Of Muggle Money and Mermen
Marlene didn't always mind bitter food. She loved black coffee, for instance, the way it glided between her taste buds in the morning and then detonated like a well-timed chain of explosives. What she hated was the bitterness that crawled between her teeth and, like some sort of dying animal, stayed there. And while she had trained herself at the age of seven to eat salads that would have made other children wrinkle their noses, the salad that Hogwarts was serving today tasted as though every molecule of its green foliage was the definition of bitter.
It was for this reason that, while returning to her dormitory room, she was checking the reflection of her teeth in the suits of armor (because with a taste like that it almost seemed as though whole heads of lettuce had managed to wedge themselves between her front teeth and she would absolutely die of embarrassment if that happened.) It was for this reason that she created a fully formed hope out of a half-formed idea that she might have mints buried somewhere in her school trunk and thus upended said trunk. She expected her old scraps of parchment, broken quills, dirty socks and empty foundation compacts to hit the ground with a clatter, and they did, but what she did not expect was a tide of copper, the clinking sound of dozens of metal pieces sliding against each other as they fell towards the ground.
"What on earth was that, McKinnon?" came the voice of one of her Gryffindor roommates. Marlene wasn't even sure herself at first, the gears in her brain grinding against each other in a turning motion, until she heard the next words. "It looks like toy money," the same girl laughed. "Who's the broad with the crown on it? How ridiculuous, it doesn't look anything like actual money."
"It's Muggle money," another Gryffindor third year added, before taunting in a baby voice, "Aw, does McKinnon miss home?"
Suddenly Marlene didn't care about the bitter taste from lunch's salad anymore and, her face steadily becoming redder, she hastily swept up the dozens of one pence pieces into a nearby sock and fled the room for the lake.
Damn little brother collecting damn pence pieces (look, Marly, this one's shiny! look, Marly, this one's from the year you were born! look, Marly-!), she vehemently thought. Every year, for the past three years, he had asked why she had to go to a "special" school and evidently this year he had decided that as a parting gift he would give her his collection of pennies. (But, damn it, she didn't want to remind people she was Muggle-born, she just wanted to be normal, a normal Hogwarts student with a normal, magical background.)
It was a cold autumn day and it only occurred to just how cold when she realized she had brought neither coat nor scarf nor gloves with her to the shore of the lake. Refusing to admit defeat and retreat to the warm confines of the Gryffindor tower, she wound her arm back and threw a single penny into the lake.
Plip plip splash.
Damn little brother.
Plip plip plip splash.
Damn Muggle currency.
Plip splash.
Damn non-magical parents.
Plip plip splash.
"If you're trying to get rid of some illicit substance, throwing it in the lake isn't the way to do it. It'll just float up a few weeks later; I should know."
Marlene turned her head towards the source of the sound. Sirius Black, one of the prankster Gryffindor sixth years. "What are you doing here, Black?"
"Just finished detention with Hagrid. You'd be amazed how many leaves there are to sweep up this time of year. And I had to do it without magic! See, I think that's verging on abuse."
"It's called sweeping," she spat out. "It's not abuse, Muggles have to do it all the time."
"Yes, but last I checked we weren't Muggles, hm?"
Plip plip splash.
"Just tell me what you want, Black."
"Hey, can't burn me at the stake for trying to make conversation. I can't help it, I'm a friendly guy. Like a dog, or something." Sirius gave a slight laugh at his last sentence, until noticing Marlene's stoic face and adding, "Geez, tough crowd."
Plip plip plip splash.
"So are you ever going to tell me what you're doing, McKinnon, or do I have to guess?"
Plip splash.
"I'm trying to get the mermen's attention," Marlene sarcastically replied, "And I think I'd prefer to be alone for that, if you don't mind."
"I - why?"
"Because I have a rendez-vous with one of them tonight."
"Pardon?"
"Because I have a date with one of them tonight. His name's Geeblox; he's quite the charmer. Seeing as I've already dated all of the handsome men at Hogwarts, I thought I would start broadening my horizons." The expression on Sirius's face was a mingling of offense at being subtly insulted and disbelief. "You can hang around if you like, Black," Marlene smirked, "Bet you've never seen an inter-species snogging session before."
An immediate look of disgust formed on Sirius's features and, as he turned to walk back to the castle, he uncertainly yelled, "I know you're joking, McKinnon!"
Marlene couldn't help but start laughing as he left because anyone who knew the most basic information about mermen knew that they didn't have lips. They certainly couldn't snog, and outwitting a pureblood like that suddenly made her not mind the sock full of Muggle currency in her hand.
…
A/N: This was written for the Drabble Request thread on HPFC, where the character was Marlene and the prompts were autumn, bitter and statue (okay, I used a suit of armor, hopefully that counts). I like to be internally consistent between my stories, so this is also the same Marlene and Sirius as in my piece "The Color of Melted Snow," even if the tone is rather different. Also, I threw this piece together rather quickly as practice, but constructive criticism is still always appreciated :)