The mutually agreed-on accord was that, to respect the possibility of an attack on Hogwarts, the Order would meet once a week on school grounds under Dumbledore's eye for each side to give the other a rundown on the week's events.

     Gwen, now with no choice but to tag along with the Order's necessities, due to the binding gem that sat atop her ring finger (James had graciously removed the charm after three more burn incidents, and plenty of Gwen's pleas), couldn't say she wasn't strung up at the idea of an attack. So, regretfully, she found herself trailing along behind James, not at all enjoying herself—though it was hard to be upset when she was with James.

     The first meeting—and all meetings thereafter, it was decided—was to be held in a quaint little cottage on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, down at the bottom of the hill nearest the viaduct. It was a rundown brick house, only one room, and barely large enough to hold the selected members of the Order. Hagrid kept muttering about that he might look into asking Dumbledore if he could reside there. Gwen figured it probably used to be some groundskeeper's abode, and she wondered, momentarily, whether she had ever seen a groundskeeper at the castle.

But then Moody was grumbling around for everyone to listen up, and she turned to face the scarred man, her hand slipping into James's for stability.

"It's been two and a half weeks since we were all together," Moody said to the rest of them, both his magical and non-magical eyes skimming over the members before him. He set both his hands on his staff. "We're looking for any sort of updates from our last meeting. Any."

The students—the Birds of Prey, the Order had begun to call them so as to draw suspicion away from them in the case of any information falling into wrong hands—blinked, all sharing a look between the eight of them.

"Um.." Mary swallowed, and she lifted her shoulders. "It's N.E.W.T. season. Marlene and I've spent the last few days in the library."

"Have you heard anything?" Ted asked, curiously, looking between Mary and Marlene. "We're looking for any sort of information. Specifically from any Slytherins."

     "I suppose," began Remus, waving a noncommittal hand, "Snape's been pretty subdued recently. But that might just have to do with Gwen's brilliance against him last semester."

     The witch in question felt her cheeks burn as she met Remus's appraising gaze, and she responded to his nod with a tight-lipped smile. "It was nothing if not illegal."

     "I'll say," muttered Arthur Weasley, shaking his head in disbelief. "Merlin, Graham. I've never had to work so hard than I did to get the Ministry off your back."

     She exhaled a sharp breath, straightening out the front of her robes awkwardly. "Well, thank you for having done. I appreciate not being in Azkaban right about now."

     James hummed his agreement and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him, and he offered Remus a short glare for bringing the incident up.

"So—silence from Snape," recalled Moody, his scarred lips pulling together tightly in a fatal scowl. "Not surprised, on that front. Anything from the others?"

Peter crossed his arms. "Depends on who you qualify as the others."

"We have reason to believe there is at least six Marked in your year," Fabian Prewett explained—or it could have been Gideon, though Gwen was pretty sure she had the differences down by then and could tell them apart. Gideon-but-probably-Fabian raised his hands to count out on his fingers as he listed, "Severus Snape. Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Erasmus Wilkes. Cassilda Selwyn."

Lily raised a hand. "That's five."

Now, Gideon shot Gwen a glance. "That's because the last one is a bit... eh, iffy, and we're still trying to get information."

"Well, who is it?" Marlene asked, crossing her arms. "If we have any reason to believe they've got the Mark, then they probably do, right?"

A silence fell over the crowded cabin and the eight Hogwarts students shifted uncomfortably, suddenly all befallen with the idea that maybe they were being kept in the dark on this final name for good reason.

"Alright, I'll say it," said Moody, looking quite agitated to be doing so. He shifted both his eyes to the students, scanning each of them at a time, lips twisted in a rude grimace. "Now don't let this affect the way you treat 'em, right? Just because we have reason doesn't mean—"

"Oh, could you just say it?" Marlene interrupted, growing impatient.

Ted spread his hands in an open gesture. "Look, it's the O'Brien kid."

     Lily blanched immediately, and she almost lurched forward, but Remus had a hand on her shoulder in a blink. Her eyes darted between the Order members. "Wh—what?"

"Walker?" scoffed Gwen, in complete disbelief, looking furious. "No. No bleeding way, that's ridiculous!"

     "Yeah," said Sirius, who had never so much as said a word to Walker off the Quidditch pitch. He offered Lily a reassuring nod, then returned a glare to the Order. "Where do you lot get off, accusing O'Brien?"

     Moody opened his hands defensively. "We have reason to suspect th—"

     "On what grounds?" Lily demanded, fiercely, glowering at each of the elder members—and Gwen was suddenly immensely glad to not be on the receiving end of one of Lily Evans's patented death glares. "That's insane, you know! Walker's no such thing—!"

     "Look, lassie," scowled Moody, "just because you love a bloke doesn't mean he can't change in the blink of an eye. He's pure-blood, he comes from a family known to support You-Know-Who—"

     "Who?" Peter asked.

     "You-Know-Who," Ted responded.

     "I don't know who," Remus said.

     "No, not you know," Ted clarified, "You-Know-Who."

     James twisted his lips thoughtfully. "But, see, I don't know who, so where does that leave me?"

     "I imagine it could be anyone," Sirius agreed, nodding ponderously. "Certainly, it can't be the name they've given to a murderous, bloodthirsty supremacist whose favourite pastime is hunting Muggleborns. Right, you lot?"

     The rest of the so-called Birds of Prey nodded along.

      Moody grumbled to himself ferociously and hobbled back to a corner, behind Kingsley Shacklebolt, tossing his staff between his hands as a way to relieve his stress. Shacklebolt, wisely sensing this shift in authority, stepped forward and cleared his throat.

     "As Alastor was saying, the O'Brien House is widespread across the European Wizarding World. Most of the locals are known supporters of the Dark Lord, and his uncle Abastrus was one of the first to take the Mark. It's believed that young Walker's father Cyril took it this past summer, and since Walker is of age—"

     "He wouldn't do it," Lily said, immediately, looking quite sure of herself. "I know he wouldn't."

     Moody stepped forward, scowling down at her. "Have you seen his arm in the past six months, girl?"

     She thought on this for a moment, and the answer she received must not have been favourable as she only lowered her head and stepped back into Mary and Marlene. Mary wrapped an arm around Lily comfortingly.

     "Even if his parents've got it," Gwen argued, heatedly, "that doesn't just mean Walker does, too. I mean, he can't have done. He's... he's no Death Eater."

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked grim. "And Severus Snape is?"

"Yes!" every student responded at once, with matching levels of exasperation.

"They come from the same backgrounds," Ted continued, awkwardly, clearly trying to make this easier for the kids to understand. "Snape and O'Brien. Only difference is that Severus's got both his mum and dad. They both have neglectful parents, either way, and it doesn't take much of a push from darkness for someone whose ideologies are already on the brink of shattering. If Walker's dad pressured him into it, or if he stumbled into the wrong crowd over the summer, anything could happen. Point is, most likely, he's past revival."

"That's ridiculous," Lily exclaimed, again, now looking pretty shaken-up. "Walker wouldn't."

"No matter what," Shacklebolt continued in his infuriatingly uniform voice, "this must be a lesson for all of you. We aren't aware of all the people out there that you may be close with who've got the Dark Mark imprinted on their arm. No matter what," he repeated firmly, and he met the eyes of each student, "you must be prepared to fight. They want malice. We must stop them. They want death. We must stop them. They want anyone with a trace of Muggle in their blood to be killed. We must—stop—them."

"Is that understood?" Moody demanded, his magical eye stopping over each of the students, as they had all fallen into a subdued silence.

     "Erm... yeah," Gwen managed, swallowing, as none of her friends offered a response. She felt James squeeze her hand. "I think we've got it down."

          Between the Order's duties, N.E.W.T.s, upcoming graduation, the probability of Walker being a Death Eater, and James's recent proposal, Gwen had a lot on her mind.

She could barely remember Gildeory's name when he popped by and gave her a life update (which ended up being near two hours of him talking about himself, and Gwen wondered how she could ever forget Lockhart).

So she was entirely unprepared to look at the calendar hanging in the Herbology Greenhouse and realize that hers and James's birthdays were so close to coming to pass.

     And along with it—the Quidditch House Cup.

     Gwen had been mindlessly rushing through the motions of being apart of her House's Quidditch team all year, never really immersing herself in any games yet still managing to catch the Snitch every match save one (which Ravenclaw still won, miraculously—Maxwell and Riley had performed marvelously and Ravenclaw ended up besting Slytherin for twenty measly points). Incredibly, Ravenclaw was projected to win the House Cup against Gryffindor in the upcoming match. They were in the lead, after all—having won Slytherin by two-hundred points, Gryffindor would need to beat them, Ravenclaw, by the same or more in order to perform a miracle and win the Cup.

"Look at that," Gwen said to Riley as the two changed into their Quidditch robes in the locker room, "Turns out Wood was always just mental. We didn't need to practice at the arse-crack of dawn every day in order to do well, did we?"

"Well, no," Riley agreed, lacing up her boots, "but I could've told you Grant was mental anyway."

The match was—as always, with the House Cup—spectacularly high in turnout. The stands had to be Transfigured specially by Professor Mcgonagall to fit everyone; not a student was left in the castle by the time the game truly rolled around. The stands were filled to the brim with every House, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw cheering respectably louder than the other two.

The turnout was audible from even the enchanted locker rooms, and Walker had to raise his voice to be heard over it.

"We're on it," he said, looking each of his players in the eye—except for one, as Gwen's gaze was transfixed on the ground and she refused to look up. Walker ignored her. "We lost to them last year, but we've done better than them this term. Fair?"

"We only lost 'cause Gwen fell off her broom," Maxwell pointed out, grunting at a nudge to the gut from Riley.

"He has a point," Lockhart declared, proudly. "When I take over Graham's role as the team's Seeker next year, once she graduates, I swear that I will—"

"You're going to have to hold me back," Gwen told Maxwell, and quite seriously. "I'll off myself before I let Lockhart take over as Seeker."

The match began seamlessly with a beautiful pass from Riley Edwards to one of the team's newest members, August Blinker, who, Gwen had to hand it to him, was absolutely unbeatable with a Quaffle. He'd scored probably seventy percent of Ravenclaw's goals that term; Walker had decided that the kid was going to be the new Jackie.

     At the thought of Walker, though, Gwen found her eyes shifting to her team captain. She thought of the way he maneuvered his broom so that his left sleeve was always tucked nicely over his forearm. She thought of what Moody had said at the meeting, how much evidence they had against Walker, how he and Snape were nearly exactly alike...

But no. She couldn't believe that Walker would ever become a Death—

"Oh fuck's sake!"

     With a heaving grunt, Gwen was struck out of her mind by a rogue Bludger shot at her by Lockhart. He grinned charmingly up at her and was gone before seeing the finger she'd held up for him.

     "Alright, love?" came James's voice, and she looked up; he was hovering directly above Gwen, grinning down at her from betwixt his legs. "Looked like it hurt. Shame you've got such lousy teammates, innit?"

     "Don't get soft on me now, dearest," she called up mockingly, using a hand to block the sun from her eyes, letting her legs dangle off her broomstick. "Just 'cause we're betrothed now doesn't mean we can't have fun, right?"

     "Oh I wholeheartedly agree, my darling."

     Gwen grinned at him impishly. "Then let's."

     Without another word, she dove, straight down—James followed her with barely a second thought. On his better model, he caught up to her in no time, and pressed further onward, shooting her a mischievous look before pulling the tail end up and catapulting himself east.

     "Bugger," Gwen muttered, pulling up too late, chasing James's tail.

     "Oi!" she called up to him, the wind whizzing in her hair and past her ears. "Not turning unfair in your old age, are you, James?"

     "Never," he responded over his shoulder. He feigned a yawn and stretched out cockily on his broom. "I could fall asleep, the pace we're going! Keep up, Gwen, love!"

     "You want trouble?" she challenged, finally urging her broom up just enough to be right next to him, just so she could say, "I want kids now, Jamesie."

     And she was off again—leaving James in the dust, gawking and completely thrown off-guard. He stammered out responses but Gwen was long gone.

     She heard Remus's voice over the stadium, sounding quite proud: "...and another flawless goal from Black evens out the score to be eighty-eighty. Merlin, this is the longest game we've gone without a penalty from either side—"

     Hm. Gwen had forgotten all about the match, truth be told, lost in her own little world with James. She suddenly began surveying the arena for any sign of the little golden sphere, when her glare narrowed hardly on James, diving ferociously towards the bottom corner of the Hufflepuff stands.

Gwen wasted no time before chasing straight after him, cursing herself for the precious seconds she'd squandered, and pressing her broom harder than she ever had before. It was a good broom; a broom that read her well and responded better than anything she'd ever ridden before. She reached James's side in no time.

"Better not be another Wronski," she managed to threaten without looking at him. "I'll call off the engagement."

"Dead ahead," he told her, voice straining with effort. "Use your eyes, love."

She caught sight of a golden spindle in the distance, and a surge of energy rushed through her. She would catch this Snitch; she had to beat James, she had to. It was her last year. Ravenclaw needed to win the Cup even if she died trying.

Rules be damned, she decided, and reached out with her arm closest to James to try and push him off. He reacted well and nudged at her, equally, both of them now reaching with their other arm for the Snitch. They fought against the wind and each other across the entire pitch, toes skimming the ground with how close they were to touching down, neither of them ready to let up and give in.

     "If you let go of me now," she said suddenly, "I'll give you the best shag of your life."

     Miraculously, it worked. James's grip on her let up and she was finally free, finally able to extend her arm and grasp the Snitch—

     Something pushed her back. There was a kerfuffle of red and blue fabrics, Gwen felt a weight on her shoulders as if she was acting as a kickoff, and her vision cleared suddenly to see James way ahead of her, the Snitch already in his greedy clutches.

     "No way," she demanded, furiously, breathless as they both touched down and caught their brooms. The roar of the crowd was bugger all to her. "You pushed off of me? I ought to—"

     He was laughing, holding the Snitch above her reach. "You were in the way, and I needed momentum. Two Griffons, one stone, yeah?"

     "Potter, you cheat!"

     "Don't whinge 'cause you lost," he told her, as the scarlet crowd finally broke through the pitch and flooded the field. "Be grateful I let you keep your pride!"

     "You prick!" she shrieked, though her voice was drowned out by the ferocious applause and cheers and chanting of James's name as the Gryffindor crowd hoisted him onto their shoulders.

     Even from above the sea of red, when everyone was cheering his name, James still managed to find Gwen's eyes and mouth to her I love you before he was whisked away to celebrate his team's victory.

                                    It ended up being quite the bash—not only to commemorate Gryffindor House's most recent triumph over the contested battle of the Ravenclaw match, but also to observe James and Gwen's respective upcoming birthdays.

     Sirius had found Gwen before she'd retired to Ravenclaw's locker room and informed her of the party, all the while grinning and barely able to quit giggling (Gwen figured he may have started celebrating a bit early). He welcomed the rest of the Ravenclaw House, as well, and soon the Gryffindor common room was, yet again, filled to the brim with activities.

     Everywhere Gwen looked, something new was happening. When she'd first thought Emmeline was manning the drinks station, she soon second-guessed herself when she saw her, Emmeline, dancing on the spiral staircase only a moment later with Preston Fawley, though again she saw Emmeline in the corner with Riley at some point in the night. Whether Gwen's sense of time had been muffed or if Emmeline was truly in three places at once, Gwen was unawares, and she soon drowned herself in too much Firewhiskey to care.

     For some reason, Gwen thought she wouldn't have been celebrated in such a vigorous, lively manner if she hadn't've lost the Cup to Gryffindor. If Ravenclaw had won, she wondered, would the Gryffindors still be as hospitable? Or did they just have a fancy for Gwen 'cause she was snogging Potter?

     Either way, she and her soon-to-be husband were at the center of the party at nearly all times. Cheers rang out for each of them and their futures, for their wedding. Sirius demanded he get Maid of Honour, and Remus said it's alright if Peter gets Best Man, as long as he himself gets to officiate.

     "Are you an ordained minister, Remus?" Gwen had asked. Then she turned to Sirius. "And you hated me for a year. Why d'you get to be my Maid of Honour?"

     "Because I'm made of honour," Sirius argued, emphasizing the pun horrendously in front of the crowd.

     "Actually," Peter cut in, on a second thought, "I think I'd rather be godfather than Best Man. Can I arrange that?"

     "I want to be godfather," said Sirius suddenly. "Wait, I didn't know that was on the table—!"

     As the three other Marauders began to bicker humorously inside the crowd, James slid an arm around Gwen's waist and turned his lips to her ear. "This is the family you're marrying into. You still sure it's a yes?"

     She smiled to herself, her hand settling onto his chest. "Of course I'm sure. They're not the worst of it."

     Somewhere in the crowd, a blinding white flash went off, the wizard photo capturing Gwen and James in their own universe amongst the sea of reds and blues, lost in each other and unaware of the rest of the world. It wasn't until later, that the photo was developed, that Jack Gregorivitch would offer Gwen a copy, and it would soon become one of her most prized possessions.

     James pressed a kiss to her forehead, then pulled away suddenly, regarding Gwen through narrowed eyes. "And about this 'I want kids right now' business?"

     Gwen laughed, patting his chest soothingly. "It's easy to make you sweat, Potter."

via speaks!
walkerr what happeneduhh😢 anyways just realized that moody canonically does not have his magical eye at this point in time so we will therefore gloss over that fact 💆‍♀️
also!!! congrats to all my fellow gryffindors for winning the 1977-1978 house cup >:3