***

***

     "I'VE BEEN THINKING," says Cassia.

     "You have?" says Daphne.

     Cassia nods.

     "What about?"

     "Our father," says Cassia, pressing her book closed with both hands. Exams were a matter of days away and even if Cassia and Daphne weren't identical twins, the circles beneath their eyes certainly were. While people still revelled in the Weasley twins' incredible exit, it didn't slow down the impending exams that preceded them with each passing day.

     Daphne takes a pause, inhaling a long breath. "So have I. I... I've tried not to, but I can't get it off of my mind. For the most part... I don't think father even knows that we do. And... honestly... I don't know what to think of him anymore."

     "Theo said..." Cassia begins, "That he doesn't think our father is bad in all of this. With all that Theo's been through, he sees that father is just... he thinks he's doing this to protect us, Tori, Mum... and with what Tori had told us when she came back from the holidays, I dunno... maybe we shouldn't jump to conclusions about this. Or maybe that's just me wanting to make good on my deal with Theo."

     "You two have a deal?"

     Cassia nods, internally rolling her eyes. "A deal to keep hope on both ends of our lives for everything that's been going on. And also for him to stop being rude to others."

     "Well, he does seem to be making good on his end for that," Daphne agrees, "He's not been necessarily nice. But... nicer." She purses her lips. "But with the stuff Tori said too... I guess I agree. Father might not be the bad guy in all of this."

     "Do you think Mother knows?"

     "I don't know..." Daphne bites her lip, "And if she does... she'd be doing a ruddy good job of hiding that she does."

     "I hate this." Cassia groans. "Father doesn't even—he's been keeping this for so long. And we have to keep that we know too. I just—I just want to talk to him."

     "Me too." says Daphne, rubbing a hand across her face. "Honestly... me too."

"If anything," Cassia lets a slight grin crawl across her face. "Tori said that Father was still wearing his typical scarf. That gives way for some hope."

"Thank god," Daphne laughs with overemphasised relief, "He practically sleeps with that thing. If he stopped wearing that, then it's the endgame."

Cassia laughs, her hair shaking below her shoulder. She purses her lips.

"Uh, and Daph, the other thing I was thinking about..." She starts, looking up, wary. "Pansy."

Daphne's gaze turns to stone. But Cassia could see through the brick wall.

"I don't want to talk about her," says Daphne.

"Come on, Daph..." Cassia lets out a sigh. "You can't ignore each other forever."

"I can and I will."

"You two are roommates."

"And I still have two others.

"Think about how it must feel for Millie and Tracey to be caught up in the middle of you two."

"They've adjusted."

Cassia scoffs. "Daph, you're being ridiculous—"

Daphne throws her quill to the desk.

"What do you want me to say, Cass?" She demands amidst the harsh rattle of quill to wood. "Yes, I'm mad at her. Infuriated. It's not just because of what she's been doing with her Squad, or because she's this selfish, arrogant person. Because she just lies to herself. All the time. She hates Umbridge and she's doing all of this to have some sort of power but she's also doing this to be safe, when she doesn't even believe in the person she's kissing the arse of. You know, the whole reason she wants to do this is not to get into trouble? After everything that's been going on, the bullshit the Ministry have been coming out with, she still goes on their side when she believes in no ones. She doesn't want to believe in Potter and she despises You-Know-Who. But she's acting as if she's still on a side which is just so... God, doesn't she know how mindless that is? And, like, I try to tell her that she doesn't have to pick someone or believe anything, just that she needs to be true to herself, that's it. She has to be true to herself. That's all I've ever wanted her to be. But no matter what..."

Daphne sighs, raking her hands through her hair. "She's... a lost cause."

Cassia looks at her carefully. "But you still have hope for her."

Daphne didn't even need to admit it. The exhausted glaze in her eyes reacted exactly to the assumption, because she was tired of it. More than anything else. She had all of this hope for a girl who just... wasn't worth it. And Daphne still thought she was. And she hates herself for not giving up on someone who just, time and again, proved that they weren't worth it. Elbows on the table, she interlaces her fingers, resting her chin upon them. Shaking her head to herself.

"That's the worst part," Daphne answers Cassia. "I can't stop myself from having faith in her. And... I don't know why."

Cassia can think of one reason.

Maybe it was the reason her twin broke up with Sterling Donahue in the first place, or the reason Daphne just couldn't give up on this girl and why she was so infuriated with her... but Cassia didn't think Pansy was the only one not staying true to herself.

     Before Cassia or Daphne can say anything else, Maryam appears and drags a chair over to their desk.

"Hi," she says to them.

"Hey," they reply.

     "How long until your fast breaks?" Cassia asks Maryam. Ramadan had started over two weeks ago and as Maryam was a Muslim, she'd been fasting from dusk till dawn each day for the coming month. Since it was summer, the sun set much later than it would during winter and so even when people like Cassia or Daphne who weren't observing the fasts had already had their dinner by now, people that would be fasting like Maryam would have to wait a little longer before they could eat or drink.

     "About an hour and a half," says Maryam, wrist clacking against the table. "Thought I'd kill some time down here."

      "Honestly, I hold mad respect for you, Maryam," says Daphne, "Fasting while studying for exams? I could never. I need my study snacks."

"Yeah, same," Cassia agrees, "And you've been, like, way more patient too, which surprised me, no offence. In that last quidditch game we lost and you didn't even throw a tantrum or castrate Montague. The whole school knows how much you hate him. And Gryffindor won the quidditch cup. Tolerance for you."

     Maryam laughs. "I surprised myself, trust. I didn't fast on matchday since, well, I had to eat or drink something or else I'd probably faint, and I probably won't fast during exams either but I can always make those up afterwards. And... I don't know if it's like, this whole good vibes or inner peace thing I'm getting with fasting and through my faith but honestly? I'm not feeling that much anger towards Montague anymore. Or the team, either. Except from Adrian, bless him. He has my vote for Head Boy next year. And you know what, Montague is leaving this year too, so maybe it is worth being a bit more patient. I've played my last game with him. Quidditch season is over. That's the worst of it."

"And also..." says Maryam, "I'm not angry that Gryffindor won. Because they deserve something good after the hell the Slytherin team put them through this year. Weasley, Johnson... I'm not happy, but I'm content."

Cassia's eyes widen. "This holy period really does do wonders for a person's inner peace, doesn't it?"

Maryam scoffs, a chuckle escaping. "I'm not that bad, okay?"

Cassia smiles. "No, you're not."

     "I wonder who the next captain will be," says Maryam, "Once Montague finally leaves."

     "I'd say Adrian Pucey if he wasn't so focused on becoming Head Boy." says Daphne. "But then again, he could pull off both. Charlie Weasley did. Either way, no one deserves it more than you, Maryam! You've easily been one of the best and honourable players this season. It has to be you."

     Maryam squints an eyebrow in disbelief. "I would love to be the quidditch captain, obviously. They've been needing someone like me to do it up completely. But after this year do we really think Snape is gonna give me his vote? No way in hell. Shame."

     "Snape wouldn't know talent if it walked right up to him and smacked his face," Cassia ridiculed.

     "Maybe I should do that!" Maryam conspires, laughing alongside Cassia and Daphne.

"How do you guys feel about O.W.L's?" Maryam asks them.

Daphne shrugs. "Well, they're certainly not slowing down."

Cassia nods. "I think I've hit a brick wall with studying. I'm retaining next to nothing. How do you concentrate on studying without eating or drinking anything?"

Maryam snickers. "I don't. I'm basically nocturnal now. That time between sunset and sunrise when I can eat stuff is the best time I have to concentrate. And I sleep during the day. Which is why I'm late to half my classes now."

"Not like that matters," says Cassia, "You'd easily be able to skip classes considering—" The revision we do in class is hardly useful.

     "I agree," says Daphne, "There's no point, especially when—" Even Professor Binns has given up.

     "Especially when what?" Maryam frowns.

     Daphne frowns herself. "I just said it... that Professor Binns has even given up now...?"

     "No, you didn't," says Maryam.

     "I'm sure I did...?"

     Cassia squints her eyes in confusion. She heard Daphne loud and clear.

     Maryam sighs. "You two are doing it again."

     Cassia and Daphne share a look.

     "Doing what?" asks Cassia.

     "That... thing... the twin thing."

     The confusion hadn't cleared up whatsoever.

     "The thing where it's like you two have whole conversations inside your heads... quite annoying, if anything."

     "Uh, Maryam?" says Daphne. "We don't do that. We're not telepaths?"

     "Either that or you two have some really intense staring contests at times. We all just thought you were trying to annoy us but we all know I'll never take someone's mercy. Anyways, it's annoying."

Cassia raises an eyebrow.

Right.

She didn't know what was more disturbing, the fact that her and Daphne seemingly had telepathic conversations witnessed by her friends, or that even in this tranquil state of mind while fasting that Maryam was still an enemy of lenience.

Anyways.

"I'm gonna go put this book back," says Cassia, lifting the open book in front of her. She starts to walk away with the book in front of her, salvaging what could be salvaged with the remaining time till she'd put the book back on its shelf to gather dust, pressing two fingers to the page and zeroing her gaze on the words.

With the benefit of hindsight, that probably wasn't the best idea.

     "Watch it—!"

     The book clunks back onto her face when she walks directly into someone's chest. It's not entirely her fault. They were the one who got in her way.

     Recovering herself after the smack in the face from the book, Cassia crinkles her eyebrows to see Ron Weasley.

     "Hey." She frowns, rubbing her head. "That hurt."

     "Then reconsider the idea of reading while walking," says Ron.

     "You saw me coming still."

     "Bloody hell, we'll just all make way when you're walking down our way. What do you want next, a red carpet?"

     Cassia wasn't able to hold the scowl for long. A grin breaks across her face. "How are you?"

"Shitting myself for these exams," the redhead remarks. "But in this situation I can be counted lucky Hermione exists."

     Ron gestures to a table a bit further away, where Harry grins and lifts two fingers in a wave while Hermione gives Cassia a somewhat smile. Cassia was about to insinuate something about the clever brunette Ron referred to but holds back.

"Is Ahmed okay with Gryffindor winning the Cup?" He asks, his gaze on the table Cassia emerged from. "She has some temper on her."

"You'd be surprised," says Cassia, "But she's actually okay with it. Said it was what you guys deserved after the rough year."

"Huh," says Ron. "She's a funny one, so she is. I think she'd be your best shot at quidditch captain, though."

Cassia grins. "Don't we all."

     "What were you doing?" Ron inquires. "Aside from walking into people with books like a douche."

     "You walked into me." Cassia says, remaining firm. "I was putting this book back," she answers his question, "But really, I just needed an excuse to stretch my legs."

     "Shouldn't the fact you have legs be enough of an excuse to move them?"

     "...Fair point." Her expression shrivels for a moment in realising that he was right, before a chuckle escapes her. "Nice talk. See you."

"Bye," says Ron, and as Cassia walks ahead, closing the book to avoid any other accidents. She sees another half-illuminated desk occupied by two Slytherins, one of them being the gorgeous blonde that was her roommate and the other being the handsome boy her little sister was dating.

Eva got up to leave. She passed Cassia, giving her a smile and stopping to chat for a few minutes before declaring she needed to do a face mask before bed. So Cassia walked over to the seat Blaise Zabini was sat at, and put the book in the shelf above him. It wasn't even the proper shelf. Astoria was going to throw a fit.

     "Hey." Cassia says, dropping herself into the seat Eva was previously sat at. She still could not believe that Eva's father and Blaise's mother were dating. What a world.

     Blaise gives her a look. "...Hey."

"What you studying?" She asks, tracing a finger along the desk, catching small spectacles of dust.

"...Herbology..." He gives her the suspicious eye. "What are you doing?"

"Talking to you." Cassia smiles. "I see you were talking to Eva. Bonding with your step-sister?"

"She's not my step-anything." Blaise rolls his eyes. "What's it to you?"

"I'm just curious," she hums. "I don't mean to be annoying—"

"You are."

Cassia shoots him a glare. "Like I said, I'm curious."

"What about?" mutters Blaise.

"How did your mother and Eva's dad even happen in the first place?"

Blaise shrugs. "One rich person finds another. They have dinner. They hit it off."

Cassia raises an eyebrow. "And you're absolutely sure it's nothing to do with a certain soul being possessed?"

Blaise presses his lips into a fine line.

"If you must know, she's intoxicating him with a love potion."

     Cassia's lips gape in realisation.

     "Wait, you said, she's—as in, she is—as in present tense?" Cassia's eyes widen. "She's still doing it?"

     Blaise only nods. "Since the summer. Mother slips the potion into his evening tea and biscuits. Eva knows now only because I told her. Before then, she'd thought it was just the besotted, deluded personality of whoever had possessed Enoch."

     Before Cassia can say anything, Blaise adds, "Not that Mother needs to charm anyone with a love potion. She's marvellous enough to get whoever she wants. This was just a precaution because of who we're dealing with."

     Cassia rocks her head back and forth, coming to grips with it all.

     "But..." Cassia wonders, "Why? Why do all of this in the first place?"

     "Because of Mother's vendetta against Midlothian Manson."

     Cassia arches an eyebrow. "Go on."

     "My mother has had many husbands throughout the years," says Blaise. "But the only one she's truly been in love with was her first, my father. Who is dead now. Because of Midlothian Manson. He killed him when I was a child. When I said the reason I could see the thestrals was because I saw my third stepdad die, I lied. It was my own father that I saw die. My stepdads aren't dead. Any one of them. My mother put them in a dazed state, and because they're too deluded to know who they are, everyone presumes them dead. My mother has reached each of their inheritances since. She hasn't killed any one of them no matter what people say. But because of Midlothian Manson, she's been on a path of trepidation and grief since."

     Cassia has to blink twice before even being able to register what he was saying. "Oh my god, Blaise. That's so... tragic. I'm sorry."

     "Don't be," Blaise shook his head. "That's why this plan is important. And why it's important no one else knows."

     Cassia hardly had the chance to appreciate this blunt boy entrusting her with this intel. Because it dawned on her what that could mean. Her eyes widen in shock.

     "Wait, you're not gonna kill Eva's dad?"

     "If that comes with the death of Eva's father, then so be it." says Blaise, his face remaining straight and solemn. "We'll do what we must."

     "Blaise—"

     "He ruined my mother's life. He is the reason my mother will never been able to find another love like my father. We have to do what's necessary."

     "Hear. Me. Out." Cassia says slowly, carefully. She sighs once Blaise focuses his deep gaze on her. She reduces her voice to a whisper. "If the guy who possessed Eva's father did it once before dying, who's to say he won't do it to anyone else? You have to think on these things. It's not worth it if innocent blood is taken and the person at fault is still at large."

     Blaise doesn't say anything, but when he poses his lips together firmly, Cassia took that for agreement.

"Then how do you propose we catch a serial killer using dark magic to possess other beings?"

Cassia shrugs. "Beats me. I've never been the greatest detective. The stuff I did for Eva's dad was my best shot at it."

"Yet you still solved it."

"Don't make this about me. Study for Herbology instead, like you were supposed to."

Blaise furrows his eyebrows and was about to make an offended remark that Cassia was the one who took him out of his studying. He gives her a look. "You're annoying."

Cassia smiles, shrugging. "It's part of the package. You get Tori, you get all of us."

Rising to her feet, Cassia pats his cheek. Before he can react, she walks away with a mischievous smirk trailing her lips. What she didn't get to see, was the way the corners of his mouth twitched up ever so slightly.

———

IF YOU ASKED MARLOWE GREENGRASS, being a working woman was tough. Sometimes, the least of her problems would be the late hours or lack of holidays, but a lot of the time, they came in the form of sexist males stealing her specialty biscuits in the break room. Next time, she'll be sure to make an incantation that ensures no one gets into her biscuit tin without permission. Especially Paul from International Magic Cooperation. What a greedy pig. Those guys were always slight dickheads after all.

But as another day of work has finished, and Marlowe drops her handbag upon the glass table in the lobby of her drastically large home, her mind is clouded by other worries. Starting with her husband, and how he's never home when Marlowe is anymore. She was worried for him, of course, but she was also... lonely. With her daughters away at school (and around two months until they can come home), she could only savour in the brief moments when he came to bed in the middle of the night. But a few hours later, Marlowe would be the one to leave.

     To be blunt, Marlowe had enough of that. Definitely enough of being alone without her husband, and most especially without knowing why. The excuse had always been work. Work, work, work. But Marlowe knew better. There were signs... she picked up on them, and she's sure her daughters have too. Scepticism is a  trait that can often run through Greengrass blood. While Marlowe wasn't born a Greengrass, she has certainly lived the life of one.

     Dressed in her silk nightwear and elegant dressing gown, she shuffled her feet into her slippers, knotted her sleek black hair into a braid and held a stack of papers to her chest. The Manor seemed much eerier than usual in the dead of night, with nought but an awake Marlowe and a whole lot of dormant house elves in their burrow beneath the basement. (Astoria asked Marlowe the question of where the house elves lived when they weren't working, and Marlowe revealed to her that they had a sub-basement designed just for them.) Rather than burrowing herself into her (half-empty) bed, Marlowe went to her study instead. She flicked the lights on with her wand and dropped the papers onto the desk with a light thud.

     What other time, if not while being on husband-watch, would be a good time for doing paperwork?

It's not that she didn't trust her husband. A couple would be lucky to have the same degree of trust as Marlowe and Phoenix have. It's just that... there's a line between trust and withholding too much information for one's own good. There are some things that a wife (or husband) needs to know. In this situation, Marlowe needed to know what isolated her husband from her and her kids for all this time.

The time duration was unknown for which Marlowe had been sat in her study with the door ajar, the faint, bronze hue from the light spilling onto her desk and paper and quill, her mug of coffee emanating the smallest wisps of steam.

     Then, she hears the light shuffle of an opening door.

     Marlowe knew this could have only meant one thing. She was in the middle of writing a letter to some Moira MacMaster, but in the wake of the moment, she completely forgot what about. She takes her mug and slides into her slippers and walks down into the lobby.

Phoenix was there.

She watched from afar. He kicked his shoes off. He picked them up, went to the shoe cupboard at the end of the lobby, and put them inside. His briefcase hung from his fingertips, his cloak over his suit. The usual hanging around his neck. Shadows hung below his eyes, and his auburn hair ruffled on its ends.

Marlowe stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, her thumbs tracing the rim of the mug between her hands.

"Hey," she says, tipping him a small smile.

Phoenix jolts, startled by the sudden voice. She didn't blame him. She'd usually be deep into dreaming right now. He squints his eyes at her, and then they widen in recognition.

"Mar," says Phoenix, rubbing his eyes as if it could help him see his wife clearer. "How—I—what are you doing up?"

     "I thought I'd wait for you," says Marlowe.

     "Well, I—" Phoenix rolls his sleeve up, squinting at his watch. "Gosh, Mar, it's one in the morning."

     Marlowe smiles. "I know."

     She walks over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, wrapping her other arm around his waist while the other held her coffee. He puts his free arm around her shoulders.

     Phoenix inclined his head towards her, holding her close. "Let's go to bed, yeah?"

     "Of course," says Marlowe.

     And so, they head up to their room. It was as it always was, except not really. Marlowe slipped into their bed, the duvet up to her waist, waiting as her husband got dressed for the night ahead.

     "Tell me something," says Marlowe, dropping her head back against the headboard.

     Phoenix arches a brow, half-turned towards her as he unbuttoned his shirt. One side of him was completely concealed.

     Marlowe takes a deep breath. Now or never.

     "Why are you never home anymore?"

     Phoenix frowns at her but she can also tell he gave a slight flinch. "I'm, uh, I'm here right now, aren't I?"

     Marlowe sighs. "That's... that's not what I mean." She purses her lips. "This whole summer while the girls were home, you were hardly here. When I go to work, you're asleep or not here completely. It's like we're living two separate lives."

     Phoenix approaches the bed. "Hey, I know, work's just—it's been keeping me so occupied, I wish I could be home more—"

"No, Phoenix, it isn't." Marlowe shakes her head. "And you know it. This isn't work. Work isn't like this. Work doesn't force you to the point of depriving your whole life from you. I trust you, I just... I know that some things have to be concealed. But it's reached the point that trust cannot be factored. And I'm... I'm going out of my mind, here. Because you're never here, and it's more than just some work reason. I need to know. Because my children need their father. Because... I... Because I need my husband."

     Marlowe puts her head in her hands. In the half-lit glow from their elegant bedroom, Phoenix cannot muster the strength to meet his wife's eyes.

     "Listen, I—I just want you to be honest with me," says Marlowe. "Because I've been patient long enough. And I daresay so have our daughters. An explanation is the least we deserve... and the truth."

     Phoenix takes a long, harsh, rattling breath. "You're right," he says, rubbing a hand over his face, "you... you deserve to know. Just... don't jump to any conclusions, please. There's more than meets the surface."

     Now or never.

     While he'd been talking to Marlowe, Phoenix had unbuttoned his shirt. The two white curtains fanned open to show his firm chest (its abdominal muscles not what they one were, mind you) and he drags the shirt from his arms. He turns around.

The side he concealed not too long ago was now facing Marlowe. The side showcasing Phoenix's dark mark, was now right in front of Marlowe.

Her breath hitches.

Because that ink... the cause that it represented... it wasn't Phoenix. Phoenix could never be a Death Eater. He was a father, a husband, a righteous man. And he would give it all up to prove that.

She thinks of the Greengrass way. Equity is strength. Being a Death Eater... Holding prejudice against groups of people... This is not the Greengrass way. This is not Phoenix.

But there were signs all along, and Marlowe should have known. She should have known. She understands that her daughters picked up on some strange behaviour, and now Marlowe thinks about it, it's two pieces of a complementary jigsaw puzzle.

     Her husband is a Death Eater.

Her husband is a Death Eater, and no thought could change that when the evidence was right in front of Marlowe, in the form of a hideous, blackened tattoo.

She thinks of her daughters. Did they know? Did they know the fate their father was bound to? The man they idolise beyond any means... She felt embarrassed and horrible that there was a possibility their daughters could have known before she did. That they solved it.

Marlowe needs to open a window. But she can't tear her gaze away from him.

     "Don't... don't do that." Phoenix's voice was kept low, looking down. "Shout at me, slap me, whatever. Just don't... look at me like that."

     Marlowe lifts her mouth open, but fails in finding the right words to say. She massages the bridge of her nose with two fingers, looking down, but when she looked back up his arm was still there and so was that mark.

"I don't know what the right reaction could ever be to this."

"Then listen to me." He urges. "It's my turn to speak."

Marlowe takes a deep breath. "Okay."

"I didn't want to do this, Mar." He begins, gesturing to the Mark, looking at it with a disgust that was almost believable. "I... I hate myself every day. I've been constantly deprived of my life, of our kids, of you, but... god, it's my fault in the first place. I put our family in danger and now this is the only way I can protect us all. I have to suffer under this leash to protect all of you. I didn't... I didn't do this by choice."

"How does something like this protect us?" She questions, incredulous. "How can that be?"

"I've already told you the most—"

"That's not enough—!" Grasping for breath and words to say, Marlowe gives frantic shakes. Maybe if she'd stayed quiet her and Phoenix could be asleep right now. That way, she wouldn't have found out about this. Would that really have been better, though? "I am going crazy without knowing, and now I find this out and you can't even tell me? When we married each other, it was a promise. That we're supposed to be in this all together! This isn't something you do alone!"

"I have to do it alone, Mar!" Phoenix regulates himself, running hands though his spiked hair, his weary eyes drooping in exhaustion and sorrow. "I... I have to do this all alone. I've endangered you all enough. It's... I've had enough. I hate this just as much as you do."

Her mouth opens again, her voice growing heavier, but she presses her lips shut. She shouldn't get angry like this. She doesn't understand, but he says he did it for them. He wanted to protect their family, but she doesn't know how that would work. But she trusts her husband.

Marlowe trusts Phoenix.

Her heart plunges in seeing him standing by the edge of the bed, hand to his head in what could only be exasperation with himself. His helplessness. But even if she had no idea of the full story or how their family was in danger—with Marlowe by his side, Phoenix could never be helpless.

Kneeling on the bed, she shuffled to the edge he was limp against. Her hands find it's way to his neck, caressing it, the trail of his ear, till her thumbs outlined around his eyes. He looks up at her, and only then does she notice that all of this had him... drained. He was utterly, and completely swallowed up by his life.

     "When I married you, that was a promise to stick by you through it all." She reminds him. "I believe you. I trust you. And while I'm not happy with the secrets or the truth, I'm here for you. Through it all, Phoenix. For you and our daughters." A hand trails down to his left arm, where the mark haunted his once-paled skin. "If this is our next challenge, then so be it. You don't have to hide anything with me."

She didn't want to talk about this anymore. Sleep was all she wanted. Sleep, and her husband.

"Let's just... go to bed, yeah?" Marlowe suggests. "We can worry about everything else... later."

Phoenix nods, the corners of his eyes softening not being the right gesture to appreciate that his wife was just amazing.

"There's nothing I'd like more."

His hands slide around her waist, comforted by the softness of her silk garments. This was different. When he kissed her, his hands were right around her waist and her back arched into him. Their lips pressed hard against each other with a desperation and comfort they knew could only come from here, with one another. And it's like they're teenagers once more, in love and with the world at their feet.

When they went to bed, he slept bare-chested rather than picking up the long sleeved shirt on his mirror, because Marlowe told him he didn't have to. He didn't have to conceal from her. Marlowe fell asleep with his arm around her, her fingers interlaced with his. She fell asleep with nothing but the cacophony of what could await them.

     She trusted her husband more than anything in the world. She just didn't trust what he was doing.

***

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omg hiii this is a really late (or early???) update???? it's literally 1am for me lol but at least it's saturday tomorrow && i have to isolate anyways so i can sleep in and don't have to go to work hehe. this was a bit ✨different✨ since i've never had Marlowe's POV here but i thought it was important because the whole greengrass dynamic is such an important part of this book && i love marlowe so yeah hehe

btw i was watching the alex rider series on amazon (pls go watch omg hardly anyone does and it makes me sad, it made me fall in love with the series and books and alex all over again <3) and i realised that the actress that plays laura (she deserved better pls) katrin vankova would play the BEST younger marlowe omg. like i don't have a prequel planned or anything that involves the Greengrass parents but just look at how perfect it is &&& katrin is bulgarian and so is marlowe i love it

she's gorgeous and perfect im so in love with this idea!!! ANYWAYS there's around 5 more chapters of this book before we move onto the second!!! and from the next it gets intense since the end of OOTP is intense anyways so just a warning heh

ily all ty for reading <3