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fifteen, ࿐ summer's demise
STEVIE TURNED TWENTY as summer dawned, spring eclipsing into memory, the season of heartache and strife among blooming flowers long gone. She'd spent two decades, living and breathing, flesh and bone, yet had never felt a love that had swelled her heart so, until she met Marlene nearly a year ago.
It was only fitting that they spent the day by the sea in Cornwall, in a haze of summer daydreams and lovesick whispers. They had just bought their first home together after two months of looking, and it was nothing but perfect, a roomy cottage with three rooms, all upstairs with a view of the sea. "We're really going to live here?" Marlene had laughed after the lady who had handed them the keys had left.
The whole house had been decorated with the help of Cordelia, who had been given time off work until she had the baby, and had as a result, gone stir crazy after sitting alone at home with Sirius for just over two weeks. They all laughed about how she still had four and a half months left before the baby was born, and was already fed up.
The sitting room had large windows that opened up to face the sea, as did the kitchen. The cottage was located up on a cliff, and their nearest neighbors were a five minute walk down Coral Lane. They were the last house before the steps down to the beach, and the quiet after living in cramped muggle London was bliss. They'd done the walls with pretty floral wallpaper, and the couches were a soft green, covered in cream and floral cushions. There were flowers everywhere, in porcelain and glass vases, hydrangeas, peonies, roses, sunflowers, and lavender.
The kitchen was full of mismatched chinaware, and the table and chairs squished into the dining room were equally mismatched, all found from scouring antique shops. It was bliss, their room spacious enough to accommodate an enormous bed, and still have enough floor space to dance to their favorite records. They no longer had to worry about noise, and could blast ABBA as loud as their heart pleased.
Stevie's favorite place was perhaps the bathroom attached to their room. It had a vintage claw tub, a large mahogany wardrobe, and pink and white tiles. It had one of the biggest windows in the house, covered by gauzy lace curtains, and if she looked out, she could see the garden and feel tendrils of sea breeze tickling her cheeks.
They celebrated Stevie's birthday with all their friends, ten days late on the summer solstice, in their new garden, fresh grass tickling the soles of their bare feet as they swayed in the breeze to their favorite music, drunk on wine and joy. Cordelia had baked Stevie a massive chocolate cake with buttercream frosting, and hours after everyone had left, Stevie and Marlene had apparated to Diagon Alley in the wee hours of the morning in search of one of the only magical tattoo shops in Britain, which was open at all hours.
They'd each gotten a small compass tattooed below their heart, the direction never pointing North, but towards one another. They were drunk on love and joy, steeped in summer daydreams. Death-Eater activity had slowed, or they just weren't being called into missions as frequently.
Mary had traveled to America to visit cousins in New York City, and had returned with a blush to her cheek's and a new pen-pal, a friend of her cousin named Winston, who she was absolutely enamored with. Lily and James were just spending time together, and he was trying to teach her to play Quidditch with the local league. Remus came by every now and then for tea or coffee. He was brighter out here. Happier, the sea breeze dulling the pain he felt after transformations. Marlene had dragged him and the rest of the Marauders out to the magical tattoo shop one evening, and they'd all returned with the phases of the moon tattooed on their ribs, to track Remus's transformations.
Marlene had developed a slight addiction to magical tattoos, and had gotten a half dozen by the time August rolled around. Stevie loved them, loved to kiss them very gently when they laid under the cotton sheets at night. Marlene suited them very well, rolling a cigarette between her fingers as she sipped her coffee and read the paper every morning, dressed only in a silk slip and men's shirt that barely fell halfway down her thighs.
Time seemed to slow where they were, trapped in an effervescent bubble of exhilarating joy. Summer was always blissful. To Stevie, Marlene was summer, a bubble of joy trapped in beauty.
Rosie had been joined by another cat named Ziggy, who was a kitten that had been adopted by Marlene and Stevie after he followed them home from the market. Ziggy was a small black cat who took a liking to Marlene. Stevie was a little withdrawn that summer, and every time Marlene closed her eyes, she imagined what horrors Stevie must have witnessed when she had helped clean up the explosion in Diagon Alley. So many had died.
Stevie had found the bodies of a whole family, crushed by rubble. She didn't like to talk about it, and hadn't mentioned it since she broke down in hysterical tears a few days after it happened. If the sea was magical for them, their work seemed to grow mundane the colder it got, frigid winds and fog shrouding their haven, windows filled with light pressing against the dreary gray of the sky from the outside view.
Marlene fell to her knee that September, and peered up at Stevie from behind dark lashes, producing a small velvet box. They needed this, needed the light of a promise as darkness threatened to swallow them whole. It was romantic, all of Stevie's favorite foods set up for a cliffside picnic, looking out at the sea.
Stevie hadn't been looking, rifling through the basket in search of another bottle of wine, and when she looked up, there she was, the love of her life on one knee holding a pearl and sapphire ring.
"Stevie Monroe, will you marry me?"
There really was only one answer she could respond with. One year together might seem short but it was one year shorter of a life spent together in a world descending into chaos.
