Green Lindens
Marlene had a hard time apologizing to Mary after her potion nearly burned off her eyebrows. She stumbled her way through the apology as Mary was stomping away, tried to tell her that Quidditch exhausted her, and that Frank’s intensive sessions would come to an end after their match against Slytherin, but Mary wouldn’t hear any of it. Most of their class had borne witness to the explosion — or at least, the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws — and they had been so amused by Marlene’s mishap it quickly became the talk of the fifth years, to Marlene’s greatest inconvenience.
Of course, it didn’t help Marlene that Dorcas Meadowes heard about it, either.
Dorcas showed up as they were going to lunch, strutting down the corridor with her slow, prideful step, her prefect badge glinting like a trophy on her chest.
“MacDonald,” she said smoothly, grinning like a threat. “Heard you almost had an intense makeover earlier.”
Mary scoffed and slid Marlene a look. “Not voluntarily, like.”
“Or so I’ve figured.” Dorcas’ playful eyes landed on Marlene. She tilted her head to the side, and Marlene felt her cheeks growing warm. “Hope you’ll be as good on Saturday as you are in Potions, McKinnon.”
“Fuck off, Meadowes, I’ll be grand. And your uniform is not even on like it should be.”
The green and silver tie hung negligently on both sides of Dorcas’ neck. Marlene couldn’t care less for uniform etiquette, but she couldn’t count the times she had been reprimanded for an untucked shirt or a skirt rolled on too short. It seemed only fair that Dorcas was, too.
“Oh. Thank you for noticing,” Dorcas said, so genuinely Marlene could have believed she was actually thanking her. “Have you girls seen Lily, by the way?”
“She stayed behind to speak with Slughorn,” Mary said. “You’ll have to wait. It can last for hours.”
Dorcas had an eloquent eyebrow raise which made Mary laugh and Marlene conceal a chuckle.
“Well, then. Tell her to come see me before Transfiguration class. And Mary, I love the makeup. Glad McKinnon didn’t completely destroy it.”
Mary couldn’t hide her flattered smile. She had spent the morning putting on electric blue powder on her eyelids. “Thank you, Dorcas. At least someone appreciates my makeup skills.”
“I never said I didn’t,” Marlene retorted. “Only that I didn’t get it.”
Dorcas laughed. “There’s a lot of things you don’t get, is there not McKinnon?”
Marlene had no idea what she could have said that wouldn’t have been shot down with a charming grin and a smart retort, so she kept quiet. Dorcas winked at them goodbye and spun on her heels, her dark curls bouncing on her robe as she walked away.
“She’s such a doll,” Mary said. Marlene pretended not to hear.
Marlene didn’t trust Dorcas Meadowes. Though, strangely enough, her being part of the Slytherin Quidditch team was not the source of her issue. Neither was her being part of Slytherin altogether, though it was easier to pretend Marlene’s suspicion was rooted in some kind of weird house-based prejudice than in actual fear of who Dorcas might have been. Because after all, Dorcas loved Lily, spoke with Mary for hours, teased Marlene about Quidditch. But she also chuckled at Mulciber’s jokes, ate lunch with Regulus Black, patrolled the corridors as Amycus Carrow followed her like a lapdog. She enjoyed the attention Slytherins gave her, she basked in it, grinned with her arms up as they applauded her after a victorious Quidditch game. Of course, Marlene couldn’t remark on any of that without being accused of either paranoia or jealousy, or perhaps a mix of both. And maybe that wouldn’t be so untrue. Marlene liked to win, and Dorcas always did, easily, flawlessly. Maybe Marlene was getting tired of it.
“I’m actually not that mad at you,” Mary said. “Stop sulking.”
Marlene tended to, after speaking with Dorcas. “I’m not sulking.”
“Uh-huh. I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m the one who almost got my eyeballs blasted off.”
“Maybe you’d have liked it.”
She chuckled. “Am not so quite sure.”
“Have I told you I’m sorry?”
“Yes.” Mary’s dark eyes glinted. She couldn’t hold a grudge to save her life. “But another time won’t hurt.”
Lily had been, once again, invited to Slug’s Club. Marlene, despite deftly trying to avoid any alone time with him, was too: he had explicitly asked Lily to extend the invite to her, saying it had been too long since she had come to one of their little get-togethers.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” Marlene groaned, burying her face in the carpet of the common room. “I really don’t need that. It’s just after our game!”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Lily said, draping her legs across the armrest of the chair she was on. “It’s fun. I’m invited, so is Dorcas. We can make a girls’ night out of it.”
“I’m not,” Mary chimed in.
“You don’t want to be.”
“Yep,” Mary said with a proud smile, before turning back to her Transfiguration homework.
“See?” Marlene said, gesturing wildly. “I should boycott his dinner invites until he invites Mary, too.”
“Don’t drag me into this! I’m fine where I am.”
“There’s people he invites only because their family’s important. Like Mulciber, right? That’s bullshit! Mary’s family is important in the Muggle world too, but he doesn’t invite her because—”
“I’d rather not be in a room filled with fanatic purebloods,” Mary said sharply. “Think about Lily, for a second.”
“I don’t see why I should refuse any invite because the people there are idiots. They should be the ones scared. Not me.”
That statement was a testament to Lily’s courage and pride, and it didn’t help Marlene in her argument at all. Mulciber and Avery attended those dinners religiously. Unlike Dorcas, there was no doubt as to where their loyalties lay, and they didn’t bother hiding it: they liked to snicker any time Lily spoke, made faces at each other when Slughorn complimented her. Of course, Marlene had proposed she’d handle them herself, but Lily, dignified and proud as always, told her to pay them no mind. So she spent those dinners imagining all the gruesome ways she could make them eat their plates through their noses.
“Strike me dead, Potter’s here,” Lily muttered, covering her face with her hand.
James didn’t seem to even notice her, passing through the Common room with an intent look about his face. He often got jittery before a Quidditch game, and as much as he liked to pretend he didn’t care much whether they lost or won, he still did, deeply. Marlene went to see him as he hiked up the stairs to his dorm room.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
James jolted around, and let out a sigh. “Oh. It’s only you.”
“Who’d you think I was?”
“I don’t know, I’m just—” He sighed excruciatingly. Marlene put a hand over his shoulder. “I got some news about Gideon.”
“How is he—”
“Fine, fine,” James said. “He’s just gotten hurt, but he’s fine. He’s resting. He just — it’s such bullshit. Why am I supposed to care about Quidditch when there’s a war going on outside?”
Marlene watched him go into his dorm with a knot in her throat. There would come a time where they would be faced with the dire choice of recklessness or inaction. With each massacre, each arrest, each betrayal, the walls grew nearer, and they could only watch as everything they knew was proven to be a lie. How much time did Marlene have? And did she actually want to know?
Downstairs, the girls had given up on the pretense of doing their homework and were in the middle of an Exploding Snap game. Marlene sat next to them, eyes hazy as Mary cowered behind the armchair to protect herself from her second explosion of the day.
The Quidditch game went fantastically, until it didn’t.
The Slytherin’s Seeker was Regulus Black — he truly did look like his brother, only more emaciated, gloomier, and as good-looking. In the pouring rain, the Snitch was barely noticeable for a flicker of a second before disappearing entirely. Regulus was deft on a broom: more than once he misdirected a Bludger at one of Marlene’s teammates, almost causing Frank to fall off his broom entirely.
Marlene, on the other hand, was struggling. Dorcas and Mulciber, the Slytherin Beaters, had taken a keen interest in making sure she’d end up biting the mud — she was almost certain there was some kind of bet going on between the two of them.
An hour in, Slytherin was leading by 40 points. Marlene hadn’t even seen the Snitch once. Regulus hadn’t either, and he was scurrying the skies like a hound dog on a hunt, his black hair flapping in the wind.
Next to her, James swished past and intercepted the Quaffle as Avery was throwing it to Carrow. Avoiding a direct collision with Mulciber, he scored. 90-70. Marlene applauded with abandon. Suddenly, she noticed a glint of movement next to the pillar of Gryffindor's central goal.
"Oh shit," Marlene whispered as she dove to the Snitch level.
Regulus was still way up ahead. He might not have noticed it yet, but he would notice her diving. It was now only a few feet away. Marlene couldn't believe her luck. She held her arm out, extending her fingers.
In her right ear, she heard the tell tale whistling of a Bludger. Not thinking, she barrelled instantly, losing sight of the Snitch in the process. The Bludger brushed past her leg. She looked up and saw Dorcas, bat in hand, a satisfied look on her face.
“You should aim better next time, Meadowes,” she spat.
Dorcas smiled. “It wasn’t you I was aiming at.”
Marlene turned around to see James floating down, slumped on his broom, the bottom half of his face drenched in blood.
“Fuck,” Marlene muttered.
Frank asked for a timeout, but it was clear James wasn’t able to continue the game in this state. He declared he could, tried to land safely on the ground before crumbling down unconscious. On the other side of the stadium, cheers erupted. Regulus was landing, his fist held up high, and Marlene’s heart sank to her stomach.
The entire Slytherin team landed under the chants of the crowd. Avery and Carrow hoisted Regulus up on their shoulders, whooping loudly. Mulciber walked behind them, an arm thrown around Dorcas, who couldn’t stop grinning. Marlene felt bile rise in the back of her throat.
James was brought to the Nursery immediately, where he was followed by Remus, Sirius and Peter. The atmosphere in the lockers was so drab Marlene didn’t even bother changing into her uniform, and got out, only to find Mary, Lily, and Dorcas seemingly waiting for her in the cloisters. Dorcas had changed into her shirt and skirt, with the tie now properly knotted. Her tight curls were held back in a ponytail, letting see every crease of her round face. She had drawn on a discreet silver line on her eyelid, which popped on her dark brown skin. She didn’t look winded, or merely touched by the physical exertion of the game, when Marlene was still regaining her breath.
“Marls!” Lily exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “You did amazing.”
“We didn’t win, so it’s pretty clear I did not,” Marlene said bitterly. “Congrats, by the way,” she added, looking at Dorcas, who faked a bow.
“And you’ve broken Potter’s nose in the process. I don’t know if I should kiss or punch you,” Lily added, laughing.
“Feel free to do both, Evans.”
“How is this even allowed?” Mary commented. She loathed Quidditch, found it barbaric, and that accident wouldn’t change her opinion. “James was pissing blood. How are we all okay with that?”
Lily rolled her eyes. “He’ll be fine. Maybe he’ll even speak less, who knows?”
Marlene declared she had to go see James. Her friends were far too high-spirited for her liking, and she needed someone to complain with about their loss. Deep in her thoughts, Marlene hadn't realized that she had no idea where she was. She looked up only to be faced with Peeves and his menacingly wide smile.
“A young McKinnon!”
Marlene kept on walking. She felt angry enough: hexing Peeves could get her detention, and that was not conceivable. Frank would kill her on the spot, now that they had to make up for such a devastating loss.
“Do you know your parents used to come here to snog?” he nagged.“Aren't they Aurors now? How things change.”
“Get lost, Peeves,” Marlene hissed, walking faster.
“Oh, I know someone who's bitter about losing against their rival house! I hope your dear parents are better at catching bad guys than you are at catching Snitches.”
Marlene felt her cheeks heat up in anger and shame. Her fingers tightened around her wand. How many days of detention was it, to curse Peeves? Probably a week. She could do with that.
Footsteps resonated against the corridor's tiles, quickly followed by a voice.
“McKinnon? Peeves?”
Dorcas was standing behind them. Marlene asked herself how she always managed to run into her in such a huge castle.
“Meadowes in the flesh!” the poltergeist chanted. “Be cautious, McKinnon's a sore loser.”
The remark made Marlene's blood boil. She got her wand out, but Dorcas was quicker:
“ Aqua Eructo !”
A violent jet of water hit Peeves right in the face. He cursed Dorcas out and fled, leaving drops of water as he floated away. Marlene gawked at the Slytherin.
“That's my favorite spell,” Dorcas confided, putting her wand away. “I don't often have the occasion to practice it. A shame, to be honest.”
Marlene found her humble bragging grating. This was the kind of spell seventh-years barely managed to control. “What are you doing here?”
Dorcas held out a packet of Chocolate frogs. “I have someone to apologize to for breaking his nose.”
Inside, James was surrounded with the rest of the Marauders as though he was on his deathbed. Already, Sirius had managed to procure them with enough food to feed a small village — colorful wrappings were littered across the floor, and Peter himself looked like his mouth was full.
At the sight of Dorcas, Sirius groaned. Remus, who had nothing against either of them, brought out two chairs for them to sit on.
“Are you coming to gloat over an injured man, Meadowes?” Sirius asked dramatically, shielding James with his own body. “Are you not ashamed of what you’ve done?”
Dorcas laughed. “I just came to see how Potter was. And to apologize, I guess.”
“He’ll never forgive you,” Sirius said. “He’ll always remember you as the woman who—”
“Meadowes, did you bring me food?” James asked with an unusually nasal voice.“Because if so, I'd be willing to forgive you.”
Dorcas threw him the Chocolate Frogs. He eagerly opened the wrappings and swallowed the candy whole. Sirius looked affronted.
“You know, Meadowes,” he continued. “What you did, that was kind of good.”
“She broke your nose!” Sirius protested.
“I can recognize when someone’s being good! Like your brother, sorry mate, but he’s good . No offense, Marls. You’re proper grand, you know that.”
“How long did Madam Pomfrey say you have to rest again?” Marlene inquired.
“Two days. And she said no Quidditch practice for one week!” he added, indignant like a child.
“And I’m sure you won’t be back on a broom tomorrow,” Remus said under his breath.
“Let him whine,” Marlene said. “The bastard didn’t get enough attention breaking his nose an hour into the first game of the year.”
James threw a pillow at her and she threw it back as hard. Seeing him in a hospital bed didn’t feel quite right, but teasing him did. They spent the next hour laughing as James and Dorcas were each describing their own versions of the events, Dorcas even recreating James’ falling to the ground with great dramatics.
When Dorcas said she’d head back to her dorms, Marlene decided to follow her. They walked out of the Nursery in a shared, if slightly strained, silence. Dorcas could surely feel Marlene was about to ask her something, but didn’t want to provoke the question. It came as they were about to part, Dorcas heading down to the dungeons where a victory party undoubtedly awaited her.
“Why are you nice to him?” Marlene asked.
“Am I not allowed? Should I spit at his face?”
“I mean, you broke his nose.”
“It’s only a game. It was nothing serious, really.”
Dorcas began walking away again. An unexpected surge of anger overtook Marlene, and she blurted out:
“Is it all a game, then?”
Dorcas turned around, her eyebrows brought up into a knot of confusion. “What?”
“ This . Everything. You say it was nothing serious. Is there something serious for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. What does it take for you to actually care about something?”
Dorcas paused, her eyes narrowing. “Well, we won,” she said, pleasantly but distantly, like she was sensing Marlene’s animosity and was choosing to walk around it. “I care about that. I care about making sure the opposing team doesn’t hate me. I care that I broke your friend’s nose.”
Marlene highly doubted that. “Do you?”
Dorcas chuckled. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll go.”
“Why did you attack Peeves?”
That part, Marlene didn’t understand. It seemed Dorcas had already hit her monthly quota of violence with James. And why would she need to unwind, when her team had won because of her?
“He was annoying,” Dorcas said with a shrug. “And like I said, I don’t get to practice this spell too often.”
“We’re not allowed to hex Peeves. It’s like, a week detention at best.”
“First my uniform, now unallowed spells… I didn’t know you were such a stickler for rules, McKinnon. That’s a new side of you.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I am.” Marlene crossed her arms, staring straight at her. “You don’t know me.”
“Didn’t you and Black cause the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks to explode last year?”
Dorcas seemed quite amused by their conversation. Marlene held her gaze. “Accidentally.”
“Uh-huh. What changed, then?”
“Maybe I think people who act out when they know they’ll be protected bother me. I mean, you’re a Prefect, right? Who’s going to yell at you, Slughorn? He’s half-in love with you.”
That seemed to tick Dorcas off. “And? What are you saying?”
“Just that it wouldn’t be too surprising to see a Slytherin casting spells they shouldn’t be casting.”
“I don’t think I like what you’re implying, McKinnon.”
“I’m not implying anything. Just that it’s not fair.”
“We won't win anything by playing fair.”
“We’re not on the same team.”
Dorcas smiled, but it felt cold and unseemly. “Aren’t we?”
Before Marlene could assert they were most definitely not, Dorcas walked away. Because if there was something Dorcas did perfectly, even more so than the rest, it was fleeing the scene.