For the time being, it was decided that the Potter household would simply be placed under an Unplottability Charm, thus removing it plainly from maps and the like. Nobody of any importance knew where the Potters lived, anyway, so it was not yet put into place that a Fidelius Charm need be used. For now, Unplottable land would do, and very harsh rules in place so that the concealment would not give.

     Limited leaving. Limited guests. Limited parties.

     A suddenly limited life.

Of course, Gwen had not truly expected it to be all that glorious; her son was—most likely, at least—being hunted by the Dark Lord himself, and there was no possible way of knowing whether safe was truly safe. A dull life would be necessary to keep up the sanctity, of course.

Dull, however, was putting it lightly.

Within weeks, Gwen and James had bickered enough for a lifetime. Harry, always such a quiet baby, seemed to rightfully grow to hate the fact that he did not see his godfather or any of his aunts and uncles as often as he'd liked—the only times he was not crying was when Sirius was over, or when James was flying him around the living room.

It didn't help, of course, to be so out of the loop with recent happenings: News was nearly impossible to receive unless a visitor dropped by to give the family a nice little rundown of events, and even then, it was rare for them to stay long enough to be able to get everything out. The stress of not knowing was worse than the stress of knowing too much, Gwen decided within an instant.

They adapted to a nicely organized schedule of visits: Sirius every other night, or every, if he could make it—Harry enjoyed his presence the most. Remus tagged along as often as he could, but between each month's full moon and his duties to the Order, he found it difficult to fit in a visit to Godric's Hollow, which he was not faulted for. Peter dropped by unannounced quite often, though mostly around the ends of the weeks, and looking more nervous every time he showed up. Mary and Marlene, too, were sporadic with their visits, though Lily came dutifully every Sunday evening and was perhaps the most tactful at getting Gwen and James up to speed on everything.

By January of 1980, within two months of their hiding, they had already missed quite a bit.

Lily told them—stoically as she could—of the casualties of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and described their downfall as 'heroic, as it took five Death Eaters to take down each of them', though that didn't make the news any easier to digest. She also brought up, on a lighter term, the newest (and, quite possibly, last) addition to the Weasley family—a girl, Ginevra.

"Named, I believe," said Lily, "after you, Gwen."

"Really?" said James, brow furrowed. "But your name isn't—"

"Middle name," said Gwen, touched, a hand on her chest as she blinked back some tears. "Why on earth would they name it after me, do you think? Have I really meant that much to them?"

"And how did I not know your middle name?" demanded James, on a much more outraged note. "You know mine—you make fun of me for it all the bloody time—and this whole time yours is Ginevra?"

Harry and Lily seemed to get on well, and he cried, too, after she left—though perhaps that was only because he had not seen Sirius in a week. He seemed to treat everyone that wasn't his godfather with a cold shoulder and multitude of tears, and even his own parents couldn't hold a candle to great old Padfoot—the cooler version of dad with a leather jacket and a newly purchased (much against the insistence of Remus, Lily, and Gwen of it being a death trap) motor bike, which Harry enjoyed watching from the front window when Sirius skidded to a stop outside their house.

This infatuation was only heightened when Sirius gifted his godson a toy broomstick on which the infant would dart round the kitchen and living room—entire house, really—and nearly demolish everything he encountered—giving his mum a damn near heart attack while he was at it, of course.

"He's inherited my skill on a broom," James had observed one afternoon, as he and Gwen watched Harry zoom from one corner of the room to the other within a blink.

Gwen hit James's shoulder, looking quite disbelieving. "Or mine, prat."

"Or yours," conceded James—though he smirked and shifted a little in his seat, adding, "though should I remind you who it was that won the Cup our year, dearest?"

"Not if you want to have a wife for much longer."

James laughed, which always made Harry laugh, too—so he skidded to a stop on his broomstick and wobbled off, very scarily resembling his godfather hopping off his own motor bike, and toddled over to the couch, collapsing in a fit of giggles as his father caught him.

"He does love you," noted Gwen, beaming. "We should have another, so I can be that one's favourite. Don't you think?"

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard a better idea," said James. He slid his grip around Gwen's waist and tugged her into him; Harry wrestled round in his other arm, laughing.

     "I do quite like this little family business we've got going on," decided Gwen, tilting her head up from James's chest, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you?"

     "Oh, I do," said James fondly, smiling down at her. "I think twenty-one will be our best year yet."

     "Well, considering the ones we've already had," said Gwen thoughtfully, "I think we're off to an alright start."

     "You did hate me, at our fifteen," said James reminiscently. "Merlin knows why, though. Still can't see what I'd done that had your knickers in a twist for so long."

     Harry let out a little laugh once more, and James beamed down at him, impishly.

     "He isn't laughing at the word knickers," said Gwen, frowning. "Not everyone's as immature as you, James, really. And anyway, I did not hate you for no reason—but in any case it went away by our sixteen, didn't it?"

     "And our seventeen was one for the memory books," nodded James, gazing off as though picturing it. "When we first shagged."

     "Is that all you remember?" said Gwen, raising her eyebrows. "Because I remember a lot more—"

     The front door creaked open. Before either half of the Potter couple could even reach for their wand, though, Remus's voice was calling round through the house, and he introduced himself in the same way members of the Order had taken to in order to discredit any intruders under the guise of Polyjuice or Illusionist Charms.

     "Come in, Remus," called Gwen, watching Harry keenly for his reaction to Uncle Moony; she had begun taking bets as to who was his least favourite of the visitors. (Really, a life of confinement grew terribly boring.)

     The lanky figure of Remus ducked into the living room, having long since known his way round the house and been able to make himself at home anyway. He peered down as Harry let out a little sort of gag toward him—Gwen laughed and offered Remus a shrug.

     "S'pose he doesn't fancy you too much," she told him woefully. "Sorry, Remus."

     "Oh, cheers," said Remus, collapsing with groaning huff into the armchair before the fire—unlit, due to the warmth of the July night. "Alright? I haven't been by in—"

     "Cut to it, Remus," said James, looking unamused. "I know you've talked to Dumbledore. Are we allowed out, or not?"

     For a moment, Remus seemed as though he wanted to retort something dreadful; his lips flattened and he glared at James's impatience, but Gwen knew Remus's own appreciation for lack of a sugar-coat would surpass his displeasure at James.

"Yes," he said shortly, and did not let Gwen or James enjoy the fact for long before adding, "but he says only one of you at a time."

"Yeah, 'course," said James. "Suppose one of us's got to watch Harry."

"I'd've thought that obvious," said Gwen, frowning at her husband. "Were you expecting to strap him on your back and fight Death Eaters with a baby attached to you?"

James shrugged dolefully and murmured something of it not being a horrible idea.

It was decided by the end of their impromptu meeting with Remus that Gwen would be the first to leave the house on Order duties; after all, she had been rendered entirely useless whilst pregnant with Harry and had not, in almost two years, been able to fulfill a task—so it was only fair that she would be the first of the couple to make it out of confinement. Of course, James did not let her go easily; he insisted that she communicate via Patronus Charm, and, if anything were to go pear-shaped in any way, she was to come straight home and not try to play hero—and to take his Invisibility Cloak with her for good measure.

"Of course, James," said Gwen, rolling her eyes as she tucked the boundless fabric into her pocket. "Godric, you sound like my mum. I promise I'll be safe," she added, with a kiss to his cheek, "don't worry about me."

She knew, as she boarded a broom and took to the skies with Remus, on her way to fulfill her first Order's task since '79, that James would positively worry about her, no matter if Gwen told him not to. Just as she would have for him—it was their nature to look out for each other. After all, he owned half her heart, and she wasn't intending to get it back any time soon, right?

"Remus," she called, voice carrying on the wind and catching the attention of what had been a brown blur meters ahead of her, "where are we going, anyway?"

Remus tugged his broom back and slowed down, allowing Gwen to catch up. "There've been rumors of an attack near Maccy's place. We're on lookout for now, though it's been weeks since the suggestion surfaced, and nothing's happened since. Doubt you'll get much action tonight, Gwen."

She tried not to feel too bitter—of course it would be better if there were no attack at all, and it would be entirely selfish of her to expect one just for the sake of having something to do. Her first night out of her house in nine months, and she's got to spend twelve hours standing guard outside her mate's house?

Marlene greeted the pair with a welcoming embrace, looking a bit flighty and nervous. Clearly, she had been stuck on the thought of an impending attack ever since the possibility had surfaced.

Remus and Gwen took posts on each corner of the Mckinnons' plot—Gwen, beneath the guise of Invisbility—and, truth be told, she was not sure what she was supposed to be looking out for. Any sign of Death Eaters, she presumed, but she had definitely not had enough experience with Voldemort's followers up-close to be able to draw them out of a crowd. She only half hoped Severus Snape would show his greasy face, or any of those foul gits Gwen had gone to school with—she'd show them they chose the wrong side..

It wasn't until the witching hour that anything remotely intriguing took place, and that was just Remus falling backward off the brick wall he'd accustomed to sitting atop of, landing with a heavy thud that echoed round the whole neighbourhood and was only emphasized when Gwen cackled at his tumble.

Then, just a moment's breath later, Gwen was not laughing anymore—for three men in billowing black cloaks were advancing down the road, and Remus's fall did not seem nearly as funny anymore.

"Moony," she whispered, reaching out to grab his arm. "Moony, who is—"

"Shh," he hissed, and drew his wand, rising from the ground. "Nobody's scheduled to take our positions til morning. I'll run inside and get Marlene—"

"Wouldn't a Patronus be quicker?"

"Yeah, and shoot out a bright blue light to dance round in front of them? Brilliant idea, Gwen, really—"

"Just go," she said, turning back to the Death Eaters as Remus ducked away through the cover of darkness; they were approaching and, Gwen was entirely displeased to see, duplicating; there were now four of them, and one, the furthest front, was undoubtedly the leader of the clan.

James's voice flashed through Gwen's mind, only for a moment, warning her not to play hero, to return home when things grew dire—but she could not leave Remus and Marlene to fend for themselves, not when Marlene's entire family was inside, defenceless and carefree—and the Death Eaters were advancing...

"My Lord," panted one of the wizards near the frontmost one, clearly desperate for his attention: "My Lord, you are sure you aren't being too—too rash, coming here, so soon—?"

"You mistrust my guidance, Travers?" came a refined hiss, and Gwen nearly fell over as everything came together, as she realised that she must be looking at Voldemort himself—

"No, no, not at all, my Lord," said the man, Travers, and he hurried forth to cast a hex on the Mckinnon's house.

Petrificus Totalus, thought Gwen, wand pointed out, and Travers fell, stiff as a board, to the ground.

The rest of them stopped in their tracks.

"Someone is there," said the hissing voice—Voldemort. "Reveal yourself, before I require you."

Gwen burst forth from the cloak at the same time as Remus and Marlene did from the house, and they succeeded in throwing the Death Eaters off-balance; the surprise enabled just enough of them to lower defence for a nearly even duel.

The fight was quick and silent, each side resorting fully to Nonverbals and darting hexes, but, Gwen couldn't help but notice, the spells ricocheting off her shields were of a green light. They were Killing Curses—the Death Eaters had lost all shreds of remorse they may have had, and the thought brought a shiver of fright so terrible that Gwen's shield wavered for a moment.

Voldemort, she noted, was not fighting, had not even drawn his wand—which was, perhaps, the only reason Gwen, Remus, and Marlene were doing so well; his servants were not equipped with the same prowess that the Dark Lord was. Why he wasn't involved, Gwen could not understand; he should have wanted to finish the duel off as quickly as possible, shouldn't he?

"Enough foolish games," said the low, unsettling voice, and Voldemort lazily raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

The spell hit Marlene before her name could even make it past Gwen's lips, and she was down before she could realise what had happened.

Then, Remus was grabbing her, and they turned together on the spot—he was Disapparating, holding Gwen too tight for Apparition, clutching her shoulders as though she could run away from him in the in-between—and in a blink, they were back in Godric's Hollow, back outside that bloody house Gwen was already so sick of... but it wasn't the same one, couldn't be, because Gwen needed to be back with Marlene...

"Remus," she said, and slowly; for some reason, she felt as though everything around her had fallen into some sort of trance; her body could not move at a pace other than a sullen drag, and she could not look Remus in the eye. "We have to.. go back..."

     "Gwen—"

     "She's waiting for us, Remus..."

     "Gwen, she's—"

     But Gwen would not have it. "She's waiting for us, Remus, we've got to go and help Maccy—"

     "Marlene is dead, Gwen," said Remus, taking Gwen by the shoulders, looking quite mad; he seemed to be trying to convince himself of the same fact. "She's gone."

     But she couldn't be. Gwen couldn't believe it. She wouldn't believe it, wouldn't dare think it—it wasn't true.

     And then James was stumbling out of the house in his night robes, clutching Harry, a flustered air surrounding him as he reached the pair; with a glance between them, though, he seemed to understand what it was that had happened—but he couldn't, Gwen thought, he couldn't understand what had happened because nothing had happened—

     "Gwen," said Remus, this time quietly, and he directed her toward James. "You need to get inside. It isn't safe out here."

    But it wouldn't be safe... anywhere, anymore; not without Marlene in the world.

via speaks
rip marlene mckinnon u would have loved sophie thatcher also i totally lied last chapter when i said this would be a fun one i'm so sorry

2 chapters