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Dorcas watched the Gryffindor team practice quietly from the stands. She wasn’t allowed to be there, but she needed to know what in Merlin's name Potter was doing to make the team so good. Her captain hadn’t asked her to go, but she couldn’t keep having them lose.
Regulus could keep up with Potter in their seeker position no issue, but they still lost the majority of the time last season, and it was because of the McKinnon girl. She was the only chaser that could consistently score on Dorcas last year. McKinnon was a force to be reckoned with on the field, but so was Dorcas, and she would defend her goal completely no matter what.
She risked the chance of not being allowed to play if she were caught hiding in the stands, but she was careful, stealthy, and more than anything she was intelligent.
Dorcas couldn’t see anything extraordinary about how Potter chose to run their practice, except for the absurdly early hour. He didn’t give McKinnon any sort of special treatment or advice, and during the practice she seemed to be the most average chaser in the world.
– – –
Dorcas had been to as many of the Gryffindor practices as she could sneak into, and practiced harder than ever. She was sure that they would win the first official game between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Barty was still betting against them, but he always did that to piss off the team.
The Slytherin changing room was a blur of movement and voices as everyone on the team rushed to dress into the thick, protective green and silver uniforms. Evan pulled Dorcas away from all the commotion.
“I’ll keep McKinnon away from you.” he said quickly. Even though everyone knew of McKinnon’s impeccable talent to score on Dorcas, Evan was one of the only people who knew how much it irritated her, and that she had been sneaking into Gryffindor practices.
“I don’t need you to.”
“Pandora told me to.” He said with a raised brow.
“Why would Pandora think I need your help? What, she’s some quidditch expert now?” Dorcas knew exactly why Pandora might think that. She was gifted with sight. No important premonitions yet, but she knew when surprise tests would happen, who might end their relationships, and she could very accurately predict what would be served in the great hall. But why would she be having visions of Dorcas and McKinnon?
“Ask her about it yourself. She’s usually right about things like this, though,”
“If you interfere with my goals in any way, I will beat you with your own bat. I’m the best keeper in Hogwarts, and McKinnon is not special. Play like always, Rosier.” she said, then pushed past him and found her broom.
Dorcas knew they would win. Slytherin was up by two hundred points; even if Potter did manage to catch the snitch, it wouldn’t matter. Dorcas hated to admit that Evan was helping. He didn’t make it obvious, but he was keeping McKinnon far from Dorcas, and the other two Gryffindor chasers weren’t a challenge for her.
Rarely did the game work its way over to Dorcas’ side of the pitch, so she was relaxed. The Gryffindor team had still managed to score fifty points on her, three goals were courtesy of McKinnon. She weaved between people and even when other chasers or beaters smashed into her, she kept going. She wasn’t wonderful at dodging the bludgers and Dorcas could see the nasty bruise that was forming on her face even from across the field.
Why was she able to score on Dorcas? McKinnon wasn’t able to score so well against other keepers, but Dorcas was a better defense than the others when you looked at their statistics. So what was the issue?
She focused back on the game. Regulus and Potter were hovering high above, occasionally dodging bludgers, the Gryffindor keeper was struggling to defend his hoops, and everyone seemed tired.
They would win. Regulus, even though he wasn’t the captain, was probably trying to convince Potter to forfeit. The match had dragged on for four hours, much longer than the average Hogwarts game, so Potter would probably agree. Dorcas smirked. She could practically hear Barty in the crowd whining about losing money, but bragging about how good the team was.
Potter would eventually give in, and they would win, nothing could change that.
At least that’s what Dorcas naively thought. In the commotion of the other side of the field, she saw one of the Gryffindor beaters send a bludger right at the back of Evan's head. Right as she called out to warn him, it hit him. Dorcas cringed, she swore she heard the crack of the hard ball against his skull.
Madam Pomfrey called time out and rushed out onto the field. Evan slowly descended to the ground, struggling to stay on his broom. Dorcas rushed down beside him with the rest of the team. The beater from Gryffindor was profusely apologizing, but it didn't matter. The damage was done. Madam Pomfrey wasn’t going to allow Evan to continue to play.
There were no replacements for him, so when the games started once again, Slytherin only had one beater. Immediately, the entire game changed. Evan had been the more offensive of their beaters, sending bludgers at other players and keeping the Gryffindor chasers occupied. If Bellatrix were still playing, it wouldn’t have been an issue that he was out, but Bellatrix was not there. She had been replaced by some third year who Dorcas hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. She was small, but fast and did a great job at defending the Slytherin chasers from the bludgers. That’s not what they needed. Not when McKinnon had the quaffle and was speeding towards Dorcas.
McKinnon was making aim for the lowest hoop. Dorcas swung down just in time to block it and send the quaffle halfway back down the pitch. Macdonald caught it and sent it right back up to McKinnon quicker than light. She did score the second time. The Gryffindors cheered from the stands loudly while Dorcas threw the quaffle back onto the pitch, directly into the hands of her teammate.
McKinnon stayed by Dorcas for a moment. Dorcas leveled a harsh look at the other girl, but she just sent back an easy smile and said, “You’re good. You’d be better if you watched the quaffle and not me, though.” before she sped off to rejoin the action in the middle of the pitch.
She didn’t have time to understand the comment before another chaser sent a quaffle towards the hoops, which she easily defended. Dorcas felt a bit better. She was a good keeper. There was just something different about McKinnon.
The game only got worse from there. Without Evan, the onslaught of chasers was never ending. Slowly but surely Dorcas was becoming tired and the Gryffindors were gaining points. It didn’t matter, though. Slytherin was still up by one hundred sixty points when Regulus saw the snitch.
Dorcas watched from the corner of her eye as both seekers dived down, but her main focus was McKinnon. As soon as the dive began, the Gryffindors scrambled. McKinnon held the quaffle tightly and rushed across the pitch. The other two flanked her, clearing the way.
Dorcas desperately reached out for the quaffle. She felt the hard surface scrape her fingers before it flew into the tallest hoop.
Just as Dorcas threw the quaffle back onto the pitch the bludgers dropped, unmoving, to the ground and Remus Lupin's voice rang around the arena, “Merlin he’s done it! James Potter has caught the snitch! The game ended in a bloody tie? What the fu—”
Professor McGonagall moved him from the announcer's stand, “Ties do not happen often. For those of you unaware, the game will go back into play, and the first team to score, wins.” The crowd roared from the stands louder than Dorcas had ever heard them. McGonagall was right, ties almost never happened. Dorcas had never actually seen one.
All players, excluding the seekers, took their starting position. The flying instructor came back out to the pitch. The crowd was dead silent, waiting for the balls to be released. Dorcas gripped her broom tightly, watching, and waiting for the Gryffindor chasers to move.
Slytherin got the quaffle. Mulciber passed to the Lestrange boy. Lestrange sped down the pitch, evading Macdonald. He went to score, but a bludger from Longbottom knocked him sideways. The quaffle fell directly into the hands of McKinnon once again. Lestrange and Mulciber both attempted to knock her off her broom. It didn’t work. The other Gryffindor chasers came to her aid.
Once again the Gryffindor chasers raced down the field together, Slytherin’s hot on their tails, and McKinnon in the center. Mulciber brought down the Gryffindor boy on the right. Dorcas prepared for McKinnon to make her move, but suddenly, the quaffle wasn’t in her hands anymore.
Madonald came from the left, taking Dorcas by surprise, and scored before she could do anything to stop it. All Gryffindors in the arena erupted into cheers. The team rallied on the ground together and celebrated. All but Mckinnon, who still hovered in front of a stunned Dorcas
“Like I said, you should watch the quaffle, not me, Meadowes.” she said, then sped down to join the celebration.
– – –
Dorcas kept sneaking into the Gryffindor practices, much to Pandora and Evan’s dismay. Slytherin and Gryffindor were coming up on their second official game against each other. Dorcas wished Hogwarts had more houses or that they were able to play different schools because she knew she was going to be sick of playing the same three teams by the end of the season. Dorcas also didn’t like the fact that she would be playing against McKinnon at least two more times.
She sat in the stands again and—begrudgingly—tried to follow McKinnon's advice. She tried not to focus on the speeding blur of blonde hair, but rather the quaffle itself. It was easy to do. It’s what Dorcas did against every other team, and it’s what she had thought she was doing with Gryffindor.
Dorcas got incredibly engrossed in their practice. She decided she liked how Potter led his team. When Dorcas became captain—and she was confident she would be one day— she might take a few notes from him. She couldn’t learn much from their keeper, he was rubbish, but it was entertaining to watch his struggle. The chasers and the beaters were who she was most interested in. Well, their techniques at least. After a while, she began to see the patterns in how they hit their bludgers and passed the quaffle.
There was a lull in the practice and Dorcas scanned the pitch for McKinnon. She was nowhere to be seen. Dorcas stood and tried to look down at the ground. She wasn’t there either. When had she left? Did she know Dorcas was there?
Dorcas ran down the stairs that connected the stands to the back entrance she often used. She couldn’t be caught sneaking into the practices, she’d be forced to sit out of games for the rest of the season. But McKinnon was there, standing with arms crossed in front of her only quick exit.
Dorcas pulled up short and balled her fists in frustration, “Move, McKinnon.” she ordered with a threatening tone. Dorcas would have no issue with pulling her wand out if need be.
“Don’t get cross with me! You’re the one spying on my team.” McKinnon said. Dorcas was honestly shocked that someone had seen her, especially one of the players, “What, did you think I wouldn’t notice?” She asked.
“Thought you might be more focused on the quaffle, not me, McKinnon.” Dorcas mocked. McKinnon only seemed to find it funny.
“It wouldn’t kill you to call me Marlene, you know,”
“If I call you Marlene, will you get out of my way?”
“No,” McKinnon said bluntly, “If you tell me why you’re here, I’ll move. And if you start using my name, I won’t tell anyone.” Dorcas considered for a moment. It’d be stupid of her to actually admit she’d been spying, but Gryffynords were often honest to a fault, so if Dorcas complied she surely wouldn’t get punished for the rest of the season. That didn't make it any easier, though.
“Well, Marlene , I’m trying to see why you can score on me because I’m sick of it.” she hissed.
“You haven't figured it out yet?” McKinnon asked, her smile growing even wider.
“Have you done something to me?” Dorcas accused pulling out and leveling her wand at the other girl.
“I haven’t done anything to you! Merlin, you are daft.” She said, moving away from the entrance, seemingly not bothered by the wand pointed at her. Dorcas was fuming with anger at that point. How dare she insult Dorcas, she deserved to be hexed right there and then. But ultimately, she decided that McKinnon wasn’t worth it and started to storm past her.
“Dorcas,” she heard McKinnon—no Marlene—called out.
“What now?” She started to turn around, and Marlene was right there, placing a hand on the back of her neck and pulling her closer.
Dorcas braced for something awful, but all she felt was Marlene’s soft lips pressing quickly onto hers. It was shocking to say the least, but she didn’t hate it. In fact, Dorcas might have even gone as far as to think she enjoyed it.
She barely had time to kiss back before Potter's voice cut through the silence, “Marls? You down here?” he called, and Dorcas had never wanted to murder anyone more in her life than at that moment.
Marlene disconnected from the kiss and Dorcas saw she was blushing down to her collarbones, “Yeah, one moment, James.” She yelled and started to move back towards the pitch, “We should play sometime. One on one.” Marlene said, sending Dorcas a wink before leaving her alone with a strange but pleasant tingling sensation on her lips.