untamedmeadowesâ:
âYouâre the one who was a jerk first,â Dorcas retorted, which might be childish but was also true. She wasted another second on scowling at Cora, then turned away from the other witch with a grumpy stomp that made her curls bounce. There were more important things to focus on right now than Cora Greengrass â not that she was likely to see it that wayâŚ
Ah yes, there was the condescending attitude that Dorcas remembered so well, right on schedule. She rolled her eyes. Even Moody was less of an arse about it, and he at least had reason to regularly treat everyone around him like an idiot. What was Coraâs excuse? Oh right, her pristine pretty pure blood that made her somehow so much better and smarter than everybody else, to the point where even when she asked for help understanding something she didnât, she didnât actually want it. Everyone else was far, far too lowly for the great Cora Greengrass to listen to! Especially Dorcas!
âDonât act like youâre a dueling master talking to an idiot child,â Dorcas growled between her teeth. She kept half an inkling of awareness on Cora, just in case the other witch chose now to betray them all by flinging a hex at Doracsâs back; it wasnât hard to split her attention like that, even when she was scanning the room for threats. It was no different from being on the Quidditch pitch, although admittedly a Bludger didnât hurt nearly as much as a Curse if it slipped past oneâs guard. Cora was just another opposing Beater, Dorcas decided; that was the best way to think about her. And if she raised her Bat (her wand) to take a swing at Dorcas, sheâd make her regret it.
âIâve been doing this longer than you and better than you. I hexed Voldemort.â True, she had lost that duel â but everyone lost in duels against Voldemort. Dorcas had hexed him and lived, and that was more than Cora could say. Not that Dorcas expected the snobby, arrogant toerag to acknowledge any such reality. No, Cora would probably start prattling about how she would have handled things if she had been the one to fight Voldemort (not that she ever would, given her scorn at the idea of running âheadfirst into danger,â never mind that that was what they had come her to doâŚ) and how she would have obviously been able to defeat him in two or three spells at most, silly child, should have let me do it instead blah blah blahâŚ
âYou can come with me if you want,â Dorcas added, because while sheâd love to free herself of Coraâs presence (being around Cora felt like having a bit of Toothflossing Stringmint stuck between her teeth: thrashing and tugging as it tried to get loose) she wasnât sure she wanted Cora to be free of hers, free to go off and do whatever it was sheâd come here to do (since it wasnât to ârun headfirst into dangerâ it had to be for something else) such as betray them to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. âBut donât get in my way.â Everyone that Dorcas could see looked like a victim, running and stumbling and screaming with fear all over their faces, but she knew there had to be Death Eaters here; there had to be a reason they were screaming. She pushed forward against the tide of fleeing bodies, looking for the source of the threat that propelled them.
âAnd donât keep yammering on about how brilliant you are and the rest of us sorry idiot suckers should just put you in charge already, yadda yadda,â she continued, almost more to herself than to Cora; she wasnât sure if the other witch was even following her. Dorcas wasnât running, after all, but she was going headfirst towards the danger. That was why sheâd come after all! âThis isnât some fancy garden party where we need you to tell us what forkâs inexplicably inappropriate to use â and remember, I know you canât even handle that without screaming for help!â she added sharply, more annoyed still with herself for being taken-in by Coraâs pretense of hapless sweetness when she was really just another nasty snob. âSo keep your snooty, patronizing mouth shut, or find someone else to simper at. Maybe somebody in a silver mask,â Dorcas added in a mutter as she crouched down beside Lucius Malfoyâs stupid fountain, blinking against the spray to fix her sights on a black-robed target. âI hear they like that sort of thing.â
Her first spell was a solid hit, a big Reducto that caught the three Death Eaters off-guard and smashed the side of the fountainâs lowest bowl. Water streamed out across the staggering black-robed figures, dousing and disorienting them further. One of the pipes underneath must have cracked, too, because a narrow stream of pressurized water shot across them around ankle-height, adding to the confusion. Dorcas grinned and lunged forward to fling another spell, the annoyance of Cora Greengrass forgotten in the gleeful rush of battle.
Cora couldn't help but roll her eyes as Dorcas retorted like a child at her, reaching up with her free hand to rub her temple slightly as she noted the other turn away with a stomp. Was this how the others always felt around her? Was there some dialogue of feeling like babysitting when being around Dorcas? Surely it was easier to babysit her nieces than it was the girl beside her, which was saying something, she thought.
"I'm not!" She huffed out at her, feeling even more like she was indeed talking to a child, although she would never consider herself a dueling master. The only thing she could think of was that it was better to scan and assess the situation before just running in blindly, right? At least get a look at your opponents before you ran off. Was that such an absurd thought, truly? Maybe it was just because she wasn't as used to dueling as Dorcas clearly was, and she would have to figure it out as she went.
"Congratulations," She spat faintly then, unable to help but roll her eyes once more. The other had hexed Voldemort and lived to tell the tale, which was indeed an accomplishment that Cora didn't have, and one that she didn't want to have either, fearing she would fare far worse than the younger girl had. She wasn't going to argue that Dorcas had been fighting longer than her either, the only thing she wanted the other to understand was that she was trying, and not everyone fought the same way. She was still learning, and she was just trying to understand; wasn't questioning things and wanting to think them through part of that?
She had gone quiet though, wand still gripped in her hand, eyes looking around to make sure they weren't going to get a spell thrown at them without a chance to put a shield up. The people running, stumbling, screaming, made her heart pound in her chest and she had to focus. Dorcas offered for her to go with her, and although it still felt rather like babysitting... Cora couldn't help but also feel as if it would be safer, for both of them, if she did follow her.
"I'm not going to do that, I don't think that, why do you not listen for five seconds," She grumbled out then as she began following Dorcas through the crowd. They were going right into things, and Cora reached out almost absently with her free hand, trying to grab onto Dorcas's shirt or cloak or something, just to keep close to her and make sure she didn't lose her. She rolled her eyes again as Dorcas continued on, wondering if there was something wrong with the others head, or perhaps all of these spells had damaged Dorcas' ears.
She crouched down by Dorcas, glancing around and then feeling a little surprised as the spell smashed the side of the fountain, water going everywhere. It was during this distraction that Cora looked around at the masks and those without, and suddenly felt like she'd been doused with the water and it was ice cold. Her brother, standing across the way, wand up and... was he torturing the man in front of him? Of course she wouldn't put it past him, but to  see it... She had to stop it. They had to stop it.
"Dorcas!" She turned to speak to the other, hoping the other would go with her to stop it, to help her face her brother as she needed to. But Dorcas had lunged forward and Cora had moved without thinking, and suddenly she realized she'd lost the other girl in the chaos around them, and she was all on her own.











