Fireworks
Marlene’s whole body shuddered at the hit. Her head was knocked backwards as the darkness began to clamour at her eyes, and it was all she could do to hold on to the broom for dear life as her sight receded.
For one blissful moment, she was in shock, but the pain kicked in about half a second later in all its searing glory. She just about registered the crowd’s reaction: a chorus of gasps as they took in the blow, mixed in with some excited chatters. Quidditch could be brutal. It was half of what made it so thrilling for the spectators.
Marlene reeled mid-air as nausea rose in her throat at the pain in her skull, but she would not fall. She hung there for a few seconds as she could do nothing but brace against the aches that rolled through her head, determined to wait them out until they lessened.
She clamped her eyes shut, although it didn’t make much of a difference, and told herself to breathe. Leaning forward slightly, Marlene’s heartbeat slowed, palms gripping the broom so tightly she could feel the notches in the wood through her gloves.
It took a few seconds, but as she’d hoped, the pangs in her head began to recede. She tried opening her eyes, and her vision grew more speckled with light until it came back completely. She blinked away the dizziness, staying stationary until it went away entirely, and she could loosen her grip on the broom.
She was okay. Or, she would be.
She blew out a quick breath of air, dazed at the closeness of it all, and turned slowly back to the gameplay. It appeared only Sirius had spotted what had happened, and he was momentarily switching between chasing a bludger and stealing worried glances at her across the pitch.
She threw him a thumbs up to indicate she was fine, and although the gesture allowed a brief wave of dizziness to come over her, she figured it was mostly true.
There was still a game to win.
“McKinnon is back!” the commentator was saying, and the crowd let out a cheer.
Marlene located the other bludger and threw herself forward, chasing its route across the pitch. She spotted the girl, Dorcas Meadowes, as she aimed and threw the quaffle at the goalposts, narrowly getting it in the left one, and Marlene’s mood darkened. She’d almost been knocked off her broom by a bludger because she’d been figuring out all that drama. And she didn’t even know the girl.
Dorcas swooped to intercept a pass between two Gryffindors, and Marlene caught up to the bludger. She didn’t hesitate before sending it her way with venom. Her head reeled slightly at the force she exerted to hit it, but it was worth it as Dorcas dropped the quaffle in surprise, sending it straight into the hands of a chaser robed in red and gold.
Dorcas’s gaze found Marlene’s, eyes burning. Marlene shrugged, mouthed, Sorry, not feeling that way at all. If Dorcas could be petty, so could she.
Marlene signaled to Sirius again and sent a bludger his way, so he could knock a Slytherin a few inches sideways, making him miss a pass.
She turned just as Dorcas barrelled past her, roughly knocking into her shoulder. She looked back just to mouth, Sorry! and flew away.
Now this was just getting personal.
“It may be 50-40 to Gryffindor, but there haven’t been any snitch sightings yet,” Marlene heard the commentator announce. “It could still go either way.”
Seizing her opportunity, Marlene clutched her bat and sent another bludger hurtling towards a Slytherin chaser, but this time, she didn’t recover as quickly. She dropped a few feet in the air as her head span, sickness rising within her.
The rushing realisation that she was falling kicked in not a second too soon, and Marlene regained control of her broom before she could continue speeding towards the ground, swearing.
“McKinnon, you okay?” James yelled as he flew by.
“Perfect!” she lied.
The game continued in its fast-paced manner, and Marlene grew more and more nauseous with every hit she made. Even she could feel her swings getting weaker, but she couldn’t do much about it. Her limbs slowly began to feel as though they were not her own, the ache in her head expanding with every turn.
Gryffindor were ahead by twenty points when Regulus Black caught the snitch.
Marlene wanted to cry out in frustration right there as the green and silver section of the crowd stood up in a massive cheer. She could almost feel the disappointment radiating off Gryffindor’s side already. Then she thought of James, and her heart sank even further.
Pulling into a dive, Marlene flew towards the ground, which might have been a bit of an overestimation of her abilities with this newfound dizziness weighing on her.
She swore as the ground blurred beneath her, and she just managed to make it out of the dive before it rose up to meet her with enthusiasm.
Squinting, Marlene opened her eyes to a blue sky and spat out a mouthful of grass.
“Oh, fuck,” she mumbled, as the spinning in her pounding head took over, and she passed out on the floor of the pitch.
Madame Pomfrey hadn’t exactly been pleased to see Marlene again in such a short amount of time, but it wasn’t as if her concussion wasn’t easily remedied. She ushered Marlene out the hospital wing in under ten minutes, telling her she didn’t want to see her anywhere near the place for at least a month. Marlene figured she could probably last that long.
“James has been in the shower for the last forty minutes,” Peter informed her and Sirius worriedly as they traipsed back into the common room, defeated. “He said he’s fine, but he hasn’t even sung once .”
Marlene sighed as Sirius mumbled something about drowning his sorrows away with him, and walked off to his dorm. She’d been trying not to, but she couldn’t help giving into the biting thought that she’d been partially to blame for their loss. If she hadn’t got distracted and let herself get hit by that bludger, maybe she’d have been aware enough to spot Regulus Black before he snatched the snitch from the air.
Her mind, almost of its own accord, turned to Dorcas, and her thoughts darkened. She’d deliberately ruined Marlene’s potion, had made a point to be rude in the hallways and had put Marlene off her game in the match. Although, even if she desperately wanted to, she couldn’t really blame Dorcas for that. Only Marlene had let her attention wander away so far that she got bloody concussed.
“Oh, I know that look,” Mary said, walking up to meet her. “Stop blaming yourself. I know you are. But don’t, really Marls. It’s no one’s fault but that slippery little Black’s.”
“That’s Sirius’s brother you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about Regulus.”
Marlene managed a smile, knowing Mary was joking just to cheer her up, which she appreciated greatly. Lily appeared beside Mary, and they trundled up to the dormitory together.
“If it were me, I’d have just played unconscious right after the hit to the head. That looked brutal — ” Mary stopped speaking as they walked into the room.
Sash was sitting on her bed, glancing at them. They all paused, uncertainty creeping into the room like a fifth, unwanted presence. She stood, like she was going to say something, but seemed to decide against it, before stalking out of the room.
“Blimey, not even a hello all year,” Mary muttered. “And let’s hope it stays that way. Arrogant wanker.”
“Mary,” Lily said pointedly, very obviously glancing at Marlene.
She sighed inwardly. Today was going well.
“Right, I’m off to shower,” she said. “Odds on Ravenclaw beating Hufflepuff this afternoon?”
“I’d give them… a good chance,” Lily declared, looking to Marlene for confirmation.
Marlene cracked a smile. “Right you are, Evans.”
As it turns out, Ravenclaw did win, but narrowly. They were lucky they had such a good seeker on their side; Hufflpuff’s team was a well-oiled machine on a good day.
They’d all endured a sorrowful evening that involved a lot of moping and sweet eating, as well as some occasional muttering from James, who would turn to write something down every now and then on a scrap piece of parchment. She suspected he was already making new practices to try, or experimenting with different styles of tactics to show the team.
A few days later, Marlene, James, Lily and Remus were out on the grounds, soaking up the last of the September sunshine, stretched out on the slightly damp grass like cats. And, of course, they were talking bets.
“So, let’s just get this clear,” Lily was clarifying, “Phase one is spread the word.”
“Right,” James chipped in. “Get people excited.” Marlene was glad they had the bet to distract them, or she worried James might have actually gone mad inventing drills for the team.
“Phase two: initiate bet number one, which is…”
“The Hufflepuff-Slytherin match this autumn half-term,” Marlene answered.
“Yes. Which would entail collecting and organising items and money… Grouping people… Sorting the general mania.”
“And phase three,” Remus finished, “is distributing the winnings, according to the game’s outcome.”
“Simple,” James said, at the same time as Lily stated, “Sounds hellish.”
They looked at each other. James grinned, which coaxed a reluctant smile out of Lily.
Marlene turned to Remus. What’s happening? she questioned, nodding to the other two. He shrugged, eyebrows raised.
Lily cleared her throat. “Well then, I supposed we’d better get talking.”
“Hang on,” James said, eyes sparkling behind his glasses, “I’ve got a better idea.”
“Oh no,” Lily mumbled.
“Oh yes. What better way to get everyone’s attention than through a prank?”
They all considered this. Marlene asked, “What do you have in mind?”
_____________
Over the course of the past few days, it would’ve made sense for Marlene to have been too busy to even spare a thought for Dorcas. What with the moping, the bet planning, and the studying, her days had been jam packed. With all that said, it hadn’t seemed to stop her.
Sitting in the library, she would be trying to focus on Potions homework, when the thought of the absolute audacity of Dorcas exploding her one good Alihotsy Draught would pop into her mind, and she would subconsciously snap the quill she was holding. Or shovelling food into her mouth at meals in between the rush of lessons, she would remember the way Dorcas had shoved past her in the Quidditch match, and would have to pause and glare at her across the Hall for a second.
It was just downright rude of Dorcas, at the end of the day, and it wasn’t as if it looked like she was ready to call a truce, either.
The week after the Quidditch match, Marlene was slumped in her chair in the Charms classroom, waiting for Professor Flitwick to come in. She was completely exhausted from staying up all night helping figure out the prank they were planning, and was almost horizontal, half-asleep on the desk.
Someone sat themselves down in the seat next to her. She didn’t bother sitting up, eyelids heavy as sinking stones.
“Got an affinity for sleeping through lessons, then?”
Marlene stilled, then raised her head, insides already twisting with irritation. It was her.
“Why? Got a problem with it?” Even she wasn’t sure why she came off so stand-offish around her. But what with the glaring and shoving and exploding potions, on top of the loss of the Quidditch match, which soured everything like a sore nettle sting, Marlene wasn’t inclined to be nice.
Dorcas, who Marlene was pretty sure wasn’t even in this class, leaned back in her chair.
“Oh, no. Please, carry on,” Dorcas insisted, her smile so acidic Marlene thought it might burn through her lips.
She narrowed her eyes, about to retaliate, when Dorcas continued, quite unhurried.
“I’m sure your next professor can wait.” She shrugged. “Whoever it might be.”
Marlene was already looking around the classroom, realisation filtering through her mind seconds too late as McGonagall (decidedly not Flitwick) swept in through the door. Marlene had somehow ended up in very much the wrong classroom.
She swore under her breath as McGonagall’s eyes landed on her immediately.
“Unless you’ve suddenly decided to leave the good house of Gryffindor, Miss McKinnon, I suggest you give Mr Rosier here his seat back.”
Marlene turned to see a blond Slytherin raise an eyebrow at her, from where he leaned against another boy’s desk.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, idly.
Groaning internally and well aware her cheeks were beginning to burn, Marlene stood, grabbing her bag.
“Sorry, Professor. Got a bit mixed up.”
McGonagall gave her a stern look, but nodded her along. Marlene made to leave, but threw one last look at Dorcas, hurling as much sarcasm into her smile as she was able. Dorcas gave her one back, then flipped her the bird. Marlene stuck up two fingers.
She rounded the corner, stopped, and banged her head to a rest against the wall, which hurt considerably more than she thought it would.
What was wrong with her? Could she not make a fool of herself for one moment? Getting downright concussed in front of the entire school was bad enough, and now this? Someone had to have it in for her, she reasoned, as she began to make her way to Flitwick’s classroom. There was no other explanation for it.
And Dorcas just had to be there, didn’t she? Watching it all with that smug look on her face. Bet she’d been so bloody pleased when McGonagall had walked in, bet she was laughing to herself right now —
“Miss McKinnon! So you made it at last.” Flitwick still managed to sound cheerful despite the fact that she was nearing being fifteen minutes late to the lesson.
She headed to her empty seat. “Sorry, Professor. Er… I got lost.”
She shrugged as Lily raised her eyebrows from the seat opposite. It was only half a lie.
“Of course, of course.” Flitwick nodded amiably. ”Just start the reading now, if you please.”
“Chapter four,” Lily whispered, as Marlene searched for her textbook, to no avail. She’d left it behind in the room. Of course she had.
Lily sent her an exasperated look, and chucked her her own book when Flitwick turned around.
Thank you, Marlene mouthed, ever grateful for Lily Evans.
“Ah, finished already, Miss Evans?”
“Yes, Sir. Ready for the practical when you are.”
Flitwick practically clapped his hands in delight.
The class passed without any interruptions, to Marlene’s relief. She tried her best to focus on the flame-freezing charm they were trying that day, but the miniature practice fire in front of her only seemed to burn hotter and higher when she remembered that day’s events. It was ridiculous. Marlene grumbled to herself that Dorcas managed to ruin even the classes she wasn’t in.
She dawdled on her way back to the common room, Lily already rushing off to her lunchtime club. Something to do with Ancient Runes, or maybe it was a Muggle Studies catch-up. Either way, Marlene didn’t know much about it.
So she was alone when she was ambushed by Dorcas Meadowes.
Well, ambushed might have been a strong word, but it certainly seemed that way to her. One moment she was traipsing along, quite happy in her solitary glumness, and the next, she’d appeared right beside her, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Marlene almost gagged at the thought.
“So, McKinnon,” Dorcas began.
“How do you even know my last name?” she cut in. She wasn’t up for any bullshitting today. The gloomy weather outside reflected her mood, wilted as she was.
“Not everyone’s as unobservant as you,” Dorcas replied, tone acerbic. Marlene wondered why she was even talking to her, it seemed pretty arrogant to assume she would even want to, but she was too worn out to care much. She’d already decided she could shrug her off by the time they reached the portrait of the bowl of blood oranges.
“Of course. If only we could all be so faultless,” she dead-panned.
Dorcas rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself. Look, I’m not here to pick a fight. I’m here to say I don’t like you very much.”
“Oh, excellent,” Marlene began. “No, that’s really just bloody brilliant, isn’t it? Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to just join the queue, Meadowes, and get off my back.” Dorcas tried to interrupt, but Marlene was just gearing up. She’d been ready to be rid of this girl for a while now. “You know, you say you’re not here to ‘pick a fight,’ or whatever the hell that means, but then you go and say the most fight-provoking thing. So either you’re a liar, or you’re just really fucking dense. And either way, I don’t want anything to do with it, or with you.” Marlene took a breath, glaring. She hadn’t really expected to say all that.
They’d both come to a stop in the corridor, a still rock amongst the river of students on their way to lunch. Dorcas appeared nonplussed, but her eyes betrayed a venom Marlene wasn’t surprised to see.
“Nice speech. Did you rehearse that, or what?”
“Ah yes, my favourite pastime. Imagining talking with you.” Marlene shook her head in outrage at the situation. “As if you consume any of my thoughts.”
“‘Consume your thoughts’? What are you, Shakespeare?” Dorcas spat.
“So you’re a Muggle Studies try-hard as well as a prick,” Marlene scorned. Then, “Call me whatever you want, as long as it’s not to my face. Don’t try to talk to me again.”
“Oh, I’m not finished.” Dorcas grabbed Marlene’s arm as she turned away. Marlene’s pulse jumped in anger. Who the hell did she think she was? She jerked away from her roughly.
“What do you want?”
“Someone to compete with,” Dorcas snapped, resolute.
“What on earth does that mean?”
“It means you annoy the hell out of me, and I want to be better at Potions,” she practically gritted out that bit, as though she loathed to admit it, “and if I’m trying to beat you, I’ll obviously be motivated to do so.”
“Then why not just go and beat me without…all this?” She gesticulated between them. “Why do you need to tell me about it if you can't stand to even talk to me?” Marlene was really getting irritated now. Dorcas’s condescending tone was beginning to grate on her nerves.
“Because, you idiot, otherwise I’ll never know your test scores. We’re not exactly friends, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Marlene almost laughed in her face. “And what on earth makes you think I’d agree to this? Why would I want you anywhere near my test scores?”
“Let’s think about it this way,” Dorcas said, a small, malicious smile tilting the corners of her lips, “you’ve not exactly had the best start to the term, have you? What must Slughorn think of you, McKinnon? You’ve barely managed to brew one good potion without getting sent to the hospital wing. It’s a shame, really.”
Marlene’s brow furrowed. “You sabotaged my Draught of Living Death?” she demanded.
“Oh, no. You did that all by yourself. The Alihotsy Draught was me, though, obviously. I only got the idea because of your first ridiculous failure. Satisfying as it was to get you back for ruining my Draught of Living Death, which I’m sure you remember by now, it was very helpful in ensuring you’d agree to this plan.”
Marlene was stunned into silence. “What the fuck is wrong with you Slytherins?”
“There it is,” Dorcas said, sighing. “Please, carry on saying stupid things. It’ll make me hate you even more.”
“You’re mental.”
“No, I’m making sure I get perfect NEWTs. And you’re going to help me do it.” She began to walk away, the corridor already thinned out to the last few stragglers. “See you in Potions, McKinnon.”
Marlene watched her go, torn between the idea of shouting that she wouldn’t, not in Merlin’s name, ever agree to this, and the knowledge that her Potions game was also deteriorating miserably, and would probably continue to be sabotaged by Dorcas if she didn’t say yes. So, she could do nothing but stand there like an idiot, realising she might actually be stuck with this infuriating, narcissistic girl for who knew who long.
Oh, this year was turning out to be just excellent.
——————————
On the outside, Marlene was focused. Focused on the prank plan, on Quidditch, on the betting. But inside, she was a simmering cauldron of rage.
The loss of the match she could deal with. The Sash situation stung, but if she didn’t think about it, it was fine, wasn’t it? But Dorcas practically black-mailing her into some kind of year-long competition was just, quite frankly, the last straw.
She snapped when she spoke without really meaning to, she got uncomfortable looks from passersby so many times that she only realised after a few glances was because her expression had schooled itself to look permanently disgruntled. Lily and Mary shared looks too when she was with them, and even though she wished they wouldn’t, her irritation was like a black veil draping itself over every interaction she had, so obvious even she couldn’t blame them for it.
It was like this: Dorcas had said she wanted a perfect grade in her Potions NEWT, and Marlene could understand that, she could, but what she didn’t get was why she’d had to put her miserable ambitions on Marlene. She pressured herself enough to do well in her other subjects, and now she was at risk from Dorcas blowing up every potion she made. She’d contemplated just ruining all Dorcas’s potions in retaliation until one of them gave up, but this was NEWTs. She couldn’t sabotage this for herself, she just couldn’t.
And so, here she was, reading her Potions textbook in the library as if she was Severus bloody Snape, the git. Her mind kept freezing over in indignant boredom, and she’d have to figure out which line she’d stopped taking in the information and read it all over again. It was an arduous process.
“Marlene?”
”Oh, thank god.” She was so glad to be given any kind of opportunity to stop reading this bloody textbook that she shut it right away, letting it slam closed.
Remus raised an eyebrow as he slid into the seat next to her, and Lily sat across from them. “You’re supposed to read the books in study club, you know, not give them permanent damage.”
Marlene smiled for the first time in maybe two hours (roughly the time she’d been in the library). “I’m so happy to see another face that I’m not even going to roll my eyes to that.”
“How long have you been here? We couldn’t find you anywhere.” Lily asked, pulling out a pile of textbooks.
“Oh, maybe an hour, ish,” she lied.
“I didn’t know you loved Potions this much,” Remus said, sliding her textbook his way to read its title. “Who are you really, and what’ve you done with Marlene?”
“I love Potions!” she tried, then winced. She didn’t hate it, but it was no secret it had never been her favourite. She could just tell them about Dorcas, she supposed, but the idea made her recoil. It was bad enough they worried about her and Sash, she didn’t need them thinking she couldn’t handle another problem. Everything was fine.
“It’s not been so great this year,” she tried again, “so I’m trying to shape it up a bit. Make up for the failed concoctions and that.”
Lily brightened. “I can test you, if you want!” she offered, taking up Marlene’s textbook. The idea of more Potions made her want to fall through a conveniently placed hole in the floor, but she couldn’t say no to Lily. She was already flicking through the pages, asking which topic Marlene fancied doing.
Marlene felt a sudden rush of affection for her best friend, who always wanted to help, whose heart was as sure as her ability to. She sat back in her chair, and it was just like it had always been between the three of them, studying as the sun drooped lower in the sky, draping its last few rays lazily, generously over their table. They set fire to Lily’s hair, softened Remus’s dark eyes, smouldered gently between the pages of their textbooks littered before them.
Soon, they would return to the common room and to their friends, but for now, they were caught in a strange in-between, where they could sink into the lull of work and let the real world’s complaints wash over them as easily as the sun’s last dregs of light did.
“I’m going to need at least three days off from Potions,” Marlene mumbled as they finally made their way back, knowing it was impossible. She would give that ridiculous wanker a run for her money if it was the last thing she did.
Lily patted her arm. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it’s first thing tomorrow.”
“Bloody brilliant. What about you?” she asked Remus.
“A free all morning.” He grinned. “Sorry, do I look smug? I think I look smug.”
“Ha, ha.” Marlene seriously contemplated just skipping and joining him in the library. “Lucky cow.”
“You know me.”
“Where have you been?” James demanded as soon as they stepped through the portrait hole. He had his hands on his hips, eyebrows drawn.
“McGonagall?” Remus asked. “I thought you left Gryffindor tower at least a century ago.” He went to pinch James’s cheek.
Lily smiled at them as James swatted his hand away. “Now is not the time, Moony, you almost missed it! Come on, or we all will.”
With a start, Marlene remembered about the prank, the one they’d planned to be set for tonight. Sirius, Peter and Mary must be in place right now, she realised, as they all crowded to the biggest window in the common room.
The sky was very definitely dark by now, and as they looked on at the grounds, the entire stretch of it lit up as though it was daylight again already.
Fireworks and blazes of light flew across the night, swooping and trailing their colours and signs like piskies revelling in an open sky. There were sparkling, cartoon-like images of Quidditch players zooming on broomsticks, of Dumbledore and McGonagall swapping money, of people celebrating excitedly. Peter and Mary had designed the artistic side of things, whereas the rest had worked on the fiery signs and slogans that lit up the night. Things like, “Introducing: The Quidditch Cup Betting!” and “So you think you can win. Wanna bet?,” and of course, “If Dumbledore can do it, why can’t we?”
It was spectacular. Marlene watched in wonder at what they’d achieved as people started to wander out in awe onto the grounds, heads tilted up as they watched the display, pointing and laughing. For the first time in ages, she couldn’t stop grinning. Lily and Remus high fived, faces lit up with the colours that soared across the sky.
James turned to Marlene, and she could practically feel the excitement buzzing off him, eyes alight. He enveloped her in a massive hug and jumped up and down. She jumped with him, laughing like a crazy person, letting herself get swept up in the amazement of it all.
Everyone would be talking about it now; they’d be swamped with people betting for the Hufflepuff-Slytherin match. Marlene didn’t even care what the teachers’ reaction would be. They’d deal with that problem later.
For a brief moment, she wondered where Dorcas was, if she was watching, what she must be thinking. She looked on with grim satisfaction at the blazing images of celebrating Quidditch players robed in red and gold, as though they’d just won the Cup, and hoped she was watching. Let her be furious, let her know Marlene had been a part of it.
She watched the flashes and sparks and exploding colours, and let out an incredulous laugh that they’d managed to pull it off. So this was what a group of seven, wild, enthusiastic Gryffindors could pull out the bag when they really wanted to. She shook her head in disbelief.