groovy, babe

Anxiety was a rather foreign invader to Mary, but she felt it’s prickling presence then as it grew with the power of having been acknowledged. “Fast walk away from it and straight to the Honeydukes booth to get a quick sugar rush, then book it to the fireworks, do a bit of dancing, and accept that while eight may be the goal, there’s nothing we’d truly lose if we were finished a bit earlier or later than planned because the anxiety of being on time ruins the fun before and I won’t let it have all my night.”

Marlene nodded after every suggestion, each bounce of her head a little more vehement and purposeful than the last. “One hell of plan,” she announced when Mary had finished, giving herself a headache with this particular nod of her head. Shaking it off, she looked around and smiled. “And I think, before we have to start ticking off the boxes, we have juuuust enough time for a dance. You know, in case we have to cut the one on the list short.”

Lily wrinkled her nose, replaying the proposal in her mind. “A bit of both, really. No ring, no down on one knee. But he asked me. We were talking, he was cross about the crumbs in the bed, and then he asked me.”

Marlene wrinkled her nose, though the wave quickly spread through her face. It made it just as confusing and difficult to grasp as when Lily had first come out with it. A proposal in a bed? Was that how they happened? She shook her head suddenly. Maybe the reason she couldn’t wrap her head around it was that she was focusing too much on what it was now, instead of what it meant was coming in the future. She tried to imagine Lily on her wedding day, with flowers in her hands, and James and Sirius in tuxedos.

“You should get a dress without sleeves,” Marlene blurted. She scooted an entire bum’s worth closer and grabbed Lily’s hand, bouncing it up and down as she spoke. “I saw this magazine in the Muggle grocer’s one time while Mary was buying, like, milk or something, and all the women in it had these bonkers sleeves and collars that came all the way up and down like the Fat Lady’s friend Violet’s dress. You can’t do that. You’d look like an old, cat farming maid instead of a bridal babe.”

“Six?!” Mary’s mouth fell as wide as her eyes grew. “It’s not even starting to get dark by six. Eight at least!” she protested, unable to keep the hint of a pout from her bottom lip. “I mean, there’s no point in going before that. I’ll only think the whole time about what I’m missing in those two hours so I’ll be useless for studying.” It was the truth, but she thought it was only a clever argument.

“Eight at least,” Marlene agreed with a slick smile. That would still give her plenty of time to get to bed at a reasonable hour, by her standards. “But then what are we gonna do for those last two hours? ‘Cause, like---” Marlene huffed---not out of irritation, but frustration in her inability to communicate her thoughts without hesitation. “It’s like when you wake up an hour before your alarm is meant to go off, and then you spend the next fifty-nine minutes too anxious to sleep properly ‘cause you know what’s coming next, you know? How do we fight that off?”

“That’s what flasks are foooor,” she sing-songed. “Besides, I can’t have any of the meade anyway because I’ve got to study tonight —no really, I do and I’m going to for real this time — so it’s wasted on me anyhow. And even so,” Mary’s face scrunched in distaste, “someone always chunders when I’m at the Boardwalk.”

“Hmm…” Lips pursed, Mary stared off into the distance and squinted like if she looked hard enough she’d spot a clock. “Probably another thirty, at least. I’ve not heard any explosions in a while and they always end it with something dramatic like that.”

Marlene opened her mouth, but shut it quickly, nodding with pursed lips. She couldn’t argue with either point, at least not without coming out the loser. And even if Mary Macdonald was the sole human being in the world Marlene wouldn’t mind losing to, she figured their banter would be better spent on other things today.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with the kebabs; I’m only saying there’s a time and a place for corndogs, and this seems to be one of those times, don’t you think? Whereas, you can have a kebab anytime.”

“This is why the Boardwalk is way better,” Marlene sang before nibbling a bite off of her vegetable kebab. “Not that it’s a competition,” she added quickly, even though in her mind, it totally was. “Well, except for the Meade tasting. The day Tinworth serves something besides beer or wine will be the best day of my life.” Marlene took another bite and spoke with her mouth full, her palm cupped beneath her lips to catch the juice that leaked out.

Lily smiled gently, fingers pulling a piece of her pastry off. “Congratulations might work,” she shrugged, putting the pastry into her mouth, “or commiserations, depending on your outlook.”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” Marlene said offhandedly, making a mental note to look it up later, though that note would certainly be forgotten within a matter of seconds. “Was it, like, the official sort of ask with a ring?” she asked, nosily craning her neck around to see if she could glimpse anything of Lily’s fingers. “Or, like, hey we’re both on the same page that it’s happening one day sort of asking?”

Lily laughed at the deftness with which Marlene managed to flip her off and apparate at the same time, before turning around herself and following her friend into the ether.

“Thank Merlin. No offense, McKinnon, but I only trust you to do one of those things without injury, and it isn’t the latter.”

“I’ll have you know my handies are world famous,” Marlene said without hesitation or shame, grasping Peter’s wrist and relaxing her muscles in anticipation of the side-along apparition she was about to fall victim to. “And that’s all you’ll ever know about them.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Of course. Whyever should politeness be expected?”

Marlene clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Says the bampot butting into my conversation.”

Nothing had ever turned Doc on less than the act of getting his trousers properly sized, especially by Marlene. It was clinical, and even though he knew the end result was purely for his enjoyment, Doc never quite mind being doted on. “I look brilliant, and you should say so.”

“I just did,” Marlene professed, even though she most certainly had not. “Oh my god, how pissed do you think Lily is gonna be on a scale of one to ten when she finds out I need her to find me a different pair of fringed pants? It will either be one or ten, I think, depending on the mood the boys have already put her in.”

“Know of any good ones?”

“Are you calling me a slut?”

“But you didn’t know it until you tried it,” Lily pointed out quite reasonably. 

“Delay tactics,” Lily said, before pausing. She took a bite of her pastry, her own form of delay tactics really, though she wasn’t sure why. She knew it was the right decision to marry James, hadn’t even had to think about it when he’d asked. She knew her friend would be supportive in her own Marlene way, whatever her personal views on it were. It was just so… big. Or it would be to others, even if it wasn’t for her. For her it felt as natural as getting into bed at the end of the day, or wrapping a towel around yourself after the shower, or eating at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Just one of those normal, everyday things you did because that’s just how things are done. She swallowed her mouthful, wiped a hand across her mouth to clear from from crumbs, watched as they scattered across the sheets. She smiled as she thought about what James would say if this was their bed; they way he’d groan, roll his eyes maybe, tell her to look at all the crumbs everywhere. “James asked me to marry him.”

Marlene waited with baited breath, as if waiting for a second shoe to drop. But what second shoe would there be? Marriage in itself was a whole pair of shoes—big, clunky ones, with thick heels and silver toes, that made a deafening boomwhen they collided with the ground. Maybe said clunky boom had deafened her into shock. Maybe it was that the only time Marlene could remember a friend of hers getting married was Frank, and that she couldn’t remember what she had said to him when he had gotten engaged. Admittedly, Frank’s marriage had felt like a distant fairy tale—two people outside of Hogwarts getting on with very adult lives that seemed big and far off in every aspect while she had been busy studying and sneaking into the kitchens. Marlene had been out of Hogwarts for a while now, though, and no aspect of adulthood had felt as big and bountiful as it had seemed from the inside. Truth be told, neither did this. The conversation felt no different than scratching on Hogsmeade plans in the margins of their notes during a Charms lesson.

At any rate, Marlene felt she was short changing Lily with her reaction, but she truthfully could not figure out why, or worse yet, how to fix it.

“I don’t know what to say.” Not because she was disappointed, or upset, or had to worry about hurting anyone’s feelings for once. Rather, it was the same hazy, sinking feeling she had gotten when she hadn’t studied properly for a test and had stared at the questions without an ounce of comprehension. What was a person supposed to say when someone got married? What did marriage even mean anyway? Why had no one ever taught her this? “What are you supposed to say when people get married? I don’t think I’ve ever been told.”

“Well, with your inexperience in mind, how about we start you off with something a little bit more tame, huh?” Reed rummages through the bar’s selection, taking a pause to think before he decided upon a spritz. He grabbed a glass, mixing some wine and soda together with a splash of elderflower liqueur. Once prepared, he set the drink in front of Marlene. “Let me know what you think. I won’t be offended if you don’t like it.”

Marlene narrowed her eyes at the idea of anything tame, but, for once in her life, thought better of saying anything. She held the glass up to her lips but paused. “It’s going to be fruity, isn’t it?”

“I’ll figure it out eventually.” He hoped.

Marlene looked away, digging her teeth into her traitorous bottom lip as it spread into a smile. Maybe she was at a loss for words right now, but if she could keep from acknowledging the fluttery feeling that her stomach was about to disintegrate into a pack of pixies and fly away, then she would have at least one satisfying win in the end of this conversation.

“Maybe you should look into getting a tutor.”

“I’m  gonna meet you there, because I just watched you trip over your own feet and now I’m nervous I’ll lose a finger in Norfolk and I like all my fingers. 

“Oi, have faith,” Marlene grunted. “I wouldn’t lose you anything that evolution isn’t gonna take in a few years anyway.”

“Then open your eyes and let’s get this over with.”

“Just be careful where you point that wand. I’ll play dress up, but I’m not losing any bits.”

Marlene peeked back at Doc through her fingers. Everything was covered, but in the most unflattering of ways. With a disgusted sigh, she threw her hands to her sides and marched in his direction.

“Merlin’s knob, I should’ve been a fucking seamstress,” she declared as whipped out her wand and set about tailoring the trousers to Doc’s measurements. “All the work I did hemming these for my next night out, just for you to look better in them than me the way they came.” Within a few minutes of huffing and brashly given directions, Marlene stepped away and proudly admired her work. “They work, I think.” She pulled her bedroom door open with her foot, revealing a floor length mirror on the other side. “Give it a look.”

“No,” Mary said, once again through her tongue before remembering she needn’t have it out anymore. “No,” she repeated. “Because all I smell is peppermint and it’s not making me drool one bit, so it’s safe for snogging. But surely if you whipped the fizzy pop one out, it’d be a different story.”

“Surely, surely, surely,” Marlene sang. “You assume, but you don’t know. Do you know what happens to people when they assume?” By now she had gently swiped the bottle of wine back from Mary and was quickly working to replace it by pouring it into a glass she had summoned from the kitchen. “They miss out on all kinds of important stuff and experiences. And what if we go our whole twenties missing out on something by buying the wrong flavor of lip balm?”