Rule #13

Being a Hogwarts camp counselor is no joke. 

Dorcas understands it now. All the behind the scenes, the hard work and planning that makes these kids’ dreams come true.

Molly spends hours in the kitchen, cooking meals with a million accommodations, so that every kid has something safe, filling, and delicious to eat. (Seriously, camp food had no business being that good). Peter roams the campgrounds like a ghost, working as an engineer, plumber, and landscaper all at once. Lily and Mary don’t sleep, and when they’re not bickering (or what Dorcas thinks is some serious foreplay) they’re handling needy parents, setting up budgets, and coordinating the entire staff. 

And Dorcas? They’re always watching out for the campers. 24/7. Not just her cabin, but every single kid at Hogwarts. She will move goddamn mountains so that they all have the best summer of their lives. 

Just like she had. 

Dorcas was spoiled rotten during their five years at Hogwarts. She was a golden camper famous for the most swings on the Giant Swing, as well as finding (and surviving, if not befriending) a bear in the Wayward Woods. (They named said bear WALL-E, after the adorable Disney robot, because of its expressive eyes.) She grew to be someone remarkable thanks to all those summers, someone strong and kind, and above all, bold. 

A part of Dorcas misses those oblivious days filled with new friends, warm water bottles, piles of friendship bracelets, and a steady wave of happy exhaustion. 

But making the magic is fun too. 

Honestly, Dorcas does feel like a witch, the way they make things happen for her campers. 

Like now. Seven AM in the animal farm, herding Betty (the camp goat) on a leash. Dorcas is dressed in a white button-up, with high-waisted shorts held up by a pair of rainbow suspenders. 

Mary stands across from them in the same get-up, her afro twisted into two buns. “This will be quite a Rooster Call, Hans,” she says in a German accent. 

“I think so too, Johann,” Dorcas echoes. 

The two of them walk through the empty camp, Betty baaing and bleating while Dorcas picks at her wedgie and Mary warms up her voice. As Activities Director, Mary’s there to give the counselors a hand with their various shenanigans, including the Rooster Calls to wake the kids up.

That being said, Dorcas didn’t expect Mary to be so…passionate about this performance. 

“Brrrrrrr—MA MA MA!” Mary sings like a dying parrot. At this rate, the campers will all be up by the time they make it to the top of Slytherin hill.

As Dorcas stomps into Cabin 4 with Betty at their heels, Mary trails behind with a loud yodel, slipping into her falsetto. 

“Yo-de-lay-ee-ha-da-lo-oo!”

Dorcas grins. Mary’s not a bad yodeler.  

“Cabin Four of Slytherin!” Dorcas screams, switching her i’s for e’s the German way. “It’s time to wake uppppp!” 

Thomas, Mei, Louis, Harper, and Brad (yes, Brad) all blink at Dorcas and Mary with bleary, amused eyes. 

After cleaning up goat shit, taking a very cold shower, escorting a spider out of Thomas’s duffel, detangling the giant knot in Mei’s hair, and hauling her five sleepy kiddos to breakfast, Dorcas sits down for the first time in hours. They stuff herself with a bowl full of apple pie oatmeal, sneaking caffeine pills down their throat. 

Just a typical morning at Hogwarts, really. 

Dorcas wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I’ve got paper mache then ukulele,” Louis announces proudly. The cabin is spread on either side of the wooden table, Dorcas tucked in between Harper and Mei, with Brad, Thomas, and Louis just across. 

“Well I’ve got circus arts, then Rock Climbing,” Brad counters. 

Louis matches Brad’s stare with a raised eyebrow. Eleven years old and the kid’s already got a nasty glare. 

“Sounds like both of you have some exciting activities,” Dorcas hums. 

Brad and Louis are constantly competing. Of course, Dorcas is a fan of a little competition, but they’re keeping a close eye on those two. (It’s only the first week, after all.)

The rest of the camp is sitting amidst the dining area, the heart of camp. Woodchips cover the ground, with eight wooden tables spread in a U around the breakfast buffet. Dorcas nods to the other counselors in her house, giving Barty a wink. His dark hair is a nest, eyes lazy but nonetheless zeroed in on one of his campers, who is speaking with very big hand gestures. 

Barty was up all night preparing for his Cabin Adventure today: a food fight on the Azkaban ropes course, featuring an assortment of French baked goods. He said something about his cabin wanting to embody…Marie Antoinette? 

(There’s no use making sense of it. The older the campers are, the wilder their ideas.)

Barty looks much too happy for the amount of sleep he got, but then again, it was an excuse to loiter in the kitchens with Evan, his not-so-secret fiance. Dorcas hides a smirk and takes another bite of her oatmeal. 

“Dorcas?” Mei nudges their right arm. She tends to be as close to Dorcas as possible. 

“Yes, Mei? You want seconds?”

Mei shakes her head, her long black bangs falling over her eyes. “Do you know who’s gonna teach Archery?”

Dorcas sets down her spoon and wraps Mei in a tight hug. Out of all her campers, Mei has had the hardest time branching out. The first few days, she refused to take any camp activities besides those Dorcas taught. And the girl doesn’t even like swimming. 

But after some pushing from Dorcas, and a proper pep-talk from Lily Evans, Mei signed up for something new today. 

“You see that counselor sitting with crazy curls and big glasses?” Dorcas points to James on the Gryffindor side. As usual, his cabin’s beside Sirius’. Peter’s three pit bulls are laying obediently at Sirius’ feet, Zemlya with her nose on one of the younger camper’s laps. Luna, Pandora’s kid, Dorcas recognizes. 

“That’s Prongs, right?” Mei squints at James. 

“Ah, yes that’s his nickname. You can call him that or James, whichever you prefer. He’s really good at teaching Archery, and he’s got hilarious jokes. You’re going to love the class.”

Mei nods hesitantly. 

Dorcas already pulled James aside at the staff meeting last night and told him to watch out for Mei. There’s nobody as aggressively welcoming as James Potter. She’ll be just fine. 

After Dorcas hugs each and every one of her campers goodbye, they all set off for the first activity of the day. Her smile might just get a little wider as they pull their cornrows back and search the crowd. It’s chaos, campers hunting for the sign that says their activity, staff shouting names, and Pandora and Sirius singing something vaguely like opera. 

Then Dorcas spots short blonde hair, the brown roots only making the sharp layers of the haircut cooler. (Damn, Marlene is cool.) 

“Hi,” Dorcas says when Marlene finally finds her way to them. 

“Dorcas,” Marlene greets, biting her bottom lip. 

She’s always holding back a smile around Dorcas. The adorable lines around her eyes betray her though. 

After another spectacular second of intense staring, Marlene turns to the crowd. She throws up the sign that reads Canoeing in Mary’s big block letters. A soft yawn breaks from her lips, but she quickly covers it. 

“Tired?” Dorcas smirks. 

Marlene scoffs. “Not one bit.”

During staff training, Lily stressed many things (and many, many rules), but perhaps counselor burnout most of all. You spend all your waking hours caring for these kids, you lose your privacy, sleep schedule, and free time for an entire summer. It’s a recipe for a breakdown.

And as the newest counselors, Marlene and Dorcas have to tread carefully. Regulus is a newbie too, but to quote the man himself, “Burnout is for the weak.”

Dorcas isn’t worried either. 

Sure, their schedule’s almost as bad as the one her trainer forced them on at UCLA. But Dorcas is used to the impossible. They worked their ass off all of high school to win first place (twice) at Speedo Sectionals, and all of undergrad to be a finalist at the NCAAs. 

She’s halfway to her dream. The Olympics. 

So Dorcas is more than happy to lose a little sleep, and a little sanity, for the sake of some cute kids. 

And then there’s Marlene. 

How could Dorcas burn out when they’ve got Marlene to look forward to every day? (No, Marlene makes Dorcas burn for very different reasons.)

Marlene waves the sign like a flag, the hoodie of her camp sweatshirt piling at her neck. She looks so cozy. So cozy that Dorcas wants to squeeze her. They nearly do just that, so they shove their hands behind their back. 

Dorcas’ fingers tangle and squirm with the need to reach out and touch. She bets Marlene’s skin is soft. (It looks soft.) 

“How was your morning?” Marlene asks.

Dorcas straightens, feeling more awake than ever. “Oh, it’s good.”

The thing is, when she and Marlene are on lifeguard duty together, Dorcas can’t really look. Even if most of the campers are excellent swimmers (hello private lessons), they’d never risk a distraction so great as Marlene. 

But here. On land. Dorcas can’t help but goggle. 

Marlene’s got a face. Oh does she have a face…High cheeks with a natural pink blush, eyes that droop down at the outer corners like a woman in a Renaissance painting. A septum piercing at the end of a long, slightly crooked nose. And blue eyes that latch onto you and don’t let go. 

Dorcas will admit, at least to themself, that she is smitten.

They will confess that they broke into Lily’s office to use the camp computer and look Marlene up. In every photo on her Instagram (@marlesbian), she’s got thick black eyeliner and silver piercings lining her ears. And dark lipstick. 

Marlene is stunning. No, that’s an understatement. She’s something so much more. 

Dorcas moves just an inch closer, practically sweating at the thought of their shoulder brushing that pale pink skin, but then Marlene side steps away. 

Before Dorcas has a chance to react, to pout, one of Marlene’s campers comes running up. 

“Hello!” The short redhead beams at them both. She turns to Dorcas. “I’m Ginny. I’ve never canoed before, but I’m sure I’ll be good at it.”

A couple more campers follow, and Dorcas and Marlene do their thing, chatting up the campers, hyping up the very serious art of canoeing. 

When they’re down by the lake, pulling out the canoes and life vests, Dorcas takes her last chance to look at Marlene. (To stare, really.)

“You alright there, Meadows?” 

“Never better.” Dorcas grins. 

Marlene nods to the lifevest Dorcas is strapping on herself. The child’s life vest. “Whatever you say.”

******

There’s nothing as exhilarating as diving into water. Dorcas could swim for hours, crawling back onto land just to jump right back in. It’s heaven on earth. Water whooshing past your ears and bubbling over your skin, gravity thwarted and air defied. 

The obsession began years ago, back home on the beaches in San Diego. The promise of mermaids and sharks, and a whole mysterious life beneath the waves thrilled Dorcas. (They kept trying to swim farther and farther…)

Eventually, her mom got the message, and Dorcas started swimming for real. They’re quite good at it too. 

In fact, swimming is all Dorcas is. 

“Three points of contact!” She calls out to the campers climbing up the rocks. They all immediately push a hand down, crouching low. 

Dorcas loves the Secret Pool in the Wayward Woods, but one of these days a kid is going to crack their head open thanks to that slippery moss. 

She sighs and sinks into the cool water, scanning the waterfall and the campers giggling below it. It’s a work of art, a diagonal stream snaking through the rocks and dribbling into a cavern of dark blue water. (Fit for a movie, really). 

All Dorcas has to do is make sure the kids are breathing. 

And flirt with Marlene.

“How was the potty adventure?” Dorcas smiles as Marlene zigzags across the stones, holding hands with Lila. 

“Bye!” Lila splashes away.

“I had to sing so I didn’t hear Lila pee,” Marlene smiles, stepping into the water. “Per her request.”

Dorcas shakes their head. “Good on Lila, I definitely would have peed in the pool at that age.” 

“I mean we are swimming in fish pee.” Marlene snorts. “What a camper you must have been back in the day. I pity your counselors, honestly.”

“Hey!” Dorcas crosses her arms, but keeps their eyes on the kids. “I was a delight, I’ll have you know.”

Marlene sighs. “That’s not what Molly told me.”

“Molly is a traitor.”

“She said, and I quote: ‘Dorcas was a gremlin, but by far my favorite camper.’”

Dorcas pauses. “Molly is no longer a traitor.”

Marlene’s laugh is soft, bouncing off the surface of the water and making Dorcas feel warm all over. 

(Dorcas has always hated the cold. She despises when a swimming pool is even one degree too cool, and wraps themself in a snuggie the second they finish practice. She keeps a sweater on hand 24/7. Doesn’t leave the house if it’s below 50. And men? They make her shiver. Luckily, women make Dorcas feel very warm.)

“What about you?” Dorcas prods softly. “Were you a brat way back when?”

“I had my moments.” 

Then Marlene’s sludging forward, beckoning Katie off of one of the higher rocks. 

Dorcas nearly rolls their eyes. That’s how it goes with Marlene McKinnon. She’s exceptionally charming, beautiful, and above all, a mystery. Dorcas savors every little detail they can wheedle out from the blonde. 

In fact, Dorcas can count on one hand how many things they know about Marlene:

She likes the play As You Like It (1), Cherry coke (2), and baby Taylor Swift (3). From Dorcas’ stalking, she discovered that Marlene is unironically(?) Team Edward (4). And last, but certainly not least, she’s gay (5).

Dorcas, on the other hand, has told Marlene their whole life story. It’s easy to talk to her. Or maybe Dorcas just loves to talk. 

Probably both. 

*****

“That’s it, Harry!” Dorcas beams. “You’ve reached three minutes, so you’ve officially passed the swimming test.”

A very breathless Harry stops treading water and grabs onto the red lifeguard buoy. Dorcas guides him to the dock, singing affirmations all the way. It can’t be easy being the only camper that can’t swim, but Harry takes it in stride. 

“I can finally swim!” Harry announces once he’s standing on the dock’s warm wood. 

“Well, not quite,” Dorcas corrects gently. “But you can sign up for any of the swimming activities now that we know you can stay safe in the lake.”

Harry nods, his voice determined, “By the end of the summer, I will be a fantastic swimmer.”

“I’m sure of it.” Marlene walks up with a hand raised.  

Harry slaps his hand on hers, then surges forward for a tight hug. Dorcas unabashedly stares as Marlene’s face shifts from surprised to downright fond. She wraps her arms around Harry’s small shoulders and mumbles something sweet into his ear. 

(Dorcas kinda sorta melts.) 

Marlene is so enamored with all the campers. Besides James and Lily, Dorcas has never met anyone as devoted. It’s devastatingly attractive. 

Shortly after, Mary comes and picks up Harry, walking him back to camp for lunch. Marlene should be going with them, but she lingers, waiting for Dorcas. 

“You’re a great teacher.” She’s a good three steps away from Dorcas on the dock. 

With everyone else, campers and staff alike, Marlene is hands-on. Personal space is nonexistent. Dorcas is the exception. 

(But Marlene waited for Dorcas. She wanted to walk back together. That means something, right?)

All these mixed signals are messing with Dorcas’ mind. 

“Harry’s a passionate student,” Dorcas says with a shrug. 

They head for the outdoor showers around the dock and down the stairs. As Dorcas slips under the cold spray of water, Marlene leans on the wood. And watches. 

Oh Dorcas is losing it. 

“You ever think about teaching?” Marlene asks, her eyes fixed on Dorcas’. 

“I’ve always taught side-gigs, but not seriously, no.”

Marlene crosses her arms, biting her lip. “Then what do you want?” 

Dorcas blinks, the shower dripping under her suit and sliding across their skin heating from her panic. (What do they want? What do they want??)

“In life, I mean.” Marlene tilts her head. “What’s your dream, Dorcas?”

It’s an answer she’s known all her life. And yet, the word feels wrong: “The Olympics.”

Marlene’s eyes brighten with curiosity. “You’re a competitive swimmer?”

Dorcas turns off the shower, not meeting Marlene’s gaze. “You could say that.”

“Ah. You’re being humble.”

“No, I’m not—”

“Elusive is not your style, Dorcas.”

“No, it’s yours.”

Marlene smirks. “Perhaps.”

Dorcas grins triumphantly. “Case in point.” 

“We were talking about you,” Marlene once again, shifts the conversation away from herself. 

Dorcas pulls out her cornrows from under their swim cap. “Fine. I’m a national champion. I broke the record for the 200m freestyle in California.”

Marlene blows out a long breath.

“What?” Dorcas asks hesitantly. 

She pushes off the wood to step forward. “I guess I’m just wondering what you’re doing here.”

Dorcas nearly laughs. Their mother would like to know. Their coach too. 

“I—” Dorcas stumbles. “I don’t have a real answer for that.”

All she knows is that she had to come home one more time before their entire world changed. She showed up to prom smelling of chlorine, skipped college parties to go to sleep early, and ditched friends for swimming practice. Dorcas’ life has been a series of compromises. 

But never at Hogwarts. 

Though their mom required that they take at least one swimming activity every day, Dorcas always had Hogwarts to be someone normal. Something wild. 

Here, she’s not a winning athlete, she’s just another counselor. In fact, their campers think the most impressive thing about them is the way she rolls their tongue. (Dorcas also thinks their flexible tongue is impressive, though likely not for the same reasons as her campers.)

“I just need a break, I guess,” Dorcas mumbles. 

It’s all a matter of time, in the end. Dorcas understands that when September comes, she’ll have to return to a life of lined pools instead of lakes. 

Swimming for records instead of swimming for fun. 

Dorcas has always wanted to be a winner. They’re going to train and work their ass off for the Olympic trials. Just as she has for every other competition.

This is only a pit stop on the road to success. (That’s what Dorcas is telling themself, at least.) 

Marlene eyes her. “You deserve a break, Dorcas.”

No one’s ever told Dorcas that before. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

*****

It’s only at the end of the week that Dorcas finally learns something new about Marlene. 

“You’ve seriously never seen Jaws?” Dorcas guffaws.

They’re in the lake, both of them leaning on red buoys as they watch ten campers play water games. From the corner of Dorcas’ eye, she sees Marlene’s nose scrunch a little. 

“It’s a movie about sharks, it can’t be that good.”

“No. It’s a masterpiece,” Dorcas stresses. “I mean watching it now the CGI is kind of cheesy, but in the 70s it was terrifying.” 

“Mmm cause you were there for opening night, yeah?” she teases. 

“Oh shut up, I know because my parents both saw it in middle school. Though my dad did leave halfway through.” 

“And your mom?” 

Dorcas laughs. “Saw it three times.” 

“Your mom sounds like a badas—“ Marlene cuts herself off. (Though the kids aren’t really listening, they’re much too distracted with cannonballs.) 

“Sadie Meadows is very tough,” Dorcas confirms. She tries not to sit with that, they really don’t want to think about their mom right now. And yet, the truth slips through: 

“Too tough, maybe.” 

There’s a moment of silence, and Dorcas combs through every one of Marlene’s words, separating the rocks from the crystals. 

“You said opening night,” Dorcas mumbles in realization. “For movies, it’s a premiere.” 

“Same thing.” Marlene tracks Neville who’s back paddling off to the side.

Dorrcas squints at Neville too as her brain hums. Marlene had said something about a Shakespeare play during staff icebreakers. Dorcas only knows it because the main chic dresses up as a dude, which she tends to relate to.

“Are you…no way. You’re a theatre kid?” 

“Neville!” Marlene shouts. “Stay with the others please.” 

He jolts and looks at them with bright pink cheeks. 

Though Neville quickly starts to swim back, Marlene turns to Dorcas. “I’m going to go make sure he’s not being excluded.”

Yes, Neville is an awkward kid, but Dorcas sees through the excuse. They sigh. “Fine.”

Marlene swims away in a nearly perfect freestyle stroke. Nearly. 

A theatre kid. Seriously? (Dorcas didn’t think theatre kids could be this hot.)

Dorcas’ eyes sweep over the other kids. Half of them are playing some sort of game they invented called quidditch, which involves a lot of foam noodles and tennis balls. The others are playing on the water trampoline.  

A pale-blonde boy, Draco, jumps off the edge and into the lake. Dorcas waits for him to resurface. 

Something cold and slippery unravels in her belly when he doesn’t appear immediately. 

Dorcas is moving before they know it. 

Her feet slam into the water as their arms carry her forward, and she dives under the trampoline. Draco’s trapped under the black floating material, thrashing as he tries to breathe. 

“I got you, I got you,” Dorcas shouts, swimming towards him. 

Draco sobs, swallowing lake water, and coughing a fit. 

“I got you,” Dorcas repeats. 

Then she dunks them both under the water.

******

“Draco!” Regulus runs across the dock, brow scrunched with worry. 

“He’s fine,” Dorcas and Remus say simultaneously. They’re on either side of Draco, sitting on a storage box full of life vests. The rest of the campers are with Marlene at the outdoor showers.

Draco’s gaze is stuck to the wooden planks. While his spine is straight and shoulders tight, his head is drooping so low that his C7 vertebrae sticks out. Dorcas can’t help but think of her mom telling them to sit up straight after a loss. 

“We don’t sulk, Dorcas. We work harder.”

Thankfully, Dorcas is not their mother. 

As Remus gets up to update Regulus, Dorcas nudges Draco. “Your counselor’s here, you want to go talk to Reg?”

“Will you tell my mother about this?” Draco’s voice is tight. 

Dorcas chooses their words carefully. “Yes, but only so she knows about everything that’s going on with you. We’ll tell her about what happened, and that you’re totally ok now.”

Silence. 

“You know,” Dorcas begins. “I’ve almost drowned before.”

Draco doesn’t move. 

“I was swimming in the ocean, and the wave kind of swept me away. I couldn’t find the surface.” Dorcas takes in a breath. “I remember how scared I was.”

The murmuring of Regulus and Remus pauses. 

“But I kicked with every last breath I had, and fought my way up. Just like you did, Draco.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Draco hisses. 

“Yes, you did. You swam and kicked your way out from under that trampoline.”

“But you helped.”

“And that’s ok.” Dorcas lowers their voice. “It’s always ok to need help.”

Finally, Draco looks up. His gray-blue eyes are sad, and so strangely familiar. 

“What’s wrong? What happened!? Draco, are you alright?” 

Dorcas and Draco both snap their heads. Sirius is panting heavily next to Regulus. 

“Why are you here, exactly?” Regulus asks in a flat tone. 

Sirius takes their hands off his knees, sucking in a huge breath. Then she looks at Remus, and sputters, “I—I heard on the walkie-talkie that Draco was injured and I—”

“I’m fine.” Draco stands up and starts walking past all four adults with a sneer. “You’re all so clingy.”

Remus’ expression is faintly amused. “I’ll take him back to camp.”

“No!” Sirius blurts. “I mean yes, you should do that, but—Should he even be walking right now? Is there bacteria he could have swallowed or maybe poisonous algae? We have to rinse off after we swim for a reason, and—”

Remus reaches forward, and his touch shuts Sirius right up. “Draco is fine, Sirius.” 

Dorcas feels like she’s lost the plot. There’s no good reason for Sirius to be so worried about Draco, at least not to warrant sprinting across camp and interrogating the nurse. (And making very intense eyes at said nurse.)

“Right.” Sirius watches Remus with parted lips, her hands raking their hair and messing up the braids. “Ok, ok, if you say so Dr. Moony.”

(Dr. Moony?1)

Regulus spins on his heel and walks away, ignoring his sibling entirely. 

Dorcas made friends with the entire staff during training, the group’s much too small not to make nice with everyone, but she has her favorites. Marlene, obviously. Mary, without question. 

And Sirius? 

Well, of all the infamous Marauders, Dorcas likes Sirius best. He’s borderline ADHD, a fellow genderqueer, dresses almost as well as Dorcas, and has impeccable music taste. (Probably cause Sirius produces all the music Dorcas likes best.)

Sirius watches Remus and Regulus catch up to Draco, the three of them slipping through the lake gate and up the path towards the Lodge. 

Dorcas clears her throat pointedly. “I have so many questions.”

******

Dorcas gets their answers much later, after a camp-wide game of flag football, and a Star Chat with her cabin where they discussed roses, buds, and thorns. Harper had a pretty bad thorn, in the form of a bee sting on her eyelid. (Poor thing looks like a pirate now, though she claims she likes the eye-patch look.)

Only after all her campers are tucked in and snoring softly, does Dorcas slip out of Slytherin and head to the craft house. 

Sirius is waiting for them there. He’s got on a black velvet cloak that screams Wicca, and hightop converse with rainbow laces. Dorcas, for her part, has dad jean-shorts embroidered with their own scribbles, an Eeyore sweatshirt, and a pair of purple birks. 

She shuts the door behind them, blocking out the steady heartbeat of crickets. The walls in the craft room are covered in cubbies full of pipe cleaners, yarn, felt, markers, and literal gallons of glitter. (Pandora claims to have a very specific organizational system, but to Dorcas, it looks like a fairy threw up in here.)

“Who’s on tonight?” Dorcas nods to the record player in the middle of the room. Since Hogwarts is an electronic-free hell, Dumbledore’s old turntable is the only way to listen to music. 

Sirius lids their head from the pile of cotton stuffing he’s leaning on. “Alanis Morisette. I’m in the mood to brood.”

“Perfect.” Dorcas falls to the sliver of open space beside Sirius. 

“And I'm here, to remind you, of the mess you left when you went away It's not fair, to deny me, of the cross I bear that you gave to me. You, you, you oughta know.”

“So,” Dorcas starts. “Time to fess up.”

Sirius stares at the ceiling. “I have no idea what you could be referencing.”

“I’m not sure where I should start…Dr. fucking Moony or perhaps the breakdown you had over a random camper?”

“Look, we just met two weeks ago, Dorcas.” Sirius smirks. “I barely know you, I can’t go admitting all my secrets all at once.”

Another thing Dorcas and Sirius have in common? Open books. In said two weeks, Sirius has told Dorcas every inch of child trauma they have, and even broke a couple of NDAs regarding the singers they produce for. 

So, like Marlene had that morning, Dorcas calls Sirius out. “Nice try. Start talking.”

“Ok. But you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone. If Regulus finds out I told you, he’s going to—”

“Having a crush on the camp nurse isn’t that horrifying.” Dorcas rolls their eyes. 

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Sirius hisses. “But yes. If you must know, I'm madly in love with Remus.”

Dorcas laughs. 

“What I was referencing is my connection to the blonde brat.” Sirius crosses her arms. 

“Draco?”

“Yes. He’s a cousin of sorts.”

Dorcas raises her brows. The record skips a bit, shifting to the end of Hand in My Pocket. 

“Draco didn’t mention anything about either you or Regulus—”

“Draco doesn’t know,” Sirius interrupts. 

Dorcas scoots closer. “Now that is juicy.”

“Can we move on?” Sirius huffs. “I got enough shit from Reggie about my ‘little stunt’ today.”

Regulus is supposedly an MIT professor, so he probably knows how to give a good lecture. 

“That’s fine. I’ll go next.”

Sirius sits up quickly. “Oh?”

“I’m in proper gay panic,” Dorcas rushes out. 

Sirius smirks. “Now you wouldn’t be thinking of breaking Rule #13, would you, Meadows?”

“Yeah, yeah, you gonna listen to my crisis or what?”

“Do tell.” Sirius’ legs bounce on the floor.

“You ever like someone who’s just an absolute mystery? Will barely talk about themselves, keeps the conversation on you all the time?”

Sirius drags their hands down his face. “You have no fucking idea, Dorcas.”

“It’s so infuriating.” Dorcas stands up, wringing her hands in front of them. “We flirt and banter and it’s fucking amazing, then the second I ask a personal question, boom, she’s off.”

Sirius says nothing. 

“And.” Dorcas groans. “She’ll touch every single person BUT me.”

Another beat. Then Sirius winces. “Maybe…she’s just not into you.”

Dorcas frowns. “That doesn’t happen to me.”

“Yeah, me either.” Sirius picks up the record needle and restarts the album. “You know, I went to Peter for advice for something similar last week.”

“Ah, yes, the aro/ace dude has all the dating advice.”

Sirius pulls their hair into a low bun. “Trust me, Wormtail is the wisest of us all. Pete says that I gotta be patient, and not push too hard. Time builds trust and all that bullshit.”

Dorcas likes Peter. He’s quiet and incredibly reclusive, so he’s not easy to get to know, but he listened when she said the Lake needed more floaties for the campers. He also, for some unknown reason, recognized Dorcas as a swimming champion. (Apparently, he’s a diehard fan.)

“Well, we could try the patient approach,” Dorcas suggests weakly. 

Sirius lulls his head. “Fine.”

*****

And so Sirius and Dorcas make a pact. They’re going to woo their intended with unrestrained patience, and a heavy dose of uninterest. Well, interest, yes, but without the usual invasive curiosity. 

Neither of them is well suited to the task. (But both of them love a challenge.)

It’s Saturday, so the campers have an extra hour to sleep in. Dorcas takes the chance to walk around camp, to soak up the morning sun without worrying about little humans. 

A chance to breathe. 

With all the buzz of the first week, the homesick kids, the swimming, and the cabin bonding, Dorcas hasn’t let themself take a minute. 

To relish being back at Hogwarts. (Home.) 

This is the place they learned how to ride a horse and serenade women with a banjo. How to climb to impossible heights and laugh at the drop below. How to exist outside of labels, and how to grow within them. 

Dorcas will never get over their deep-seated sense of nostalgia and gratitude for this camp. She tries to sit with that, to sit with something so warm and lovely. 

But the moment Dorcas stops moving, reality comes creeping in. 

Everything they…ran away from.

“Dorcas?” Lily grabs their attention. Her red hair is in a messy bun, the flyaways framing her tight eyes. 

Dorcas has somehow wandered all the way to the offices and kitchens, her body instinctively guiding them to where the illicit coffee is hidden. “Hey! Good morn—”

“Your mom’s on the phone,” Lily cuts in. 

“What?” 

“She says you didn’t tell her you were coming here? Something about your coach and training…”

Dorcas sucks in a breath. “How did she find me?”

Lily’s expression falls. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were keeping it a secret. We post pictures on our website of the staff. She probably found you there.” 

There’s a long stretch of silence, Dorcas’ panic and guilt suffocating her inside out. 

Lily steps forward. “You don’t have to talk to her, Dorcas.” 

Dorcas knows they don’t have to talk to their mom. She’s nearly twenty-two. They haven’t lived at home for four years. She’s a college graduate for fucks sake. 

But. 

But, she’s their mom. 

And she deserves to know. 

(To know what? Dorcas still isn’t sure.)

“I’ll talk to her.”