A million different ways to say ‘I love you’ and only one way to say ‘I hate you.’
“Quidditch and my cat.” Dorcas said sharply, turning to sit in her seat. That was wierd. She never did anything out of the ordinary for her, it was a strict rule that applied to everything apart from quidditch. That’s what made every quidditch game so fucking hard.
It was Marlene’s turn now. She walked over to the cauldron, tripping over her laces and earning a slap on her arse from James. She take a deep inhale, the smell invading her brain and fogging everything up.
”Jams and Pete, home, and… quidditch.” Except it wasn’t just quidditch. There was something else. It reminded her of competitiveness, but competition couldn’t have a smell. What on Merlin was that?
”Oh! I’m so sorry!” Marlene almost yelled as she purposefully tripped into Slughorn, her hand expertly dipping into the cauldron and collecting a vial of potion. What harm could it do?
<•>
”Jam, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t shut up I will throw my pumpkin juice into your hair.” Marlene ground out, fork stabbing into a sausage with a viciousness that only came out around quidditch games. James simply leaned in. “Go, go, Gryffindor!” He shouted loudly into Marlene’s ear causing her to scream and chuck her pumpkin juice into his hair.
James screeched, Lily rolled her eyes and waved her wand - James’ hair instantly drying. He flashed a supposedly charming grin, but Lily was already deep in conversation with Sirius. “Ja-aa-ames,” Marlene whined, “the structure is wrong. Have a look at this.” Marlene pointed to the cut up pieces of sausages that were now acting as the Gryffindor players.
•|•
Dorcas was staring. Unabashedly. Okay, maybe a little bashedly. But Marlene hadn’t even reacted! She was reacting like normal, like she hadn’t smelt Dorcas in the cauldron. And the worst thing is, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she smelt some random boy. Merlin, maybe she was normal. Dorcas groaned, running her hands down her face. “Woah there Cas, what’s got your knickers in a twist.” Barty shoved a piece of sausage into his mouth. Regulus scowled from behind his glass of pumpkin juice.
”Nothing, I’m just stressed for some reason. I’m catching some fresh air, I’ll be right back.”
”Barty.” Evan said sharply, picking up on Regulus’ concern. Knowing that Dorcas never got stressed. Especially before a quidditch match. “Hello fellas, wotcha doing?” Marlene asked from behind Regulus, causing him to jump minutely and a small spark to leave his wand that was always ready in his hand.
”What do you want McKinnon?” Evan asked, eyes narrowed. She shrugged, putting her hand down on the table, a small vial full of potion just happening to open and pour into Dorcas’ pumpkin juice discreetly. “Just tryna mess with the opposition.” Marlene cackled to herself before running back to her table.
”Morgana, she’s wierd.” Dorcas muttered, sitting back down, her cold exterior returning - causing Regulus’ mouth to twitch slightly and Barty to groan. He much preferred the actual Dorcas than ‘perfect’ Dorcas. Taking a deep sip of her pumpkin juice, she declared her and Regulus ready for the game.
<•>
The game was shit. Thirty minutes in, sweat slowly trickled down Dorcas’ neck (or maybe it was the torrential rain that decided to start within the first two minutes - which, despite Gryffindor protests, the Slytherin students didn’t perfectly orchestrate to get an advantage). The Slytherin seeker hadn’t caught sight of the snitch, Dorcas had blocked almost every quaffel - but for some stupid reason she couldn’t bring herself to save Marlene’s.
Sure she put on a show of trying, but they always managed to ‘miraculously’ slip through. And it was pissing Dorcas off. Why couldn’t she just fucking do it?!
•|•
The aromentia was not working how Marlene wanted it to. She wanted Dorcas to become instantly infatuated so she couldn’t play. Then Marlene wouldn’t freeze up. Instead, Dorcas just fumbled around her. Maybe she hadn’t used enough? Maybe Dorcas fucking Meadowes was immune. Merlin knows it wouldn’t be a shocker. She seemed to be immune to emotions, so perhaps chemical induced love was no different.
Fuck! Shit! Merlin on a fucking pike! James and the troll-like Slytherin seeker were in a race for the snitch. James and the troll ducked below the stadium, flying between the rafters and beams that held the audience stands stable.
Someone, probably the troll, hit a central beam that held up the Slytherin audience stand. There was a collective uproar as the stand tilted dangerously to the side, a first year almost sliding between the bars. Thankfully, for the first year - not Marlene, Slughorn flicked his wand and the stand slowly repaired itself.
That’s one thing that Marlene prides Slughorn on, he did his spells without any jazz. Dumbeldore thought it was necessary to aggressively brandish his wand and shout a charm, when in reality a flick and thought would do it.
“BLOODY FUCK! PRONG- I MEAN JAMES- I MEAN POTTER- OH FUCK IT! SORRY PROFESSORS, BUT JAMES POTTER HAS JUST CAPTURED THE SNITCH. GRYFFINDOR WINS AND NOT A SECOND TOO SOON!”
Marlene guffawed, immensely happy that Dumbledore had enough of a sense of humour to keep Remus as Quidditch commentator. Just as Remus was about to launch into another rant about whatever, his mic was muted and James returned from out of the stadium with a golden snitch triumphant in his hand.
Marlene instantly flew towards him, belting into him and almost knocking him off his broom. A monumental cheer filled the stadium, Marlene’s ears feeling like they were being poked with live coals and tap danced on with nails. The rest of the team bundled around them, leaving the Slytherin’s to skulk off the pitch and shower in their sorrows.
Marlene wouldn’t be shocked, and maybe would be happy, if one of them managed to actually drown in their sorrows. Of course she didn’t meant that… maybe.
<•>
After literally screaming herself hoarse, Marlene was immensely grateful of the female showers. She was alone, no worry of flashing anyone whilst there was no worry of any boy walking in and either of them seeing the other naked.
Humming the infuriating tune of ‘Go, go Gryffindor!’, Marlene wandered out of the shower - towel tucked under her armpits, her shaggy bleach blonde hair sticking to her shoulders as she shook it dry.
Suddenly, another girl rounds up on her, wand held to her neck as Marlene was being pressed up against a wall. “Kinky, are we, Meadowes?” Dorcas simply growled and pressed the wand further into Marlene’s neck.
”What the fuck did you give me? You little cheater. How fucking dare you!” Dorcas seethed, her wand getting dangerously close to drawing blood. “Just admit you lost, or are you a sore loser on top of a bitch?” Marlene taunted, if there was one thing she was shit at - it was backing down.
”I’ve never spoken to you for more than five minutes. I’ve never even held a proper conversation. How in Merlin’s bulging balls did you come to the conclusion that I’m a bitch?”
”Every time I see you, you infect my thoughts. You never get out of them. You distract me. You make me feel self conscious. Quidditch, which is my thing, becomes nigh on impossible as soon as you’re on the pitch. I freeze, I forget how to fucking breathe. It feels like my chest is being squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until I can barely breath and my thoughts become dizzyingly strong. I fucking hate it!” Marlene yelled into Dorcas’ face, their noses millimetres away from each other.
”That’s why I put that potion in your juice. Give you a taste of your own fucking medicine.” She growled, able to feel Dorcas’ heavy breath hit against her cheek, making a finger of ice run up her spine and a fist of heat punch into the bottom of her stomach.
Even worst of all, the smell Marlene had smelt in the potion was fuzzing up her brain. “What did you do? How did you know that? How did you know what I smelt? What is that?” Marlene rambled, gripping at Dorcas’ sleeves to get a better smell. Dorcas grimaced and pushed Marlene away before breaking into maniacal laughter.
”You smelt my fucking perfume. You smelt my perfume in your aromentia.” Dorcas repeated, disbelief apparent in her eyes. Marlene sputtered, using her aching muscles to push Dorcas off of her, backing away to the door of the showers.
*
“No. No I didn’t. I could never smell you. You’re a bitch and a girl. I’m not a- a- a freak. A sin. I’m not… you. I’m a daughter of God. I could never defile His name and nature. I could never disappoint like that. I could never, ever, ever be corrupted by the devil like that. Repent while you have time.” She spat out in between heaving breaths, staring at Dorcas as if she’d just grown a second head.
Marlene’s chest was heaving, hair wild, towel still wrapped around her body. Her eyes were wild, a trapped wild animal, a deer in headlights, a Catholic forced into a sinful reality that no amount of repenting will change.
”You know what Meadowes? I really fucking hate you and your kind.”
*
“I mean it. I. Hate. You.”
<•>
*
Marlene ran. She ran and ran and ran. Running like she did after the first sermon about that. Ran like she did after she accidentally broke her mother’s china pot. Ran like she did after her parent’s divorce. Ran like she did when her brother left and got disowned for being… wrong. She ran like she’d been doing her whole life.
*
Her feet pounding against the ground, unflinching as hard stone stuck into their gentle flesh. Unflinching as the biting winds hit her wet skin. Flinching as she heard Dorcas’ calling after her, but still she ran.
She ran until she reached her dorm, ignoring all the looks she earned whilst her towel billowed behind her - hands holding tightly to stop it from falling.
She ran past Lily and Maz, past their concerned looks, past the remaining drops of potion she was going to use to identify the smell.
The smell.
Oh fuck.
The smell.