Seventh Year, Christmas I
Friday December 23rd 1977
Sliding down the slope, Marlene kept a firm hold of her sailor’s cap lest the wind should take it. Tentatively, she placed one foot in front of the other, her soles gripping the muddy grass. Down at the bottom, she found her footing and aided Yasmin, ensuring she wouldn’t slip and fall: a perfect excuse to hold her hand.
`Careful, don’t let your scarf get caught,` Marlene whispered as they crawled underneath the fence surrounding the greenhouses.
`How’d you even know there’s a back entrance to these?` Yasmin asked, ducking underneath the wire.
`Madam Pomfrey sometimes sends me on an arrant and I don’t always feel like walking all the way around.`
`Rebel,` Yasmin smirked.
`I know. You should be wary of me.` Marlene raised her eyebrows teasingly, a thrill shooting up her spine.
During the day, the greenhouses were unlocked; the doorknob yielded easily underneath the pressure of Marlene’s palm. She let Yasmin enter and gingerly slid in behind her, glancing over her shoulder to check that nobody was watching them. Curtesy to the final day of term, classes had ended earlier than usual; the foliage-rich nursery was completely quiet, bar for the soft hum of the humidifiers.
`Well, it wasn’t a complete lie when we said we were going to do Herbology,` Yasmin chuckled, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them.
`You could say so,` Marlene nodded, a twinge of guilt burrowing in the pit of her belly. They’d snuck out of the common room, shaking off Mary who’d wanted to go over the Witch Weekly Christmas catalogue. There hadn’t exactly been an opportunity to tell Mary about Yasmin yet. Well – plenty of opportunity, just not the right kind.
As Yasmin started rummaging around, trying to light a fire in an empty garden pot, Marlene examined the Mandrake sprouts, consciously picking at the skin around her nails. Outside, it had started to rain; the thick drops clattered on the glass roof.
`Look what I found.` Yasmin was holding a piece of mistletoe, smiling impishly as she traversed towards Marlene. Evidently, she’d managed to light the fire: it was hissing gently, heating the chilly greenhouse.
`I don’t think it counts unless I stand underneath it,` Marlene commented.
`What’s withholding you?` Yasmin cocked an eyebrow and levitated the piece of mistletoe into the air.
With one nimble step, Marlene closed the space between and snaked her arms around Yasmin’s waist, kissing her. Merlin, how she adored being able to do that! Kissing Yasmin had proved to be incredibly addicting; she actually found herself craving the taste of her lips. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel this comfortable sharing her body with someone else.
Not taking their eyes off eachother, they huddled around the fire, revelling their faces in the amber glow. Marlene stretched her arms, warming her hands; the tips of her fingers were red and swollen, the nails bitten down to the quick, strips of skin peeling loose. With her index finger, she picked at a strip on her thumb, tearing it further.
`Why’d you do that?` Yasmin asked, also looking at Marlene’s hands.
`Why?` Marlene repeated, startled, dropping her hands to her sides. She’d always been scolded for butchering her nails; nobody ever asked her why.
`Yeah.`
Marlene shrugged. `Dunno. As a distraction - to direct my frustration at something. Mostly when I’m feeling anxious – I guess.`
`Are you feeling anxious right now?` Yasmin asked, turning her body, robes scraping over the bricks.
`When am I not,` Marlene laughed lightly, hugging her arms around her legs and picking at her tights. She rested her chin on her knees, hoping that her cap would conceal most of her face. She hated that she was feeling like this around Yasmin: it didn’t exactly make her appealing. Why couldn’t she just be fun – for once?
`About what?` Yasmin unfurled Marlene’s arms from her legs and took her hands, looking so earnest that it almost made her cry.
In an attempt at a breezy smile, Marlene twitched one corner of her mouth. `Och, I don’t know… Everything - nothing. Doesn’t really matter,` she shook her head. `Don’t want to bum you out. That’s not what we’re here for.`
`I don’t mind if you bum me out,` Yasmin said, softly, just above a whisper. `You don’t have to be some perfect cheery version of yourself around me.`
`But what if you don’t like me if I’m not?` Marlene replied, gnawing on the dry skin of her lips. `I’m generally not a really interesting or fun person.`
`I reckon you’re plenty interesting.` Yasmin leaned forward an kissed her forehead, leaving a warm seal on her skin. `And I want to know you, not what you think will make me fancy you - because trust me – I’m absolutely mad about you.`
Marlene hummed, feeling a hot tear travel down her cheek, dripping into the corner of her mouth.
`Y’know what,` Yasmin sat back, not letting go of her hands. `I’ll start with something that’s not that fun about me.`
`Alright.` Marlene wiped a hand over her cheek.
`Ok, well…` Yasmin sighed, seemingly collecting her thoughts. `I’m actually not looking forward to going home. Guess I’m just not really jumping up and down at the prospect of seeing my parents again,` she said. `I mean, I love them – of course I do. But they… It seems that nothing I do is ever good enough for them – no matter how hard I try. They never fail to compare me to my cousins and… It is just so tiring. I never feel like I just get to…exist. Every waking moment I feel the need to prove myself worthy of their affection.`
`That sounds really tough,` Marlene said, squeezing Yasmin’s hand.
`I try not to let it bother me – or pretend that it doesn’t. But, yeah, in the end, I do really want their approval – that they sort of like me at least. I just want to have a nice winter break, without them breathing down my neck.`
`I used to feel like that with my mother.`
`Not anymore?`
`Sometimes,` Marlene replied, considering. `But generally…no.`
`What changed?`
`The war – I think. Or just…time?`
`Oh,` Yasmin nodded solemnly. `And your dad?`
Marlene swallowed, feeling a hard lump pass in her throat. `Never known him - abandoned us. Do have a stepdad. But he- well he’s more married to his bottle than my mother.`
`Fuck,` Yasmin replied.
Marlene shrugged and looked up at the glass ceiling; the sun had set and the sky was turning a velvety purple, an almost full moon taking the stage as a solo performer.
`Does anyone in your family know about erm…you know…?` Marlene asked, tilting her head back to Yasmin.
`The lesbian thing?`
Marlene let out an involuntary snort: she adored that Yasmin never minced her words. `Aye, the lesbian thing.`
`No,` Yasmin shook her head, serious again. `My parents would have an aneurism. Maybe some of my cousins and aunties would be accepting…but no. Do any of yours?`
`Same,` Marlene replied. `Might tell my brother at some point…but I haven’t decided on that one yet.`
`That’s the thing isn’t it?` Yasmin licked her lips. `At some point. Don’t suppose we can keep this under wraps forever.`
`I wish we didn’t have to.`
`Someday, maybe.` Gently, Yasmin kissed Marlene’s knuckles; one by one, from left to right, then in reverse.
`I like you so much,` Marlene breathed, captivated by the warmth of Yasmin’s lips on her hands.
`Yeah, I figured.` Yasmin lifted her head and leaned in, softly lingering - sweet as honey. `Good thing that it’s mutual.`
Looking at her, Marlene traced the back of Yasmin’s neck, looping around the birthmark near the tight beads of her spine. The skin of her throat felt paper-thin. It was so vulnerable: one wrong move and she would scratch it. Their faces were close enough for Yasmin’s long eyelashes to brush her cheeks; waves of small pinpricks travelled up the length her arms
`Is it strange that it feels like I’m touching my own skin when I’m touching yours?` Marlene whispered in the near dark of the greenhouse.
`No, I don’t think that’s strange at all.`
***
Saturday December 24th 1977
A swarm of shivering students was making their way down to the station, gliding over the frost-nipped Hogwarts grounds. Mary craned her neck and held a hand above her eyes, surveying the sea of densely packed bodies. Due to an unfortunate collision with a ghost in the Great Hall, she’d been separated from her friends. Disastrously, she was neither able to spot Lily, Marlene, nor any of the boys. The latter was an even bigger mystery: it was pretty hard to misplace the marauders.
As they neared the first line of evergreen trees, Mary’s eye fell on Dorcas who was chaperoning a group of younger girls. Thank God, at least someone she knew! Hurriedly, she shoved past the throng and scampered over the crystallized grass, stumbling in her platform boots.
`Dorcas, hey!` Mary called out, her voice vaporising in the cold morning air.
`Oh, hi,` Dorcas replied, barely turning her head. The way in which Dorcas twisted a lock around her fingers betrayed her discomfort; the two of them hadn’t talked since she and Peter had called it a day.
`Have you seen Marlene or Lily?` Mary asked, falling in step with the group of girls.
`No, sorry,` Dorcas shook her head and granted her polite smile.
Some of the girls surrounding Dorcas had started to chatter amongst themselves – in the convert and vindictive matter thirteen-year-olds appeared to master. Eventually, one of them obnoxiously scraped her throat and asked: `You’re Mary Macdonald, right?`
`Yeah…` Mary replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable.
A ripple of commotion went through the group. `Is it true that you snogged all the lads in your year?`
Mary’s eyes widened, utterly shocked at the nerve of the girl. She wouldn’t have had that much cheek at her age! Or no…maybe that wasn’t true: she had been rather ruthless in her day.
`Lizzy!` one of the other girls hissed, elbowing her friend in the ribs.
`What? You were the one who told me to ask her.`
A deep furrow appeared on the girl’s forehead and she glared meanly at her friend. `You’re such a tattletale.`
`So is it true?` the first girl asked again, insistently.
Mary tried to catch Dorcas’ eye, seeking companionship in the dismal situation. However, Dorcas had started rummaging through her bag, ignoring her call for help. Ostensibly, Dorcas was not willing to stick by her side; she’d probably heard the same rumour. Whilst Mary was aware of her reputation concerning her dating life, this was absolutely preposterous!
`Of course it’s not true,` Mary replied, keeping a forced smile on her face, not willing to display how much this silly little comment was affecting her. `Don’t believe everything you’re being told.`
`I believe whatever I want to believe,` the girl shrugged and cast a knowing look at her cohort.
A tightness squeezed in on Mary’s ribcage - as a bone-hard corset. She was no stranger to the Hogwarts rumour mill and its innerworkings; but, if this was how these girls thought of her, there was no telling the extent of the other tales. She hadn’t exactly left a clean path in her wake; quite a few people would benefit from blacking her reputation.
`Right, well see you around, Dorcas. Happy holidays.`
Biting her tongue, Mary left the group of girls, continuing the search for her friends. Fortunately, she was able to spot Marlene almost instantly; she was walking next to Yasmin at the head of the line, deep in conversation by the looks of it. It hadn’t escaped Mary’s attention that Marlene had been spending quite a lot of time with Yasmin. These days, it was rare to see one without the other; Mary barely got to spend any time with her without Yasmin joining them.
As they entered onto the platform, Mary was able to catch up with the two girls; their conversation halted abruptly as soon as they laid eyes on her. Waving cheerily, a pit yawned in her stomach. Yasmin look rather disgruntled, giving the impression that she didn’t exactly like Mary’s sudden appearance.
It was glaringly obvious that Marlene and Yasmin had something going on – to Mary it was at least. Yet, Marlene hadn’t mentioned a single thing about it. Hence – as long as Marlene was pretending that Yasmin was just a friend, Mary would continue to treat her as such. If they wanted to spent some time alone, they should just outright tell her. Didn’t she, herself, have a certain claim on Marlene too – as her best friend?
`Och grand, we were wondering where you were,` Marlene said elusively, messing with her cap.
`It was fine – bumped into Dorcas,` Mary tinkered at her molars with her tongue, trying to rid herself of the feeling that she wasn’t wanted.
Luckily, the strange tension was broken by the arrival of Lily: she came bolting across the platform - a vision of brightly coloured knitwear and fiery curls.
`Lads not with you?` Mary asked, befuddled by her sole appearance.
`They’re staying at school until Monday,` Lily replied offhandedly, catching her breath and straightening her scarf.
`Why?` Marlene frowned.
`Oh…erm…just,` Lily shook her head and looked at the train. `Remus was feeling poorly and the lads figured that they’d better travel when he’s feeling better, y’know.` She pressed her lips together and nodded. Whilst Lily appeared to be gifted in various areas, lying certainly was not one of them.
How could they know that Remus would be feeling better on Monday? And why on earth did all four of them need to stay at Hogwarts? Did they truly need to do everything in a pack of four? They weren’t The Beatles for God’s sake! Moreover, Mary had seen Remus at breakfast looking far from poorly: the matter in which he’d wolfed down his breakfast hadn’t exactly displayed any signs of illness. Yet – who was she to judge?
`Shall we get onto the train then?` Lily offered hastily, not leaving any room for questioning.
As Mary clambered onto the train, trailing Lily, she wondered what she wasn’t telling them. It was not that unlikely that Lily had more insight into the marauder’s secrets than anyone else in the castle. Sometimes, Lily would avoid certain question or mention something enigmatic, leaving the rest of them puzzled. Whilst Mary completely understood that certain things needed to be private, it was grating to be left out of the equation like this. Nobody appeared to be telling her anything these days!
`I need to pop into the prefects carriage for a second, then I’ll be back,` Lily announced as she disappeared along the train corridor.
Mary followed the other girls into an empty compartment and sat down next to the fogged up window, watching the remainder of students on the platform. Marlene and Yasmin had started sharing their plans for the holidays; Mary nodded and smiled along but the words slid off her as rain off an oily surface.
More and more, Mary was experiencing the sensation as though she were looking at her life as an outside spectator: not an active participant but a passive viewer. Every day felt like a repeat of the previous one; she was letting herself be dragged along with the current, wishing for a tidal wave. Her friends seemed to have such a clear understanding of what they wanted to achieve; who they wanted to be in life; and with whom they wanted to share it. Mary had no clue what her future would grant her; the proximity of it felt terrifying.
Whilst Mary made sure never to be alone, the company she kept left her feeling empty - a gaping void yawning in her chest. During certain moments with her friends, she could feel that hole filling, though, these moments never lasted long enough to fix it.
***
Sunday December 25th 1977
With her teeth, Lily bit off a piece of twine, yerking on it until it snapped. Nimbly she strung it through the eye of the needle, squinting against the light. Once done, she pierced it through a slice of dried orange and tied a knot, making sure that both sides were even. The tangy sweet scent of the citrus fruit was heavenly!
`What are those?` Petunia ambled into the kitchen, pulling a face as she regarded the garland; she took one end between forefinger and thumb, holding it at arm’s length as though she were touching something utterly vile.
`Decorations,` Lily replied, deliberately ignoring the scorn.
Petunia raised her thin eyebrows and kissed her teeth; she grabbed an elaborately decorated tapered candle and scrutinized it, the disapproval dripping off her sharp features.
`I made those as well,` Lily remarked, snapping off a new piece of twine.
`I can tell,` Petunia said, dropping the candle with a thud.
Continuing her craft, Lily bit the insides of her cheeks, scowling to herself. Not a kind word had been heard from Petunia since both of them had returned home for the holidays; all her sister had done was roll her eyes and make snide remarks about Hogwarts and her friends. The mention of James had earned Lily a high pitched cackle - as if Petunia’s own boyfriend was such a catch.
Speaking of which: `When’re Vernon and his sister arriving?` Lily asked, concealing her dread.
Vernon and his older sister, Marjorie, were joining them for Christmas dinner that evening. Lily had spent the entire morning and afternoon fashioning Christmas decorations whilst her mother fussed over the food. It granted Lily a small feeling of satisfaction knowing that the Dursleys would definitely disapprove of these homemade decorations. It was the smallest and most subtle act of defiance she permitted herself: even though she absolutely loathed Vernon, she would never deliberately try to corrupt Petunia’s image.
`Around four,` Petunia replied, lifting the lid off a pot of cranberry sauce and sniffing it. `They should be here any minute now.`
Petunia had her back turned to Lily; her pale neck looked oddly long sticking out above her blazer, left naked by her severe bun. A narrow pencil skirt hugged her frame, pressing into the backs of her calves; Lily wondered whether Petunia was able to breath in that monstrosity. Little playfulness was recognizable in Petunia anymore; she was all angles and scorn, appearing much older than nineteen.
Silently, Lily continued tinkering with the orange garland, trying to avoid piercing her fingers with the needle. Petunia kept haunting the kitchen, sniffing at the pots and seemingly checking every surface for dust. Ever once in a while, she scraped her throat or made a small stifled sound. Her presence in the room was grating; it was as if she were waiting for something.
Eventually, Lily was fed-up. `What do you want from me, Petunia?` she asked.
Petunia turned to her and smoothed a hand over her thin blonde hair - hesitation in the gesture. Then, she twisted her sinewy hands protectively in front of her waist.
`What?` Lily asked again, putting down her work.
`I think Vernon’s going to propose,` Petunia blurted. `Marriage. Proposing marriage - I mean.`
Lily’s startled, finding herself speechless. `Wow - ok,` she blinked. `Goodness.`
Still twisting her hands, Petunia marched up and down the length of the kitchen. `I found a ring in his pocket last week when he asked me to get his coat,` she stammered. `I didn’t say anything about it – obviously - I put it right back - but I think that’s why he’s bringing Marge.`
`And…erm,` Lily furrowed her brow, searching for the right words. `Do you- do you want to…marry him?` she asked, scared for the answer.
A strange chuckle escaped Petunia and she wiped her glistening forehead. `I don’t know – I don’t know,` her voice had become very high and frail, her breathing hitched. `I don’t know. How am I supposed to know something like that?` She swallowed, the cartilage in her throat moving up and down.
`I don’t know either,` Lily managed, still trying to wrap her head around the concept. `I mean – do you- do you love him? Do you love Vernon? That’s what matters, isn’t it?`
Petunia stared blankly at Lily, clutching at the side of the kitchen counter.
`Petunia?` Lily asked concerned.
`Oh God,` Petunia muttered. Her face had gone white as a sheet and she was breathing frantically through her mouth. `Oh God,` she repeated and sunk through her knees.
Swiftly, Lily traversed towards her sister and guided her to the tiles; it had been a while since she’d seen Petunia in such a state.
`Try to breath to my hand,` Lily said, putting a hand to her sister’s sternum. Petunia didn’t respond; her eyes flickered around the kitchen in alarm. `Petunia, can you hear me?`
Petunia nodded, beads of sweat trickling past her temples. `Just – just need to lie down.`
`No,` Lily shook her head. `Put your head between your knees.` She put a gentle hand to the back of Petunia’s head and bend her forwards. `Keep breathing to your feet - try to feel the ground.`
After a couple of minutes, Petunia started breathing normally again; Lily kept a hand on her damp back, feeling her shiver underneath the touch. The clock of the oven ticked loudly, adding to the strange atmosphere.
Petunia lifted her head and leaned back against the cabinet, closing her eyes. `Thank you,` she whispered, almost inaudibly.
Lily wanted to say something in return but wasn’t sure what; and before she knew it, the doorbell rang and the moment had ceased to exist.
*
Vernon and Marjorie Dursley arrived in a grey Volkswagen, looking almost identical in their dull beige suits. The siblings were a few year apart but equally ruddy and blond, noses wrinkled in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction. The moment they stepped over the threshold, it was as though all colour had been drained from the hallway. Marjorie, or Marge, had a pair of small beady eyes which almost penetrated Lily’s face as the latter offered her an instantly declined hand.
However unpleasant their arrival, possibly even worse was the unexpected entrance of Marjorie’s scruffy little bulldog. Marjorie Dursley apparently had a career in breeding bulldogs, which – albeit a little unusual - was actually not that surprising.
The dog sniffed at the door, barking and huffing petulantly as it refused to enter. It wasn’t uncommon for animals to pick up on spells: Lily had seen it happen before. Though she tried to limit her use of magic around her family, she had indeed put a couple of protective charms on their front door – just in case.
`Come on darling,` Marjorie yerked on the leash. It was strange to hear her talk so sweetly to the animal. `Come along with mummy.`
Meanwhile, Petunia was fussing over Vernon, accepting his hat and coat, inquiring about their journey from London, and guiding him towards their parents. It made Lily’s heart ache to see how much effort her sister was putting into her role as perfect hostess; even more so since her efforts seemed to go unappreciated by her guests.
`Out of the way!` Marjorie barked; she had managed to get her dog to enter and forcefully shouldered past Lily, towing the poor creature behind her.
Oh - how much Lily would have loved to hex that woman right then and there.
All throughout dinner, Lily maintained a brave face, trying her utmost best not to feel too much resentment towards her parents. Seeing as they’d never met James, her parents hadn’t allowed her to enjoy her Christmas at the Potters. It was a mild balm knowing that she would meet up with James in Hogsmeade the day after boxing day: her mother had graciously promised to take her to Oxford Street before accompanying her to the Leaky Kettle.
Nevertheless, nothing could make up for the utter horror that was dinner. Lily had to cope with hours of Petunia cutting Veron’s meat and wiping his moustache - he was no more than a man-child with facial hair and a suit. Worse still: Marjorie kept letting her dog drink from her own wine glass. Absolutely disgusting and probably not good for the dog’s wellbeing.
However, to Lily’s relieve, neither Vernon nor his sister, mentioned anything about a proposal. Lily desperately hoped that Petunia would think twice before accepting such an offer. Yes: her sister was an intelligent women. Yet, Lily wasn’t sure whether Petunia would be able to see past her own stubbornness and unfailing desire to be as different from her younger sister as humanly possible.
///