lizziebennetnotinjapan:

Dorcas jerked awake, drawing air roughly into her lungs, her pulse rushing in her ears. A cold hand brushed her bare arm and she flinched back, staring wildly through the dim night to find the source. 

“Dorcas–” 

The word – her name – in a heartbreakingly familiar, groggy voice, was drowned out by a thunderous roar from outside. It was low and loud enough to vibrate in her stomach, before it was cut off abruptly with the unmistakable sound of destructive impact. 

“You have got to be joking, those fucking tosspots! Lumos!” 

A soft light bloomed, not quite reaching the dark corners of the room, but enough for Dorcas to shake her disorientation. It illuminated the sleep-mussed hair and scrunched-up features of an extremely pissed off Marlene.

“…Mar?” She breathed deeply, pushing her hair back with her fingers and her tears back with a will. “God, Marlene I had a sodding awful dream.”

“Yeah, me too. I dreamt that a couple of pissed twats crash landed a motorbike in our garden. Oh wait.”

Dorcas couldn’t help the smile that stretched her lips as Marlene got up, tugging on a baggy t-shirt that didn’t quite cover her arse, and strode grumpily to the window. The sounds of very determinedly drunk idiots flailing in the flowers travelled up from below.

“James Fleamont Potter if you piss on my roses I will cut your heart out with a spoon. Put. Your. Prick. Away.”

“Marleeeene!” Sirius shouted, followed by a yelp as a well-aimed shoe made contact with his face. 

“Keep it down, dickhead!” She yelled back.

“Throw us a sobering potion, there’s an angel, or poor Jamie’s going to be in soooooo much trouble!” 

“So will you! You live with me you git!”

“Your mum likes me better. I’m the more successful son.”

“Are not.”

“I’m definitely the more attractive–!” he was cut off by his own high-pitched squeal.

Dorcas sprawled back on the bed to listen, her heart steady, the dream retreating to the edges of her mind. Marlene looked back from where she leant against the window frame and grinned widely. 

Reading the thought in her girlfriends’ eyes and wicked mouth, Dorcas gave her a wry smile and made her way over to the potions cabinet to retrieve the vials.

“What’s it worth Black?” Marlene called down, leaning back as Dorcas slipped both arms around her waist. Over Marlene’s shoulder, Dorcas could just spot the boys wavering on their feet…in the wreckage of her arbour. 

“Those little shits.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Name your price, except for my broom, or his broom, or the Map, or–” Frantic shushing noises and scuffles were followed by silence.

Marlene weighed her options, then leant forward against Dorcas’ arms to state her terms.

“Potions homework for a month!” 

“Anything for you Princess!”

“Fuck, Sirius stand up, I can’t hold you up! Nooo, no stop it–!”

Marlene rolled her eyes, clearing holding back a laugh. They waited as the wrestling passed into a fit of giggles, which was then interrupted by a groan and loud retching. Her amusement apparently short-lived, Marlene scowled and took the vials from Dorcas, levitating them down to hover just out of reach.

“Make that two months for what you just did to the roses, dickhead.” 

When she judged the weak sounds of agreement acceptable, she lowered the potions, then cast a quick disillusionment charm over the garden, including the wrecked bike.

“Hope you feel like shit tomorrow!” She sang, waving sarcastically. 

With that, she half-heartedly tugged the curtains closed and smirked as she turned within the circle of Dorcas’ arms, pulling off her shirt.

“Well, seeing as we’re awake…”

Warm laughter drifted out into the garden, where two now very regretfully sober boys staggered off to flag down the Knight Bus.

((OOC: This is because I love you all and Jess’ angst cannot be combated. All I can do is to not encourage her more than I already do a lot….and write cheesy fluff.))