Chapter Text
Rain blew into the faces of the Gryffindor team as they faced the Hufflepuffs in a last, desperate stand. The autumn storm had begun in a gloomy mizzle around 8 am when Sirius and James were finishing an enormous breakfast of croissants, eggs, and sausages. James was leaning forward on the bench, earnestly discussing tactics with Sirius, who looked cheerfully confident while Remus, still rather peaky after the full moon, devoured a cinnamon bun and spoke up with occasional suggestions. “You’d better play off Marlene this time,” he said. “Last time you three worked together, you were brilliant. Remember that pass in the Slytherin game? I actually got interested.” He smiled sweetly as James tried to cuff his ear. Since Remus was a good five inches taller than James, he merely ducked away out of politeness.
Sirius waved his hand, looking sunny. “We’ll knock your socks off,” he said to Remus. They were all three looking beyond James now to where Marlene McKinnon sat among Lily Evans, Dorcas Meadowes, Frank Longbottom, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. McKinnon was not, like James, a shining Quidditch star for the ages, nor did she have Sirius’ charismatic on-pitch personality. Instead, she was famous because she was, to quote James, “fast and focused as shit.” Quick, strong, and tough. She and James played off of each other beautifully. Because she was detail-oriented, Quidditch Captain Brian Finnegan drew on her advice for game strategies. On the morning of a game, she was usually calm and alert, only occasionally ribbing James or Sirius or pep-talking Kingsley Shacklebolt, who sometimes got nerves.
This morning, however, Marlene looked ill. Her shorn strawberry-blond hair was rumpled, and her shoulders drooped under the thin fabric of a maroon Quidditch jersey with the sleeves cut off, which she appeared to have pulled on over a black sports bra. She was staring blankly at a pitcher of pumpkin juice, her plate of eggs untouched. Lily Evans, in tailored woolen robes, her cheeks bright and red hair shining, sat beside her, and Marlene was uncharacteristically slumped against Lily’s arm. As Sirius, James, and Remus watched, Lily shot her a quick, appraising glance.
“Something’s up,” said James. “Maybe she’s—you know—under the time of the month.”
Remus shook his head resignedly. “Don’t be an ass to her,” he advised.
“Me, an ass? Moony, I’m a deer.” James grinned, then sobered. “Noted. But she looks awful.”
Sirius had turned away with a show of disinterest and was attacking a plate of toast. “She’ll be fine. Always is. Never had an off game.”
Three hours later, Sirius was eating his words. Limited visibility on the pitch, not to mention the absorbing task of shielding Shacklebolt from a slippery Bludger, hadn’t prevented Sirius or anyone else from seeing that Marlene was floundering. She repeatedly missed passes from James, who was both exasperated and confused. Her broom seemed to be made of lead for all the speed she coaxed from it. “McKinnon,” yelled Sirius during a huddled time-out when Hufflepuff led by eighty points, “What the fuck is going on?”
“Something needs to change,” said James, out of breath and earnest. “We gotta deliver on those passes, we can’t leave this up to Finnegan.”
Marlene wiped the rain from her face. She was looking pale, but she nodded.
“We are not losing this match,” said Sirius fiercely. But when he looked at her, expecting her to flare up at the unspoken challenge like she usually did, she was staring at Shacklebolt’s gloved hands with unseeing eyes.
“Everyone stay focused.” Finnegan shook a finger in their faces. “McKinnon, take a breath, and the rest of you need to pick up the slack. Let’s go.” He kicked off with more energy than was strictly necessary.
But within minutes, the game was over. Just as Shacklebolt and the Hufflepuff Seeker shot toward the twinkling Snitch, McKinnon threw the Quaffle toward James. It slipped through her hands as she slung it. She swung sideways, nearly losing her grip on her broom, and the Quaffle flew wide of its mark. James swooped after it as it rocketed toward Shacklebolt who ducked instinctively. The Quaffle missed him by centimeters. The Hufflepuff Seeker’s hands closed over the snitch. The stands erupted into cheers. Fortunately, the now blinding sheets of rain made visibility almost zero. No one was near enough to witness as Marlene McKinnon’s broom collided awkwardly with the ground and she dismounted stiffly.
In the Gryffindor changing rooms, the team was pretty quiet. James sat dejectedly on the bench, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He pushed his glasses absentmindedly up on his nose, shot an exasperated look toward Marlene. Beside him, Sirius stood with one bare foot on the bench, stripping off his shirt. He flipped his head over, shook out his long dark hair. He was fuming. “We weren’t all playing our best now, were we?” he growled.
Casey Jordan looked up from unlacing her boots, scowling in agreement, but said nothing. Kingsley Shacklebolt said quietly, “Come on, lay off, Black.”
Sirius ignored him. He had twisted a towel turban-style around his hair; in spite of this, he managed to look furious. “No,” he said, “we’re a team. We have got to work together. And we have a right to know what the fuck is going on when one of us has an abysmally bad performance that loses us a game.” His voice rose, rebounding off the walls.
Finnegan turned from wringing out his sopping robes. “That’s enough,” he said firmly, as James grabbed Sirius by the arm. He looked around the room, eyes resting briefly on Marlene, who had not turned around from her locker. She was moving as if in a trance, stuffing her robes into a rucksack. Her shoulders sagged, and her short, damp hair was plastered to her head pathetically. Rain dripped from her chin.
Finnegan said, “We didn’t play our best, that’s true. But we also had terrible luck with the shitty weather. This is only the second match of the season. It’s October, for Merlin’s sake! And if the rest of the team can’t compensate for a single player having a bit of an off day, then we’re all to blame.” He slammed his locker door shut with finality. “Black, if you or anyone else has complaints about a teammate, you confront that teammate in private, or you talk to me. That clear?”
Sirius did not respond. His handsome face was rigid with the effort of holding back a retort.
“Crystal clear,” said James for him. The others nodded.
“Good. Go on and get some rest. We’ll meet on Wednesday as usual. 7 o’clock sharp. And we’re gonna work out the rough spots, really polish up our offense. Yeah?”
Mumbled assent.
“I said, yeah?” Finnegan bellowed.
On her way out, Marlene passed Sirius and James. She was carrying the sack of wet robes over her shoulder, and she had stripped down to a wet sports bra and joggers. She was shivering. James shot her a look of frustrated concern. Sirius glared at her.
“Fuck off, Black,” she said hoarsely as she passed. Without looking up or pausing, she strode out the door and into the rain.
Sirius turned to Finnegan, hands uplifted. “What the hell?”
Casey Jordan spoke up. “Black, I’m pissed too. But in all fairness, she’s never once played like that. She’s one of the best Chasers we’ve ever had except for Potter—“ James preened a little—“and she’s a grand team player. Why don’t you get off her ass? Hell, I wish we had won too. We needed this game. But you could at least show common courtesy and give her some space.”
“Agreed.” Finnegan held open the door, gestured to it. “Clear out, mates. Black, I’ll handle this. Thank you. You both played excellently today.”
Sirius and James conjured umbrellas over their heads and dashed toward the castle. All the way up to the common room, Sirius raged while James listened gloomily before reviewing with a tinge of satisfaction some of their finer plays.