad news ever since their group had decided to join the Order. But they weren’t even proper members yet; they were still just technically a bunch of misfit kids.
“Put a lid on it, McKinnon,” Auror Moody growled, sparing the stricken girl little more than a passing glare. “People are dying everywhere. No point in getting bent out of shape about one death.”
“Moody,” James almost implored, shaking his head. “Give her a minute, yeah?”
“She won’t have a minute in the field,” the gruff older wizard snapped, growing more annoyed by the minute. If Marlene had cared to even look at him (she was still staring blankly at the wall ahead of her, hardly daring to believe what she’d just been told), she would’ve noticed the impatient look on his face and the harsh lines of his mouth. But she still couldn’t bring herself to look at anything but that stark white piece of wall.
“Marlene,” Sirius asked gently, kneeling down in front of her. “Marlene, listen to me. Don’t start blanking out on me now, okay? We still need you.”
That was the first thing Marlene became aware of – Sirius’ eyes. He’d always been able to spew bullshit about anything and everything, but she’d long ago discovered that you could read him by his eyes. And while he may have looked calm on the outside (as he tried to pull her back from the edge), his eyes showed fear, and anger, and sorrow. And this, and only this, brought her back to reality. “I need to be alone,” she whispered, her voice raw and rough, eyes never leaving Sirius’ face. She could see them all moving out of the corner of her eye: Lily and James were the first to depart, followed by Moody and the others (Emmeline, maybe? She saw a flash of blonde). Even Elias, with one final kiss to the top of her head, left the room. With a sigh, Sirius went to push himself off of the floor from his position crouched in front of her, but Marlene rested a hand on his arm.
“Not you,” she whispered. “Sirius, please don’t leave me.”
“Right here, Marls.” He reached out and enveloped her in a hug, pulling her from the armchair with almost unbelievable ease and pulling her as close as he could. She pressed her face into his chest and let the sobs take over. Gut-wrenching, tearless sobs that consumed her entire body and broke her heart; she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making that noise.
How could Mary be dead? Mary Macdonald, one of her best friends since age eleven. Mary Macdonald, the girl who had survived dating Barty Crouch Jr and attacks from Mulciber and Bellatrix Black and all of the other nutcases they’d gone to school with and had gone on to become Death Eaters. Mary was one of the strongest witches she’d ever known, and it just didn’t make sense.
“Who killed her?” she finally asked, when the sobbing subsided and she could finally speak again. Though, her voice was barely more than a whisper; she’d worn her throat out from the screaming and the sobbing.
Sirius pulled back a little, a frown flashing across his face. “Marls… I don’t think… It’s not the time…”
“Tell me,” she nearly growled, eyes flashing. If one of her best friends was dead, she deserved to know who had actually done the deed. Marlene fully intended on hunting down whatever son of a bitch had cast the curse and giving them the same. She didn’t care if murder was wrong; she wasn’t thinking straight.
She wanted Mary back, and since she couldn’t have that, she wanted the next best thing: revenge.
“She did.”
The silence was almost deafening. She’d done it herself? Mary had killed herself? No. “You’re lying,” she whispered, pulling back from him harshly. “Mary would never. If she survived a relationship with Crouch without offing herself, she’d never do it. Why are you lying to me?!”
“I’m not.” Even under her slightly murderous gaze and her raised, raspy voice, Sirius didn’t waver. It was something she would thank him for later. “She didn’t… it’s complicated, Marlene.”
“Then explain it.”
Instead of offering her further words, trying and failing to reason with a slightly-mental Marlene, Sirius merely offered her a small scrap of paper. She snatched it from him, something she would feel awful for if she’d been in her right mind. She glared at him one final time before glancing down at the parchment.
Mary Macdonald no longer exists. She hasn’t, not for a while. Not alone. You see, below this sweet, innocent little exterior lies a snake waiting to strike. A viper, if you will. It was long ago awoken and has been gradually getting stronger and stronger ever since.
The war had taken its toll. They'd buried Dorcas just three days ago and still couldn't find all of Benjy Fenwick's body. It seemed like they were losing more of their own than they were taking out their enemies, and Marlene had experienced several close calls of her own. But she was still alive, still kicking, and still fighting.
"I wish you didn't have to go."
The silence was finally broken. Neither Marlene nor Elias had said anything since her announcement an hour ago, just after arriving home from the last Order meeting. He'd met her, as he always did, with a cup of tea and a gentle kiss, making her blush and stammer.
"I know," Marlene whispered back to him, shifting from her position cuddled up against his chest to glance up at him. "But if I don't go, that means Lily has to, and -"
"Lily's pregnant," Elias finished sullenly, leaning down to press his lips against hers. "I know. Doesn't mean I have to like the fact that you're willingly walking into danger."
She just chucked, kissing him just as lightly before sighing and pulling away. "I just want this war to be over," she mumbled, no longer seeing the man she loved, but the cold body of the man she'd killed the previous night. He'd been young; she had known him in her childhood, but she couldn't recall his name. "I want life to be normal again."
"Life has never been normal," Elias reminded her, chucking gently as he pulled himself off of the couch to make more tea. There were no words really needed between them; he could recognize that haunted look in Marlene's eyes without a second thought. She rarely ever told him of her missions, and if she did she spared him the finer details (who she'd killed, exactly), but he always knew.
She just huffed at him. "It could be!" she snapped stubbornly. "We bring him down and things settle; we could... we could do this the proper way..." she flushed, averting her eyes once more. They still hadn't seriously discussed marriage, and while Marlene was in no hurry, it was still rather disconcerting to her that the subject had only come up briefly, and never in a quite serious matter.
"The proper way?" It irritated her that he played dumb sometimes; it was painfully obvious what she was talking about. "Marlene, we live together. We sleep in the same bed every night-"
"I know." There was more venom in her voice than she'd intended, but she was too tired to care. She was tired and worried and didn't have it in her to be arsed to care about his feelings. "I know, okay? I don't need reminding that we're together, despite every single one of your efforts to -"
But he had long ago discovered that the best way of silencing her was with a kiss. He towered over her, still her same sweet Elias, but with more power and force than she'd ever seen. "Don't, Marlene," he whispered harshly, an inexplicable pain etched across his features. "I never, not once, wanted us apart. I was doing what I thought was best for you.”
“Is that what you’re doing now?” she snapped, quickly pushing herself off of the couch to stand in front of him. He was still taller than she was, but it felt different when she stood. Like she had more power, and she wasn’t about to give in at any second. “Trying to protect me? Do what’s best for me? Because I hate to break it to you, Elias, but –”
He’d had enough. He reached and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her roughly towards him and kissing her with everything he could muster. All of his fear, his anger (not towards her, but at the unfairness of the war), his desire; it almost overwhelmed her before he pulled back. “There is nothing I would rather do than marry you and have three or four children running around this cottage,” he told her firmly, never tearing his eyes away from hers. “But the fact remains that you’re fighting a war. You could walk out that door one morning and never come home. Your parents have already fallen at You-Know-Who’s hand, and I know that if you got half the chance you’d try and avenge them. You are a soldier, Marlene, and I love that about you.”
She didn’t speak; she couldn’t.
“I am still an old man, darling. And don’t try and protest; I am thirty-two years old. I want nothing more than to have you here forever. And I promise you this: as soon as the war is over, and as soon as they announce the Order’s victory, I will marry you. I’ll have Dumbledore himself do it if I have to. I will marry you and we can have our life. I swear it.”
Her eyes threatened to overflow with tears, but unlike the other innumerable times in the past few months, it wasn’t in sadness. Marlene wanted to do nothing more than to fold herself in Elias’ arms and forget everything; fuck the war, and the bias, and the brewing storm outside their cottage door. All she wanted was a life with him and that’s all she’d wanted for two years.
“I will win,” she whispered back fiercely, leaning up to capture his lips once more. “I will kill that bastard myself and come back to you. I love you.”
“And I love you, Marlene.”
“You swear it? You swear we will do it after the war?”
By the time Marlene woke the next morning, there was already sunlight streaming in from the window where they'd been so wrapped up they forgot to close the curtains. It took her a moment, in her sleepy haze, to figure out exactly where she was. This didn't look like her bedroom at the manor, certainly, and it looked nothing like the hotel room she'd been half-expecting to wake up to.
She felt someone shifting behind her and glanced over her shoulder, feeling a warm smile stretch across her face when she realized it was, in fact, Elias Hawkstern's bedroom, in Elias Hawkstern's house, and that it hadn't been a dream after all. He was still asleep, and Marlene quite liked the look of it on him. He looked so peaceful to her; so happy. None of the usual worry was obscuring his eyes, making him look older than normal. It was a sight that she could get used to, she realized, and her smile only grew.
But she was restless. Once she was awake, she didn't like staying in bed. So with a quick kiss to his forehead she wiggled out of his grasp, chuckling softly as he made a face at her in his sleep, before glancing around the room for the first time. It was rather tidy, just like she'd expected, and it felt so inviting, so lived in, unlike her bedroom at the manor. She took a quick glance down at herself, frowning as she realized that all of her luggage was at the hotel still. They'd need to go back and get it, but she didn't feel like wearing her dress again. So she grabbed one of his shirts, buttoning it quickly and trying not to laugh. Elias wasn't a large man, but his shirt hung rather loose over her thin frame. It was quite comical, really.
She crept into the kitchen, trying to make as little noise as possible. Wanting to do something for him, Marlene opened the refrigerator carefully, grabbing eggs other various ingredients. She knew he'd wake up the minute she started cooking (she wasn't exactly quiet), but she wanted to give him a few more minutes as she set to work, mixing everything together and using a combination of magic and her own handiwork to get things moving.
By the time she heard footsteps coming down the hall, she was nearly done with the bacon and pancakes. Just the eggs left, and she'd been waiting for him to wake up so they wouldn't get cold and soft. "Morning," she whispered to him, still standing at the stove when she felt his hands on her waist. She leaned up and kissed his cheek softly, pulling back with a smile. "I'm almost done."
Yes, this was something she could definitely get used to.
