#ssshhhh

And Basil bought Sunny a gift (o^ ^o)

Sinner to winner

When Marlene was eleven years old, she, like most witches and wizards in Great Britain, was about to attend her first year at Hogwarts.

Blowing her lopsided fringe out of her eyes, she clutched her trunk and stared nervously into her Father’s eyes as he crouched down to talk to her, “You are a winner Marlene. You must remember, you are a winner,” he said.

She got sorted into Gryffindor that night. Just like practically all her family before her. Delighted that she got into the same house as Peter and James.

She met her dorm mates, two wickedly funny and clever girls she would come to call her best friends. She excelled in her classes, finding them not nearly as hard as she’d feared. Marlene was winning.

And in the coming years, she would continue to win. She was well-liked, well known, proud to be friends with the people she was.

When she won points for her house, or got dragged into a corner by a pretty girl at a party, or made beater on the Quidditch team, she felt a rising satisfaction.

The truth is, she had gotten far too comfortable with winning, something she learned rather late.

It was fourth year. Gryffindor vs Slytherin game. Gryffindor in the lead. Marlene made a shot that knocked the Quaffle away from the Slytherin chaser’s line of vision, and she smiled to herself at the praise ringing through the stadium from the commentary box.

That was when she saw it. Deadly quick, Dorcas Meadowes the Slytherin beater, sending a bludger that disoriented the Gryffindor keeper enough that Slytherin made a point.

Impressive, Marlene wasn’t fazed though. Gryffindor was still going to— what the fuck? A deafening roar erupted from the green and silver side of the pitch.

Slytherin had caught the snitch. Gryffindor had lost. Marlene had lost. She turned her head and saw a speeding bullet of green robes and dark braids shooting to the ground. Dorcas bloody Meadowes.

The coming months would soon become the norm. Marlene training almost obsessively. Never any room for error. Not when she knew there was somebody as good as her. No, not better. She would never dare think better.

Though deep down she knew it was irrational. Dorcas Meadowes may inexplicably hate her just as much she does. But what had she ever done to personally slight Marlene? Exist. Sneering at me on her shoddy broom like she knows something I don’t.

So why did she know the Slytherin team’s practice schedule? Why did she spend so much time ranting about Meadowes that her friends grew weary at even the name? Why did she let Meadowes bother her so much at all?

One day, during the transfiguration class they shared with Slytherin during sixth year, Marlene was assigned a project. With Dorcas Meadowes.

A collective gasp went up around Mary, James and Remus—who she had the class with. “What’re you going to do?,” Mary held a manicured hand to her mouth.

“Do the project I’d expect. Not like you can do much about it,” Remus said shaking his head, while James gave her an unreadable look, “Don’t hex her. I can’t have both my beaters in detention,” he said.

Marlene thought about Sirius’ latest stunt, charming Slughorn’s cauldrons to stick to their desks, and nearly smiled.

How could one possibly smile when they were condemned to waste time out of class with such an insufferable person? She turned to look at her to-be partner, who was grimacing at her in turn.

That weekend, she met Dorcas Meadows on the grounds, notebooks and supplies strewn out between them on a blanket.

“Alright,” Dorcas’ tone was stilted and short, “Let’s do the incantations together, and I’ll do the essay portion. I want to get good marks on this.”

Marlene shot her an incredulous glare, “Why are only you doing the essay portion? What like if I do it we’ll get a bad grade?”

Dorcas scoffed, “Your words not mine.” Wow. Who on earth does she think she is? “Who on Earth do you think you are?” Marlene gripped her wand, too bad James.

“I know you’re batting skills don’t deem you capable of it, but do control yourself Mckinnon,” Dorcas drawled, turning back to the book in her lap as if Marlene wasn’t currently debating making it blow up in her face.

You’re only proving her right. Marlene resigned herself to doing the work quietly. Not even acknowledging Dorcas at all.

And it shocked her to the core, but Dorcas did seem sort of bothered with it. Constantly glancing at her, or furrowing her brow as if confused. It made Marlene feel rather proud of even drawing a reaction out of her.

When it was getting dark, Marlene grabbed the roll of parchment they were given for the essay before getting up. A hand caught her wrist.

“What are you doing I said I was writing the—“. Marlene looked down at the hold Dorcas had on her, at the way the dimming light of the field made Dorcas’ eyes look like marbles, and how the way her robes fit her was rather—what?

“I’m doing the first half and we can meet again so I can give you the other bit to do. Maybe tomorrow? During the Hogsmeade trip?”, Marlene would never know what possessed her to say those words.

But, when Dorcas froze, as if stopping herself from retorting, before staring down into her lap almost shyly, Marlene found that she didn’t regret it.

“Whatever, Mckinnon.” Abruptly, Dorcas charmed her things into her bag, and brushed past Marlene to march away back up to the castle.

She watched her figure disappearing higher up the hill, braids dancing in the wind, and felt an odd pulsing in her stomach.

Bitchass rabbit, doesn't even look like his canon self 💔💔💔

for reference, I colorpicked from my Jax design.