Who: Marlene McKinnon and Sirius Black When: Saturday afternoon Where: Sirius’ cottage (#22) What: Walburga’s welcoming party.
Bang-bang-bang.
“Oi, Sirius—” Marlene half-shouted, leaning her shoulder against the front door, “—it’s me, Marlene. Open up, would you? I think I broke my bloody toe on your door.” She’d gone ahead and cast several featherweight charms on her load, but it was still awkward as hell to carry. Unfortunately, that left her somewhat handless.
Truth be told, she was a little nervous about seeing Sirius again. It had been the same when she’d seen her other friends, but it didn’t seem to get any easier. There was the obligatory look of disbelief, the relief once it sunk it, the hug and pleased grins. Marlene understood it; she had been among the first to die in their group of friends. But that also meant that she hadn’t been around for their deaths. Seeing them again was as normal as flooing into HQ for an Order meeting or apparating to the pub for a drink. They had mourned her death, and she couldn’t quite wrap her head around that.
She pushed the thoughts out of her head. Sirius was the one having a bad day — not her. And really, going by his monosyllabic replies, it was a bit more than just a 'bad day'.