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“I’m going to personally kick Filch’s saggy arse if Gryffindor loses the match because of this,” Marlene practically spat, dusting off an old gobstones trophy with aggressive fervor.
Dorcas rolled her eyes at the younger girl.
“You are not the only Beater on that team, Marlene. They’ll manage without you.”
Marlene scrunched up her nose as if she’d smelt something foul and didn’t respond. She’d not anticipated the consequences of breaking the dress code being so harsh. She could tolerate a detention- she’d tolerated many by now- but a detention during a pivotal Quidditch match against Slytherin? Unfathomable and cruel. Dorcas’s presence simply worsened it further.
Unable to help herself, Marlene spoke again: “I just think that Higgins is a bloody terrible player and that this is all rather fucked up.”
Marlene kept her eyes on her already very polished trophy and didn’t look at Dorcas as she responded.
“I’m not thrilled with it either! My replacement is Sheryl Potts! The girl is too scared of getting hit by the Quaffle to block any goals.”
Despite herself, Marlene snickered at this new information. “Maybe Gryffindor has a fighting chance, then.”
She finally looked over to Dorcas, who had put down the ancient-looking chess trophy she had been cleaning. She stood and stared at Marlene, arms crossed. Marlene put her trophy down as well, and turned to fully face the girl. If she wanted an argument, she was going to bloody get one.
“Maybe,” Dorcas started, “you shouldn’t have worn that pin if you didn’t want to be thrown in detention.”
Marlene almost laughed. “It was a pin on my jacket, Dorcas! It was tiny! Barely legible!”
“Barely legible, yeah? What did it say then? Tell me.” Dorcas responded.
Marlene knew this tactic. Dorcas was trying to embarrass her into silence. The tactic hadn’t worked in years, not since they’d met in Marlene’s third year. Dorcas knew exactly what that pin said. She wanted to hear Marlene say it.
“It said, 'warm, fuzzy, dyke’.” Marlene answered. She felt her face flush slightly, but her voice didn’t tremble. “I suppose that upsets you?”
She looked the older girl in the eyes. Marlene wasn’t wearing her usual platforms, and for the first time, she noticed how much taller Dorcas was than her.
Dorcas shrugged. “I don’t care who you want to fuck, Marlene. I just think you’re smart enough to know that advertising it on your shirt will get you detention.”
“Oh, please, that was hardly advertising.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Dorcas conceded, to Marlene’s utter shock. “If you’d taken the pin off once Sinistra asked you to, you probably wouldn’t be here.”
Marlene felt her face redden- with anger, of course- as Dorcas took a step towards her.
“You didn’t take it off, though. You called her, and I quote, “a barmy old bitch stuck in medieval times.”
Marlene laughed. She remembered the incident well.
“I’m glad I did,” she responded. “Someone oughta let the professors know what we think of ‘em.”
Dorcas appeared silenced for a second, a sure result of Marlene’s brash behavior. Marlene knew this was her opportunity to gain the advantage.
“You though, Dory. You’re perfect.” Bitter sarcasm filled Marlene’s voice as she used Dorcas’s most hated nickname. “Punching that Hufflepuff boy? Model student behavior. If it were my choice, I’d make you Head Girl.”
Dorcas glared, real anger fueling her gaze for the first time. “I’ll have you know I was perfectly justified in that.”
“You were? Really? What’d he do, then? Insult your Quidditch skills? Everyone does that, Dorcas,” Marlene jeered.
“He called you a slag and insinuated you were shagging James Potter.”
Marlene was glad she had put her trophy down, otherwise she surely would have thrown it into a wall.
“He what? And you- you punched him for- well, me?” Marlene sputtered out.
“You weren’t there to do it,” Dorcas responded simply.
“But you- you don’t like me!” Marlene exclaimed.
Dorcas shrugged. “Maybe it’s more complicated than that.”
Neither girl spoke. Marlene considered what Dorcas had said. Maybe it was more complicated than that. There was a sort of sick enjoyment Marlene had always experienced fighting with Dorcas. Despite her contempt, there was something… fun about the arguments.Still, the feeling could hardly be called benevolent. Perhaps it was more complicated than hatred, but no more complicated than the push-and-pull of a good rivalry.
“My hero,” Marlene said sarcastically.
At some point during the argument, Marlene had drifted to stand closer to Dorcas than she meant to. Even as she insulted the older girl, she couldn’t help but notice how sparkly Dorcas’s eyes were. Dark brown, with sparkling gold. How had she not noticed?
Marlene took a step backward. It felt too strange to be thinking this much about Dorcas’s eyes.
“Don’t flatter me,” Dorcas responded.
“I won’t!” Marlene exclaimed.
Dorcas gave her an odd glance, and Marlene realized how defensive she must have sounded. In an effort to distract Dorcas, she changed the subject.
“It’s a bit funny, though. Usually I’m accused of shagging Sirius, not James.”
Dorcas snorted. “Do they not realize him and Remus-”
“They certainly don’t realize. I seriously doubt him and Remus even realize, honestly,” Marlene responded.
“Merlin, they must be idiots.” Dorcas laughed.
“Those are some of my very best friends, excuse you. But yeah, massive idiots,” Marlene replied, and suddenly felt very hypocritical for reasons she could not place.
There was little more to be said regarding Remus and Sirius, and both girls returned to uncomfortable silence.
“We best return to polishing trophies, or Filch will have our heads,” Marlene stated, breaking the silence.
“I guess,” Dorcas responded, running her hands through her cornrows.
Without warning, Marlene’s mind conjured up images of her running her hands through Dorcas’s hair, images of her grabbing and pulling at it- and not violently. Instead, they were just plain indecent.
Marlene felt her face flush. Detention was not the time to be learning new things about oneself. She did not want to be feeling any sort of positive way towards Dorcas. She started to feel quite angry, at herself, for lusting after her sworn rival, and at Dorcas, for being unfairly attractive.
“You know what? Actually, fuck the trophies, and fuck Filch.” Marlene exclaimed.
“What? Marlene-” Dorcas started, shocked.
“We’ll clean ‘em with magic! We’re witches, Dorcas, put the rag down!”
Marlene watched as hesitantly, Dorcas set her rag down on a shelf. Marlene stepped closer to her, and looked right in those sparkly brown eyes.
“And don’t you tell me it’s against the rules. Filch isn’t even here! We’re here. Alone. He can’t see us! We can do whatever. We. Want,” Marlene enunciated the last sentence, putting a punch into every syllable.
It was then she noticed she was standing closer to Dorcas than she ever had before. So close, she could feel Dorcas’s breath and smell her perfume. Something flowery.
“Whatever we want,” Dorcas echoed. There was a beat of silence.
Marlene couldn’t tell who had initiated it, but suddenly Dorcas’s lips were on hers and all Marlene’s coherent thoughts were swept away. Dorcas’s hands were on Marlene’s face, then her waist, pushing the shorter girl up to and against the nearest wall. Dorcas wasn’t the gentlest, and Marlene felt pain shoot up her back where she had hit the wall. To her surprise, it hardly bothered her.
Marlene, unsure of herself, moved her hands lower, from Dorcas’s waist to her bum, then quickly second guessed herself and moved them back up. Dorcas pulled away from the kiss, and Marlene almost could have slapped her, but then Dorcas spoke:
“Put them back.” She ordered.
“What?” Marlene asked breathlessly.
“Your hands. Put them back,” Dorcas ordered again.
Marlene did so without further questions. Dorcas returned to kissing her with renewed fervor, one hand on Marlene’s hip, the other snaked up her shirt, fingers gliding across her ribcage. The light touch both tickled Marlene and turned her on. She shuddered and gasped against Dorcas’s lips.
Dorcas moved her leg to between Marlene’s, but before Marlene could even enjoy the sensation, a row of frog choir trophies cascaded off the shelves and clattered to the floor.
And just as suddenly as it had started, the spell was broken, and it was over.
“Did you knock those over?” Dorcas asked, her tone accusing.
“I reckon we both did,” Marlene answered, still short of breath.
“Shit. You think Filch heard?” Dorcas whispered.
“I bloody hope not!” Marlene answered, quickly adjusting her clothing to hide any evidence of what she and Dorcas had done.
Both girls quickly dropped to the ground, hurriedly picking up the dusty old trophies. Within minutes, they had returned the trophies to their previous positions, almost as neatly and before. Filch did not appear.
“Next time,-” Marlene’s heart leapt at these words- “we won’t be doing this in a trophy storage room,” Dorcas stated.
“Right, right,” Marlene said, staring intently at a trophy in a feeble attempt to hide her blushing. “Next time.”