Knowing Me, Knowing You

So you better take your time

You know there's no escape

The future sends a sign

Of things we will create

Baby it's alright

And so have faith

Oh yeah

You invent the future that you want to face

“Future Games” by Fleetwood Mac, 1971

Dorcas

That lesson was their most awkward yet. The prospect of eye contact was unimaginable and Dorcas stared straight ahead. Marlene made a few nervous glances Dorcas spotted in her peripheral vision but nothing bold enough for Dorcas to make a thing of. 

Dorcas had that taste again on her lips. The taste of Marlene's mouth on hers. Cherry. Not real Cherry the fake flavour, the fake smell. She licked her lips instinctively and then cursed herself. They would feel chapped in minutes but she wouldn’t ask Marlene for lip balm again. 

Kissing Marlene on the stairs had been bad enough but to think it meant something was going to ruin Dorcas. Rot her. Hating Marlene had been a much preferred ordeal so they would return to business as usual. Dorcas would move to the end of their row and maximise the space between them. Their study would be stripped back down to a single weekly hour. In transfiguration, she would have to simply look the other way. Couldn’t possibly be that hard. 

Dorcas had alchemy on Tuesdays after school. She didn’t know anyone in that class as it was an entirely optional course that wasn’t technically a NEWT but gave a similar qualification. It involved both magic and science which made it significantly more versatile for life outside of school. They were studying iatrochemistry a branch of both chemistry and medicine seeking cures to diseases and reversing spells. She was writing notes on Paracelsus and his ideas about the human body. Dorcas didn’t like the idea of being a healer, too many irritable people and moral choices. Not to mention the bloody and vulnerable bodies everywhere. But the idea of making cures for the healers didn’t seem too bad, she liked lab work, and practicals in school. Potioneering was a fine art but so satisfying when executed well. Not many seemed to appreciate that so the class was almost empty. The only others were Snape, Evans, Amelia Bones and Vance.

She sat by herself, at the back to avoid everyone else. There wasn’t much other choice. Snape was never really her kind of person. Evans was best friends with McKinnon, Black and Potter. Amelia Bones wasn’t so bad but she was at times a bit up herself for Dorcas’ liking. Dorcas didn’t really have a reason for finding Vance so offensive but it didn’t stop her from feeling disgusted at the sight of her. Really for a ravenclaw, she should’ve been clever but the way she clung onto the group of Gryffindors was sickening. Maybe it was just because of McKinnon. The way Vance obsessed over her.

“Hi, Dorcas.” A familiar voice announced the presence of Lily Evans. Dorcas hadn’t had a lot of interactions with the girl but Remus liked her so she couldn’t be dreadful. In the same breath, Remus liked Sirius Black too.

“Hello?” Dorcas replied incredulously. 

“How are you?” Lily asked, politely.

“I’m fine.” Evans looked at her waiting for more. Probably expecting Dorcas to ask how she was in return but Dorcas didn’t care really so why bother asking? “Evans, I’ve got somewhere to be so can I help you in some way?”

“Oh erm. I was wondering if you’d be okay to take the third years to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Yeah. That’s fine Evans,” Dorcas agreed mostly just to end the conversation. She was eager to meet Pandora. Dorcas left then without saying goodbye and Evans stood still. 

It was stupid of her to agree really, she had much better things to do than chaperone younger years. Dorcas didn’t much like kids. She imagined she would be affectionate of her own but other people didn’t interest her at all. They were loud and irritating and constantly misbehaving and making grief for the inhabitants of the village. Then and against couldn’t really say no, Evans was head girl, she was in charge.

Dorcas and Pandora were packing an order tonight to send to the Prewetts. Normally Zenophilius would do it himself but apparently he was visiting his parents in Dover. In the greenhouses, Pandora was sat braiding a chunk in the back of her hair, tying a silver ribbon in with it. It was warm in the glass rooms and Pandora had lit a lantern with a glowing orange flame. Never blue like everyone else’s. Always orange because she liked the warmth of it. Dorcas always laughed at that, talk about house pride. It was a welcome change from the biting cold November air. Her skin was pricked up on her arms and legs with goosebumps. “Cas!”

“Hi, Dora. Have you started?” Dorcas asked, peering over at the table with no packages on it.

“Not quite. I made them a daisy chain each.” Dorcas nodded unsure of how that was helpful. She went straight to the back of the room and pulled up the loose tile underneath a particularly large potted fanged geranium. It was always a fight to drag out the snapping plant but she kept all her fingers intact before Pandora suggested she immobilise it. Kept hidden was their large wooden box, containing most of their stuff. Every potion and bag. Dorcas had charmed it long ago to prevent it from rotting in the ground. The padlock on it could only be opened with Pandora’s wand. Security was of the utmost importance.

Thirty minutes went by and now all that was left was to drop them off with Evan Rosier's owl. Dorcas didn’t visit the owler often as she didn’t have her own. She had been offered one at least four times a year by her uncle but she did not like birds. At all. They were messy and shit everywhere, some squawked constantly which Dorcas couldn’t stand. Plus without her own owl, she could always blame the inconvenience of going to Hogsmeade for her sparse and inconsistent lettering home. Neither of the girls had actually asked him but Pandora promised he wouldn’t mind. Pandora wasn’t a liar. She never had it in her to lie.

Friday 12th November 1976

Marlene

“Mary! Mary!” Sirius' voice came as he trudged down the stairs. 

Peter glanced up from his book momentarily before continuing the essay he started an hour ago.

“What is it now?” She moaned.

He scoffed at her, “Is that any way to greet the love of your life?” If having an incredibly shitty relationship with a serial slag meant they were destined for each other, Sirius was written in the stars for half the girls in their year.

“If he is you, then I can’t think of any other way,” she smiled. 

He gave her a mocking smile before returning back to his original face. “Rude. Can we go to Hogsmeade this weekend and get me some new shampoo?” He said the last few words in a sing-song voice and twirled a strand from the back of his hair. Marlene rolled her eyes at him.

“No, she can’t because we’re hanging out this weekend,” She answered for Mary. Marlene swung an arm over Mary's chest and tipped her head onto Mary’s sloped shoulder.

“Can’t you both come?” He whined, falling into both of their laps and spreading his form out onto the sofa.

Marlene’s eyes steered to Mary’s. They both simultaneously said “no.”

Sirius made some moaning protest about how they were both being entirely unfair to him. Sirius had this voice like a dissatisfied toddler that he pulled out whenever he didn’t get his way. 

“You can use mine if you shut up,” Peter snapped.

“I don’t want the bar of soap you wash your arse with.” Sirius spat. Peter laughed a snorting laugh for a while before he realised everyone else was just looking at him. Marlene would’ve laughed too if she could work out what was funny. “What are you laughing for?” Sirius asked raising a brow. He rolled off the girl's legs onto his knees on the rug.

“Who washes their arse?” He asked still smiling but the chuckling faded away. The three looked at him wide-eyed in horror. “Do you- am I meant to?”

Marlene was now smiling the deepest grin you’d ever seen and threatening to laugh. Mary made a mortified gagging sound and that broke Marlene entirely. She collapsed into Mary and spurted fits of laughter that filled the entire common room. They’d drawn so much attention, that now everyone was looking. Sirius shuffled rapidly on his knees towards Pete.

“Peter Pettigrew,” Sirius began. He was still squatted down so Peter would be seated above him on the armchair. “Please tell me you wash your arse.”

“The cheeks but not the inside and stuff. Do you two do that?” he pointed the question to the girls. They both instantly nodded despite Mary's eyes now watering from all the gagging. Peter had the most tortured and melting face Marlene had ever seen. Like a candle dripping and running all down itself with no power to stop. “Mary stop you’re making it worse.”

Sirius clicked his fingers in front of Peter's face to draw attention back to him. “Why?” He quizzed pointing at him sharply. A long skinny finger right between his eyes.

“What do you mean ‘why’? I just never have. I thought it was a gay thing.”

“I’m guessing you don’t wipe either,” Sirius stated.

Peter scoffed, “Of course I do. Don’t be stupid.” In Marlene's mind, Peter had no room to be calling anyone else stupid. 

“It wasn’t that bold to assume.”

“How does it even fit?” Pete asked.

“How does what fit?” Marlene asked a smile forming on her lips. She tried desperately to bury it but she instantly caught on, unlike the others. She knew exactly what was running through his head but it was funnier to hear him saying it. He was talking of course about the aforementioned bar of soap.

“You know,” he shrugged. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “Up.” They all laughed this time not just Marlene. “What?” He shrieked, “What have I said now?”

“It doesn’t go up anywhere you bloody pillock.”

“Oh thank god,” Peter breathed holding a hand to his chest in relief.

Marlene snorted, “What’s the problem Petey, afraid you were going to like it?” He scowled at her and turned back to his essay.

“On that note,” Mary began. “We’re going up the room.” She grabbed Marlene by the hand and pulled her towards the stairs. 

“What about my shampoo,” Sirius shouted over.

 “Sorry I can’t hear you,” she replied running up the steps with Marlene.

Saturday 13th November 1976

James wasn’t happy with how training sessions had gone so far. He wasn’t sure they were ready for the first match of the season. Plus Alice was out for a few weeks. Lily had received a letter, notifying them that she'd caught a mild case of dragon pox while on her work experience on the second-floor ward. Dragon pox was technically only considered fatal to the elderly and while they were all worried for her she seemed to be fighting it well. This meant they were out a chaser for what both Gryffindor and Slytherin considered the most important match of the year.

The Gryffindor table was buzzing with anxiety about the changes James was being forced to make. “Marlene I don’t want to hear it,” he silenced her protests. “You’re chasing.” His voice was gruff with irritation and his hair was somehow considerably messier than usual. It always was until kick-off. Well, not kick-off. Whatever the quidditch equivalent of kick-off would be called. He’d calm down and instantly focus on the match the quaffle became his only thought.

She thought about saying something back, some excuse not to play chaser. Marlene hated playing chaser. Since her first day on the team, James had encouraged her to take that position, she was good at it as well, and she knew that. But she just couldn’t enjoy it, she didn’t like it. It was the only ‘girls’ position. The one with the least strength and speed involved. All the girls were forced into chaser above anything else and the boys never passed to them. James didn’t see it that way, he just thought she was talented. She had good accuracy after so much practice as a beater. But Marlene wouldn’t have it. So after many a disagreement James had agreed to drop it and let her play beater. “You owe me, Potter."

His face changed to a smile at her falter, “thanks, Marley.”

“Don’t call me that, Jamie.” They stuck their tongues out at each other. They were always childish together. And Sirius was in no mood to comfort his friend so Marlene would have to pacify him herself. Sirius was weepy about playing against Slytherin. Usually, the taunting about losing to his little brother got him riled up and excited to play but today it did the opposite. 

“He looks like the wind will blow him over, send him a bludger, I don’t think he’d get back up again,” Pete laughed. Marlene was laughing too until Mary slapped her leg under the table and she realised Sirius wasn’t.

Sirius slammed down the glass of pumpkin juice he’d been holding but not drinking out of. “Shut up! Just, shut up!” 

The entire dining hall turned to look at him. Marlene could see Sirius' brother sitting among his friends. All burned into the Gryffindor table. Except for Regulus’, he seemed much more content politely sawing through a fat brown sausage on his plate. Remus placed a careful hand on Sirius' shoulder and guided him out of the dining room, where the general chatter and whispers were picking up again. 

Peter leaned into Marlene and James who she was sitting beside, his eyes laced with worry. “What did I say?”

“Pete come with me,” James ordered tilted his head towards the great hall's oak doors. Peter gave Mary and Marlene a ‘help me’ look but there was nothing really to be done.

After all the awkwardness of breakfast, James thought it best to keep his little pep talk brief none of the usual mentions of crushing smashing or obliterating the Slytherins. It was all more positively engineered towards their own team Marlene gave him a smile at this, Potter always knew the right things to say. To be perfectly honest despite him being a complete and utter overconfident cocky prat, she couldn’t see how he hadn’t landed Lily yet. She was the one missing piece in his perfect life, the only thing that could constantly evade him. Like chasing a paper bag in a storm.

They lined up. Chasers in a crescent arc at the front the beaters on the quarter lines either end, the keepers in goal and the seekers beside them. Hooch lifted her whistle to her lips signalling she was ready you commence the match. “Congratulations Gryffindor,” screamed out of the tiny gold whistle. Madame Hooch looked down at the object then around the stadium where the Gryffindors were shouting and jeering and laughing and the Slytherins sat confused bordering on angry. She blew it again. “Shit luck next time Slytherin.” Marlene spotted McGonagall in the stands appearing thoroughly unimpressed, she shook her head at James who was grinning ear to ear like the jammy, Cheshire Cat-looking bastard he was.

It was plain to anyone that James was behind this, he had a history of getting unauthorised access to the quidditch shed. He frequently took snitches just to play with them. Just to prove he could. He sat now perched on his broom cackling with laughter and Sirius beaming at him. He soared towards Peter and without stopping rolled upside down and high-fived him. He then flew up to the commentator's box and gave McGonagall a wink. She buried her head shamefully in her hands. This was her quidditch captain after all.

When James returned to his rightful place hooch gave him a deathly glare and whistled with one hand in her mouth instead. Marlene began the match about three feet diagonally from James, behind him. He was always front and centre when Hooch tossed the ball up. It was a scramble for it at first but James pulled away with it tucked under his arm, he dived beneath the sudden masses of bodies swarming around him. He was sandwiched between Nott and Carrow. The girl Carrow. Marlene followed heading even lower than Potter barely skimming the ground. She was now flying directly beneath him. She poked up at him, “Oi dickhead.” He glanced down at her and grinned before dropping the quaffle. If Marlene wasn’t so focused on catching the ball she would’ve heard the gasps and cheers from around the stadium. Her knuckles were white gripped around the ball too afraid to relax her fingers for a millisecond. Marlene slowed down and pulled up her broom, shooting into the sky and leaving the other three chasers pushing and shoving for nothing.

It only took a few seconds for the Slytherins to notice what she’d done but she felt proud all the same. She heard a whistling getting rapidly louder, she veered left and a bludger hurtled past her head. She whipped her head about to see Mulciber’s sickening grin. She kissed her teeth and shouted something about him being a bitch. Marlene could hear James beckoning her over and sped up in his direction. The wind was biting hard on her face the sparse droplets of rain firing like bullets on her face.“Quick, quick, quick,” he yelled waving his arm around frantically. She headed to the right hoop and lobbed the ball at him, where he hovered parallel to her. He punched it straight into the left goal. Meadowes was raging, her face in a furious set. The stands erupted into deafening cheers and James flew straight at her thrusting her hand up into the air intertwined with his. 

The celebration was quick before they got back to the game. James scored again within minutes of the first goal. Meadowes’ arm was extended and the ball hit her straight in the palm but the power on it sent it spinning into the goal nonetheless.

After the first forty minutes, Gryffindor was well in the lead 110 points to 20.

She was flying really high, desperately trying to evade the other team's chasers. She was getting tired now, getting lazy; her fingers were too numb to grip the ball so tightly and her face was burning red. A flash of lightning and the clap of thunder made Marlene shit herself, she dropped the quaffle. She dived down cursing herself but Carrow was too quick to grab it, she flew straight past her and scored. Gudgeon gave her an irritated look at the loss of control. She threw her arms up in the air. Davey had let her score, what was he scowling at?

The sky was gradually darkening. Except for the occasional bolts of lightning that were lighting up the sky with a blinding white. Fuck the fucking weather. Marlene hated storms. Especially while out in them. 

Gudgeon tossed the ball out into play, it was too far for Marlene to catch so Jorkins sped towards it but missed as it landed in the hands of the black spiky haired freak Crouch. Crouch fired the quaffle at Nott but Marlene intercepted catching it just barely by the tips of her fingers. She swivelled around to face the Slytherin goals again barreling towards them at full speed. She sent the quaffle into the centre ring relying on James’ technique of raw power behind the ball. Dorcas had been hovering in that goal and was dashed back. It was a miraculous sight. To see Meadowes sent through her own goal.

Somehow Meadowes managed to keep a hold of her broom and recovered herself just a few feet from the ground. She shot back up with a fiery look on her face, preparing to send the ball back into play. Marlene was ready up front and centre hoping for another interception and a speedy goal, so far Gryffindor was managing to keep ahead despite the disjointedness of having substituted some of their positions. Dorcas lifted the quaffle high, readying for an overarm pass, Marlenes turned to face Crouch who looked ready to receive. Marlene couldn’t see the ball in his immediate field and shifted her eyes back to the goalkeeper, who sent the ball spinning her way. It hit her hard in the face, quaffles had pretty solid ridges. Marlene was sent skirting back with the force of it. Just pain in her eye was blinding even without the blood that was spilling in from her eyebrow. 

Sirius came to her side while the rest continued on with the game. Quidditch didn’t stop for anyone. He put a steadying hand on her broom. “Merlin, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Marlene uttered between gritted teeth, she was fighting back tears and the sting of the slap set in. She spotted a bludger looping around towards the pair. “Pass us that,” she said snatching the beater from Sirius’ gloved hand. She sent it full force at Meadowes' head. An eye for an eye, hopefully. The vibration ached across Marlene’s right arm. It would’ve hit her too if she hadn’t dived for James’ ball at the last second. 

“What are you doing Marlene?” he shouted, brows furrowed and voice rough from screaming. “Put down that pissing bat down and help me!” She could see how immensely pissed off he was and with unnecessary force pushed the bat into Sirius’ chest before zooming back into the game. It was difficult to see now, with her eye already swelling up so she mostly just defended, forcing her way between the other chasers trying to get at James. They’d been doing well up until this point but he was getting puffed, Marlene was injured, and Sirius spent all his time watching Regulus that the bludgeons, not to mention their third-year sub being painfully untrained and it was an uphill battle from then on.  

After half an hour of dirty moves, that Marlene was more than happy to reciprocate, Slytherin had surpassed their toll of points so far. Crouch and Nott slammed full force into anyone near the quaffle and Muciber and Carrow (the boy one) sent bludgers at everything in red robes. James didn’t get angry or yell at her but she knew he was pissed off at her for not being helpful in the second half. In her defence, she was half-blinded and she didn’t want to play chaser in the first place but making that argument wasn’t to be had mid-air. At this point, with Slytherin on 260 points, she begged for the game to end. 

Her prayers were answered by Hooch's whistle when Rotwood caught the snitch. Marlene held her breath for a moment as for the the first time in the game she was able to hear the chatter in the commentator's box without the wind whipping in her ears. “Gryffindor wins!” The Gryffindors screamed and hollered in delight. Marlene dropped to the ground with a throbbing eye but with the biggest grin plastered on her face at the sight of Meadowes' dismay.

Dorcas

Quidditch had enraged her. And by Quidditch, she meant Marlene. Her ridiculous grin after blowing out Dorcas' internal organs, the eye contact she gave after Dorcas saved her goal. Not her mention her fat head that blocked Nott, it made her wish she had hit her in the face on purpose. She deserved it after that quaffle she sent into Dorcas’ stomach. It was cheap, even for her. Gryffindor wondered why Slytherin resorted to dirty tricks when their own team fought just as badly. She didn’t fancy the awkward conversation with Alecto in the changing room, so she went with Pandora to the prefect bathroom, straight after the match. Dorcas would always be criticised by the Slytherins for not saving enough goals but never Crouch for not scoring enough, Never Regulus for not catching the snitch first. Quidditch, in Dorcas’ experience, had never been a team game. She didn’t well on it though, she had to get changed for the afternoon.

The weather was getting much colder. Dorcas could feel it in her bones and see it in Marlene’s reddened cheeks. Today was a Saturday and it was her week to traipse around Hogmeade village with the third years. They had to keep doing this until Christmas when Dumbledore could be assured they were well acclimated. Dorcas couldn’t wait for Christmas. She went with Pandora and Regulus, just the three of them. It was nice like this. They could talk without watchful eyes. 

Pandora was well wrapped up in a Regulus’ quidditch jumper and a thick coat on top. She insisted on wearing a skirt tights and leg warmers rather than trousers like every other person. Dorcas wore jeans, a black jumper and her quidditch scarf. Regulus had something similar on. “Hogshead then?” Dorcas asked.

“I can’t be seen in such a controversial commune.”

“Stop being a stuck-up prick nobody is going to snitch.”

“Please Reg,” Pandora asked.

“Please Reg,” Dorcas repeated in the same tone.

“Fine” he huffed. “And fuck you,” he pointed at Dorcas. They walked there with Pandora in the middle, arms linked with her fellow students on either side. 

The Hogshead was Dorcas’ preferred pub. The other pub in Hogsmeade was loud and bustling with younger years ordering butter beer and nothing else. Butterbeer made Dorcas sick, it tasted like pure sugar. Pandora liked it quite a bit but her boyfriend took her to the three broomsticks enough that Dorcas wouldn’t feel guilty for refusing. 

Regulus and Pandora were reproachful towards the idea of the Hogshead the first time Dorcas brought them last year. The difference between them is that Pandora quite enjoyed it now. It’s not as if either of them were big drinkers anyway so Dorcas could never understand what they were so afraid of, they weren’t going to get in any trouble. 

Dorcas ordered at the bar while Pandora dragged Regulus into Dorcas’ favourite booth. Aberforth didn’t look necessarily happy to see her but to be honest, he never did. Any affection he had for her was very convincingly masked. Although Dorcas knew if he truly didn’t like her he would have kicked her out the first time she came in. He grunted in acknowledgement when she leaned on the bar to look at the array of bottles behind him. 

“It's midday,” he grunted not looking up from the glass he was wiping with a grimy cloth. In all honesty, the health standards were appalling.

“I’m only having a look,” she said in defence. 

He let out a sigh through his nose and set down the pint glass. “You know what I’ve got. Same as I’ve always got.”

“Right then. Three bottles of dandelion burdocks and a half pint of daisy root draught.” 

He mumbled something under his breath and started pulling the bottle from behind him. Into the glass he’d just 'cleaned' he poured half a pint from the cask behind him. “Promise me this is for you,” he eyed her suspiciously, still holding on to the drink.

“I promise,” she nodded. He promptly slid it over to her, splashing a small amount over the side. She picked up the other three bottles by their necks in her left hand. “Thanks.”

Back at the table, Pandora was telling Regulus about her dream last night. He listened in, smiling at the part when she mentioned him. Apparently, the three of them went ice skating together. She described a white winter’s morning. Dorcas and Pandora had to transfigure their skates but Regulus already had his own ‘fancy' pair. “And then the ice cracked and you fell under.”

“Oh! Delightful,” he rolled his eyes. “Please tell me that wasn’t a prophetic one, I do like skating.”

“I’m sure it was just a dream,” Dorcas comforted. Regulus squinted at Pandora and she squinted back. Then they smiled at each other and she began to laugh. Regulus and Pandora were weird people. They were weird separate and weirder together. The afternoon was unweighed by the usual heavy topics she discussed with Regulus. He seemed to be in a good mood all around.