Skipping time (Wolfstar au)

2.

And it is.

Sirius and Remus don't make contact with the outside world for a few days. The first night was somewhat of an anomaly for Remus, a passing euphoria and now, the nightmares are back again, Fenrir Greyback pushing him towards a child's bedroom, wolves slashing at each other in the dark, and that same one, Sirius' lifeless face, over and over again. They don't leave the house, and Sirius just holds him for hours, and Remus relaxes in his soft grip and safe scent. The mornings are the same, soft, almost otherworldly for Sirius, and the days, they just seem to pass with memories and stories and ignoring the war, for the moment. It's not like the first day, perfect, almost ethereal, but he loves it.

There's a ring at the doorbell this morning, maybe 3 days after Remus got back. He doesn't know, time's been kinda funny since then.

He stumbles to the door shirtless. It's 5 am. Who would ring his doorbell at 5 in the morning?

It's James, obviously.

"Hey, Pads."

He strides in, pulling Sirius into a tight hug, almost choking him, and he responds with equal vigour.

"Hey. Wanna come in?"

James nods, shutting the door behind him. They head to the kitchen, taking their battered seats at the table, with mugs of coffee in their hands. Sirius doesn't remember making any, so it must've been James.

He laughs, picking up a corner of the tablecloth.

"Still using this old thing?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

They both laugh, and he looks at James in curiosity. He seems too... buoyant, for someone deeply involved in a war.

"Shh, bit quieter." Sirius nods towards the bedroom. "He's sleeping."

James eyes widen in delight.

"Remus? He's here?" His whispers are exaggeratedly excited, and Sirius barely suppresses a laugh.

"Yeah, he's been back, I don't know, 2, 3 days?" James watches Sirius' eyes light up as he talks, and he grins.

"You're so in love it's almost disgusting Pads."

"And you can't say the same for yourself, Prongs?"

"True."

They sit in silence for a few minutes, before James speaks up again.

"Look, what I really wanted to come and say to you was about the war. It's over. But, but..." His voice cracks, and when he speaks again, it's quieter. "Frank and Alice. They're dead. It's they're son, Neville, he survived the Killing Curse, Voldemort's dead."

"No, he's not. He won't be dead. But Frank, Alice. You're certain?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"God."

There's another silence, Sirius just staring at the very ugly tablecloth, this time broken by Remus. His voice is broken with sleep and he wipes a hand across his eyes.

"Siri, you okay? Wait- Prongs?"

"Moony!" James stands up, hugging Remus almost as tight as he hugged Sirius. Even he's at least 4 inches shorter than Remus, who's 6'4.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Um, Frank and Alice, they're dead."

There's a moment of silence again before Remus just says,

"Shit."

He sinks into a chair, head in his hands. "Shit shit shit shit shit. No."

"Their kid though, Neville, he survived the Killing Curse, it rebounded, killed Voldy. He's dead, Remus."

"That wouldn't kill Voldemort. Trust me, I've seen him and it would take more than a Killing Curse to kill him. He's barely human."

"Also, Kingsley. He's not dead but, well, he blew up a street, they say he's the one who betrayed them to Voldemort, he was their secret keeper after all. Killed Benjy Fenwick whilst doing it. He's in Azkaban now, no trial, nothing. There were something like 17 muggle witnesses. Fabian's distraught. Imagine Pads doing something like that."

"He wouldn't. But Kingsley... he was his fucking boyfriend and he just killed Fab's best friend, and other best friends. Shit. This fucking war is so bloody messed up. And I thought I had it bad."

"You did. It's over now though, it's over. And he has Gid, and Molly and Arthur, he'll be okay."

"God, I hope. But will any of us though, honestly?"

~

Marlene stops running, arms by her sides. She's at a house now, the one she spent so many evenings in, laughing and warm. The windows are dark now, cold. Maybe she'll still be in there though? She hopes.

But the lock is rusty as she turns her key in it, the house cold and empty, her footsteps echoing. She heads to the bedroom, and she's not there, she's not there, she's not there.

There's just a jumper slung over the chair and it's cold but it smells like her and all Marlene can do is collapse onto the bed and let the tears come because that's all there is left, if there's not her. 

And it hits her. Dorcas isn't here. And she's not coming back. She doesn't have her to love and to talk to and to find comfort in. She can't listen to her voice anymore and she can't tell her things and she won't see Lily's boy grow up and she won't see the Sagrada Familia finished and Marlene can't breathe.

She's actually gone.

~

But she isn't.

The only problem is that she's alive halfway across the world but Marlene doesn't know that, and she still doesn't know if Marls is dead or not either. What if she is dead, she thinks, as she sits in the port at New York, watching crowds bustle around her? What if she was killed, and Dorcas will never find her? What if she can't be found? She ponders this for a moment, as her boat pulls into port.

The boat stops, and Dorcas picks up her bags, walking up the rickety stairs and onto the almost empty deck. It's a while, half an hour maybe, before the boat starts to sail again, but when it does, she's at the prow. The wind in her hair feels like the first proper release since forever, and she feels free, hopeful. She stays there for a long time, watching the sun sink below the sea and give way to the stars, until a steward comes up to tell her she should get food before the kitchens close.

And she lies in her cabin later, a tiny thing with barely enough space for a bed, and stares still, out of the porthole window.

To hell if she isn't going to try.