Chapter Text
The Slytherin quidditch team was comprised of six idiots and Regulus Black.
There's the inexperienced fourth year beater pulled in at the last minute named Lucinda Meyers. She had a good arm, but not much else. The second beater would be Jenson Clark, who had the ferocity needed, but the aim (and attitude) of a half-blind doxy. The chasers were Donovan Lennel, Garrett Bones, and Victor Mulciber. They honestly weren't bad at quidditch, but they had to be some of the thickest students at Hogwarts. Then there was the Slytherin captain and keeper, Hulin Marks. He had managed to acquire what was nearly half a brain during his seven years of Hogwarts, yet he had more money than imaginable to someone like Dorcas Meadowes. That probably explained why he had become captain in the first place.
Compared to Regulus, it was almost comical to watch the rest of the team. He had something no one else on the pitch came close to: a deep understanding of the game in its purest form. Regulus was obsessed with quidditch, and anyone could read it in his frame as he flew laps around the stadium.
Dorcas reasons that she can see it because she listens to Reg ramble on about quidditch players and strategies and pro teams and the Gryffindor seventh year captain for hours on end, but it went deeper than that. Feeling another wixen’s magic wasn’t unheard of, especially if you happen to be close to them, but Dorcas could’ve sworn that she could feel Regulus’ magic emanating through the air whenever he played.
She was likely being fanciful. But, watching him made her want to be on the pitch, and Dorcas was no star athlete. Even now, it made her want to run. It made her want to feel half as much emotion as he did when he was in the air.
Dorcas thought he would make a wonderful Captain. He was too intelligent for his own good, and he observed the other teams so well, it was as if he knows them all intimately.
He didn’t watch anyone the way he watched Gryffindor though. That was likely why the energy today was so high. Dorcas felt jittery. She was overwhelmed being near them. She could feel heat creeping up her arms and legs.
Regulus had asked Dorcas (as the other insomniac of the group) to sneak out with him before dawn for the past six weeks of the term to watch James Potter absolutely torture his team with drills and exercises. It's not like Regulus needed too. He had no say in the team’s strategy, as he was both not captain, and not particularly respected since rumors about him and Barty Crouch Jr. being found in a broom closet together had gotten out.
The rumors were true, of course, but that being Marks' reasoning for not choosing Reg as his replacement made Dorcas want to bash his face into his ridiculously thick skull.
Besides his mind for the game and knowledge of the sport, it was also clear that Regulus was simply the best flier. He cut through the air effortlessly, balanced and light, like he had been born on a broom. It was ironic because Dorcas could clearly remember his first time trying to play competitive quidditch during his third year. He had fallen four times in less than an hour, but by the end of the tryout he just jutted out his chin like he was a star, and he told her he was going to make the team the next year. It must have been the hundreds of hours of work he put into training that term, but he did just that, replacing their current seeker out of nowhere. Dorcas felt entitled to brag about him, having been there through all of it.
The Gryffindor team entered the pitch from the far right corner. They had likely already warmed up, given what she knew of Potter and his methods, but they took to the air nonetheless: seven scarlet arrows closing the two hundred foot gap to the top end of the stadium in just seconds.
This team was better than theirs. Dorcas would have known it even if she and Reg hadn’t been mapping out their strengths and weaknesses for most of the term. The keeper had a decent enough grasp, and she would outpace Marks any day, any time. The beaters were not as good as Hufflepuff’s, but still stronger than Slytherin’s mismatched pair. Gryffindor’s real strength was their chasers. Captain James Potter and the other seventh year, Marlene McKinnon, were a power duo no one could match, and their new Chaser, fourth year Maria Dominguez, was well on her way to becoming a star. Thankfully, the seeker couldn’t hope to enter the same league as Regulus, but that was about the only thing Slytherin had going for them in this matchup.
This might be only their first game against Gryffindor this season, but Dorcas knew how much it means to Reg to do well. He was still taking his laps, but his focus was dead set on Potter, lasered on the boy he would ensure did not win the last quidditch cup of his time at Hogwarts.
She was wrenched out of her reverie by an unfortunately familiar voice just over her left shoulder.
“Oi Meadowes, how's our little Reggie doing?”
“I think you’re in the wrong section, Black.” It would be generous to call her tone discourteous.
Regulus said that he and his brother were on better terms nowadays. He had even spent some of the previous summer at the Potter’s after his parents had gotten worse with him, but Dorcas didn’t trust Sirius Orion Black. Not one bit. She couldn’t compromise his ‘concerned brother’ act with the boy who had spat endlessly degrading insults at Regulus for years, the boy who had made him sob in their dorms until the early hours of the morning, the boy who ran away from his brother and never looked back. But suddenly everything was... well, it was better with the two of them, and that's all good for Regulus, who was much happier now anyways. Dorcas was civil, honestly, but that doesn’t mean she was going to forgive the source of five years of Regulus’ pain because of a couple of concerned comments and one summer of moderate amiability.
“I’ll be back to cheer on Marls and Prongs by the start of the match, but I wanted to check in with you all.” He poked her shoulder a couple of times for emphasis, and Dorcas was quite proud of her restraint. She shrugged his hand away and turned to face him.
“You can check in on him yourself after the game, right?” She looked him up and down. He was in Muggle clothes: denim stained pants, worn out combat boots, and a leather jacket over a warm looking brown jumper that didn’t quite fit well with the rest of his ensemble. His wand was sticking out of his pocket, and his hair was exceptionally unbrushed. She grunted a bit at him, “I haven’t seen you say more than a few words to him since you lot arrived on the train in September.”
Dorcas didn’t want to be right about Sirius being less than a wonderful brother to Regulus, but she was quite satisfied with her observational skills. He had avoided direct confrontation with Reg for the two months since school had begun. And here he was, finally approaching the Slytherins, Evan and Barty were over to her left watching the warm ups, and Pandora would likely be bringing her boyfriend over to their section within a few minutes. But, who most definitely wouldn’t be with them during the match? Regulus.
“Just asking, Meadowes.” Sirius’ eyebrows were furrowed, and he didn’t look ashamed, but he couldn't have been particularly satisfied with himself either. He gave a sharp nod, and sent his gaze back up towards the dark haired boy in emerald robes. “He looks good up there anyway.”
Dorcas couldn’t argue with that. She turned her face back towards the pitch where Regulus’ whole body could be seen: relaxed and in tune with his broom. He was pure energy up there, despite the shitty sleep he no doubt had gotten with such a high profile match ahead of him.
Madame Delano called down for captains, and Dorcas turned around to go shoe Black off, but he was already out of sight. She rolled her eyes, but otherwise was unphased. Sirius was prone to evacuating mid-conversation, and she didn’t want to continue arguing with the prat anyway.
Reg and the others had dropped down, their team forming a semicircle on one side of the field at the base of the stadium. The grass was unusually brown for October, almost muddy looking, despite the dry day, from the height of the stands where she sat with Evan and Barty.
Dorcas stopped paying attention after the Keepers rose to take their spots by the goalposts. She really only cared about Regulus, and a Seeker’s job was normally not so obvious towards the start of the game. So she refocused her attention to Pandora Lovegood, walking towards the three of them with the utmost grace- a dainty walk. Her boyfriend, Xenophilius Greengrass, trailing behind a few feet in his black robes and yellow scarf, with much less poise than Pan.
“Cas, love, oh how I missed you!” Pandora piped.
“Yes, it must have been an overwhelming two days without me, dear.” She drawled back at her.
Pandora’s answering smile was so incredibly genuine it makes Dorcas sigh. “If only the Sorting Hat had decided Slytherin was right for me after all, and I could spend all my time bothering you.” Pandora says.
“You’re sitting with me, Pan, so you can bother me for as long as Regulus decides to wait before going after the snitch.” Dorcas scooted into Evan a bit more to make room.
Evan reached behind Dorcas’ back and ruffles Pandora’s white blonde hair a bit with a grin before turning back to Barty.
“Dora, my dear, please, you’ll make me jealous.” Xenophilius bent down to sit on Pandora’s other side, a gentle hand making its way into her own like a bird going back to its nest.
Dorcas didn’t know if he couldn’t quite understand their banter, or if he was even better at it than she was, but he really didn’t seem jealous at all, especially given that he knew Dorcas was Pandora’s first kiss. Xenophilius really was always quite calm, steady even. For flighty, unpredictable Pandora, it was an interesting dynamic to watch, but it was clear he adored her.
Dorcas turned back to the game, and she would guess that she was the only one of the group watching to even a small degree. Barty and Evan, to her left, were deep in a debate about the events of the Slug Club meeting they had gone too last, and Pandora and Xenophilius were talking too quietly for her to hear over the jawing of the Slytherin crowd, but it was likely a conversation too eccentric for her to have been able to follow if she wanted to.
The announcer was going on about James Potter and his ridiculous flying. Dorcas can admit that he's a natural, but even his grace and agility looked clumsy when in the same line of sight as Regulus, flying high above the majority of the players. Even the Gryffindor seeker was watching Reg, rather than looking for the snitch himself. It was probably not a smart move, given that if Reg spotted the snitch, he would catch it first.
Unfortunately for Gryffindor, Regulus did manage to spot it. The score was 110-20 to Gryffindor, so he was still in the safe zone to go for a catch, despite the shit job his team had done in helping out. And going for it, would be a shamefully insufficient way to describe what Dorcas sees next.
Regulus leans out to the left, and Dorcas has to hold in her gasp.
He just…fell. His head going towards the snitch, followed by his shoulders, torso, waist. All of him bending straight back in a fluid, singular motion. The crowd went somewhat quieter in fixation on the dark haired seeker. Regulus’ core engaging at the last second, knees tightening around his slate grey broom in a dive that brings Dorcas’ stomach up to join the players.
She could have sworn, in hindsight, that even James Potter, flying towards the Slytherin goals with the quaffle in hand, had slowed just a fraction to absorb the intensity of the moment. The intensity of Regulus.
Regulus managed to catch the snitch, in a way no one else on the pitch could hope to achieve, whole body stretching out from his broom in a position that should not have allowed him to stay upright. Dorcas knew it wasn't so simple, but it looked so effortless to him. James managed to score another of his many goals before the catch, but Slytherin won 170-120. First game down, the rest of the season could be theirs too.
Barty and Evan ran down to find Reg immediately, and Dorcas went after them on her own, albeit at a slower pace.
She didn’t make it to the little grassy area outside of the Slytherin tent though. Instead, she was cornered by none other than James Potter at the base of the wooden stairs, still in his quidditch robes, covered in dirt and a likely infected still-bleeding cut on his cheekbone.
“Dorcas Meadowes, thank goodness." He shifted his broom between his hands. "I’ve been hoping to run into you.” James' voice was hoarse from the game still.
She couldn't help her eyebrows shooting up, “Oh, so you didn’t plan to meet me right at the bottom of the section I always sit at?”
“Well…” James smiled wide, brown doe eyes looking into her. “You could say it was intentional, but that doesn’t change my hope that it would happen.”
“Spit it out, Potter.”
“I was hoping you would get lunch with me. I’d like to talk to you a bit.”
Her laugh was probably a bit rude, but honestly he would have to be an absolute halfwit if he thought she was going out with him.
He just stared at her, lips upturned softly, patiently even.
“Potter-” She took a deep breath, “I’m not interested in you,” She said it briskly, genuinely trying to not be unkind. He was still in her way, so Dorcas shouldered past him, but he pivoted, grabbing her wrist lightly, letting go when she looks back at him with a warning in her dark eyes.
“I wasn’t asking you on a date, Dorcas, I promise.” He wasn't smiling anymore, finally serious, but he still managed to look pleasant. It unnerved her.
She scoffed and took a step forward, pushing him back into a dark wood slat, as he backed up with her.
“Then what do you want with me? I barely know you, and now you want alone time out of nowhere?” She asked.
“I want your help.” His voice sounded so innocent, so sincere. He folded his hands together anxiously and leaned back against the wall, pushing his head back in frustration. “It's about Regulus- and, well, Sirius too. I live with them both now, and I- they aren’t talking.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Dorcas backed off a step, crossing her arms over her chest. “Take you two months to figure that out, genius?”
“Well, It's not as if they were doing badly over break,” He shrugged, “and Sirius won’t tell me anything anymore, but my own idiocy is hardly the point.” James was humoring her, but he wasn’t wrong.
“It is an interesting one, though, Potter.”
“It’s James.” He said, sticking out his hand.
She simply stared at his outstretched arm, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
He dropped his arm quickly and brushed his hand against the side of his scarlet robes. Then he looked back up at her. “I don’t want to push anything, but I want them to be ok, and I know you care about Regulus, so if you want to help, meet me in the Divination section of the library after dinner.”
Dorcas lowered her head slowly, “And why would we go there?”
“Because nobody else does, and I have some Honeydukes treats that I can bring while we go over my plan if you want.”
“Your plan?” She repeated, “Now that could be interesting.”
His stupid smile was back on his face in a second, this time more recognizable as mischievous. “Should’ve led with that?”
“Well I do like a good scheme of sorts, but don’t get too excited, Potter.” She turned around and resumed walking towards the Slytherin’s tent, “I’m only agreeing to eat your sweets and be entertained.”
“My name is James!” He yelled after her.
The only reply was a flick of her wrist behind her back.
~~~~~
Sneaking out after dinner turned out to be more difficult than Dorcas imagined. Evan had wanted to talk about Transfiguration, Pandora had tried to intercept her on the way back to her common room, and Regulus had asked for her notes on the Gryffindor team’s playing, to which she replied that she had earned one day off from thinking about James Potter. The thought made her smile.
She didn’t really feel guilty that she was going to see that particular quidditch player as soon as she grabbed her bag, but she did wish that it wasn’t necessary to lie to Regulus of all people.
Light was still streaming through the windows in the hall outside of the library. The rays forming parallel lines on the stone wall, all pointing towards her in the direction of the thick wooden doors as she went to open them and walk inside.
James was already waiting in one of the long rows filed under Divination. He was sitting on the floor, back against the shelf, with a quidditch news segment under his nose, and a Honeydukes bag by his hip. He was clean now, wearing his normal black robes, and his face had been healed since the game ended.
“Oi Potter, you better have saved a Pumpkin Pasty, or I might just be heading out.”
His head flung up on cue, spotting her behind the shelf in a few seconds. “Well, Meadowes, you actually would have to join me if you want one.”
She chuckled a bit and makes her way into his row, sitting directly across from him. Dorcas pulled her long black braids over her shoulder. She kicked his ankle a bit with her own, placing her feet next to his own, which had bright red converse on/ They clashed horribly with his school robes.
He threw her a pasty and she caught it, throwing him a smirk as she takes a hefty bite, sighing in contentment. “Alright, James.” The corners of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. “What’s the first order of business?”
“There’s only one thing I need, I swear.” James said. “I’ve already figured out how to help them, but I can’t do it all on my own, and I figured….”
Dorcas waved her arm in an encouraging gesture and clicked her tongue as he paused.
“It’s easy enough really, but I promise I have a full plan and it’s just dependent on you now.” His feet were tapping against the air now, causing his robes to fold up over his long brown legs. It was making her nervous.
“You’re making me doubt you more and more with every second you don’t just tell me what the bloody plan is!” Dorcas pressed.
He looked at her, examining her eyes carefully.
“I need you to ask my teammate out.” James said. He was straight with her about it at least. Flat out crazy, but making it clear.
“I’m a lesbian, Potter.” She dragged it out nice and slow.
“Exactly.”
“What?” Dorcas asked. That didn’t fit. She drew her knees up back towards her chest and bent her head towards him, question clearly written out on her face.
James fidgeted with his sleeve, twirling the dark fabric into a small bun at his wrist. “Well, I kind of figured after your not so subtle rejections of the past seven or eight guys who’ve asked you to Hogsmeade with them.”
“And how the fuck do you know about that?” She spat.
James reached forward for her gently, but seemed to think better about it at the last second. He placed his hands on his knees instead and looked her in the eye. “You haven’t been very vague about your lack of interest in really any man, so I thought maybe Marlene would be more… up your alley?” His voice cracked a bit, and he coughed to cover it, but Dorcas is too busy picking her jaw up off the ground to comment.
“Marlene?” Dorcas breathed. “Marlene McKinnon. You’re talking about the 170 cm blonde haired monster of a chaser that likes to sideswipe the other team's offense and then laughs when they wipe out?”
“Well, yeah, that does sound quite like my Marls, doesn’t it?”
“No way that’s gonna work out well for anyone here, James.” Dorcas sighed. “You’re mad.”
“You called me James.” His smile was back like some kind of fungus that Dorcas couldn't get rid of. She didn't know how Regulus put up with him for a whole summer. He was more of a notorious grump than she was.
“Oh shut it. The problem is that she hates everyone.”
“She doesn’t hate me, or Sirius, or even Regulus, and that's how it's gonna work, don’t you see, Cas?”
“First off, don’t call me Cas, I’ve literally spoken to you four times in my life, and, no, I really do not.” Dorcas announced.
James huffed, then dug out another pasty from his paper sack, tossing it underhand to her. “Sit tight, Dorcas.” He flashed another grin and rolled his sleeves up, tucking his legs under himself with the excitement of a twelve year old on his birthday
He spoke with her for probably about forty minutes about his long winded plan to get the brothers to open up. Overexplaining the way their friends groups already are slightly intertwined, and how he plans to make them see each other until they work their shit out. James managed to make a relatively simple concept into a rant to rival Professor Binns when he gets going.
The thing is that Dorcas is interested in helping Regulus, but the rest of the plan holds more appeal to her nature. He was convinced that spending time between their friend groups would help with some of the relationship drama they had been having. He didn’t want to tell her many specifics, but Dorcas felt that she had a decent enough understanding of his friends’ dynamic from Regulus’ detailed accounts, and she could surely get more out of Reg if she asks.
The only thing that didn’t fit in her brain was his scheme on how to get their groups together. He said that Marlene was the closest link to him, and thus the rest of the ‘marauders.’ She also is close with other Gryffindor girls involved. Dorcas on the other had, is closest with Reg, and she also happens to be gay. To him, it was perfect.
That might have made sense enough, but James had no proof that Marlene is even interested in women. His reasoning is her lack of interest in most boys who had fancied her, but Dorcas can’t seem to get through to him that that was not the same thing as lesbianism.
Marlene had never really shown interest in anyone as far as Dorcas knew, and honestly, she is flat out terrifying. When she mentioned her particular concern of bodily harm to James, he had the audacity to laugh.
“See, Cas-”
“Don’t call me Cas.”
“-That’s exactly why you’re perfect for this.”
“Why, James? Why?” She bit out. “You still haven’t told me why?”
“Because you do so well with Reg.” James said. It seems to simple to him.
Dorcas frowned at him, “Reg is not an angry blonde girl.”
“No. He’s not.” He looked her straight in the eye again. She refused to break the stare. Her hostility meeting his excited, imploring gaze. “But, Regulus is difficult in much the same way, and he’s hard to break through to.”
“How do you even know that much about him?”
“Because I’ve been trying to talk to him for ages, and it's bloody frustrating, that’s why!” James didn't sound defeated by it though. He seemed light, amused, challenged even.
Dorcas laughed. "Good luck in your endeavors, Potter."
“You are the only one, outside of Pandora, who’s in a relationship, and Barty and Evan, who are male, that has managed to get him to open up. He would do anything for you, and he follows you, Dorcas, I've been watching. I’ve been watching for a while, for months, for years even. I- I think I just want those two to be alright. I have since second year when it went south.”
Dorcas held in her flinch at the memory.
James continued on, oblivious to her reaction. “The thing is, I think you could do it again. Just one date, Dorcas? See how it goes. If it doesn’t work out, we can find another way, I promise.” His eyes were deep brown and trusting. Too trusting.
“What if she reacts badly? I ask out the wrong girl and I’m fucked, Potter, and I can't risk everything for a little matchmaking and brotherly bonding.”
James did reach out this time, taking one of her hands in his own, and looking up at her. “She reacted just fine when I told her I had made out with Frank Longbottom in my fourth year. Even better when I recently told her I had a crush on a man. She was the first person that I was able to tell.”
“You’re…gay?” Dorcas couldn’t help leaning in.
James’ face was hopeful, and a bit impish. “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ sound. “It's not just men, Dorcas, but I suppose I am some brand of queer. Gender honestly has no bearing on attraction for me.”
Dorcas raised an eyebrow and squeezed his hands back. "That fits better with your obsession with Evans, I suppose."
He nodded absently. “The point is, if I’m wrong about Marls- which I’m not,” He smirked slyly at her, “I’m at least fairly sure that she won’t try to hurt you. She might throw a quaffle at you, though.”
She didn’t reply, but looked down at where her dark hands were enveloped by his, like they’d already made the business deal.
“What do you say, Meadowes?”
The breath she took was louder than the majority of their hushed conversation.
“One date, and I want unlimited Pumpkin Pasties from you, rich boy.”