Dorcas stood there, obscured slightly by the curtains. Pandora was standing next to her, tracking her gaze. All the way to Marlene Mckinnon, dancing with a man. As always, she broke away from the normal traditional gowns by wearing a dress with a dark red top that looked like a suit with a matching coat and skirt bottom. She was breathtaking.
“It’s painful to watch you watch her,” Pandora said, pulling Dorcas out of her thoughts, definitely not appropriate ones for a ball. “It’s the fifth ball that you’ve been watching her. You should go up to her and ask for a dance.”
Dorcas turned to Pandora to glare at her. It wasn’t as easy as Pandora thought it was. “Wait till you find someone,” Dorcas muttered, staring into her wine glass. Pandora squealed, almost dropping her fan, which matched with her pale pink gown. And Dorcas knew at once that she had said something she shouldn’t have.
“You’re falling in love?” Pandora asked, much too loudly for Dorcas’ liking. Dorcas whirled on her, face flushed. That drew the attention of Regulus and Barty, standing near to them. Regulus turned to Dorcas, eyes flickering with the slightest bit of interest, and Barty gasped.
“You fell in love? And you didn’t tell me? How could you Cas? I trusted you!” Barty clutched at his chest, acting hurt. Dorcas rolled her eyes at Barty’s dramatics. Pandora let out a loud sigh.
“You,” Pandora pushed a finger into Regulus’ chest. “Need to stop pining over James. But I suppose you acknowledged your crush. And you,” she turned around to point a finger at Barty instead. “Need to stop staring at Ev like Cas stares at Marlene.”
Regulus blushed, and Barty turned away, drinking deeply from his wine glass before continuing to watch Evan like a hawk, who was currently dancing with a woman. Dorcas looked between the two of them. They were in pretty much the same boat, having fallen in love with no idea what to do about it.
Right at that moment, Sirius Black bounded over to them, grabbed Regulus’ hand, and dragged his brother away without a word to them. It wasn’t unusual, but still rather strange. Lily Evans came over with Sirius, and she struck up a conversation with Pandora. Barty left for another drink, and it looked like he clearly needed it, watching Evan dance with someone that wasn’t him. Dorcas supposed she understood him in that area.
“What’s a pretty lady like you doing, standing alone?” A voice towards Dorcas’ left asked. Dorcas gritted her teeth, recognising the voice instantly.
“Marlene Mckinnon. Pleasure seeing you here,” Dorcas greeted tightly, fisting the fabric of her dark green gown for a moment, before forcing her hand to relax.
Mckinnon smiled widely at her. “As polite as ever, Dorcas Meadowes.” Dorcas took a deep breath, fighting down the anger simmering in her. Marlene always had that stupid effect on her. She knew this dance, exchanging poisoned words with a thin veil of politeness. Dorcas noted the glance Pandora had thrown in her direction, and ignored it.
“Are you in need of something?” Dorcas asked. Translation: Why the fuck are you here? She was sure Mckinnon understood what she truly meant.
“No, not really,” Mckinnon replied, swirling a glass of champagne in her hand. Dorcas wanted to smack it out of her hand, then slap that smug smile off her face. She wondered how much Mckinnon’s dress cost. “Unless…” Mckinnon continued innocently. Dorcas narrowed her eyes, glaring at her suspiciously.
“May I have this dance?”
Dorcas blinked, staring at Mckinnon’s extended hand. It looked rough and unlike the hands of a lady. She wanted to lick it. Dorcas could feel the prying eyes of others, watching to see how this interaction would turn out. After all, the Mckinnons and Meadowes had a strained relationship.
Dorcas hesitated. With so many eyes on her, she couldn’t turn Mckinnon down. Was this all part of her plan? Dorcas stared into the bright blue eyes before her. They were challenging, daring her. There was a strange feeling in her gut. It was telling her to take it, to trust Mckinnon.
“I suppose a friendly dance wouldn’t hurt,” Dorcas said, giving Mckinnon the fakest smile she could manage. She wasn’t sure who she was saying that for. To ensure that Mckinnon didn’t get the wrong message, or to convince herself that’s all this was?
Dorcas watched something harden in Mckinnon’s eyes as she accepted her hand. She should be feeling triumphant, so what was this strange twist, one of guilt in her stomach?
The moment their hands touched, Mckinnon closed her hand over Dorcas’, and gave a sharp yank. Dorcas stumbled forward slightly. Mckinnon pulled her towards the dance floor, settling into the role of the gentleman. Her right hand gently gripped Dorcas’ waist. Automatically, Dorcas moved her left hand to Mckinnon’s shoulder. Her cheeks burned. From embarrassment, perhaps? Dorcas refused to acknowledge that it could be something else.
The music started, slow and mellow. Fuck. Dorcas wasn’t prepared for a slow dance with Marlene Mckinnon, of all people. Forced closer, Dorcas stared at a point over Mckinnon’s shoulder, at a painting hanging on the wall. If she had to maintain eye contact with Mckinnon for over a minute, Dorcas was sure she would combust.
“How are you enjoying the ball?” Mckinnon asked after half a minute had passed. Not that Dorcas was counting. Dorcas was twirled away at that moment, so she took that moment to form an answer.
Dorcas spun back all too quickly. “It’s good. The Blacks hosts the nicest balls,” Dorcas replied, gingerly stepping to Mckinnon’s left. The dance moves had been drilled into her twenty years ago, when she was just five-years-old. She didn’t have to think much about the dance.
“They do, don’t they?” Mckinnon said. The room’s lights had dimmed, giving couples some privacy. Dorcas could just make out the painting behind Mckinnon. “That’s a very interesting painting isn’t it?”
Dorcas flushed, thankful for the dim lights. “Yes, it is,” Dorcas mumbled, unsure where to look. She definitely didn’t want to see the couple nearly kissing behind them. Dorcas paused, looking closer. Was that Barty and Evan? It was. Dorcas smiled slightly. Good for them.
“The colours blend well together, don’t they?” Mckinnon spoke up again. Dorcas could feel her piercing gaze on her. Dorcas glanced at her. That was a mistake. Mckinnon was too close. She could make out each individual eyelash. And her lips…they looked so soft and inviting.
Dorcas abruptly realised she hadn’t answered Mckinnon yet. “Oh, um, yes,” Dorcas replied, eyes roaming everywhere but at Mckinnon’s face. Her eyes landed on Mckinnon’s red dress. “The reds are very…” What was the painting anyway? “Dark,” Dorcas muttered, staring at the designs on the dress, as if she hadn’t spent the last three hours analyzing each and every seam.
Mckinnon chuckled. Dorcas’ eyes snapped up to her. “It was a painting of the sea, darling,” she said, smiling much too smugly. Fuck. She’d messed up.
“The undertones of it, I mean,” Dorcas blurted out, pulling at straws to come up with something. Something that didn’t involve messing up that too-neat appearance of Mckinnon. “And I’m not your darling,” Dorcas said defensively, glaring at Mckinnon.
Mckinnon laughed, spinning Dorcas under her arm. “Distracted, darling?” Mckinnon asked, pulling Dorcas even closer than before. Dorcas held her breath, eyes flicking between Mckinnon’s- no, Marlene’s -eyes and lips.
The lights turned back on. Mckinnon- Marlene -pushed Dorcas away again, to an acceptable distance. Dorcas blinked harshly in the sudden light. The music had ended, she realised. It knocked Dorcas out of whatever dream was going on just now.
The custom at the end of a dance was for the gentleman to kiss the lady’s hand. Dorcas watched as Marlene slowly, agonizingly, brought Dorcas’ hand to her lips. She kissed it, for a long moment. Dorcas couldn’t take her eyes off her. She stared, heart pounding much too fast for it to be healthy.
“You will be soon enough,” Marlene said, still not letting go of her hand. “Mckinnon’s honour.”
She disappeared just as fast as she appeared, leaving Dorcas standing there in a daze. She took a moment to collect herself, heading over where she had originally been. What was Marlene talking about? Dorcas thought back to their conversation.
The realisation hit her like a brick. Her cheeks grew hot, and she turned to grab a glass of red wine. Just a shade off from the red gown. Coincidentally, she saw Marlene across the ballroom. She could still feel her lips on the back of her hand. Marlene winked.
Mckinnon’s honour, Marlene had sworn. Fine. Dorcas met Marlene’s gaze as steadily as she could. She would let Marlene chase her for as long as she could.
Meadowes’ honour.