Wildflower

‘Dorcas, in the nicest way possible, what the fuck?’

It was June 2nd, exactly two weeks before the scheduled release of Wildflower’s first studio album, Upsetting the Neighbours. The album had gained its name after a certain stroke of genius (or stupidity, if you asked Dorcas) from Sirius. He’d been given an eviction notice three weeks prior on a repetitive noise complaint.

When Dorcas had checked up on him, Sirius hadn’t seemed upset. Or surprised. When James had told her that he never stuck around for long in one place, it seemed to click in Dorcas mind that he wasn't really one for commitment - more of a wanderer. She decided not to question it after that.

When they’d completed the album in its entirety a mere week before its official release date, they'd all squashed into their favourite booth at the Three Broomsticks with Lily, deciding that a mini celebration was in order. Dorcas still felt vaguely hungover from the night before.

Still, hangover or not, Dorcas knew she had a good idea. The song that she'd written, right after her blowup with Marlene, had to be on the album. She'd been sitting on it for weeks - unsure when the right time to bring it up was. She should have done it in the studio that James had hired out to record the rest of the songs the week before, but her nerves had gotten the best of her. She knew that this was her final chance to get the song on the album.

‘James, please, I know I'm asking the world here, but you know this song has to be on the album. It’s everything we’ve been aiming for.’

‘No, Dorcas! Everything was finished. And your song is angry, ok? Like, really angry. I want us to appeal to all audiences, not just angsty middle-aged men.’

‘Ok, fine, why don’t we scrap Sore Loser then and replace it with my song?’

‘I like Sore Loser,’ Peter chimed in.

Everyone spun around to glare at him.

‘Shut up, Peter,’ Marlene and Sirius said in sync.

Peter held his hands up in surrender.

‘For what it’s worth, I think Dorcas’ song needs to be on the album,’ Sirius said. Dorcas felt a grin spread on her cheeks.

Dorcas had played them the song just minutes ago. It was completely finished, start to finish, the only problem being it was made on Dorcas age-old computer, and currently had Dorcas vocals on it rather than James and Marlene’s. Still, the potential of the song was clear, in Dorcas opinion. All they needed to do was get it down in the studio.

Marlene glared, as if she could see right through Dorcas. As if she knew just who the song was about. ‘Well I don’t. Dorcas shouldn’t be bringing her personal relationships into the band.’

‘When did I ever say it was about a personal relationship?’ Dorcas shot.

‘Please. ‘I gave up my fire to light up your pyre and you burned me anyway’? We both know that’s not nothing.’

Fuck. Shit. Marlene was never supposed to know that the song was about her. Did she know, or was Dorcas' guilt eating her alive already? Dorcas had intentionally not shown anyone the song for weeks while she worked on it on her own. The others had all been in the band for longer than her. She knew how it would look if she started writing shit about her band members, especially out in the open.

But Dull Blade wasn’t about anyone. It was about Marlene - the frustration and the anger that she felt toward her at the time.

The song was harsh. She knew that. There was no denying that. Although she’d messed around with the song since she first dreamed it up in a Marlene-induced rage, she hadn’t changed a single lyric. There was something about the rawness and the abrasiveness that gave the song character.

There was just one vital component missing. James and Marlene’s vocals. Even after months of practising together with them, Dorcas couldn’t quite believe how well their voices meshed together. James’ voice was deep and gritty, perfect for the rock kind of sound that all bands craved, but Marlene’s voice as well? That’s what set Wildflower apart. Marlene’s voice was higher pitched and raspy, but powerful too. Marlene sand straight from her gut, her soul, even if the lyrics weren’t her own.

Their passion combined was what gave Wildflower their edge. That’s why Dorcas needed them on her track. It was crazy, maybe, to change things this late in the game. But Dorcas had a weird feeling that it would pay off. Sirius saw it too. Now she had to convince the rest of them.

‘Whatever, Marlene. I’m not going to fight you on this.’ Dorcas tried to fight the erratic beating in her chest.’ Look at it this way, ok? Listen to my demo one more time, then we’ll have a vote. A band decision. I was thinking if we had harmonies on the verses and the chorus and then if Marlene took the bridge on her own then the song could perform better. I really think this has potential, guys, I just need you to hear me out.’

James' mouth was a thin line. He ran a hand through his dark curly hair. ‘Fine. Band democracy. Play it again, Dorcas.’

Dorcas did.

They sat round the rickety table in their run-down practice room, dead silent as they listened to the demo. Dorcas tried to read their expressions, but Marlene and James were completely dead faced.

When it was over and Dorcas had hit pause, she felt her heart quicken once again. She knew it was just a song, and she was probably being ridiculous, but she needed that song on the album. A small part of her that still felt that overwhelming resentment wanted it there because of how Marlene had treated her. That angry, rabid part of her needed to express how embarrassed Marlene had made her feel. But for the most part, it wasnt about Marlene at all. It had started that way, sure, but she wrote it, she seemed to alternate between blinding rage for Marlene and a rage for something else entirely. Something untouchable, even now, with time passed by. The song felt like exactly what she needed when she was younger. A release, a way to get the anger out without feeling like exploding.

Dorcas cleared her throat. ‘So, should we do hands up for putting it on the album?’

James nodded.

Dorcas raised her hand. Sirius and James shared a look that Dorcas couldn’t decipher. A moment later, Sirius raised his hand too.

Another moment of tense silence. And then, miraculously, against all the odds, Marlene raised her hand. Peter’s eyebrows flew up behind his blonde fringe.

Dorcas felt a quick pant of guilt. Marlene was sticking her neck out for her, not knowing that the song was about her at all. Dorcas quickly shoved it down, forcing the memory of Marlene’s cruelty back into her mind. It felt less sharp now, somehow.

Dorcas snapped out of her daze to see Peter raising his hand. James looked between them all incredulously.

‘Well, I guess I’m outnumbered then.’ James let out a quick laugh. He shook his head.

‘Dorcas, I’ll try to get us a slot in a proper studio next week. I’ll have to talk to management, see if they can sort something out… hopefully they won’t- well, never mind. It’ll get done.’ James offered her a weak smile.

Dorcas smiled back at him and got up to hug him. The last thing she wanted to do was upset one of her longest friends, but this was business. She prayed that there were no hard feelings.

‘Right! Since that’s all over,’ Sirius announced, ‘let’s do Sore Loser from the beginning. I have something I want to test.’

After their discussion, no one mentioned Dorcas’ song for the rest of the day. Dorcas mind was consumed with a mix of emotions - the remnants of anger that Marlene had left all those weeks before, some hope for the future of her song, but there was something else there too. An underlying feeling that was so subtle yet so overwhelming - guilt.

—x—x—x—

Dorcas had known this was coming, and yet she still felt uncomfortable. James had informed the band weeks ago that their label wanted to meet them - that the head of the label wanted to meet them - but Dorcas had a bad feeling. She hadn’t met any professionals from the business before, but they didn’t exactly have a good name in the movies.

To make matters worse, James had sent their group chat a text that said ‘business casual!’ as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Unfortunately to Dorcas, it was not the most obvious thing in the world, and she owned approximately zero items of clothing that could be considered remotely business casual. In a moment of stress after an hour of tearing through her wardrobe to find something, anything, she could wear, she’d eventually relented and asked Lily for help.

Lily had happily obliged, but now that Dorcas was stuck in a stuffy knee length pencil skirt and an itchy blazer, she had a few regrets.

Now, as Dorcas sat between James and Peter in front of their new boss, Albus Dumbledore, she was even more confused as to why she had to wear business casual clothes. Dumbledore was dressed in a purple baggy robe-type thing with long grey hair trailing down his back. When Dorcas shook his hand, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking into the lion's den.

The meeting itself was boring. All Dumbledore wanted them to do was sign papers that none of them could be bothered to read and talk about which songs from the album were going to be singles. It was just a week and a half now before the 16th, their release date, so they had to come up with what singles they were going to put out fast.

Dumbledore was expressionless while listening to the album. Entirely unreadable. But when he got the very last song on the album - the song that had been recorded just two days before - his eyebrows raised. He said nothing, just paused the song.

‘This song. What is it called?’

‘Dull Blade.’ She kept her voice just as toneless as his. Dorcas felt desperate to look away, but held his eye. Something about his piercing stare made her feel like an ant.

He nodded. ‘Ok. Marvellous. That’s your single.’

Marlene stood up from her chair, almost involuntarily. ‘That’s the single?’

‘Yes, Miss McKinnon. That is the single we’re going to release.’

James subtly kicked her shoe. Taking a hint, Marlene sat back down. ‘Yes Sir.’

‘Now,’ Dumbledore continued. ‘As you all know, we’ve had some difficulties with timings.’

Dorcas strained to keep her expression neutral. She couldn’t help but feel like that was a barb against how they’d struggled to write the album for Dorcas first month in the band. In fact, they had scrapped nearly all the songs they had before Dorcas joined. Peter had informed her that they’d had an eight month deadline before their album was due, but because of the difficulties with Snape, their previous drummer, they could never reach an agreement about anything. By the time Dorcas came about, they had four months to finish the album. A tight deadline for even the most talented of musicians.

‘Because of this, we’ve had to push the singles back. That’s why we need to get this new music out ASAP. Now, your previous success came about by luck, but we can’t rely on that this time. I want a social media presence. My people have set up an official Wildflower account on all social media. Each of you will be given access to it, but please understand, this is a matter of trust. Reputation is important, and if Wildflower tanks, my company does too.’

Great, Dorcas thought. No pressure then.

‘Speaking of social media, I want each of you to promote Wildflower on all of your personal social media accounts. I understand that all of you are on social media,’ he rounded on Dorcas, ‘other than you, Miss Meadowes.’

Dorcas' blood pressure suddenly spiked. Bile gathered in her throat. He couldn’t force her onto social media - right? She’d done a lot of thinking since the last time she’d had a mini-meltdown about being on social media, slowly coaxing herself into putting herself on there. Still, the thought of it made her head pound.

‘I must remind you, Miss Meadowes, that image is of utmost importance. I’d like to see you on social media by the end of the week. Your band mates will promote you. I’m sure you understand that this is your chance to succeed, yes?’

Her head was pounding - what if he was right? What social media was what made them? She took a deep breath. He’d found her number. If her dreams did come true, and miraculously the band did take off, then he’d find her there anyway. It was inevitable. Dorcas had to take the plunge.

‘Yes, Sir. I’ll sort it by the end of the week.’

Dumbledore's intense gaze turned into a sharp smile. ‘Fantastic.’

‘Well then,’ Dumbledore said, ‘If there’s nothing left to discuss, I will see you all on the sixteenth. The single will be released in two days. Have a fine day, all of you.’ He strode out his office, leaving the band alone.

‘Well,’ Sirius muttered, eyebrows raised, ‘He seems like great fun.’

—x—x—x—

True to his word, Dull Blade was released two days later on the ninth of June. Dorcas wasn’t sure what to expect, but there was little fanfare. The days building up to the release carried on as normal - a shift in the cafe all day, and practice in the evening. Lily had begun coming to practices to check in on them, but aside from that, everything was normal. The calm before the storm.

On a warm Friday morning, Dorcas was scrubbing away at the counter. It was still early, and they’d only been open for about thirty minutes, so Dorcas wasn’t surprised that no one had come in yet.

Dorcas knelt down to begin scrubbing the floors. The pay was good, but it wasn’t like she had anything to do all day. She was humming along to the radio as she cleaned, soothing her headache from lack of sleep the night before.

Later, she’d blame it on her headache that she didn’t recognise the noise coming out of the radio. That defining beat, followed by the familiar bass line. The scratchy vocals that came afterwards. Dorcas' eyes snapped wide open.

‘Holy fuck, that’s my song!’

Honestly, the moment probably would have tasted a lot sweeter if she didn’t slam her head into the counter above. Rubbing her head, she grabbed her phone. She had to call James- their song, on the radio!

‘James!’

‘Hello, L- Dorcas?’

‘James! Turn on the radio!’

‘What?’ James fumbled. ‘Why?’

‘Just - turn it on!’

‘Ok, ok! Which station?’

‘The one that plays in the Broomsticks. Quick, hurry!’

Moments later, the song ran through the speakers. She heard a surprised laugh spill out of James.

‘Oh my god. Dorcas. Oh my god. That’s our song. They’re gonna credit Wildflower for it. In front of, like, people! Oh my god. I have to call Sirius.’ James rushed out. ‘Thank you, Dorcas. Thank you Thank you Thank you. I need to call Sirius. Oh my God. I’ll call you back!’ Dorcas smiled, giddy with excitement. ‘Thank you!’ James called one more time.

Dorcas' knees suddenly felt weak. She pulled up her chair and dialled Peter's number. She wanted everyone to hear it before the song ended. After telling Peter, who promptly burst into tears, finger hesitated under the call button next to Marlene’s name. They’d never texted, or called, for that matter, and Dorcas had to lift her number from the group chat, but Wildflower was as much Marlene’s as it was Dorcas. Dorcas felt she had to honour that.

‘Hello? Who is this?’

Dorcas took a deep breath.

‘Hi Marlene, it’s Dorcas.’

‘Oh. Hi Dorcas.’ Marlene’s tone lost its sugary sense.

‘Dull Blade is on the radio. The same one in the Broomsticks. Thought you’d wanna know.’ Entirely monotone. Dorcas could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her, but she wasn’t about to give Marlene anything to work with.

‘Wait, really?’ the words tumble out of Marlene.

‘Yeah-‘

‘Oh my god. I sing on that track. Holy christ.’ Dorcas heard crashing around on Marlene’s end of the phone. ‘Evan! Evan, where did you leave the radio?’

Dorcas smiled a bit at that. For the tough act that Marlene put on, she really was different when she was excited. Or perhaps she was just a different person around Dorcas. Perhaps the few glimpses she’d had at Marlene’s sunny attitude were real. Dorcas didn’t allow herself to dwell on it.

‘Oh my god. That’s me! I’m on the radio! Evan, I’m on the radio! God, Dorcas, thank you for letting me know. Seriously. I’d never have heard it otherwise.’

Dorcas' smile brightened a bit. ‘No problem, Marlene. Have a good day.’ Dorcas hung up.

She’d done it. Wildflower had been recognised - admittedly, it was small, but a start was a start. Dorcas would take it.

—x—x—x—

It was June 16th. The day. The day that could make or break her career.

Dorcas had signed herself up to Twitter the night before, shortly after Peter told her that Dull Blade owed its success to a tiktok that had been posted of Marlene and Sirius pretending to argue, lip syncing to the lyrics. After that, and Dumbledore's speech, Dorcas hadn’t been able to put it off any longer.

She’d tweeted two things so far. The first, ‘Hi Twitter!’, courtesy of Lily, who had shown her how to use it. The second, ‘Hello. Our first studio album, Upsetting the Neighbours, gets released tomorrow at midnight. Please feel free to have a listen! Thanks for all the love on Dull Blade x’

Short, sweet and simple. Just like the press team had advised her - how they’d gotten her email, she’d never know.

‘Ten minutes.’ Peter muttered.

They were in their usual booth, although the pub closed at half twelve and was practically abandoned, the tension still remained. Dorcas wasn’t sure why she was nervous. She was excited too, and realistically she knew that no one was probably waiting up for the release, but still, thoughts of failure haunted her.

She sat opposite Marlene, who was fidgeting in her seat, oddly uncomfortable. Her fingers fussed around the hem of her sleeve.

‘Three minutes.’ Sirius announced.

Dorcas closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. After the release, they’d planned to have a night out clubbing as a celebration. Dorcas wasn’t sure if she was more consumed with excitement or dread.

‘Thirty seconds.’ James said. ‘Ten, nine, eight…’

‘Seven, six, five, four…’ Sirius joined in.

‘Three, two, one…’ Everyone else on the table joined in.

And then, the booth erupted into cheers. Peter started crying.

‘Oh, don’t cry Pete,’ Dorcas soothed.

‘I’m just- so happy,’ Peter sniffed.

Marlene sprang up out of the booth, grinning maniacally.

‘Come on then! Let’s go celebrate!’

Dorcas didn’t mention that she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in months, or that she hated the crowds. It would ruin the mood, and it warmed an unfamiliar part of Dorcas to see Marlene so happy, and for once, not unreasonably angry at her. It seemed since the Dull Blade had been on the radio, there was some sort of unspoken truce between them. Marlene didn’t provoke Dorcas, and Dorcas didn’t rise to the bait.

But still, as they walked through the entrance to the club Marlene had bought them to, Dorcas couldn’t help but feel the nerves build up in her stomach. She watched as Sirius began to chat up the barmaid. If it was for free alcohol or if it was to take her home after her shift, Dorcas couldn’t be sure.

The reasons Dorcas hadn’t drank in so long were complicated. In part, she didn’t trust herself when she was drunk. She had a tendency to get a little bit… enthusiastic, a trait that had more often than not ended up with her waking up in a stranger's bed. But mainly, it was because she preferred to sit back and watch everything unfold. She didn’t like the haze that made her lose track of time. Dorcas much preferred being in control.

However, the rush from the album drop had still not passed. She figured she could let loose once in a while. Just a few drinks, then she’d be safely home in her cosy flat.

She grinned and accepted a shot from Sirius, downing it in one. James let out a whoop before throwing his back too. Somehow, James and Sirius had drifted off somewhere, and she ended up sitting next to Peter, who was currently making up wild back stories about the people dancing in front of them.

‘Look! You see that tall guy there, with curly hair? He’s gotta be a doctor by day, drag queen by night.’ Dorcas cackled. ‘No, I’m serious! Look at that hip flick! That’s seriously impressive!’

Sirius appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Peter by the shoulders, staring down at him with a condescending look in his eye. ‘No, Petey my boy. I’m Sirius.’

Dorcas laughed so loud she couldn’t breathe.

He winked before strutting off to, presumably back to chatting up the blonde girl hovering around him. By now, he’d given up on the barmaid who now looked inexplicably pissed off and was now giving him a stink eye from behind the bar.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marlene talking to a guy with pale white hair beside the bar. Her eyes kept darting towards the bathroom.

‘Ok, Ok!’ Peter broke her chain of thought. ‘Your turn.’

Dorcas studied the room - a harder task than anticipated, considering she was three shots in and the room had begun to turn on its axis.

‘You see that girl over there? With the long dark hair?’

Peter nodded.

‘I think she likes Sirius. She’s been watching him like a hawk since he started talking to the blonde.’

Peter laughed, shaking his head.

‘What? Seriously! You don’t think so?’

Peter took some deep breaths, before bursting out laughing again.
‘What?! Am I missing something?’

‘No, Dorcas,; Peter said once he’d stopped laughing,’I don’t think she’s looking at Sirius. I think she’s looking at the blonde girl. I saw them come in together, a little after us. They were dancing a little while ago too. I think she likes her.’

Dorcas felt heat rising up to her cheeks.

‘Maybe you’re right, poor sod. You think Sirius is going to take the blonde home tonight? He’s only been living in that flat a few days.’

Peter snorted. ‘If he doesn’t, I can be certain she will,’ He said, nodding at the brunette girl in the corner.

Dorcas gazed slipped from the brunette girl back to Marlene, who was slinking off towards the toilet. The guy she was talking to now looked entirely uninterested in being here. He didn’t seem upset that she left, just incredibly bored.

‘Excuse me, Pete.’

Dorcas walked up to the bar. Perhaps it was the alcohol in her system making her nosy, but she felt that there was something more than a simple chat going on between him and Marlene.

‘Vodka shot please,’ The girl behind the bar left to make her drink. The man who Marlene had been speaking to turned around.

‘Hey, do you want a drink?’

The man shook his head, ‘Thanks, but I don’t drink often.’ His eyes shot towards the door they’d all come in through.

Dorcas raised her hands in defence. ‘No worries, dude. Are you a friend of Marlene’s?’

‘Yeah, something like that.’ His eyes darted towards the bathroom this time.

He muttered something. ‘Sorry,’ He stood up abruptly. ‘I have to go.’

Dorcas watched as he stormed out the club. When she looked behind her, there was Marlene leaving the bathroom, a wild look in her eyes, rubbing her nose.

Dorcas had the sense it was going to be a long night.

By the time the bar lady had come back again, time seemed to melt - first, Dorcas was downing her shot, determined to push all thoughts of Marlene out of her head, the next moment, she was dancing with Sirius and James under the flashing lights. The blonde girl was nowhere to be seen. A thought of how the brunette looked at the blonde girl flashed through her mind. Dorcas quickly forced it out.

Once James announced he was getting more drinks, Sirius grabbed her hand and spun her round and round until she was cackling and dizzy. Sirius spared none of the energy he’d given the blonde girl to Dorcas. Dorcas thought it was probably because he was afraid that she might knee him somewhere unpleasant, which to be honest, wasn’t an unrealistic possibility.

Every once in a while, her eyes would flick towards the bar, mindlessly searching for someone who her drunken mind couldn’t quite place its finger on, but whoever it was, Dorcas couldn’t find them.

She checked her phone. It read 3:08am. Dorcas stumbled off the dance floor, set on a mission. Or, she would be set on a mission, if only she could remember what she was doing.

Why it was gone three in the morning and she’d suddenly found herself in a bathroom, unable to recall how she’d got here, she couldn't remember.

‘Marlene?’ She called. Dorcas didn’t remember coming to find Marlene. In fact, Dorcas didn’t remember why she was here at all. Dorcas quickly tried to recall the night so far, only to find her brain stuck on a loop on the memory of Marlene at the bar with that strange guy. Marlene looked strange when she spoke to him. Eager, anxious. Uncomfortable? Dorcas wasn’t sure.

The bathroom was entirely empty, except from the stall right at the very end. Dorcas wasn’t sure of a lot at that moment, but she was sure that Marlene was in there. The details of the last hour were hazy at best, but Dorcas knew that Marlene wasn’t out there with them.

Dorcas hadn’t been sure if Marlene had left all together, but Marlene was the most excited out of all of them to go out tonight, even more excited than Sirius - and Dorcas knew Marlene’s stubborn nature, knew that she wouldn’t go home until she’d made the most of the night.

Dorcas knocked on the empty toilet stall.

‘Yes?’ Marlene’s shaky voice answered.

This was not what Dorcas classed as ‘making the most of the night.’

‘It’s Dorcas. Can you open up please?’

‘No.’ Marlene’s tone turned bitter. This close to the door, Dorcas could hear her teeth chattering.

Dorcas sighed. ‘Fine. I guess I’ll wait here until you do then.’

Marlene said nothing. The only noise that remained was the sound from back in the club. Girls came in and out of the toilets, occasionally pausing to stare down at Dorcas who had her back against the cubicle door - something she admittedly would never have done sober, especially not for Marlene - before leaving in a hurry.

Dorcas wasn’t sure how long she sat there. Minutes, perhaps. Longer, maybe. By the time the clock struck four, Dorcas could feel the buzz of the alcohol beginning to fade.

Suddenly, Dorcas felt the door behind her creak open. She quickly snapped out of her daze.

‘Dorcas?’ Marlene’s voice came out as a whisper. ‘Can you call me a cab?’ She was shaking, even now. Her once bright blue eyes were almost black. She was smiling, but it was not like the smile she had when she laughed with James or talked with Peter. It was unnaturally strained. Her dimples were nowhere to be seen. In a drunken haze, Dorcas noted she didn’t like it.

‘Yeah- Yes, Marlene. Of course.’ Dorcas' vision blurred as she dialled in the number. Sure, she was less drunk than earlier, but she was by no means sober. Some annoying part of her mind reminded her that this is why she swore of alcohol.

‘Shut up, brain,’ Dorcas mumbled.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Dorcas flushed. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Ah, Hackney, but you know what, I’ll just get on the tube, I feel loads better.’

‘Marlene, shut up. I’m ordering you a cab and then I'm making sure you don’t choke in your own vomit tonight. Got it?’

Marlene looked vaguely stunned. She nodded.

‘Come on then. Let’s get you home.’

Hauling Marlene out to the curb was no small task. Marlene dragged her feet, mumbling nothings with unfocused eyes. Dorcas was more than aware of the dirty looks she was gathering. On the release day, or well, the morning after, it probably wasn’t the best look to be heaving your band mate out of a club in the early hours of the morning. They didn’t have an insane amount of fans, but after Dull Blade went viral, Dorcas twitter following had skyrocketed.

Dorcas nodded to James, too tired to acknowledge the dumbfounded expression on his face when he saw Marlene’s arm slumped over her neck. She knew how it looked. Dorcas felt a short stab of hysteria. Last week, Marlene wouldn’t even look at her without losing her shit.

Once they’d finally made it out the door, Dorcas all but shoved Marlene into the taxi, slightly wary of her ability to, well, function.

‘Where’d you live?’

‘Jeez, take me out for dinner first,’ Marlene’s head was slumped into her lap, her words slurred. Dorcas noted that Marlene’s words probably didn't have the same impact that she’d intended.

Dorcas heaved a sigh. ‘Your address. Now.’

Marlene mumbled out her address. The taxi driver nodded and turned in the opposite direction.

The drive to Marlene’s consisted of Dorcas trying to rationalise the whole situation and her performing routine checks to make sure Marlene was awake. It was one thing getting her home safe, it was another thing physically carrying her to bed.

When the taxi stopped, Dorcas rushed round to the other door to make sure Marlene didn’t physically fall out. Treating a concussion was not on her to do list. Dorcas put her arm around Marlene’s shoulders.

‘Come on, step up,’ The metal staircase up to her flat was long. Marlene groaned.

‘If you don’t start pulling your weight, I'm gonna dump you on the floor.’ Not true, obviously, but Dorcas wasn’t above… encouragement.

Ten minutes later they’d made it to Marlene’s flat, number 63. Dorcas scooped the keys out of Marlene’s pocket and inwardly prayed that Marlene wouldn’t stab her for this in the morning. Lord knows things were delicate between the two of them.

She guided Marlene to her bed. Taking off her clubbing outfit - a short strappy top and an even shorter skirt - seemed like a good idea, but trying to explain to Marlene that she’d seen her naked was not a conversation she was willing to have in the morning. She settled for sliding off her chunky black boots instead.

Dorcas spent no time admiring Marlene’s apartment. It was dark, for one, and it felt oddly invasive to be in such an intimate part of Marlene’s life knowing full well Marlene’s feelings towards her.

While she went to the sink to get Marlene water, Dorcas briefly wondered to herself why she even helped in the first place. Marlene was a grown woman, capable of doing whatever she wanted. But still, there was that infuriating inch that pestered Dorcas. She couldn’t knowingly let someone risk themselves like that - not even Marlene.

She set the water down beside her. Marlene was already passed out, lying on her side with her mouth open. The spiteful part of Dorcas hoped she drooled. She pulled up her phone and opened her taxi app.

Dorcas swore under her breath - she knew the cab back would be pricey, but she hadn’t been expecting it to be this bad. Her money was tight as it is, let alone the extra expense of touring around London. It would set her back a few days at least. She made a mental note to see whether extra shifts were available at the cafe next week. Maybe then she could catch a break.

Reaching into her pocket, she quickly scribbled a note for Marlene, reassuring her that she hadn’t been kidnapped or somehow teleported home.

And then, she was gone. Her long leather jacket and her notebook intact.

When Marlene woke up some hours later, she’d read the note left next to the glass of water she didn’t remember pouring and slam her head back into the pillow, letting out a long, strenuous groan. It was too early to be dealing with a headache this big.

While Marlene drifted back off to sleep, the note beside her read:

‘I took u home. U owe me big time. Hugs and Kisses, Dorcas xxx’

—x—x—x—

It took until late July for Dorcas to stop obsessively replaying The Incident in her mind. The unnatural smile on Marlene’s face, eyes blown. If Dorcas were honest, it had been haunting her. Lord knows what Marlene would have done if Dorcas had not taken her home. She didn’t even want to think about it. It made her skin crawl a little bit.

In a lot of ways, Dorcas wasn’t ready for the change that came after the album was released.

First off, she was in a small, practically abandoned room playing the drums. Now, she was in a fancy studio, much like the one they’d actually recorded the album in. It felt rebellious, those first couple of weeks. Like someone had accidentally let them in and they weren’t supposed to be there.

Along with the new studio, they were given instruments to play too. Instead of Sirius' old bass guitar, which had begun to look more than a little weathered, he now played a brand-new guitar, barely even used. Peter’s old keyboard worked absolutely fine, a birthday gift from his sister, but he gladly began playing a new one. Even Dorcas accepted a new drum kit. Her eyes had practically popped out of her head when she’d first seen it. Never in her life had she played on a set this new - not even at her brief stint at uni with James. In fact, she was pretty sure mould was growing on her old drum kit.

Marlene was the only one who did not accept a new instrument. James and Peter had badgered her relentlessly to pick up the new guitar Dumbledore had ordered her, but Marlene was absolutely unmovable. For some unknown reason, she was entirely attached to her chipped old electric guitar - the guitar that let out a terrible squeak each time it was plugged in and looked older than Dorcas herself. Dorcas understood loving an instrument, but still, they all knew that the guitar had seen its best. She had to stop herself from voicing that opinion more than once.

That was the other thing.

After what Dorcas now refers to as ‘The Incident’, it seemed that Marlene had stopped actively hating Dorcas. And speaking to Dorcas. And, well, acknowledging Dorcas presence in any way. For a month, Marlene hadn’t uttered a word to her. There was no thanks, or apology. Nothing. And yes, to an extent, Dorcas got it. She’d done embarrassing things when she was drunk before. But still, she couldn’t find herself willing to fix the problem.

If Marlene wasn’t going to fix, Dorcas sure as hell wasn’t going to. Not after she’d done her a favour.

So, practices were different. Dorcas almost felt like she was in a different band than the one she’d joined those months ago.

Her bandmates were all wonderfully the same; Peter and Sirius still fought like a storm once they got going. Peter still smiled kindly and chatted to Dorcas when she didn’t feel included. Sirius still seemed to just know whenever Dorcas had reached the end of her tether and needed to get all her frustration out on the drums. James was still unfailingly kind to her, no matter how stubborn she got - always offering her advice, a shoulder to cry on. He was a lot like Lily in that way. If Dorcas could say one thing about both of them, it would be that they glowed, far more intensely than everyone else simply because they gave love so freely that it had ingrained itself onto their hearts. Or maybe Dorcas was just poetic.

It was everything else that had changed. The fancy studio. The new instruments. Her life as she knew it. When her first pay cheque came through Dorcas almost fell off her chair. She’d never really considered what it would mean financially when the album was released, she’d been far too busy wrapped up in writing and practising, let alone working and sleeping.

But, as it turned out, people actually liked their music. Hell, people even loved their music. Dorcas had been ecstatic when Dull Blade took off, but she’d never considered that the entire album would do the same thing. Peter swore it was because of their new found social media presence. Dorcas had fired off a few tweets promoting the album as per Dumbledore's demands, but never otherwise checked her social media otherwise - until the day that Sirius sent a message to the group chat saying that their official twitter account had reached one million followers just over a month after the release date. After that, Dorcas swore to try to get more involved.

Dorcas had been nervous about their social media presence, because she knew what was coming. And of course, she was right about all of it. He texted her. Her dad texted her. Just as he had done before - vaguely threatening texts that all pointed for her to come up, to come back under his wing. He’d gotten a new number, just like she knew he would. The first time she’d got a text from him, the morning after the incident, admittedly, she'd cried. A lot. She didn't have a fully blown panic attack like she’d done the time before, but the fact that her dad wouldn't leave her alone even after she’d left cut deeper than she liked to admit.

She’d considered wild possibilities - everything from hiring a full time bodyguard to getting a restraining order, until finally, on his fourth text, she realised there was no punch coming. He wasn't texting her to give her a chance to come home. No, he was texting her because he was desperate. He couldn't steal her away, not now she was an adult. For the first time in Dorcas life, she was the one that had the power, not him. Everything that had happened, maybe, finally, she could be rid of it.

There was something incredibly freeing about seeing a text that would have once sent her down a spiral of panic which now she could delete with peace of mind and carry on with her day. Dorcas reminded herself to savour it.

The other thing about new found fame, was that even more than before, Dorcas found she could not catch a break. The first time a fan had asked her for her picture - a sweet teenage girl with a blue streak in her hair, Dorcas’ heart had raced with pride. Dorcas knew how hard it was to be a teenager all too well, and that the fact that her music had resonated with someone so young meant the world to her. Almost every time it had happened since - which, honestly, was more and more often now that Dumbledore had practically forced them all to attend interviews (in which James definitely grew a few grey hairs). Their fan base had sprung out of nowhere, just like the band itself, and simply did not stop growing.

Dorcas truly appreciated fans - it was overwhelming and honestly mind boggling, sure - but the fact that she had a shot at resonating with someone who struggled in the same ways she had? That was worth all of it.

Yet still, Dorcas couldn’t stop herself from opening up twitter and scrolling through, greedily eying up every single comment that mentioned ‘Wildflower’ or ‘Dorcas Meadowes’. She knew that not everything out there was positive, but that wasn’t going to stop her trying. Negativity was hurtful, of course, but Dorcas wanted to know every single opinion on Wildflower out there, even if it hurt her feelings.

Abruptly, her phone fell to the floor.

‘Will you stop that?’ Lily playfully glared, but Dorcas knew that she meant it. What could she say? Feedback was her bread and butter. Even the negative bits.

…Especially the negative bits.

‘Ok, ok,’ Dorcas held her hands up sheepishly, picking her phone up from Lily’s carpet. ‘I’ll stop, I promise.’

Lily laughed, flicking her long hair over her shoulder.

‘Good,’ She grinned, ‘It’s been so long since I last saw you, Dork, that I almost forgot what your face looked like,’

‘Well, we can’t have that, can we?’ Dorcas grinned into her wine. Since the incident, she’d made a point of not drinking too much.

‘No, I guess not,’

‘Wait,’ Dorcas paused, ‘it had not been a long time since you last saw me. It’s been a week! You’re lying to me, Evans!’

Lily giggled, ‘Longest week of my life, Meadowes. Longest week of my life. So what’s up with you then? Are you officially too famous to associate with commoners like me now?’ She waggled her eyebrows.

‘Don’t be daft, Lils. It’s… weird. To be honest, there is no other way to describe it. Just incredibly odd. Slightly off putting, maybe.’

She nodded. ‘James has pretty much said the same thing. You know what he’s like - always loved a bit of attention, but I think it’s gotten to him too. He won’t say as much. I don’t even think he’s clocked it himself, but I know he’s weirded out by it all.’

‘It’s strange,’ Dorcas admitted. ‘I feel like I’ve practically ghosted my way through life, and now everyone is seeing me for the first time.’

Lily’s expression softened at that.

‘I’m not sure I like it yet. It’s…dizzying. I like the recognition for the music, you know, but I’m not sure I like the attention. I guess I just feel watched. Y’know, I even heard some people outside our block talking about Wildflower when I took the bins out last night.’

Lily nodded. ‘I can't say I understand, Dorcas. How could I? I’ve never even dreamed of being in this position. And the public don’t know about me and James yet, thank the lord, so no one’s approached me, but if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’m always here, ok? I know you’ve been through a lot.’ Her voice softened,’ But that doesn’t mean you have to keep going through it alone. We care about you, Dorcas, all of us, and I need you to know that.’

Dorcas took a long sip of her wine. ‘I do know that Lily. I do. Thank you.’

Lily looked troubled for a moment. Dorcas cleared her throat.

‘Did James tell you about the gig Dumbledore booked us into at the start of August? I’m bricking it, you know, I’ve never played to a big crowd before.’

She brightened at that. ‘Yes! James has been nattering on about it all bloody week. Tickets went up a few days ago, right? How many are going?’

‘Well, Dumbledore put 2000 tickets up. He said we probably won’t even sell half, but we have to look like a big deal if we’re gonna make it one day. It’s all a pretence, you get it.’ Dorcas rolled her eyes. It was early days, and already she was getting pretty sick of the pretence. ‘I haven’t checked how many have sold yet though. Just the thought of it makes me feel queasy. I think the most people I've played in front of is like… 20? Maybe more back in uni? I don’t even know.’

‘You’ve not got a thing to stress over, Dorcas. You’re gonna smash it. You’ve all been practising so hard, even now, there’s no way you won’t.’ Lily added, ‘If it helps, James is nervous too, and he’s played in front of big crowds a few times. You should see him before shows. He gets all jumpy.’

Dorcas could imagine James before a concert, bouncing around like a frog. A chuckle emerged from her throat. Maybe she should slow down on the wine.

‘Thanks Lils. Where would I be without you?’

Lily rolled her eyes. ‘Who knows, Dork.’

—x—x—x—

August rolled around far quicker than Dorcas anticipated.

Realistically, she knew it was coming. God, they’d only been practising for months. At this point, she could probably play every instrument herself; she knew the songs so well, but still, the facts remained: she was nervous.

James had been doing everything he could to keep the band calm over the past few weeks. Constantly doing runs between their new studio and the nearby corner shop for snack breaks. Swinging round to the cafe when Dorcas was working to check up on her. Offering all the tips he could to everyone, much to Peter’s dismay. And still, despite all his efforts, Dorcas was nervous.

Part of her guessed that it was inevitable, really. She’d never played in front of a massive audience. Let alone one this big.

Dorcas hadn’t wanted to check how many tickets they’d sold, but now that it was officially thirty minutes before they went on stage, she was beginning to regret it. When they showed up to the venue some hours ago, a grassy park in London with a big stage at the centre, there were probably about a hundred people there already. Dorcas didn’t even want to know what it looked like now.

Backstage, despite all their combined nervous energy, things were strangely calm. They’d all had makeup put on so that they weren’t washed out in the lights and had their outfits meticulously picked out by some unfamiliar faces employed by their management, and honestly, they looked amazing.

It wasn’t often that the members of Wildflower dressed up to go out, and it showed now that they looked so put together. Dorcas and Sirius had been put in something of a bad-boy look; all leather and tight trousers and tops that showed a little bit too much. Sirius's shirt was unbuttoned a few down from the collar and Dorcas top opened out in sporadic gaps, covering her cleavage while still allowing her to move around. She’s yearned for the comfort of her old jacket, but they’d been very clear when she’d asked to bring it on stage. She still brought her notebook with her, which in all honesty was beginning to look a little bit too full, but she’d kept it safe, tucked into a small pocket in her bag.

James had been dressed up as well. When their new stylists had been fussing around them, he’d looked somewhat uncomfortable, but now he was sitting on a sofa with Peter plucking at an acoustic guitar someone had left lying around, he looked much more in-touch with that swagger only James Potter could produce. He’d been dressed in blue jeans and a patterned red long sleeved top. Somehow, he’d resisted the stylists when they’d practically begged him to take off his circular glasses and at least trade them in for something, well, a little bit cooler, but he’d managed to get away with it. Dorcas was honestly impressed. She thought she’d put up a good fight with the jacket - she didn’t even want to know what James had done to be allowed to wear his glasses.

Peter was dressed in a safer option, much to his relief. He’d expressed his doubts to Dorcas before they’d got in the car to go to the venue about being dressed up in all this fancy stuff. Peter’s style was much more low-key. Even so, he wore a lush cashmere jumper that he’d tucked into his jeans, and a necklace with a flower hanging low for good luck.

Marlene, however, was perhaps the most shocking transformation. Dorcas didn’t want to admit it, not after the incident, but Marlene was clearly bringing the show. She wore the same chunky black boots she’d worn that night at the club, paired with dark blue jeans that flared out at the ankle, a belt you’d probably see on a cowboy and a short sleeve mottle green top that made her blonde hair striking. It almost looked like liquid honey, from this angle, and Dorcas fights the urge to-

‘Oi!’

‘Huh- I, what?’

‘Dorcas, babe, you’ve been staring at Marlene for about ten minutes now.’ Peter whispered in her ear sympathetically. She hadn’t even noticed him getting up and walking to the other side of the room to speak to her.

‘What?! No I haven’t-‘ Dorcas didn’t even realise that she’d been speaking so loudly until almost everyone in the room turned round to stare at her.

She chuckled nervously. ‘Sorry everyone. Peter thinks he’s funny.’ They turned away. Sirius's eye lingered on her for a second too long.

‘Ouch,’ only Peter could smile and scoff at the same time. ‘Is there… something going on between you two?’

‘What?! How could you even think that! I haven’t even-‘

‘Dorcas,’ Peter soothed, ‘I’m not saying anything like, uh, that, was going on. Honestly, what you do in your time is your business-‘

‘-What are you implying?’ It came out far more defensive than Dorcas intended.

‘If you’d let me finish,’ Peter raises an eyebrow, Dorcas feels sheepish. ‘I’m not implying anything. Your shit belongs to you. I’m just saying that I’ve sort of noticed that you and Marlene aren’t on speaking terms - you guys used to be at each other's throats all the time, and now you're not, it’s just different, that’s all.’

His gaze turned sympathetic now. ‘Is it anything you want to talk about?’

‘I-‘ Dorcas let out a deep exhale. She hadn’t even said anything to Lily, all too aware that her and Marlene had been friends for a long while. But as much as she didn’t want to admit it, the incident was weighing on her. More than it should have.And still, she didnt have to tell Peter the whole truth - everything about Dull Blade - but maybe it would be nice to tell someone. Especially one of her friends.

‘Do you promise to keep it a secret? I really can’t afford for her to hate me anymore than she already does.’ Dorcas’ voice was low

Peter met her gaze. ‘I promise.’

She had a good view of what was going on in the room from where she was sitting, and everyone had gone back to what they were doing. Marlene had now taken Peter’s spot on the sofa next to James and was making up crude lines to the song James was strumming on the guitar to make Sirius laugh. The stylists still busied themselves packing away their makeup.

‘It was some weeks ago now. You know that me and Marlene never really got on from the start, but when we went clubbing on the night of the album release, Marlene got herself in a tough spot. She was… messed up. I don’t think anyone else noticed.’ Dorcas shook her head, ‘but she was missing for ages. I found her at some point and took her home, paid for her cab, tucked her into bed, everything. Ever since then, she’s acted like I don’t exist.’

‘God,’ Peter whispered. ‘You’re right. I didn’t even realise. I- I don't even remember seeing Marlene that night. Thank the lord you were there, Dorcas, we all owe you for that.’

Dorcas gave a solemn nod.

‘But as for Marlene…’ Peter's voice was barely a whisper.

‘Fifteen minutes till showtime, everyone!’

‘… You gotta cut her some slack, Dorcas, and I know that sucks because she's not helping at all. It’s not my place to tell you anything about her, but Marlene has a lot on her plate and she's a good person. A really good person.’ Peter shoots her a meaningful glance, ’Who needs a second chance.’

Dorcas' mouth pressed into a thin line at that. She knew what Peter was about to ask her to do. Honestly, forgiveness came easy to her most of the time - ok, well, it did some of the time. But she knew this one was going to sting.

‘Please, Dorcas, just talk to her. Break the silence. Do it for the band, for me?’ Peter gave her puppy dog eyes. Dorcas groaned. She was a sucker for Peter's puppy dog eyes.

‘Fine.’ Dorcas muttered. ‘But I’m not going to enjoy it.’

Peter's eyes glittered, ‘Brill!’ He said cheerfully, and sauntered off back to the sofa.

Dorcas spent the next five minutes glaring at the floor, psyching herself up. Forgiveness, kindness, compassion, she repeated in her head. She could do this.

‘That’s five minutes till we’re on, guys! Grab your stuff and let’s go!’

The nerves were practically eating Dorcas alive at this point. Her head had been so busy with what to say to Marlene, she’d nearly forgotten where she was. What was at stake. Now, she wasn’t sure what she was more nervous about; playing in front of a thousand people or talking to a scary blonde girl. Honestly, it was pretty close.

Since their instruments were already out on the stage from their soundcheck earlier on, they didn’t have much to remember. James fingers were wrapped tightly around their set list, and they all carried water bottles.

Dorcas' locs had been tied back into a thick ponytail on the back of her head, but even still, she fiddled with the ends of their hair. They were in the wings now, she could feel the buzz of the crowd, the collective murmur that erupted from it. James and Sirius were reciting the setlist together, desperate not to forget anything. Marlene was transfixed, staring at the crowd. Peter shot her a look.

Dorcas cleared her throat, tapping Marlene on the shoulder. She visibly jumped, looking more startled than pissed off.

Well, Dorcas thought, good start.

‘Hey, uh, before we go out there I just wanted to… call a truce. I know things haven’t exactly been.. good… between us, but there’s a hell of a lot of people out there who want to see us play. As a band. So, for the sake of James’ blood pressure and the band, what do you say?’

Marlene eyed her curiously, her fingers twisting in her hair, scuffing it up. If her hair looked like liquid honey earlier, it looked simply golden now. Dorcas reminded herself to stay focussed.

Dorcas held her hand out.

Marlene hesitated for just a moment longer, and then, incredibly, clasped Dorcas’ hand in her own. Dorcas felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

‘Truce.’ Was all Marlene said. Her first word to Dorcas in weeks. She smiled a bit.

‘Thirty seconds guys! Get ready!’

James was jogging on the spot, blowing out tense puffs of air. Peter was nervously fussing with his jumper. Sirius pulled a guitar pick out of his pocket and toyed with it. Dorcas still struggled to get a read on him, but she was sure she could see some tension in his shoulders.

‘Ten seconds!’

As a group, they shuffled closer into visibility. Dorcas' nerves were eating her alive. Part of her wanted to dash out there right now and begin, if only just to get all the tension out of her system. The other part of her wanted to turn around and run all the way home.

‘Ok! And in five, four-‘

And then, miraculously, Marlene turned to Dorcas, smiled, and said, ‘Break a leg.’ Before striding out onto the stage, hand raised in greeting to the roaring crowd.

Dorcas' jaw dropped, frozen to the spot. Did Marlene just smile? At her? That was her first act of kindness, well, ever.

She’d never get an answer to her question. Because before she knew it, she was on stage too, waving to the crowd that came alive at the sight of her. Goddamn, she didn’t realise just how many people there were here. The lights were blinding, but in the broad daylight of the August evening, the crowd looked like it went on forever.

Her vision blurred for a second, but Dorcas refused to cry. She wanted to be seeing this in her memories for as long as she lived. Once the crowd had begun to calm, Sirius stopped bowing to the audience and prancing around, an erratic grin on his face. Peter shook his head with a fond smile.

‘Hello everyone!’ James' cheery voice came over the microphone. The crowd erupted once again. He cleared his throat. ‘This is Wildflower.’ Rather predictably, the crowd began to scream again. Marlene raised her hands up, encouraging the crowd to be louder. James laughed into the microphone.

‘My name is James, and these are my friends,’ He gestured to Sirius, ‘Sirius on the bass,’ Sirius winked at the crowd, and a group of teenage girls began frantically waving to him.

‘Marlene on the guitar,’ She raised her hand in a wave, grinning and gesturing for the crowd to cheer louder again. Sirius did the opposite, playfully encouraging the crowd to boo. Marlene stuck her tongue out at him.

‘We have Peter on the keys!’ Peter gave a cheerful wave and a bow.

‘And last, but certainly not least, we have Dorcas on the drums!’ Dorcas' heart was beating fast and her knees were shaking, almost knocking together, but still she stood up from her stool, raising her arm in a wave and blowing a kiss to the audience.

She quickly sat back down. The last thing she needed was to collapse on stage.

‘So now that you all know us, how about we play you some songs?’

The crowd went louder than ever.

Dorcas picked up her drumsticks. She knew the set list off by heart, of course, but she still felt the prickles of doubt. She firmly pushed them away. This was everything she’d trained for.

Dorcas could only imagine the smirk James was shooting the crowd. ‘Ok then, sounds like you're ready. Let’s go!’

And just like that, they launched into it. They’d arranged to play their own music, starting with a hit - Sore Loser, and ending with a hit - Dull Blade. Two covers inbetween the rest of their discography that James and Marlene had been practising every day for weeks.

Concentrating with all her might, the rest of the world slipped away. Now, it was just Dorcas doing what she did best. Making music.

Dorcas didn't even feel like she blinked.

‘Thank you, London! We are Wildflower, and that was our new album Upsetting the Neighbours! See you soon!’

Dorcas snapped out of it. She looked up dazed, and felt it all. The people. The noise. Her bandmates. The atmosphere. She wanted to shove this feeling in a bottle and sleep with it under her pillow every single night for the rest of her life.

James waved manically at the crowd, an elated expression on his face before charging off stage with Sirius. Dorcas picked up her drum sticks and took one last long look at the crowd, who were jumping up and down and shouting ‘Encore! Encore!’

Dorcas knew there would be no encore this time, but she still couldn’t restrain the grin that had taken over her face. From what Dorcas could see, the crowd was alive, cheering and stomping. Her muscles ached, her hands were in a permanent cramp and she was almost drenched in sweat thanks to the early August evening, and yet she had never felt happier.

She clearly was not the only one who felt the same. As soon as she was out of the crowd's view, James dragged her into a bone crushing hug, which Sirius ended up jumping in on, which snowballed into a full-band hug. They all stunk of sweat, laughing and giggling with sore throats at the pure absurdity of what had just happened.

People had come to see them. Playing their very own music.

James laughed, ‘I’m so proud of you guys,’ he croaked out.

‘Me too.’ Peter’s voice wobbled, ‘I’m just so-‘ and then he promptly burst into tears.

James crowded him in a hug and rubbed his head. ‘It’s ok, Princess Pete, don’t cry,’

‘Still not my name, James,’ Peter's voice came out muffled from where his head was buried in James' shirt.

James gave Peter a slap on the back, ‘Ah, well, you can dry your own tears then.’

That earned laugh from everyone, even Peter.

‘Guys,’ Marlene’s voice cut through. ‘I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but you guys know what this means, right? For the band? We nearly sold all the tickets. On our first ever show. This could- this could be big.’ Her voice wobbled, like she couldn’t believe it herself.

Sirius nodded his head. He seemed to have come down off his adrenaline rush, his stage presence floating down into something morereserved.

‘I know, it’s crazy - insane,’ another laugh bubbled out of James, ‘But we have that meeting with Dumbledore next week, and maybe we could talk to him about more shows, just like this one?’

Dorcas nodded her head vigorously. ‘I don’t know about you guys, but I feel like I could do that every day for the rest of my life. It was just so, so, you know? Like hearing everyone singing along to a song that we wrote.’

‘Uh uh, Dorcas,’ Peter cut in. ‘Songs that you wrote. We all helped you of course, but you wrote most of those songs,’

‘Yeah, Dorcas,’ James joked, ‘It’s practically your band, we’re just here for a good time.’ Dorcas cracked a wry smile.

Marlene shook her head. Strangely, it didn’t make Dorcas feel offended. Although it had only been an hour and a half since their conversation, it felt as though something had changed.

‘Seriously though guys,’ Sirius cut back in, ‘Do you think we can keep going on with this? Like, long term?’

Dorcas thought about it for a moment. If it all continued the way it was going, Dorcas could be set for life. But, she thought about how fickle the industry was and its reputation for chewing people up and spitting them out. This fame could be so short lived. Wildflower could already be at their peak and they wouldn’t even know it. Dorcas thought about her job, her cosy flat, the taxi home from the pub after a night at the Three Broomsticks. If they were going to go big, could she give it all up?

But then, Dorcas thought about everything she’d given up already. Her old home, her time, her money. She realised with a start, she was neck deep already. She’d been in this band wholeheartedly from the second they’d said they wanted her. If it all went to ruin, and she lost it all, her whole life, wouldn’t it be worth it? If not for anything else, to make her childhood dreams a reality?

Dorcas thought back to the first fan she met - the girl with the blue streak in her hair. How happy she’d been to meet her. How it had made Dorcas' soul sing when she realised that her own experiences had resonated with someone else. She thought about all the fans and the people she’d met since. The people that had come out to see her tonight. The answer she gave was inevitable, really.

‘I’m in.’ Dorcas said, after only a moment's hesitation.

‘Me too,’ Peter and James said in chorus.

They all turned to Marlene. ‘What?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Do I even have to say it? Of course I'm in!’

‘That settles it then.’ Sirius said. ‘We’re in for it, all or nothing.’

–x–x–x–

Dorcas was back in Lily’s itchy pencil skirt, and she was not happy about it.

After the events of the concert, Dorcas went home and all-but collapsed into bed, sleeping for nearly eighteen hours. She was exhausted, body and soul. When she awoke, she opened her phone to twenty three missed texts and fourteen missed phone calls.

All of the missed calls were from Lily, demanding an answer as to why she hadn’t returned her texts and why she hadn't given her a full-scale run down just as James had done. She’d missed texts from Lily too, twenty, to be precise, but it was the other texts she’d missed that were the most important.

The first one was from James, congratulating them for the evening. He’d reminded them that they had a radio interview the next day, and that Dumbledore had requested a meeting with them the following week. The radio interview had admittedly slipped her mind, but the meeting had not. She’d been dreading it ever since she received the email. If she’d learnt one thing from her childhood, it was that she hated feeling small. And if there was one thing that Dumbledore made her feel, it was inferior. She knew she’d only met him once, and that she couldn't judge him off one meeting, but still, as the meeting crept closer, she felt the dread building up in her stomach.

The second one was more threatening than the other twenty three messages Dorcs received. It began the same way as all the other texts had, short and simple: Come home.

Obviously, Dorcas ignored it. He’d been texting her for weeks now, and no matter how many times she’d blocked his number, a new one always seemed to pop up. She constantly reminded herself in the early days of his texts that she was not obligated to reply. As more texts came in, she got pretty good at believing that.

The next one was far more worrying. It was short, just like the rest of the texts he’d sent her. But this one was different for a few reasons. Firstly, it wasn't threatening. Secondly, it was nice.

‘Saw the pics from your show. Looking good!’

Dorcas had promptly lobbed her phone at a nearby wall. The rage was building up in her, thick and fast. Who did he think he was, practically harassing her, ruining her life, and then complimenting her? No, he lost that privilege long ago. Dorcas had been doing so well at blocking him out, punishing him for his mistakes, and now he was going to throw it all back in her face by trying to be supportive? It was far too late for him to be supportive. That ship had sailed long ago.

She slapped the glass that was sitting on her table onto the floor in her rage. It splintered into a million tiny pieces as it hit the hard floor of her kitchen. Dorcas immediately regretted it. That was exactly what he wanted - for her to spiral out of control, for her to scare herself and come running helplessly back into his arms. No. The thought of it made her even more angry.

Dorcas went to go get a broom to clear up her mess, still simmering in anger.

She was half way through sweeping it into the pan when she cut her finger. She sat there for a moment, watching the blood bead on the end of her thumb.

Then, inspiration struck. She got up, almost tripping from the speed of it and ran to her bedroom, dead-set on finding her notebook.

Sometimes, Dorcas found, she didn't have to write songs at all. All the best songs practically wrote themselves. It was moments like those that Dorcas felt most proud of herself. She’d been doing what she dreamed of doing as a teen - grabbing an emotion and compressing it into a song - catchy, but soulful too. It wasn't like anything Wildflower had produced so far, and she knew that Dumbledore wouldn't touch it with a barge pole, but until she knew what to do with it, she’d keep it close to her chest, a reminder for when things got tough.

But when her tights were itching her legs and the skirt had practically restrained ninety percent of her movement she was very much struggling to remember that victorious feeling. Dorcas squirmed in her seat

‘As I was saying, Miss Meadowes,’ Dumbledore shot her a subtle glare, ‘This album had taken off far better than we ever imagined it would. I expect that you're all very proud of yourselves, as you should be, but I’d like to remind you that the hard work is not yet over.’

Dorcas tried very hard not to roll her eyes. They’d been in there ten minutes, and all Dumbledore had done was shoot thinly veiled insults at them. She kept her face straight. She may not like Dumbledore, but she had no choice but to listen to him. He was the one keeping them in business. For better or for worse, they relied on him.

“We’d like to maintain the momentum you have created so far. So, we’re going to need you all to trust us. Here at management, we of course want you all to have as much freedom as we can provide you with, but you must understand that this can be difficult in the face of the media. From now on, we must make a compromise. From us, you’ll receive all the support we can provide for you. We’ll book you gigs, get you interviews, and everything else we have to do to keep Wildflower in relevancy. I trust you all still want this, yes?’ Dumbledore peered at them over his half moon shaped glasses.

They all nodded their heads.

‘Good, good.’ he nodded. ‘Then from you, we will require a few things. Firstly, we need your whole commitment if we are going to make this work. This means that you must terminate your position in any job you currently have,’ Dorcas shifted uncomfortably in her seat, ‘you must follow the planned out schedule that we sent to your email before I met you here today, and finally you must be prepared to drop anything and everything to comply with our schedule. Am I clear?’

Dorcas hesitated for a moment. Since the release of the album, she didn’t need the extra money she’d earnt in the cafe to live. It helped, sure, but she lived comfortably. Still, it has unexpectedly grown on her. It would hurt her to leave.

Dorcas reluctantly nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Yes,’ the rest of the band echoed.

‘Fantastic,’ Dumbledore gave them a swift smile. ‘Right then, I understand you have all elected Mr Potter as your leader?’

They stared back at him. They’d all been very clear in their first meeting that James was the leader of the band considering he was the one that created it. They all had equal say, yes, but the public eye, James was their spokesperson.

‘Brilliant, then. If you’d all like to step outside for a moment, I need to speak to Mr Potter alone before I consult the rest of you.’

Dorcas felt a quick flash of irritation at being dismissed, but it was inevitably overtrumped by the desire to get out of that room.

Once Dorcas, Peter, Marlene and Sirius were back out in the waiting room - a minimalistic room with a rich, fluffy carpet and obscure artwork on the walls - Dorcas could practically feel the anxiety coming off of the rest of the group.

‘What do you think they’re talking about in there?’ Peter said anxiously.

Sirius looked solemn, but Dorcas thought she could detect a hint of anxiety in his tone too. ‘I'm not sure, but it’s James, he’ll tell us everything that they talk about in there. You know he will.’

Marlene nodded. They all fell silent. The next five minutes seemed to stretch on for infinity. Dorcas commanded herself to be still, not to fidget with anxiety. She knew it would be fine - Dumbledore had just told them how well everything was going, so it couldn't be a bad thing, right?

Peter didn't seem to be handling it as well. He sat hunched over in his chair, silently pulling at the sleeve of his jumper, chewing his lip and shaking his leg up and down. Dorcas wished she could comfort him in the same way that he had done to her, but she was useless at trying to soothe people, so she stayed rooted to her seat.

The door opened. All their necks craned upwards to see James shaking Dumbledore’s hand, grinning. Dorcas felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. It was common knowledge that James was awful at hiding his feelings - if he was happy, it was contagious. That meant that whatever conversation they’d had in there, surely it couldn't have been that bad.

James strode out of the room, and waited for Dumbledore to close his office door. He said nothing.

‘Well?’ Sirius demanded.

‘Lads,’ James beamed, ‘how do you all feel about going on tour?’