i should have known better., marcus / jamey.

[MARLENE ELISABETH MCKINNON]

The Hogsmeade trip was a much-needed breath of fresh air – not that she hadn’t just had an entire break’s worth of fresh air, but when you felt like you’d had an entire term crammed into the few weeks since returning from the Christmas holidays, then another breath of fresh air was utterly necessary in a huge sort of way – even if that fresh air was bitterly cold, and had resulted in Marlene doing absolutely everything she could to avoid being outside. So far, she’d spent an hour and a half in Gladrags, looking through the after-Christmas sales racks, even though she’d been able to tell early on that the selection had already been picked over, and the remaining items all had something wrong with them – which was why they were still there – and once she’d finally given up, she’d darted as quickly as she could to the Three Broomsticks, planning on spending quite awhile in there, too. After all, there was no better combat to the cold than with a delicious, warm, foamy drink - except maybe Firewhiskey – and the Three Broomsticks had those in droves.

She’d wait until she got back to the safety of her room to take a nip or two of Firewhiskey. The last time she’d imbibed when not at the castle and under the close guard of Lily and/or Remus, she’d ended up dancing like an idiot in front of a whole lot of people she didn’t know. It hadn’t been a shining moment. And therefore, perhaps she’d learned her lesson.

At any rate, she was seated at a small table in the back of the Three Broomsticks – an establishment she hadn’t been in since the attack on Hogsmeade three months before – as far away from the rushes of cold that came through the door when it opened as she could possibly be, a mug of mulled cider topped with judicious amounts of whipped cream in front of her. Really, there was nothing better than cider. Really. Most people preferred butterbeer, the Broomsticks’ signature, but if Marlene had a choice, she would go for the cider over the sometimes-too-sweet butterscotch-based drink every single time. Not that she disliked butterbeer, because she didn’t. She liked it well enough, but she just preferred the spicy warmth of cider. Was that some kind of crime? No, she hadn’t thought it was. Wrapping her hands around the mug – also warm, which did wonders for her still-chilled fingers, fingers that hadn’t been able to completely escape the cold, even with gloves on – she raised it to her lips and took a small sip, savoring the way the spices and the apple and the whipped cream all mingled in one luxurious foam, and she smiled to herself. Yes, this was delightful. And she would put away five of them if it meant avoiding going back into the cold.

Just then, the doorbell jingled, and she looked up – peoplewatching was also a good way to pass the time – and caught sight of a familiar face. Raising one hand in greeting, she offered a small smile, and promptly returned her hand to the warmth of the mug. It had been awhile since she’d last seen the handsome blonde Slytherin – and one of the last times, she’d seen…well…a lot of him – and she probably had some awkward conversation ahead of her. She’d never properly apologized or explained herself for that particular encounter in the Room of Requirement.

[MARCUS BRONSON DECORUM]

Being back at Hogwarts was a bittersweet ordeal. Marcus loved spending time at home. After being away from home for so long, he was eager to head back to the Decorum house and spend some quality time with his parents, brother, and grandparents. But by the end of break he was getting anxious to get back. Tension had begun to build in the house. It seemed like the constant topic on everyone’s lips was the war. His parents and grandparents were talking about how it was a wonderful idea. Why shouldn’t the purebloods be in charge? After all, they were around the oldest. After Aaron told Marcus in confidence that he had actually performed a mission for the Death Eaters, Marcus was ready to head back to the castle.

Though that feeling did not last very long. The new term at school meant that the professors were intent on cramming as much information as possible into the heads of the seventh years. It wasn’t like they didn’t know that NEWTs were slowly creeping up on them. The tests were looming over their heads from the moment that they entered the school for their last year. The professors apparently thought that the best way to prepare the students was the bombard them with as much information as possible. Marcus as a result was stuck in the library until it closed each day, then was up in the Common Room trying to get it done. He liked to say that he was rather gifted in magic, but even he was having trouble keeping up with everything.

This was the reason that Marcus actually decided to head down to Hogsmeade for this trip. Anything to get out of that stuffy castle and away from his textbooks. No one else seemed to be eager to go so Marcus was heading to the sleepy little village stag today. It was rather cold today, so Marcus kept his cloak drawn very tight as he walked down the main street. He had a scarf wrapped around his neck that covered half of his face and a nice wool cap on his head, which were Christmas presents from his grandmother. She had a habit of knitting some new article of clothing for both him and Aaron. Thankfully this year they were rather tame. He would never forget the time that he opened what he thought was a pair of shorts only to discover that she had knitted a pair of boxers. Needless to say those never saw the light of day.

As Marcus took in the sights of the village, he was amazed at how well the place had repaired itself after the attack that occurred not too long back. Everything seemed to be normal once more despite the ever growing threat that existed just outside the city limits. It was a real show on how determined people could be if they put their minds to fixing things. There still was no denying that the place showed signs of damage. It was subtle. A damaged wall here, a pile of rubble there. Soon though, things would be back to how they were.

A gust of wind blew harshly through Marcus’ cloak. That was the downside of deciding to head to Hogsmeade. There was very little protection from the cold. No matter how much he bundled up, there would be a chill that would run down his spine. He considered his options for getting warm. There was the tried and true method of checking out a shop. He could loiter around there and act like he was actually interested in the merchandise. As Marcus walked past the Three Broomsticks, he got a much better idea. One that not only would warm him up, but make him feel better as well. He crossed the street and, after being a gentleman and letting some old ladies walk out, went into the pub.

The little bell chimed, announcing his arrival into the establishment. He took a moment to stamp his feet, getting the snow off. His eyes darted around, and noticed a hand waving towards him. A hand which belonged to a certain Marlene McKinnon. The only person at Hogwarts who knew his deep dark secret. He gave a small wave back, fully intending to head over to talk once he got his Firewhiskey. He probably shouldn’t have the drink since it was not far past noon, but he didn’t care. It would warm him up. After a brief bit of flirting with Madam Rosmerta, he made his way over to the Gryffindor’s table with drink in hand. He pulled out the chair and plopped down. “Hey Barbie.” He smiled at her and took a large sip. The liquid burned as it traveled down his throat, but still warmed him up. “Have a good holiday? Do any fun little dance routines for the family?”

[MARLENE ELISABETH MCKINNON]

The welcoming smile that had crept across her face when he’d made his way to the table, then proceeded to make himself comfortable, was quickly replaced by a not-entirely-amused mini-scowl, and a dark glare. Although she did like Marcus quite a bit, and certainly a great deal more than she liked the rest of the Slytherins, she still had to resist the urge to deck him every once in awhile. This was apparently one of those times, and in order to distract herself from doing so, she took another focused sip of her cider. “My holiday was just fine, thank you,” she replied curtly, arching an eyebrow at him. “And no, there was no dancing involved, thank you very much.” And okay, she knew it was her fault entirely that he’d gained that particular bit of information, but how was she supposed to have known that one little slip-up would lead to incessant reminders that he knew?

He was lucky that she sort of liked him. Or else she might have thrown her cider in his face and stalked off in a patented Marlene temper tantrum. As it was, she just shook her head wearily. “Though we did go see The Nutcracker in London,” she admitted. “But there was no dancing on my part, and there will never be any dancing on my part – at least that you will ever see, or hear about – so really, you’re just wasting your breath and your imagination thinking about that.” Her tone had turned from that of irritation to one of mild, airy amusement despite herself, and she took another sip of her cider while watching him over the rim of the mug. Her gaze flickered to his beverage, and she smirked. “And I thought I had a bad case when it came to firewhiskey,” she told him, eyebrow arching once again. “Least I’m not the one drinking it well before evening.” And it was true; there had been very few occasions on which Marlene had dared to sneak a nip or two before dinner, and one of them had been when she had been sick a few summers back, and her grandmother had actually given her a cup full laced with her special potion to get rid of the flu.

Which obviously meant that that hadn’t counted.

Anyway.

“And what of your holiday?” she asked, setting the cup back down on the table, though her hands remained clasped around it, siphoning off whatever heat was still making its way through the walls of the mug. Leaning across the table slightly – though she was careful not to let her hair or her scarf dip into her cider – she lowered her voice to a furtive whisper after glancing around to make sure there was no one around who might use what she intended to ask against Marcus like Marcus used the knowledge that she was a halfway-accomplished ballerina against her. (Though somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that his teasing, like his use of the nickname ‘Barbie’ came from a gently-teasing place and some level of affection, not of anything utterly malicious.) “Did you get any more done? Have you finished? Started anything new?” Really, she’d been so pleasantly surprised by Marcus’ talent for writing that she’d made it her business to know what he was working on, what progress he’d made, and she also liked being able to read said progress.

Even if ‘helping’ him had led them to their little situation the month before, she liked to believe that they both had the good sense not to go there again. She also liked to believe that she wasn’t in as emotionally unstable a place as she had been when that had happened, and they’d solidified a different sort of rapport than…that…and so, really, she just wanted to know how his book was going. She just also wanted to make sure she could ask about it in a way that wouldn’t inadvertently break her promise that she’d never tell a soul about his hobby.

[MARCUS BRONSON DECORUM]

Marcus couldn’t help but be amused at Marlene’s reaction once he sat down. The smile quickly turned to a scowl followed by a glare. It was amazing how quickly she was able to go from one emotion to the next. He knew that it was all brought on because he had brought up the dancing thing. It wasn’t like he was actually making fun of her for it, he wouldn’t do that. But it was more of a gentle teasing. After all, she was the one who made it seem like a massive deal when she told him. “Aw, really? You didn’t drink a little too much eggnog and decide to break out the tutu? That’s a shame. I’m sure it would have been remarkable. And appropriate. You know, with Dancer and Prancer.”

Marcus nodded at the mention of The Nutcracker. He was vaguely aware of the show. His parents had dragged him and his brother to show when they were younger, so Marcus didn’t quite recall everything. He smirked at Marlene. “Oh trust me; it will never be a waste of my breath. You see, I think it’s kind of fun. Granted, you don’t necessarily agree with me. But mark my words. One day I will see you dance.” He brought his drink up to his mouth and took a sip. At Marlene’s mention towards it, his eyebrows rose. He let out a chuckle before putting the mug back down. “Ah, well the difference is I can at least hold my Firewhiskey. I’m not about to start prancing around here. Besides, it’s cold out. One little Firewhiskey to help me warm up isn’t going to hurt.”

He should have expected that he would be asked in return how his holiday was. It was the common courtesy thing. But he really had no idea how to respond properly. It had seemed like Marlene was very pro-Order. Marcus also got the impression that she thought he was different from other Slytherins. So how was she going to react to what the majority of his break had consisted of? ‘Oh, it was fine. My family was talking about how great the Death Eater cause is. They really support it. In fact I’m pretty sure that they have actually donated money to the endeavor. Oh, and my brother Aaron is kind of working for them. He hasn’t taken the Mark or anything, but he’s been doing little covert missions. You know the typical stuff.’ Best to go with vague stuff.

“It was nice. Any time spent away from school is good. I was starting to go a bit stir-crazy locked up in that castle for so long. It was good to head home and see the family.” That was a good, non-committal answer. And it was all true. It took a moment for Marcus to figure out just what Marlene was talking about. Finished what exactly? Then he remembered his book. The one that he had her read and then they had a nice…discussion about in the Room of Requirement. He was a bit surprised that Marlene would go so close to that topic.

“I’m not quite finished with it. There’s still at least another chapter to go, then I have to go through it and edit it and stuff. So who knows how long that will take me? But don’t worry; you’ll be the first to know.” Not to mention the only. “As for new stuff, nothing definite yet. I do have an idea sort of floating around, but it’s not concrete enough to actually sit down and write a novel.” A wicked thought crossed Marcus’ mind. It was a really bad thing to do, but hey, Marlene instigated it. Why not have a bit of fun. “By the way, I never thanked you properly for the ‘help’ you gave me in the Room of Requirement. It definitely made that particular section more believable.” He gave her a wink, then sat back and got ready for the show.

[MARLENE ELISABETH MCKINNON]

The scowl on her face, she had to admit, was partly for show. To be perfectly honest, she knew that the fact that she was keeping his secret about writing meant that he would keep her secret about dancing. But still, that didn’t mean that he had to bring it up constantly; every time he did, Marlene was positive that there was something dirty going through his mind (he was a guy, after all), and she just…ugh, she just didn’t want to have to deal with mischievous, dirty thoughts (no matter how playful and devoid of any actual intent they were), because she already had enough of that in her life with her…whatever he was…and she didn’t need it from Marcus, too. Maybe she should just break down and casually toss it out there in her next random conversation with Sirius that she was a trained dancer; it’d be less-awful (but still awful, don’t get her wrong) if he found out directly from her, as opposed to finding it out from some big-mouthed Casanova.

“Eggnog has no effect on me,” she said dryly, shrugging a shoulder. “Not to mention, I don’t really care for it. But no, there were no tutus, and fuck you, aren’t you clever.”

Venom was notably absent from her tone, however, and if one looked closely enough, he might even be able to detect a battle against letting a little bit of a smile creep through the expression of disdain. “You just go on thinking that, Marcus, go right ahead. I’m not in the business of actively crushing dreams, so I won’t flat-out tell you that only in your dreams will that ever happen.” She tilted her head slightly, giving a short little laugh. “Oh, wait, I just did. Never, ever, will you see me dancing. Ever. At least, not in a tutu. Shame you weren’t paying attention at the Christmas Ball, I danced there. Since, you know, that’s what people do at dances.” And since, you know, she wasn’t completely plastered, for a change. That had probably helped things, a lot. Because it had meant that she’d just been dancing – the sort of dancing decent, classy people normally did at dances - and not making a complete spectacle of herself by getting up onto a table and attempting to take off important articles of clothing. “I can hold my firewhiskey just fine, thank you very much,” she retorted.

And she could.

She could hold lots.

She just made stupid decisions when she did.

…..

Of course, as Marcus had so kindly just reminded her, she occasionally made stupid decisions even when she wasn’t drunk off her head. A flush of pink began climbing up her neck, until her neck and cheeks were suffused with embarrassed color. She knew he was kidding, she knew it was just gentle teasing, but for the love of Merlin, did he have to remind her about that? She was pretty sure she’d trade the incessant commentary on dancing to the reminder that in a moment of less-than-stellar judgment, and utter disappointment in pretty much everything that was Sirius Black and what had been his inability to decide how he was going to treat her, what the dynamic between them actually meant, she had just sort of…found herself on Marcus’ lap after a bit of conversation about his novel’s sex scene had turned…interesting. “Right,” was the only answer she could come up with, and she raised her mug of cider to her lips, taking a long pull from the liquid. God, she wished that it was something stronger. She really, really wished it was something stronger.

“Glad to be of help,” she replied, arching a not-entirely-amused eyebrow. “But that won’t be happening again, either.”

[MARCUS BRONSON DECORUM]

Marcus smirked whenever he saw Marlene scowl. It was entirely too easy to push her buttons and make her agitated. Really she had no one else to blame but herself for telling him about her big dancing secret. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. He felt like Marlene was blowing it far out of proportion. Plenty of girls danced, it wasn’t like it was something big to be embarrassed about. Even if it was ballet which meant tutus and frilly costumes with excessive amounts of sequins. Marcus felt only slightly bad about all of the comments he made. It was mainly because she knew his own secret about writing, which meant that she held his fate in her hands. But they were in that delicate balance of each having dirt on the other. Besides, it was far too much fun to make Marlene agitated with him by simple comments that people who didn’t know any better would assume were completely harmless.

“It’s good to know that you can at least handle eggnog. I would be worried if you couldn’t. I would have to move my Firewhiskey, the vapors might get you into a tizzy and cause you to hop up on the table and do a rendition of Swan Lake.” His mouth opened slightly in mock shock. “Such foul language, young lady. What ever would your mother say if she were to hear you talking like that? I think that you owe more for exposing my delicate ears to such foul language. I think you know what I want to see.” He raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, clearly trying to let his words be misinterpreted. What he had in mind was just a glimpse of Marlene in her ballet outfit, but had a hunch that it might be taken the wrong way.

A rather smug smile made an appearance on Marcus’ face. One day he would get Marlene to show him the outfit, if he had to work at it. “Well, ball dancing isn’t exactly the kind of dancing I want to see, Barbie. Unless your date was lifting you into the air after you did a whole bunch of those little spins, it doesn’t count. Besides, I was far too busy doing other things to notice you prancing like a gazelle around the Great Hall.” He spent most of the ball mingling with the student body of Hogwarts, though mostly stuck around the Slytherins. Though inevitably by the end of the night he found Belle and the two of them slipped off to have a little alone time. “I’ve heard a different story about your ability to hold Firewhiskey. Or maybe it was that you don’t know whenever you’ve had too much. I suppose either would make sense.”

One could almost feel the tension in the room whenever Marcus brought up their encounter in the Room of Requirement. Of course Marlene would do anything to forget that, and to be honest Marcus wasn’t exactly too proud of it either. Not that it was Marlene; it was the circumstances that led up to it. Both of them were rather frustrated with things going on in their lives, Marcus dealing with trying to whip the Quidditch team into shape and Marlene, well, he didn’t actually know. But neither of them could deny that it actually happened, though it looked like Marlene was trying to play the innocent card. “That’s really a shame, Marlene. Because you know, I was going to start working on something like a sequel soon, so I might need another little boost of creativity. I was sort of hoping that you would be able to help me out again.” That wasn’t true at all; he had no plans on continuing the story. But hey, anything to keep pulling Marlene’s leg a little.