Fools

"...That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family."

She was lovely.

Her arms flung around his neck and he stepped back with an oof of exhale, even as a laugh bubbled up in his throat. She pulled away and punched him lightly on the arm.

"Fay, you right bastard, I haven't seen you in ages, c'mere, you sod, come get a drink with me, won't yah? I'd make you pay but the tap's on Potter what with it bein' his wedding and all- and begone with you, man, you still getting taller on me? Bad as that brother of yours, now where'd he go on me........"

Her hair fluttered like the ribbons on her dress robes as she turned to look, gesturing in the direction of the lean broad-shouldered man who was occupied dancing with the bride.

She'd lightened it a bit since he'd seen her last, the shade of the strands tumbling into her eyes more caramel than milk chocolate now, and it suited her nicely. He hardly remembered the color it had been back when it was wind-whipped after a Quidditch game, a sort of unremarkable off-brown shade.

"How are you, Marlene?" he asked with a grin as she turned back to him.

"'M here, aren't I?" she said archly, the angles of her face contorting slightly in a faint grimace. "Not everybody can say as much."

"Yeah, Stebbins was wondering why he didn't get an invite..."

The amusement in her brown eyes lapsed. "Nah, Fay, I meant the ones we've been losing. You'll remember Wright, naturally," and she paused to correct herself when she saw he plainly didn't, "used to play Keeper for Ravenclaw, Cooper, Cooper Wright..." She gave up with a sigh. "You broke his nose once-"

"Him? You mean, dead? But the Wrights, the Wrights go back..."

"His mother's a Muggle, they got her too... and Seymour-"

"Grubs, yes, I have been watching the obituaries..." he said, rubbing his eyes a bit dismissively. The color was lighter and softer than his brother's, Hestia told him teasingly, more brown, but Marlene'd told him once when she was royally pissed that he didn't have half of Gideon's twinkle, in less polite terms. Not a bleeding third. He remembered it because he agreed with her.

"Another last night, from school...the girl who went with Williamson, Nicola... blast it all, what's her name, what's the name-" She walked forward with him, a steady pace as she muttered to herself, brow wrinkled.

"Not Doge?"

"No, that's Finola ...oh, Hubbard, it was Hubbard... or maybe it was Herbert...blast it all..." She shook her head, tresses tumbling with it, then looked up, eyes snapping again. "But merciful Mungo, let's have none of that today. How're you, how's your girl?" she said slightly teasingly, looping her arm through the crook of his.

"Sturgis Podmore has accosted her, so I suppose it depends on whether or not she succumbs to his roguish charms," he said dryly, inclining his head towards where Hestia Jones was twirling under her friend's arm. His girl- he liked that she was his girl- caught his eye and wiggled her fingers in a slight wave before turning back to the dance, black curls bobbing.

"Ogden's for me, stout for the lady," Fabian told the witch at the bar, who skidded the drinks across to him without hesitation, the glasses filling as she did so.

Her head tilted, she squinted at him slightly. "Lady is it now?"

He didn't answer, gaze still fixed over her shoulder as he handed her the glass.

She turned to follow his eye and look at Hestia, and looked back at him with a shake of the head. "Blow me down but I never thought I'd see the day. You actually got the girl, Fay. And is she ever giving me the eye. Boy. You and Potter must be two of the luckiest sons of bitches in the whole sodding country of England-"

"Watch it with the country, Irish."

"Testy, are we, mate? Ah, and here she comes, slipping away from Sturgis.... boy but I'd kill for my hair to hold curl like that," she said, eyeing Hestia's ringlets enviously.

"And if the man hasn't gone and gotten her to dance again," Fabian commented, shaking his head and downing his drink.

Marlene watched him with a skeptical eye, sipping the foam off the top of her dark glass. With her free hand she flicked her hair, hanging loose and wavy from the curl she'd painstakingly enchanted into it, out of her eyes and over her shoulder. "Dance with me, won't you, Fabian darling?" she said, batting her eyelashes.

He laughed with a snort that almost caused him to sputter into his firewhiskey. The expression was practiced and endearing but utterly ridiculous in execution. "Off with yah, Mack! I don't dance, dance with Gideon."

She rolled her eyes, which wasn't at all endearing. "He's trying to get a dance with the bride but Sirius Black won't give her back to Potter, he's too busy hiding from the bridesmaids."

He eyed her dress pointedly.

She flashed her best grin. He knew it was her best, too, but it wasn't the real one, the one he liked the most that crinkled her eyes and didn't make her look at all pretty. "Oh, no, I'm swell. He likes me enough." She leaned up against a nearby chair and sipped her stout.

Fabian leaped on the words, brows lifted. "Likes you enough?"

"Sure does," she said, dipping her head, lip twitching up in the left corner in a way that wasn't a smile at all.

He sipped the firewhiskey, she sipped her stout, and he casually said out of the side of his mouth, "The man's up to his armpits in issues, McKinnon, don't be a bleeding fool."

She blinked innocently but the snap in her brown eyes turned to fire. "He's too busy, Fabian, there's nothing to concern yourself with."

He sized her up critically before plunging into hazardous waters. "You knew better than to fall in love with him."

"There's no knowing better, Fay," she bit back, and took a breath. "And I am not in love with him, and I am not in love with Gideon," she added warningly, "though they're handsome devils, both, but so are you, love, and I'm not in love with you."

"Yes, quite," he said, highly amused at the very thought and at her denial.

"Nearly every woman in this room's been attracted to Black at one point or another and that includes Hestia," she added as a jab. It worked. "But he's very... distracted," Marlene said jerkily, shaking her head with a smile. "There's a helluva lot more important things going on in the world then romancing."

"Oh?"

"Not if you're Potter," she amended, downing her drink as she caught sight of Gideon heading her way. "Not if you're you, or even, apparently, Evans and Jones. But if you're me, or Black, or your brother, or, I dunno, Elphias Doge, well, yes, then, we've got our mind on other things."

He caught the way her eyes drifted to Black as she said his name, and he was dancing with Dorcas Meadowes now, a woman Fabian recalled as being a seventh year when he was starting school. She was beautiful and she was leading and seemed uncomfortable in this setting, and Black was simply laughing his head off at god-knows-what.

"Hello there, stranger, making time with my gal?" a familiar voice wondered, and Gideon was beaming at him, clapping him on the shoulder as a clamor went up among the crowd as the band moved to a faster song made popular by the Crashing Cleansweeps, a one-hit wonder.

"Your gal?" she repeated, smirking. "Oh, Gid, are you ever living in de-nial...."

"Marlene," Gideon said, eyes dancing, holding out his hand. "Delightful as ever. C'mon, now, let's get you back out there."

"Alright, Prewett," she answered, cheeks aglow. "Seeing as this handsome gent won't budge," she jibed, elbowing Fabian, then pausing dramatically. "But soft, can that be the lady fair?" she asked wonderingly, steering him in the direction his pretty pink-cheeked witch was heading in. "Blast it, another one lost to the bewildering guiles of an older woman..."

"Oh, you are cheeky," Fabian said warningly.

"Grouch," she answered back and promptly forgot him as Gideon, backing away, yanked on her hand and spun her out and in.

He saw her laugh, eyes crinkled as she looked over her shoulder into Gideon's face, his brother's arm looped momentarily around her waist and then her hand was in Gideon's other hand as he spun her out again. His tanned hand went to her waist, hers to his broad shoulder, and then they started to pretend like they could dance and managed to fool most others in the process.

Gideon's dimples were showing and the semi-darkness concealed the freckles on his face and the few cinnamon sprinkles on hers, and Godric, thought Fabian, did they make a helluva pair and would she ever make a sister-in-law, if only to see how she and Molly would fare placed together at family functions.

It was a shame they didn't work as a couple. Once or twice they'd tried it, though never seriously since he and Gideon finished school and Marlene started her sixth, but it was hell for all involved, particularly Fabian, and so maybe it was better this way, even if Sirius Black was breaking her heart without even paying attention and even if Gideon kept pinning his dreams on the sleeve of one pretty face or another, especially redheads.

But they sure could look like they knew how to dance.

Hestia, wordlessly, tugged him out to dance and he followed because he knew her that well by now, that with that look in her eye there was no argument.

"Ho, McKinnon," he heard Black say, and then there he was, the bastard, with the devil-may-care glint in his eye.

Gideon, wincing, spun Marlene McKinnon around as the song switched. He tapped her shoulder and told her he'd see her in a bit, and then made a beeline for the fetching blonde in the corner he'd caught a glimpse of when dancing.

She smiled slowly. "Dance with me, Sirius?"

He grinned. "Oh, I don't dance, Mack, but I can pretend." Catching her hands, he pulled her into a mock waltz, dipping her back so that she nearly dropped to the floor. She caught hold around his neck to keep herself from falling, laughing, and set off-balance they stumbled into the Longbottoms, who didn't even notice them. Unconcerned, Black righted himself, adjusting his bow tie and glancing around askance at the wedding guests staring at him out of the corner of his eye and speculating how much he'd had to drink. He waggled his eyebrows at Lily, who was rolling her eyes, and James who was far too distracted admiring her to even notice. "I didn't know you dance," he remarked offhand as they settled into a sort of sway, migrating in a circle.

"I didn't know you don't," she responded drolly, eyeing the multiple and many scrapes on the warm hand enfolding hers.

"Never really learned," he responded easily, grey eyes flickering around the room. At a distance they always looked blue, but up close they were the shade of storm clouds during a soft rain. "Lily-hunting took up all the time at Slughorn's parties."

Marlene laughed. "Not all the time," she chided.

"That so?" he asked, features bemused.

"You climbed right into the fireplace in fourth year to escape Jorkins," she reminded him, looking up to meet his shifting eyes.

"Ah, Bertha," he sighed, grimacing even as he managed to make his voice sound nostalgic.

"You're telling me you don't remember that?" she demanded.

He frowned, shrugging. "Vaguely."

She sighed, amused, leaning closer as the tempo of "Broomdance" picked up. "Sirius, you scorched your bleeding bum and spent a week standing in every class since Pomfrey refused to heal you because of the Bludgeoning incident a week before..."

"She did, didn't she?" he said, smiling to himself. The smile faded as he considered it. "Mother of darkness, that hurt, too... I'd forgotten all about that benostriled nattering onion-peeling gnat- is she here?" he wondered suddenly, lifting his head and rising to his full height to see above the crowd.

"Actually...," Marlene said slyly.

Sirius paled. "You're lying to me," he scolded, eyes fixing firmly on hers.

"No, honestly, she came with Barney Cuffe-"

He let out a stream of very creative curses and seemed poised to bolt off the dance floor and drag her with him. Even Alice Longbottom lifted her head from Frank's shoulder in surprise at his sudden outburst.

"Becalm yourself, man, Lupin hexed her quietly before the wedding itself; she's snoring out by Barnabus' Bluebottle."

He stopped mid-sway. "Remus did?" he commented quietly, flickering his gaze to where the werewolf was tiredly but enthusiastically attempting a waltz with Arabella Figg. The elderly woman's cheeks blushed petal pink. "Sometimes lately I forget why Mooney's a mate of mine and then he goes and does something so beautifully reckless and underhanded without a soul noticing- well, except apparently you," he amended. "Good on you."

She shook her head. "Good on Gideon," she amended, then wrinkled her nose. "I think that came out a bit funny. He saw him. Pure bit of genius on Lupin's part."

"Probably saved Bertha's life," Black mused. "Lily'd have gone absolutely squonkers and brutally slayed her, which might have put a damper on the wedding... Shame..."

"The damper on the wedding or Jorkins' untimely death?"

The song switched. He tried to spin her out and pulled her back in too fast, she crashed into him too quickly and started laughing at once. "Murder. I could do her in, Jorkins," he said dreamily. "Still owe her for the undue injury to my bum."

"Marring perfection and all that?"

He kept a straight face, twitching in his cheekbones reflecting his almost-smile. "You said it, not me."

She detached her hand and adjusted her shoulder strap, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear before she slipped it back to his shoulder. "Poor dear, it's probably still scarred," she said in her perpetually mocking lilt.

He gave her his practiced devilish smile and lowered his head in a way that made his eyes look dark. "Wanna check?"

The drumbeat of the song came rat-a-tatting in and he threw back his head in laughter as the Hobgoblins' "Jump My Fire" hit the chorus and became instantly recognizable, even played by the band James had dubiously hired. "Jump my fire! Share my broom! Though I might not know yah tomorrow afternoon- Douse my light! Let's do-oo this deed, babe you got all the spells I neeee-eee-eee-eeeed! Wah!" They belted the chorus along with most of the wizards their age in the room, jumping up and down; Sirius landed on her foot but neither really noticed.

When it settled to the calmer "Shabaam, Shaboom," of their parents' generation, Sirius was still laughing, that clear barking sound that cut through all other noise. "Sweet Salazaar," he muttered, "the Hobgoblins. You know," he added off-hand, "I have been compared to Stubby Boardman."

She stared at him, aghast. "Favorably?"

He glanced down in a defensive look as she started to shake with laughter. "Do we need to stop dancing?" he asked when it became clear she wasn't making a very good recovery and seemed to be having difficulty breathing.

"Sorry," she sputtered, "picturing you singing Make Magic With Me and M-my Mantico-" she couldn't finish, dissolving into giggles again.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I like the Manticore song..." His scanning of the crowd brought a glare to his eye. "Oops, McKinnon, straighten up, I think Prewett thinks I'm making you cry."

"Making me- cripes, Black, when do I cr-"

"When we lost to Ravenclaw, when you thought you flunked the Transfiguration final and then when you found out you'd flopped it-"

Her eyes blazed but at least she wasn't nearly doubled over. "Fourth year!"

He paused thoughtfully, eyes drifting over to James and Lily. "I suppose that does seem a long time ago... and somehow..."

"Yesterday was forever ago and forever ago was yesterday," she said wryly.

"He's coming to steal you back," Sirius said in a mock-mournful tone, steering her left so she could see Gideon gently elbowing Dirk Cresswell aside to pass through the crowd before getting stalled by the passage of the frenetic dancing, if one could call it that, of James Potter. "Shall I hide you?"

"Mmm. I wouldn't worry, some girl'll be glad to console you when my radiant presence departs..."

"C'mon," he said cheerfully. "Dancing with Prewett can't be half so interesting."

"Which one?"

"Smartass."

"Takes one-"

"Heard it. Prewett's conversation surely is, comparatively, lacking..."

She winked. "Unless of course you're the subject matter."

He ran a hand rakishly through his dark hair. "Naturally... am I the subject matter?" he asked with idle curiosity.

"Godric, yes, he's deathly jealous of your scarred arse..."

"He doesn't like me," Black sang out, "even if he likes my arse, which in consideration of that sentence is far too terrifying a concept to even consider..."

She bit her lip in pretend consideration, tilting her head. "Well, he does have a running pool on when you're going to crash your motorbike..."

"No, Lily started that..."

"Evans did?"

"I beg your pardon, you mean Mrs. James Potter," said Sirius formally, then shivered slightly in sheer surprise.

Marlene blinked as well, thrown off by the reality of that, then brushed it off with, "He blames you for losing him that last Cup, what with getting yourself and Potter hauled into detention..."

"That was a trip," he murmured, eyes fogging over with memories of mischief. "Besides Prewett's one of those old Gryffindor families-"

"Like the Potters and McKinnons?" she asked in exasperation. She leaned back as if to study him, still swaying, and concluded, "Your hair bothers him."

"My hair?" he repeated, grinning.

"You have very nice hair."

"I know I have very nice hair..."

"Yes," Gideon Prewett interceded dryly from over Sirius' shoulder, "everyone in the room is aware that Sirius Black has very nice hair. I would like to add that Gideon Prewett also happens to have reasonably attractive hair which thankfully does not stick up-"

"Oi!" objected Potter, swinging by close enough to hear the jibe for his benefit. He stopped in mid-step, Lily halting abruptly with him and from the shade of her face, matching perfectly with her hair, seemed on the brink of strangling him.

"Even if it does not swing gracefully into my eyes with magical shine-"

"Oi, I do not use-" Sirius' hand slid off of Marlene's waist and with a faint sigh she stepped away, smile leaping to her face. "James, tell Prewett I don't enchant my hair!"

James thought about this. "Do you enchant your hair?"

Sirius, affecting a show of being crushed by this lack of support, waved his hand dismissively at Gideon, hanging his head. "Go off and discuss my bum or something, I was pretending to dance here."

The twin's mouth parted slightly as he mulled that one over.

"Pretend to dance with me for awhile, Sirius, James is crippling me," Lily suggested winningly, wincing as she remained on her feet.

"It's true," James said, with a shrug and surprise written on his face for being unable to come up with a veritable objection. "How many times have I stepped on your dress now, Lily-love?"

Her face quirked at the appellation. "I have it at six."

James' face contorted in disappointed disbelief. "I had it at four!"

"You came so close to falling into the pumpkin punch that last time, too," Sirius threw in gleefully.

Gideon mouthed swiftly at Marlene, Flee. We must escape or... She couldn't figure out what he was mouthing after that, but it seemed to involve Sirius and the gist was not polite.

Sirius didn't notice as she wryly spun off with Gideon, who was in fact now making inquiries about what was possibly so interesting about Black's bum, flinty eyes studying her features.

Fabian didn't see her leave that night, though he made his farewells to Gideon later, and even to Sirius at the end of the night, after relieving the young man from his mistaken impression that he was Gideon, although his hair was darker red and his eyes lighter brown and no one else he knew seemed to have trouble distinguishing them. Gideon'd mention her occasionally, and the Order business they were up to, and something about her having drinks with Sirius Black every couple weeks when Black wasn't busy, which apparently wasn't very often.

He stopped by St. Mungo's in early August to swing by an advance birthday present, a few books on Quidditch he knew she'd like and a sweater with a big Quaffle on it his sister had meant for him but which despite his best Engorging efforts remained too small and most importantly a package from Honeydukes, chocolates with hints of various fruit flavors, caramels and cinnamon sweets.

She'd lost weight and her face was sharply angular, cheekbones visible for the first time in all that he'd known her under the usual curve of her cheek. She was paper pale and her faint freckles glowed rosy orange on her cheeks.

"Hullo," she said with a smile and hugged him, and he hullo'd her back, and he thought later he'd made an insipid comment on her lime green robes and she'd teased him back about the Hit Patrol uniform and they'd exchanged their concerns about friends. Instinctively he'd looked her over for injuries, the way he always did with Gideon now, because Hit Patrol was dangerous enough, the operations of the Order of the Phoenix at night were something else, but realized this was silly, as she was, after all, a Healer first and foremost.

She had to run, she explained rather unapologetically, had to go back to work, but kiss kiss, best to Hestia and Molly and her brood ("and mind tell her congratulations though I'm tempted to send condolences, twins can you imagine, ye gods, and after puttin' up with you two") and all of that and she was sorry because she really wouldn't mind letting him buy her dinner.

She told him good-bye and followed her call off, then came running back with tickets to a Kestrels-Magpies game she hoped he could use because she couldn't. She'd been serving as a mediwitch for as many games as possible, to stay close to the sport, but lately, lately... She sighed, shook it off, and ran off again.

"And you'd better back the Kestrels, Prewett!"

She was nineteen and she was in the Order, more involved than her cousin Mairghread who Fabian'd taken to Hogsmeade once and called Meggie, or her married brother Mark who everyone called The Mick with a couple little ones and certainly more than her pretty second year sister Kerry with a crush on Sirius Black, that boy with the motorbike who'd drop by every month or so.

A day and night after it happened, he heard from Hestia as she shook him awake while he slept through the day in preparation for a night shift, rushing in with cheeks pink from the wintry air, furious. "You bastard, Fabian Prewett, why didn't you tell me about the McKinnons?"

He knew then, heart sinking in his chest, but he fought it as he rubbed his eyes. "What's wrong with them?"

She paused and her hand went to his cheek, her hand still cold from the November outdoors, but his hand rose to cup it and keep it there. "Oh Fab," she said after a long moment. "Gideon didn't..."

"They're purebloods," he said disbelievingly, shaking himself awake. "They're-"

"Dead," she said, tears wet and cold on her cheeks. "It'll be in the paper today, I heard it from Bertha Jorkins, of all the blasted- Fabian don't look like that, don't, you can't go out and murder the lot of the Death Eaters yourself-"

"Gideon probably thinks he can," he said hoarsely. "Is- is-" he began, a note of faint hope in his voice.

"Marlene too," she said softly, and leaned up and kissed him fiercely. "Go find him but be careful," she said breathlessly, because she knew Gideon came first, even though she wanted nothing more than for him to hold her and to cry and for him to promise it wouldn't be them next, that it wouldn't be them.

He swept out the door without his jacket, black robes swishing behind him as he Disapparated on the doorstep.

When he found Gideon at last, his brother was wrecked, on his fourth Firewhiskey. He recognized Fabian's approach, speaking to him before he even reached him.

"Moody and Dumbledore told me to sleep," he offered grimly. "Nothing to do. Others are on it now. Lupin and Meadowes from our lot and of course, all the Aurors... it's Dark Wizards so Hit Patrol Members can't officially involve themselves in business they didn't get the O.W.L. scores high enough for. And I'm told I'll get myself killed if I go out in this condition, same to Lily Evans. She nearly spit when they told her that..."

Fabian felt like retching.

"You'll be glad to know her body's alright, no dealing with Inferi or anything..." Gideon's sarcastic tone broke and a sob cracked through his throat.

Fabian stared at the ground, still in shock, finally managing to sputter out, "Was she- did she suffer?"

"No, no. She was too good of a witch for that, apparently she... wasn't tortured. Did she suffer?" he asked, eyes red and hard. "They got her last after everyone of her fami- afte-"

Anyone who knew Marlene McKinnon at all knew about her family, that she talked about all the time. Everyone knew a McKinnon or was related to one. Nothing and no one came before her family, not even Quidditch, and she loved Quidditch.

"The Blasting Curse was used on The Mick," Gideon said flatly, dark eyes gazing off as he braced his elbows on the bar of the Hog's Head, unaware of the intent audience of the bartender and his fellow drinkers. The McKinnons had been well-liked. "Her... by the time they got her she was running ... the Aurors who cast the spells to see what happened, them that see into the past, they tell me they hit them while they were sleeping, these masked men... and Marlene had the attic, because she liked being so high, she liked...." Gideon cracked and his head drooped, and he swigged down the bottle of firewhiskey before continuing. "The stars, y'know. Always..."

Eyes swimming and head spinning, Fabian lightly pressed a hand to his brother's shoulder, but Gideon violently shrugged him off. "They found her on the hill," he whispered. "Trying to get out of the range of the anti-Disapparition wards..."

It was a rolling green hill by her house, heading into the woods, with bushes with brambles that could easily catch on robes.

"Runnin' and carrying her little niece they tell me, told me she might have made it if not for the weight... Well, they got lucky and one of 'em hit her from behind with the Killing Curse and then they finished the kid too." He pointed his index finger like a wand and mimed firing, a low chuckle of pain that looked like it hurt to let out and that caused a wave of shock to ripple across his face. "Well I've told you," he managed, a faint gasp coming from his throat. "Supposed to- tell-" His hand swept out, knocking the firewhiskey down, the bottle breaking on the bar

He buried his face in his big hands, light reddish hair covering them like a thin shroud. "Take me home, Fab, I wanna go home..." he spoke through them, voice muffled and barely audible.

Fabian took him to Molly's, stumbling in the door with him and frightening their sister and nephews.

"Uncle Gideon, you're crying," said Bill in confusion, becoming even more confused as his Uncle Gideon, flopped limply on the couch, wrapped an arm around him and buried his face in the little boy's shoulder.

She had looked like she was asleep when he saw her, limbs strewn haphazard among the soft high grass she'd laid on in summer and watched the stars. Her face was drawn and unsettled, brown eyes wide and empty as mud, hair spilling like a puddle around her features.

"I'm sorry, Prewett," Moody had told him gruffly, scarred face unreadable, and a dry-eyed, white-faced Potter exchanged with Gideon a look of terrible volumes.

He looked for Sirius Black and Potter told him in a dead voice that the man had taken off on his motorbike when he'd heard for an unknown destination without looking back and when Gideon next saw him he'd shrugged it off but the bark of his laugh bit a little harder.

Lily Potter was out to kill someone, and she and McKinnon had barely tolerated each other through half their school years anyhow.

She was their girl, his girl since she'd waited in the rain to watch Quidditch practices for the team she hadn't made and nattered at him what he was doing wrong, working all summer till she was good and playing Seeker for them when she didn't have the temperament for it, too high-strung and taking everything too personally and knowing always she'd never do as good a job as Potter would if he wanted that position. She was a mocking laughing dancing bitching funny vain little thing and she was probably going to be a very good Healer too but that was all over now, all the notions about what would become of them, the talk of where they'd be in ten, twenty, forty years, love, life, the potential lost in the breath it took for the burst of green light to reach a soul.

She was his friend and she was always supposed to be there.

It punctured the bubble of safety existing in his imagination, that it would always be other people the terrible things happened to, not him, not Fabian, not their family and close close friends. Not the Order.

She was the first death of the Order of the Phoenix and they all knew she would not be the last.

Gideon Prewett thought it nearly criminal life could go on without her, unchanged, and it hurt to laugh and breathe and talk and dance and then it hurt a little less because he was so busy fighting.

He fought for himself and Fabian and Molly and her family, her new family, and all the Order even Sirius Black and some nights for her.

Meanwhile Fabian Prewett, very quietly, joined the Order.