ᴅɪsᴘᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅᴏᴍ | ᴍᴀʀᴀᴅᴇᴜʀs' ᴇʀᴀ

Chapter 61: Comeback

Hogwarts, Gryffindor common room

Two-thirds of the school did not return from the Easter holidays. The castle was empty, lonely, not yet warmed up by the spring sun. The empty armors in the hall lost all desire to tease the students. Peeves stopped howling under the ceiling and throwing ink at the students; even Filch lost the lion's share of his disgusting character.

Hogwarts looked like a half-abandoned fortress with its oldest natives. Only small groups of students illuminated its vaults. Here and there, one could see couples whispering about love, hear muffled conversations of boys who did not want to be in bed after the curfew; even Quidditch teams came out to their training.

They allowed nobody to visit Hogsmeade, but some brave souls sneaked in and then rivers of butterbeer at once gladdened tired students hovering over the heavy volumes of old books.

Suicides and bad mood faded away. Someone believed they excluded the culprit in the general wave of those who left school before the Easter holidays. Some assumed that even if the culprit was still in school, there were too few people left at Hogwarts, and continuing to act would mean a big risk of exposure.

Step by step, students were caught up in a familiar routine, recalling that besides war, something more inevitable and no less awful was coming — final exams. There was only a month left. And as strange as it was, the war began to seem like an everyday nightmare, but the exams were a dark horse.

Marlene was reclining on the couch, spilling light hair on a rounded velvet armrest. She threw back her long legs in ripped jeans and blew smoke rings to the ceiling, holding a bottle of butterbeer. The world around was so slow, and the flame in the fireplace was so gentle that Marlene dozed off.

Her fingers began to unclench, a cigarette approached the upholstery of the sofa. The bottle was slipping out of her fingers.

Then a figure blocked the light from the fire, Marlene started and woke up. Opened her eyes, noting the familiar silhouette.

"Sirius."

"Excuse me, honey," he said almost like a grandmother, "but seeing you in such a state is beyond me."

McKinnon was about to rebel before he snatched the tilting cigarette and a half-empty bottle from her hands. The girl sat down and glared at Sirius. He only laughed in response, dragging on a cigarette.

"Give it back."

He leaned close to her. "You think it makes you look cooler?"

Marlene snorted and pulled away.

"No, baby," he collapsed onto the sofa next to her, taking her slender legs and laying them on his knees. "You look like a cheap whore, that's all."

"Burn in hell, Black," Marlene yanked her legs away from him. "I just want to relax."

"Well, eat the cake. Read a book. Go fly on a broomstick. Find yourself a man, after all."

"Sirius Black is lecturing me about a healthy lifestyle?" Marlene sarcastically raised an eyebrow.

Padfoot squinted at her, smiled, letting Marlene notice something she had never seen before—Sirius Black matured.

"Listen, Marls," he inhaled and threw the cigarette butt into the fireplace. "I smoke because I like to. I drink firewhiskey because I like its taste. Sometimes I smoke weed because I like the sensations. But I don't do all this for show. I do what I want and, by the way, I don't think it's right. If I had children, I would've spanked them for that just so they understand what is good for them and what's not. But you... You're trying to pretend to be someone else. There's a difference, isn't, Marls?"