𝟬𝟭𝟯. the lovers

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thirteen,࿐  the lovers

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thirteen,
  the lovers





BITTERLY COLD JANUARY gave way to an equally frigid February, March remaining equally freezing, as Stevie and Marlene were left pink cheeked and frozen from head to toe. Stevie's flat was drafty, and they spent long nights and equally long mornings curled up in bed together under layers of thick blankets to try and stir some life into their burnt out, freezing limbs.

"Were you up all night?" Stevie asked, planting a kiss on Marlene's cheek as the blonde sat poring over files at the kitchen table. She bustled around making coffee and toast, setting breakfast for two before taking a seat and opening her copy of the Daily Prophet.

Marlene nodded, letting out an exhausted sigh. "I need to do this research for Dumbledore, and it's not exactly like I can work on top-secret stuff during work."

Stevie let out a hum of agreement. "Looks like You-Know-Who managed to collapse an entire muggle bridge? It's front page."

"Those poor muggles," Marlene mumbled. They were accustomed to tragedy, to loss and longing, bittersweet victories and defeats. That was the nature of a war fought between two sides, one of experienced dark wizards, and the other of mere children, who had grown up in a world hurtling down a destructive path of war and tragedy.

Stevie's hand ghosted the scar that sliced her paper-white skin, splitting her abdomen in half. She had the scars of a hardened soldier at not even 20. She got up, tilting Marlene's head back to examine the gash on her forehead. "I need to change your dressing," Stevie muttered, rustling around in the kitchen drawers for medical supplies. "Or Cordelia is going to kill me-"

"Mmm," Marlene hummed, as Stevie gently changed the dressing on the wound. Wounds made by curses could not be healed by magic, so Cordelia had stitched the wound and instructed Marlene to apply an ointment and change the bandages so it healed with minimal scarring.

Stevie was already dressed for work, dark hair plaited down her back, a few tendrils escaping, swishy navy work robes pulled over slacks and a bottle-green jumper, her boots clunking on the kitchen tile. "What time will you be back?" Marlene asked, standing up and gulping the last of her coffee, setting the mugs and plates in the sink. "I should be done by six."

"Depends, but leave some dinner on the table," Stevie called out, wrapping a scarf around her neck and tossing powder into the fireplace, the flames flickering bright green. She grabbed the last piece of toast, and stepped into the fire. "Love you! See you soon!"

She emerged at the ministry with her toast still held in her mouth, completely intact, and she ate it as she walked towards the elevator, Cordelia holding her hand out so it didn't leave once she spotted Stevie. "It's straight to the meeting room," Cordelia smiled, as Stevie swallowed the last of her toast, nodding. "New case."

"Bad one?" Stevie asked, brushing crumbs off of her robes.

Cordelia shrugged. "Don't know."

Mad-Eye greeted them, standing in the doorway. "That's the last of you," he stated, shutting the door. Stevie and Cordelia scrambled into their seats next to one another, as Kingsley passed around paper files.

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