The Potter Mansion was blaring. A mixture of disco and rock n roll echoed loudly through the entire house and into the garden surrounding the building. Balloons and sharp moving lights were scattered in every unlocked room. The sound of party poppers boomed every other second. In the ballroom, a long table of drinks and snacks was ravished upon by drunk and high teenagers. Every room was filled with James’ classmates, neighbouring teens, and strangers that had somehow found out about the party.
Fleamont and Euphemia were in their bedroom, their door locked as they sat together with a puzzle of a garden. The door and windows had been soundproofed so they wouldn’t be disturbed by rowdy teenagers when they tried to sleep. James and Sirius had a key to the room in case of emergency.
Marlene sat in the living room with Mary, playing Kings with a group of people they recognised slightly from school. Marlene was crap at Kings but she persisted through the game, getting drunker and drunker with every passing second.
She picked up a card, grimacing at the sight of the King.
She could hear people clapping and shouting, and she could feel Mary’s hand slip around her waist.
She was suddenly pulled up and guided through the crowds to the Potter’s hallway. She spotted one of the photos and tried to run towards it, losing the comfort of Mary’s arm as she ran clumsily through the crowd.
She heard Mary yelling her name but she kept her focus on the photograph, the small picture right by the front porch. She was soon grinning right in front of it.
With a light brown, chestnut frame, the photo held two grinning children. One, with light brown skin, messy black hair, and slightly lopsided glasses, his eyes were closed and his t-shirt and shorts were covered in mud. The other with pale skin, blondish-red hair, and wearing a ripped light pink dress, a cross around her neck, and bunny ears on her head.
The picture had been taken on easter sunday, Marlene had been seven and had wanted to wear a bunny costume to church but her mother had refused. So she ran off to the Potter’s, wrestled with James in the garden, and was given homemade bunny ears made by Fleamont. It was one of the first times she had run off to the Potters’, and was the first photo they had ever taken of her.
Marlene grabbed the picture of the hook, opened the front door, and stepped outside.
The Potter’s were massively wealthy, richer than her. Their house was surrounded by large plots of grass all around, the front gate about a five-minute walk away. Right by the door on the right was the parked car that they hardly ever used, as well as Sirius’ motorbike and a few cars from people at the party. On the other side were a flower bed and a bench, carved by Marlene and given to the Potter’s as a Christmas gift. She had sat on it, welcoming the freshness of the night air, mixed with the warm summer temperature. She couldn’t tell how long she had been sitting there, but she suddenly noticed the bottle of beer in her hand and took a large gulp of it.
She was comfortable, warmed by the summer air and alcohol seeping through her. The Potter’s house was always welcoming for her, comforting. But she was lonely, and looking down at the photo in her lap, she wished for company to enjoy the quiet comfort of the Potter’s garden.
Just as she wished, a large grumble and slam of a door sounded, muttering heard from a few metres away.
“Stupid party… A joke… Where the fuck is Dora? Rich prats… Did her a favour.. Wankers-”
Marlene tried to think about how to get the rambling person to sit with her and keep her company. It was difficult to think of usual ways to summon a person over. Thinking was hard. The person seemed to be walking away, judging by the sound of footsteps slowly getting quieter. She was running out of time.
Marlene opened her mouth and laughed.
“Who’s there?” The person called out, seeming pissed off.
The footsteps were coming back, so Marlene laughed again.
The person whirled around the Potter’s rosebush and narrowed their eyes, “Mckinnon.”
Marlene blinked, staring at them, “You’re here.”
“I was invited. By Remus. I was planning not to come, but Regulus couldn’t get away and Pandora didn’t want to come alone so she dragged me.”
Marlene frowned, “Why are you leaving?”
“Because”, Dorcas threw up their hands in frustration, “Pandora ran off after she spotted Sybill, Remus is high off his arse and seemingly unable to separate himself from Black, Lily’s god knows where, and none of my other friends got invited or were able to come! I shouldn't be here! I don’t belong here!”
Marlene’s frown sunk deeper, “but I’m here!”
“Exactly! You’re here! You’re here, and your friends are here, this is the town you live in, and how could I possibly belong somewhere you are?”
Dorcas sighed, sitting on the opposite end of the bench to Marlene.
Marlene moved closer. She took in the scene in front of her. Dorcas, sitting on the bench she made, wearing a shaft t-shirt and bell-bottom jeans. Their hair was in box braids, and their face was painted with small hearts, stars, and glitter, clearly done by Pandora. Behind them was the Potter’s rose bush, the red flowers blooming from the greenery. By Dorcas’ chunky trainers were small yellow flowers, twirling around the bottom of the bench. Stars were staring down at them from above, watching the two. Clouds were visible from the darkened sky, varying shades of grey lining and twirling and dancing with the stars.
Dorcas had turned their head, looking around the Potter’s garden, a small smile almost hidden on their face.
“I wish I had a camera.”
They turned, the smile vanishing, “What?”
Marlene leaned back, a grin appearing across her lips, “a camera”, she held up the photo from her lap, “I’d put it in this frame to keep it safe.”
Dorcas pointed a finger to the photograph inside the frame, “What about the photo already there?”
Marlene hummed, staring at Dorcas, “Not as important.”
Dorcas leaned in closer, “Is that you? And… Potter?”
Marlene nodded.
They moved their eyes up and down, looking between the photo and Marlene before speaking with a smirk, “Nice bunny ears.”
“Fleamont made them for me”, Marlene commented, lifting her beer to her lips.
“Who’s that?”
“James’ dad.”
Dorcas nodded and after a moment passed, they smiled, “I’ll use that for trash talk before our match next year.”
Marlene quickly shook her head, “No, no. You have to do it with Euphemia. James’ mum. It’s fantastic! Euphemia used to date Mcgonagall when they were younger, and had a thing with Madame Hooch, and Sprout. He hates being reminded about a bunch of his teachers having dated his mum, so we always make jokes about being with her too. He absolutely hates it.”
Dorcas looked at her, a betraying smile lighting up their face, “We do a similar thing with Reg. He’s so uptight, especially with sexual jokes, so we joke about getting with a variety of his family members, other than his parents because… gross. I don’t know if you’ve met them, but I was hanging out with Reg on the platform once and his parents appeared like out of nowhere. His dad was so emotionless, just standing there, barely looking at Reg, and he stank of cigars and whisky. And his mum looked… slightly insane. As soon as she appeared she had Reg by the shoulder, like her hand was some sort of talon. And she glared right into me, talking how I was clearly from the muggle world, and dressed like the homeless.”
They stopped talking, staring in confusion at what on earth Marlene was doing.
Marlene stopped as soon as she noticed Dorcas was watching, “I was listening to you, I just. I hate sitting still.”
She was standing up, her beer bottle fallen and spilling on the grass, her hands filled with a variety of flowers, and she held some lavender with her mouth. It fell out as she spoke.
“What are you doing, Mckinnon?”
Marlene rushed back to the bench, placing the flowers down. She stared at her stash for a second before plucking up a large red flower and placing it behind Dorcas’ ear.
“Pretty.”
“Oh, you think so?” Dorcas smirked, a hand coming up to feel the flower they now had.
Marlene’s cheeks were flushed, and she picked a yellowish flower, putting it behind Dorcas’ other ear.
Marlene then frowned, and stared into Dorcas’ eyes, “Keep talking. I like your voice, it’s soothing.”
“It is?”
She nodded furiously.
Dorcas looked down at the now empty beer bottle and back up to Marlene, “How much have you drank tonight?”
Marlene grinned, “I was thirsty. Now”, she clapped her hands, “Let’s go on a walk.”
“A walk?” Dorcas questioned with a humorous tone.
She nodded again, grabbing Dorcas’ hands and pulling them up.
The two walked down the flower beds, and as Dorcas talked, Marlene picked a flower every now and then and gently placed it in Dorcas’ hair.
Hours passed, the two walking around the Potter’s garden, sometimes stopping and sitting on the bench for a bit before getting up to walk again. Dorcas had spoken of everything, of their father and spending the summer’s working with him on building sites, of their mother and the lack of contact their mother wanted with them, of their friends, of schoolwork, of realising they were a lesbian, then realising they weren’t quite a girl, of dreams of their future, of their favourite films and books, of the first quidditch match they saw.
And Marlene listened. She listened, as she excitedly picked flowers to place in Dorcas’ hair, after a while the flowers had to place as well, and now Dorcas’ trouser pockets were filled to the brim with colourful wildflowers.
The sun started to come up, just as Marlene and Dorcas slowly fell asleep on the bench. Dorcas wrapped an arm around Marlene, as Marlene’s head rested on Dorcas’ shoulder. The two slipped to sleep as the sun woke up, finding comfort and warmth in each other.
Small birds chirped above, and bees and butterflies made their way to the Potter’s garden. Marlene and Dorcas slept. The sun rose higher and higher, brightening the sky and warming the summer air. Dorcas’ head fell on top of Marlene’s, as Marlene’s hand touched Dorcas’.
Euphemia came outside, a watering can in hand, but stopped at the sight of the two old rivals sleeping peacefully in each other’s embrace. She smiled, before quietly moving around to water the plants.
As the sun rose higher, Dorcas stirred. They panicked for a moment, opening their eyes to a garden they didn’t know and holding their biggest rival. Before the memories of the night before bloomed. They brought a hand to their hair, feeling the different flowers still there. Their gaze then turned to Marlene, still sleeping on their shoulder.
Dorcas noticed a strand of hair in her face, they gently tucked it behind her ear.
About half an hour later, Marlene awoke. She opened her eyes and noticed the sun blaring down, and that only the Potter’s car and Sirius’ bike remained. The party had been over for a while.
“You’re awake?” A voice softly said.
Marlene looked up.
Dorcas Meadowes looked as if they were Ophelia, flowers of every colour surrounding them and complimenting their beauty. They smiled uncertainly.
“Pretty”, Marlene muttered, lifting her head up from Dorcas’ shoulder to look at them properly.
“Are you still drunk?” Dorcas asked with a small laugh.
Marlene grinned, shaking her head, “Not in the slightest.”
A cloud moved and the sun peered out brightly, Marlene squinted and groaned in pain.
“A little hungover, though. Ow.”
Dorcas grabbed the lavender that Marlene had dropped last night, and stuck it behind Marlene’s ear, “Did you want to go inside then? I can smell coffee. And a fry up.”
Marlene moaned, “Sounds so good.” She opened her eyes slightly, “will you stay?”
“If you want me to… I’ve got work this afternoon though.”
Marlene nodded and then stopped when she realised it hurt, “At that building site with your dad, right? Can I come?”
“You remember that?” Dorcas almost froze.
“Of course, I don’t want to forget anything about you. I don’t think I could.”
Dorcas stood up and held out their hand, “Let’s go inside then.”
Marlene took it, “The flowers suit you.”
Dorcas smirked, “I’m keeping them all.”
What if they don’t last through the summer?”
They thought about it for a minute before stepping closer to Marlene, leaning in. Marlene placed a hand on the side of Dorcas’ face.
“It’ll last.”