Marlene Lupin is plotting her revenge (on_the_wall) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-03-08 14:05:00 |
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Marlene hadn't recognised the owl. That alone was enough to make her nervous -- she'd been rather outspoken the last few days on the journals, and there was always the chance that the material they'd covered on the radio (and the way in which it was broadcast) would be enough to tip someone off as to who they were, even despite the voice-changing potion. She'd been staring at the package on her desk for nearly ten minutes, wondering if she should wait until Remus got back to open it. And then she realised she was being paranoid. She couldn't spend the rest of her life afraid to open every single piece of mail she'd come to receive. There were a million people it could have been from -- an Order member using an unmarked owl, Riley writing from her brother's house, someone wanting to enquire about purchasing her parents' house. The container wasn't dripping blood from the corners, as seemed to be the case when they'd receive Greyback's fun little tokens of affection. It was probably nothing. Shaking her head, annoyed with her paranoia, Marlene tapped her wand on the package, letting the box unfold itself. It was a vase. A normal, unassuming (however expensive-looking) vase with a black ribbon tied around it. For most people, this wouldn't have raised suspicion in the slightest. For Marlene, however, vases were special. She felt all the colour drain from her face, a wrenching chill of fear and anger washing over her. Marius. It was from Marius Lestrange. Her hand moved up to the side of her face, her fingers grazing the few small scars that had been left over from when he'd smashed her in the face with a vase during the July attack, ones that had been too deep to ever properly heal. She felt frozen in her spot, not quite sure of what to do. It seemed ridiculous to journal the Order over something like this when they currently had bigger problems. How would that look if it turned out to be nothing but Marius's typical douchebagginess? -- "Private to the Order: Marius Lestrange is sending me pottery; what's our next move?" But what if it wasn't just a vase? What if it was a portkey, or there was some sort of poison emanating from it (the vase reeked of something burning), or there was a bomb inside? And even if it was just a vase, why was he sending her one NOW? "Accio blanket," Marlene whispered quietly, pointing her wand toward one of the beds, calling a spare flannel blanket to her. Covering her hands with the fabric (to prevent her from getting whisked away out of the school if it was a portkey), Marlene lifted the vase from the desk into her arms and began to walk toward the doorway. There were a couple of Order members staying at the school, and if all else failed, Marlene could find Professor Dumbledore. She wanted someone there when she started investigating it, just in case. The vase was much heavier than an empty jar should have been, though, and as she began to move toward the door, she heard the sound of metal clinking against glass inside of the sculpture. After trying to peek into the dark opening, unable to see anything, Marlene's curiosity got the better of her. Her stomach twisting up nervously, she she cleared off the desk she'd been sitting at moments earlier and tilted the open end toward the surface, wanting to know what the hell it was that Marius had put in there. She was met by a shower of small bone fragments and ashes. Marlene's eyes went wide with shock, nearly losing her grip on the vase and a startled cry sticking in her throat, unable to get out. She turned the vase completely on its head now, the rest of its contents spilling out atop the table: more tiny pieces of bone, the remainder of the flood of ashes, and a small round wedding ring that toppled out of the vase and continued to roll across the table on its side until finally settling, coming to a rest in the pile of burned debris. Marlene couldn't move. Someone had stopped time. They'd left the universe frozen in this moment, reliving the same second over and over again. She felt as though she was on fire. Furious tears burned behind her eyes; her lungs burned for air, but she couldn't make herself breathe. This couldn't be happening. There'd been something in the vase, something else, something that wasn't all that was left of Remus. She was halucinating. That's what it was; it was making her see things, because this was not allowed to be real. She set the vase down on the desk in a daze, the blanket she'd been holding onto it with falling forgotten into a flannel pool of fabric on the floor. She turned to look at the bedroom doorway as if expecting Remus and the guys to come bounding in, laughing and declaring that it had all been a disgustingly unfunny joke. But they wouldn't do that, especially not Remus. Not to her, not after everything, but Marlene wished more than anything that their collective sense of humour really was that sick. The door didn't open. Hand shaking, she reached for the ring amidst the ashes, the nearly-inaudible whimper that escaped from the back of her throat as her fingers wrapped around it the only noise in the otherwise silent room. The inscription was the same, the tiny marks on the band were the same, everything was the same. It was real. All of this was real. Most people didn't even know they were married and Marius Lestrange had just sent her the last remnants of her husband. She wasn't sure when she'd started smashing the vase down onto the surface of the ash-covered desk, again and again and again, shards of shattered glass flying across the room and into her hair and cutting up her hands. She wasn't sure when she started screaming, or when the tears had started rolling down her face. It wasn't because it hurt. She didn't feel a thing. And if Marlene had anything to say about it? Soon, neither would Marius. |