October Twilight

October Twilight
Chapter Six
“Isolate”

September 5th, 1976
6th Year

Two first-year Ravenclaws darted out of the way as the statue of Taurus the Centaur galloped into the center of the corridor, revealing an arched doorway. Three students, two Gryffindors and one Hufflepuff, with shiny silver Prefect badges pinned to their robes emerged from the room that the Centaur guarded.

“What are you doing down this corridor?” Dorcas demanded.

The younger students gaped silently, shaken by the galloping statue and the hostility from the Hufflepuff.

“Only prefects and Quidditch Captains are allowed down this hall,” Lily said soothingly, holding her grin at bay. “We won’t take points because it’s your first week, but remember not to come further than the winding staircase.”

The students nodded and darted down the hall, not daring to glance over their shoulders. Remus chuckled lightly, but stopped abruptly when Dorcas shot him a dirty look.

“Try not to let your dislike of Ravenclaws drive you to distraction,” Lily laughed, not at all intimidated by her best friend.

“They’re going to turn into arrogant little buggers if we don’t teach them respect.”

Remus led the way down the Prefect Corridor, past the bathrooms, and around the corner. It was nearing dinner time and most of the other prefects had left the lounge already. Dorcas had insisted that Lily and Remus wait with her until she finished mapping out her study schedule.

“And yet, the top students in our year are James, Sirius, Lily, you, and me,” Remus said, grinning innocently.

“We can’t go easy on them! We’ve got to block them, Remus! We’ve got a monopoly on grades, and Gryffindor always wins the Quidditch Cup. We’ve got to make sure they don’t get the House Cup. How about a strategy of guerilla point-taking?”

Lily laughed openly while Remus tried to be more discreet.

“What do you have against Ravenclaw anyway?” Remus wondered. “Most of us dislike Slytherin, and you’re marching to the beat of your own drummer for no apparent reason.”

Dorcas didn’t respond. She had stopped walking and was staring at a group of students at the end of the hallway. They were chatting leisurely and leaning against the banister. Among them were Black and three fourth-year Hufflepuffs. Dorcas squared her shoulders and strode purposefully towards the group. Before she reached them, Black had taken his leave and was strolling down the staircase.

“Gretchen, Rose, Jillian, could I have a word, please?” Dorcas called.

The girls nodded and smiled, happy to see their housemate after a summer apart. Lily dragged Remus down the hallway, anxious to hear what Dorcas was going to say about Black this time.

“What’s up, Dorcas?” Gretchen asked.

“I’m sorry to say that I expected better of Hufflepuffs. We represent kindness, honesty, hard-work, and equality. I’m going to have to take points for this.”

The girl’s smiles had faded during the speech. Lily and Remus were watching their friend in wonderment. She never ceased to amaze them.

“What did we do?” Rose asked, aghast at her error in behavior.

“You’re fraternizing with the antithesis of Hufflepuff characteristics.” The girls exchanged perplexed glances. “Black,” Dorcas added.

Gretchen giggled shrilly. “But he’s so cute.”

Lily, who had been chuckling quietly before, buried her face in Remus’s shoulder to keep from laughing out loud at the look of abject horror on Dorcas’s face. Remus was also trying to keep his laughter in check, but Lily’s shaking shoulders were only making it harder for him.

“That’s not the point! Remember what Professor Sprout always says, ‘Choose your friends wisely because you will become what they are.’ If you take up with the likes of Black, you’ll become arrogant, insolent, and generally abusive.”

“But,” Gretchen said slowly, peering over Dorcas’s shoulder, “Lupin is friends with Sirius, and he’s not any of those things.”

Lily looked up, wanting to see how Dorcas would reply. The brunette’s jaw moved silently for a few moments before she became flustered.

“Remus is a statistical anomaly.”

Lily clamped a hand over her mouth and glanced up at Remus. He looked amused; the fourth-year girls, however, looked confused, clearly not knowing what an anomaly was.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take five points from each of you.”

“What’s your problem, Meadowes?” Black demanded, appearing at the top of the stairs.

Lily and Remus stopped laughing. Remus glanced apprehensively between his two friends, but Lily was itching for a fight. She loved to see Dorcas yell at Black, especially if it accompanied taking points from Gryffindor, because then Lily had an excuse to yell at him too. And Potter, if he was around.

“What are you doing here?” Dorcas demanded.

“We could hear you two floors down droning on about what a bad influence I am. If you want to say something about me, at least say it to my face.”

The Hufflepuff prefect stood up straighter and lifted her chin. “You’re arrogant, insolent, abusive, and the bane of my existence.”

Rather than return her insults, Black grinned slyly. “If that’s so, then why are you wasting your time trying to convince everyone else that it’s true? These girls obviously don’t think so.”

He winked at Gretchen, Rose, and Jillian. Dorcas made a disgusted sound.

“But go ahead and waffle all you want. Nothing you can say will tarnish my reputation. Say whatever you want, Meadowes. The more you ramble about my arrogance, the more conceited you sound. The more you call me insolent, the more stubborn you become. It’s enlightening, really.”

Lily and Remus both groaned. This was going to get ugly, especially for themselves. Dorcas would gloss over it in public, but Lily knew she would be squawking about it for days to come, and Remus would have to first endure Sirius ranting about how naïve and childish Dorcas was, and then Dorcas ranting about how he should make more respectable friends.

“That’s very philosophical, Black, but I think your logic is a bit flawed. Maybe you need some time to rethink it. I’ll have Professor McGonagall contact you about the detention I’m giving you.”

Lily’s grin returned while Remus’s chin dropped to his chest. The three fourth-years were backing away slowly, sensing danger. No one but Lily and Dorcas dared take points away from Black and Potter, and even Lily wouldn’t try to put them in detention.

“Excuse me?”

“Detention, Black. It’s that place where you and Potter spend more time than in class.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can. I’m a prefect--”

“Oh, thank you for pointing that out, like I hadn’t realized from the hundreds of points you’ve taken from me for no reason!” Black replied hotly.

“For no reason!? You go around hexing innocent students--”

“Snivellus isn’t innocent!”

“You and Potter hex anyone who annoys you!”

“Leave James out of this!”

Lily was doubled over and laughing so hard that no sound escaped her throat. Remus was rubbing his forehead and had turned away from the fight, as if to protect himself from the verbal sparring.

“Well, I know how hard it is for a sidekick to function without his superhero, so I thought I’d include him!”

Lily leaned against the wall for support, tears of joy leaking out of her eyes while Remus looked up wide-eyed. Splotches of color appeared on Black’s cheeks and his fists were trembling in rage.

“Well, you’d know all about being a sidekick, wouldn’t you, Meadowes?” he spat.

Dorcas smirked haughtily. “If all you can do is take my insults and use them against me rather than come up something original, then I’ll gladly accept that I’m Lily’s sidekick and take the victory. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do that don’t involve terrorizing younger students and sycophantically trailing after my best friend.”

With that, Dorcas moved past Black and glided down the stairs with her head held high.

*~*~*

January, 1979

Dorcas dropped her knapsack onto the ground and slumped into the hard plastic chair. The food on the cafeteria tray looked soggy and bland, not at all what she wanted after a stressful day of exams in Practical Studies and History of Healing. She tried to console herself by being grateful that it wasn’t Muggle Remedies, but the gratitude wouldn’t come. Healer Riggnold was as soporific as Professor Binns had been. She couldn’t find the interest in diseases like spattergroit that had never really existed except in the primeval minds of medieval Healers.

She dug out her Treating Lycanthropy textbook and propped it open against the napkin dispenser. She knew most of the information from personal experience, but she tried to ignore that. She hadn’t spoken to Remus, or Lily for that matter, since the night she’d had the visions at Holly Falls a month earlier. She was angry at them for not trusting her entirely, but more than that, she was angry at herself for ignoring the warning signs of the coming visions and furious that Lily had made her promise to never talk about her visions.

“I would have thought you were an expert in lycanthropy.”

Dorcas peered over the top of her book, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. Black was the last person Dorcas had ever expected to come find her in the St. Mungo’s cafeteria. He was dressed in his black Auror robes and had a full knapsack slung over his shoulder.

“Don’t you have a class to attend or a fellow trainee to practice hexes on?”

Black only raised his eyebrows in response to her snappy comments. His calm reaction did nothing to make her feel better about her day. Sighing, she closed the textbook.

“It’s been a bad day.”

Black took that as an invitation to sit down. Dorcas bit back a harsh comment, but rolled her eyes and turned back to her food. The mashed potatoes weren’t as horrible as they looked, but the chicken and noodles were disgusting.

“Hospital food will make you sick.”

“Lucky I know the cure for food-related illnesses.”

A sly smile crept onto Black’s lips. “So you do.”

“Did you come here for a reason? Do you need an exam? A lobotomy? I’d be happy to do the latter.”

Unfortunately, Black had never taken a Muggle Remedies class and didn’t understand what a lobotomy was. She was growing tired of this banter. She had a class in twenty minutes and a test an hour after that. She wanted to eat and study, not deal with Black’s superior attitude.

Black pulled a plain cream-colored envelope from his bag and held it out to her.

“What’s this?” she asked, not accepting it.

“I wanted to … make it up to you. You know, about Christmas.” He was rubbing the back of his neck and had averted his eyes. “And to say Happy Birthday.”

Dorcas studied him silently, contemplating his motives. She hadn’t ever known Black to feel indebted to anyone, much less a girl he honored by kissing. Lily had probably told him it was her birthday, but she couldn’t fathom why Black would get her a card, if that’s what the envelope contained.

The truth was, her day had been horrible because it was her birthday. Lily and Remus had both sent owls with cards and presents, but it wasn’t the same without a small party to celebrate. Her father had handed her an envelope with fifty Galleons inside, like that was supposed to smooth the rift between them. Only Darius’s letter had been truly a joy to read. He was doing great at Hogwarts and wished her the best nineteenth birthday.

Dorcas accepted the envelope and tore it open along one edge. She pulled out two rectangular sections of parchment. The sheet on top read: Holyhead v. Puddlemere United.

“I don’t know why the city of Holyhead is relevant to my birthday, and I don’t know what Puddlemere United is, but I do know that this is not an apology.”

Black looked completely baffled. His jaw worked silently and he gestured wildly at the sheets of paper on the table. Dorcas stood up from her seat, grabbed her bag, and turned towards the exit.

“Why would I apologize for doing something I’ve wanted to do since I first met you?” Black called.

Halfway across the cafeteria, Dorcas paused. Several Healers and all of her classmates were gazing between herself and Black curiously. Normally, she would have ignored him or yelled at him, but something about his tone of voice intrigued her. She turned slowly and walked back over to him so that their whole conversation wasn’t gossip fodder.

“You’ve done that twice now, and both times I responded less than favorably. So, you think you’d learn your lesson.”

“Actually, you’ve kissed me back both times.”

Now it was Dorcas’s turn to gape silently. She couldn’t honestly deny kissing Black in fourth-year, but she was sure she hadn’t on Christmas. At least, she didn’t think … No, she wouldn’t have … She was almost sure … Sort of.

“I know you’ll never believe I have honest intentions, and I can accept that because I usually don’t when it comes to beautiful women. But I thought you could use a friend at the moment, seeing as how you’re not speaking to yours. If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

Black walked away, leaving Dorcas with her jaw hanging open. She had never in her life expected an interlude like that. Then again, she hadn’t expected a lot of things lately.

“Shocking, huh?” Marlene said, appearing beside Dorcas. The Healer trainee started, not having heard the welcome witch walk up. “Of course, he always had a thing for you at school.”

Dorcas stared at the older blonde woman, wondering why Marlene McKinnon even remembered her from Hogwarts. They were no less than four years apart, and Marlene had been one of the vapid popular girls who swooned over boys like Potter and Black. She wasn’t like that anymore, but Dorcas clearly remembered evenings in the common room when all Marlene could talk about was how great of a Chaser Amos Diggory was.

“I’m sorry. What? Black has always had a what for me?”

Marlene broke into a smile. “A thing. You know, he thought you were pretty and wanted to date you.”

“Oh.” Dorcas knew that much.

“He just wasn’t as pathetic as Potter.”

Dorcas actually laughed. “Are you comparing Black’s crush on me to Potter’s infatuation with Lily? That’s absurd, Marlene! Sirius Black doesn’t waste time chasing girls who don’t want him. He’s only interested in hero worship.”

“Oh, yeah? And how many times has he gone out of his way to be nice to you?”

Dorcas’s smile faltered. She had found it odd that Black had left the Evans’s right when she did and that he had came after her at Godric’s Hollow, but it wasn’t proof of Marlene’s argument.

“You’re wrong,” she stated finally. “He just wants a good shag and a trophy girl. I could be both, that’s all it is.”

“You could be a good shag for Sirius, could you?” Marlene giggled.

“Haha. You twisted my words around and made me look like I want Black. How incredibly not funny. Don’t ever do it again,” she said with a false smile plastered on her lips.

Marlene laughed good-naturedly. “My break is over, and you have class, so I’ll end the discussion for today, but this isn’t over.”

Dorcas spent the rest of the day distracted by Black. She became furious every time she realized where her thoughts had drifted. She didn’t want to think about that irksome man, but she couldn’t help it. His unexpected visit was torturing her. Clearly, he had come to St. Mungo’s during his lunch break, but why? Was it really to specifically see her? And even if it wasn’t, his words and behavior were driving her crazy. She completely disagreed with Marlene’s interpretation, but couldn’t come up with her own. What made Black so confident that she would talk to him after Christmas? On second thought, he hadn’t been all that cocky. She was talking herself in circles and it was frustrating her to no end.

“Miss Meadowes?” Healer Bradley’s voice shattered her preoccupied reverie.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not sure I understand the question,” Dorcas said, automatically using the line that Professor Slughorn had always fallen for.

“I’ll rephrase. When is it acceptable to use monkshood to cleanse werewolf bites?”

Dorcas smiled slightly. “Yes, I understand now, thank you. Never. A werewolf, no matter how newly bitten, will have a severe reaction to monkshood that could include seizures, coma, or death.”

With that flawless save, Healer Bradley let the students leave early. Dorcas headed to the atrium where she would Apparate to Holly Falls. Moody had reported a large number of Aurors being injured around Iona and Arran Island. Dorcas, Fabian Prewett, and Moody were going there after nightfall to see what they could find.

The routine of attending class and meeting up with Order members continued for a week. Dumbledore seemed to have been informed that Dorcas wasn’t on the best terms with Lily and Remus because she hadn’t seen either of her friends in a month, not even to switch guard shifts. She had been subjected to a night of Potter ranting about how she was hurting Lily’s feelings. That was the only time Dorcas had ever been grateful to see a Death Eater. His hour-long speech was cut short to trail the Lestrange brothers.

Throughout all of the classes, guard shifts, and scouting missions, Dorcas was constantly haunted by one question: Who or what was Puddlemere United? And what did it have to do with the city of Holyhead? She had asked Gideon Prewett, but he’d only laughed hysterically until Dorcas walked away without an answer.

Black was still bothering her, even a week after he’d shown up at St. Mungo’s. She came to the conclusion that the gesture counted for something, even if she didn’t know what. He’d given her a birthday present, and she had been incredibly rude to him. Why he was offering her friendship when Remus and Lily weren’t talking to her, she couldn’t imagine. The fact remained that Dorcas needed someone who understood her situation and she thought that Black might.

She made her decision the following Thursday. She had just arrived at Headquarters after sitting a shift with Marlene and was ready to report in, go home, and sleep all day. When she approached the kitchen, she overheard Caradoc Dearborn and Moody discussing possible Death Eaters.

“No, not Black. He’s a damn fine dueler, good Auror material. Maybe his family, but not him.”

“You sure, Alastor? I’ve heard rumors about his younger brother.”

“I tell you, Dearborn, not Sirius Black!”

The following night, after completing her final class of the week, Dorcas Apparated to the building where Black lived. She almost wished the lights hadn’t been on, then she wouldn’t have had to come to Black with her tail between her legs. His ego didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing he had been correct.

She pulled the bell and waited for several moments before the door opened. She almost dropped her armload of books in surprise. Black had answered the door in naught but a towel, and his hair and muscular torso were dripping wet. She stared at him for a few moments before she realized what she was doing and turned her head away.

“I’ll come back some other time,” she said distractedly.

“No, no. It’s all right. Come in.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think it is,” she muttered, still looking away.

Black had walked away, leaving the door wide open. Dorcas rationalized that it really wasn’t safe to stand on the doormat or leave the door wide open in the middle of a war, so she stepped inside and closed it behind herself.

“I’ll be right out,” Black called from somewhere down the hallway that was still full of dirty clothes.

Dorcas waited awkwardly in the sitting room while Black found some clean clothes in the piles all around the flat. Like the last time she had been to his flat, she was baffled by the amount of fur all over the place.

When Black entered the sitting room fully dressed, Dorcas took a seat on the sofa, wondering where to begin. While she struggled to find the words, Black summoned two butterbeers from the kitchen. He waited patiently, already knowing what she wanted to say, but being surprisingly modest about it.

“I’m sorry … that I was so … rude to you last week.” Dorcas forced the apology, not liking to give Black the satisfaction, but knowing that it needed saying.

“No problem.”

Dorcas gaped at him. “What?”

Black grinned in amusement. “No problem. It means, don’t worry about it. It’s forgiven.”

Dorcas wasn’t sure what to make of this sudden humility, but she wasn’t going to ruin it by commenting on it. Either she would inadvertently flirt with Black or insult him to the point where he would get defensive. Dorcas sipped her butterbeer, glancing at Black from the corner of her eye.

“Is there something else?” he asked.

“Oh … yeah.” She cleared her throat, feeling like an idiot for asking the question. “Who or what is Puddlemere United?”

“I knew you were intrigued,” Black laughed. “Puddlemere is the Quidditch team playing the first match of the season against the Holyhead Harpies.”

“They’re playing Quidditch in the middle of a war? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“We need something to lighten the mood.” He shrugged. “Besides, the matches are crawling with security wizards and medics.”

“Oh. So … why did you give me Quidditch tickets for my birthday?” Dorcas didn’t want to sound rude and bring up the fact that she didn’t like or understand Quidditch.

“To show you what you’ve been missing. It’s a great game! I’ll explain it to you.”

Black spent the next hour rambling about Quaffles and Keepers and the different teams in the league. Dorcas wasn’t so much interested in the Quidditch as in Black’s sudden behavior change. She was amazed by the boyish quality he possessed when speaking so passionately about the sport. He was totally different than the boy who used to strut around Hogwarts Castle with one arm around a giggling girl and the other hexing innocent students.

“… that’s why I liked being a Beater.”

Dorcas was snapped out of her daydreams when Black stopped talking. She had barely registered anything he said. She knew as much about Quidditch as she had an hour earlier.

“Well, thanks for the tutorial, but I need to get home. It’s getting late, and I have classes early tomorrow.”

“Me too,” Black groaned. Dorcas stood up and hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. “So, will you go to the match?”

She really didn’t want to go to a Quidditch game. She thought she’d seen enough at Hogwarts to last her a lifetime, but she couldn’t deny that she almost liked spending time with Black. Despite his rambling around broomsticks, he seemed more pleasant towards her than he ever had. Maybe it was the conversation she’d overheard, but she thought she was beginning to understand Black like she never had before. It was a difficult thing, escaping preconceptions.

“Sure, why not?”

“Great.” Black rose from his chair. “I’ll Apparate home with you.”

“What?” Dorcas asked, chuckling. “I’m a big girl. I can manage to Apparate home all right.”

He studied her curiously. “Didn’t you hear Dumbledore? Families of Aurors and Hit Wizards are in danger.”

“I’ve known that for a long time.”

“It’s different now. The Death Eaters are picking off family members one-by-one. Your dad is one of the best Hit Wizards there is. They’ll stop at no lengths to take revenge for all of the Death Eaters he’s sent to Azkaban.”

Dorcas sighed wearily. She really was very tired of having this conversation. “I know all of this. I scored second-highest on the Defense N.E.W.T, right behind you. I’m a good dueler, and even if I wasn’t, my dad is home and he’s an expert.”

“Dumbledore said we should …”

Dorcas turned sharply, abandoning the clasp of her cloak. The hostility in her glare startled Black, who had always known her to be gentle, if a little emotional.

“Is that what this is all about, the Quidditch tickets and inviting me over anytime? You’re keeping an eye on me, just like Lily and Remus?”

“It’s not like that, Meadowes. I don’t want to come with you to make sure you’re not meeting up with Death Eaters. I just want to make sure you get home safely.”

“So why the sudden interest?”

Black looked down at the carpet and ran a hand through his hair. When he answered, he didn’t look up and spoke so quietly that Dorcas had to strain to hear him. “Because it could easily be me they all suspect.”

Dorcas wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She had assumed something along those lines, but wasn’t prepared for him to admit it.

“You’d better take my arm then, unless you know where I live.”

Black slipped his arm through the crook in her elbow and held on tightly as she turned sharply. Side-along Apparation was especially uncomfortable and slow. A moment later, Dorcas and Black arrived in Hampshire Village feeling winded from the prolonged pressure.

“Good old Hampshire Village, population six hundred and four,” Dorcas joked.

“Make that six hundred and three,” Black said seriously, pointing into the night sky.

Dorcas felt her heart skip a beat as she turned around. Floating over the copse of trees where her house was hidden some half a mile away was the green, glittering Dark Mark.