chapter five
"I've decided to become a vegetarian," Torrance declared suddenly on a Monday evening, picking up her plate and sliding off the pieces of half-eaten chicken onto Marlene's plate. The blond girl looked astonished at the extra food at her plate, squinting down at the meat. Torrance replaced it with a large sweet potato.
Lily blinked. "What?"
Torrance was tearing into her meat-free dinner now, and tossed Lily a shrug. "I think it's nasty."
"You were just eating it a second ago," Marlene reminded her, like this was something Torrance had forgotten. "Like you've been eating it your whole life. What changed?"
"Ah dinnae ken."
"English, please, Torrance," Lily said, sweetly, even though her words were met with a glare.
Torrance straightened up, scrunching up her nose and rolling back her shoulders. "Oh, my dearest apologies," she said in her best attempt at Queen's English, "I do not know, for I, a very simple woman from a very simple land, I have not put much forethought into it." Marlene giggled. Lily rolled her eyes.
"Anyways," Marlene interjected, leaning forward towards her friends. "I have two very exciting pieces of news for the two of you."
"I don't like the sound of that," Lily mumbled.
"Shut it. Listen," Marlene continued, "first off, there's a party in the Ravenclaw common room next Saturday after the first Hogsmede trip. We're going. Mary and Dorcas are going and we are going."
This earned a loud and long groan from Torrance. "No," she grumbled, voice gravelly. "I don't wanna go, Mar, please don't make me go. I hate Ravenclaws and their stupid little riddles."
"We're going. You're going. Lily?"
The freckled girl shrugged. "Sounds like fun."
Another long groan escaped Torrance's lips. Marlene gently whacked her arm. "Quit whinging, will you? They've got firewhiskey, so you'll have something to do other than brood in the corner."
Torrance pondered this for a moment, and then sighed. "As long as I can get pished."
"What's the second bit, Mar?" Lily asked from across the table.
This caused a wide grin to spread across Marlene's face. "Well, I found out about this lovely gathering from Max Lewis."
"Who's he again?"
"Honestly, Tor, do you pay attention to anyone besides yourself?"
Torrance snorted. "No."
Lily rolled her eyes again. She did that so often every time she found herself in a conversation with Marlene and Torrance that one day they'd get stuck there. "He's a seventh year Ravenclaw. Seeker on their house team. Marlene's been carrying a torch for him since fifth year."
Torrance dropped her fork. "How many torches have you been carrying, exactly?"
Marlene shrugged. "A fair few. Enough that I'll never end up in the dark. But, this one seems to be burning the brightest at the moment. Said he would only enjoy himself if I was there," she explained, sounding very smug with herself.
"That was a beautiful metaphor," Lily said through a tight smile, and Torrance couldn't tell if she was making fun of Marlene or not.
She had a lot of boyfriends, Marlene. A lot of boys liked her; she was blonde, athletic, bubbly. And more than anything, Marlene liked it when boys liked her, more than she liked the boys themselves. Torrance found the whole thing exhausting, trying to keep track of all the boys she liked and all the boys who liked her and which one she was dating. Whatever was happening with Max Lewis, Torrance didn't want anything to do with it. And she didn't want to have to go to a party with a bunch of Ravenclaws because of it either. "I can't wait for this one to be over with," Torrance grumbled into her sweet potato.
No one said anything to that, and Torrance left dinner with the feeling that she had done something wrong.
"I think this is our best work yet, Drummond," James Potter said, inhaling deeply and smiling broadly down at the potion. "I know it's right because it smells just like Evans."
Pearlike and lovely, their Amortentia was perfect. And Torrance stared down at it with her cheek smushed up against her hand, bored. James did almost all of the work for this one. ""S a tidy brew, Potter," she praised, grateful for the grade this would get her but otherwise disinterested. She was staring at Marlene, feeling guilty and wondering what she smelled and if it was anything close to the Ravenclaw tower.
James watched her with a raised eyebrow. "What do you smell, then?" he asked, half curious and half pressuring her to talk.
She sighed, sitting up straighter and leaning in towards the shimmering potion. The air filled her nostrils and rushed down to her lungs and it made her dizzy. Torrance knew what it was at once. "That's sweat and pot," Torrance replied easily and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. She couldn't ignore James's scandalized look. "My brother took me to see my favorite muggle band in London last summer. That's what one of them smelled like."
"And that's what you smell?"
"Yeah."
"Some bloke from a muggle band? That smells like weed and sweat?"
"Yeah. It was the Clash. He plays guitar. Girls like that."
James chuckled, a breathy one, and spooned the potion into a vial to turn in for grading.
Slughorn eyed their perfect potion with apprehension and Torrance wondered if James had the capability of perfecting every potion he did and just chose not to. Or maybe it was her efforts that were dragging down their grade. She sighed, eyes on shimmering liquid, repulsed by the smell of it, repulsed by the sight of it.
She felt some sort of yearning in her chest that she couldn't understand.
At the end of the hour, Torrance gathered up her supplies and tossed James a quick, "Cya." But before she could make her way out into the corridor, James had her by the elbow, looking at her with something that felt dangerously close to pity in his eyes. Torrance narrowed her eyes at him.
"I'll walk with you," was all he offered, releasing his grip on her and heaving his own bag over his shoulder. "You've got Herbology next right? The greenhouse by my Muggle Studies class."
Torrance furrowed her brow. "Naw, it's not."
His response was a simple shrug.
Walking through the corridors side-by-side with James Potter was strange. Their friendship existed solely in the confines of the Potions classroom, not in the bright corridors where they had other options for company. She felt uncomfortable, almost too aware of his presences inches away from her. She said nothing.
James, on the other hand, maintained his cheery disposition, through stories that she only paid half-attention to. His voice was loud and echoed through the corridors, earning sly glances from people passing in the hall, glances that Torrance never missed.
The walk to the greenhouse felt longer than usual. James left her with a large smile and unshakable feeling that this would not be the last time he did that.
Dorcas was trying to read Torrance's tarot cards. Her nose was scrunched up, freckles on her dark skin dancing across her face every time she picked a new way to express her frustration. Torrance didn't know if staring at the cards this hard was helping Dorcas figure anything out but she was appreciating the silence that accompanied her thinking, even if steam was coming out of her ears.
"Alright," Dorcas said suddenly, voice clear and enlightened. "I think I've got something. There's the seven of wands, reversed, and right next to it is the two of swords, so you've got a big decision to make, and you're feeling a lot of pressure." Dorcas clapped her hands, and grinning broadly. And then, her lips puckered up into a little 'o' and she pointed eagerly at one of the cards. "Oh, and there's the nine of cups! So whatever choice you make, you'll have emotional fulfillment at the end of it."
The most high pressure decision Torrance had to make was whether to sell her last pack of Marlboro's to Peter Pettigrew for three galleons or to keep it for herself, and there was hardly any pressure from the boy that refused to make eye contact with her. "Well thank Godric for that," Torrance replied easily, giving Dorcas a grin.
She tried to be earnest, but as it usually did, sarcasm leaked into her tone and Dorcas sighed, dropping her face into her hands. "I'm hopeless."
"Oh," Torrance cooed, sitting up and placing a hand on Dorcas's shoulder. "Don't feel bad, Meadowes. You probably read the cards right, but I'm an emotional fortress. Nothing can get past this," she said, making a wide gesture across her neutral expression, "not even the celestial forces."
"Don't try with me I know you're a softie."
Torrance grinned, leaning back down against the couch. "Do another one, then."
With a heavy sigh, Dorcas gathered up Torrance's cards and started shuffling them once more. When Torrance bought them from Diagon Alley, they were crisp, golden and shiny. It only took a few months before they were dulled, edges fraying and softened. The witch who sold them to her told her to care for them, keep them close to her chest, and that if anyone else were to deal the cards, Torrance's heart would stop. They bent under Dorcas's fingers. Torrance's heart was steady.
It was early October, the leaves of the forest a vibrant red and the air fresh and wet, and rain gently hit the windows, echoing throughout the common room. It was the first Quidditch match of the day, Hufflepuff versus Slytherin, but Torrance was bored by it on the best of days, and opted out of the trip. She hated the cold and she hated the rain. Hated the way the water sank into her clothes, through her skin and into her bones, rattling her. She preferred the warmth of the fireplace, the red of the common room and the quiet of it all.
But Dorcas stopped her shuffling, placing the deck down on the table in front of them. "Are you sure you don't want to go? Marlene'd like it if we went, I think."
Torrance rolled her head back. "Just deal out the cards, Meadowes. Marlene's not even playing."
"Still," Dorcas argued, but still moved her figures to continue her shuffling, "she'd like it. Always liked seeing Slytherin lose."
Slytherin didn't lose.
It was clear from the way that the Gryffindors started pooling through the door almost an hour later, sulking and complaining and grumbling, while Dorcas was dealing out her fourth reading for Torrance. House loyalty for the lions extended past the red and the gold; any victory for the Slytherins was a loss for them. Torrance didn't care for it, the rivalry. There was some blood-purist prat in every house.
Marlene didn't feel that way. She slumped into the seat next to Dorcas and let her head roll off to the side. "It was brutal," she greeted, soaking wet from the rain. "The Slytherin team really shaped up, from last year. Black's probably the best seeker in the school," she complained. "Potter's lost his confidence now. There's no way Walsh can keep up with Black, not a chance."
"Regulus Black?" Torrance inquired, smirking a little. "He's quite fit, isn't he?"
Marlene sat up straight, and shot Torrance a harsh look. She was still annoyed at Torrance, pretending she wasn't but sending her biting remarks whenever she could. "Really? Haven't paid any bloke any mind in six years, and now you fancy Regulus from the Noble House of Black?"
"I don't fancy him," Torrance protested, sitting up. "I just think he's fit. I'd not marry him, but if he offered me a wee snog it's not like I'd say no. You think he'd snog a muggle-born lass?"
Dorcas flipped over another card and hummed. "Looks like no, Torrance."
"Damn," Torrance murmured, ignoring the eye roll from Marlene. "Fancy sneaking into the kitchens tonight?"
"Can't," Marlene replied easily. "Potter's called an emergency practice and then after I'm meeting up with Lewis."
"That's cracking," Torrance said, because she didn't know what else to say. "Meadowes?"
Dorcas groaned. "Me and Lily have a Slug Club dinner tonight. Reckon it'll be as dull as I fear, even though I got Mary to go as my date."
Something knotted in Torrance's gut. They were pairing off. She gave a weak smile. "Well, that's cracking as well."
The sun had long set on that Saturday night, and Torrance was tucked away in the library, alone and with a dusty old book that made her nose itch. Except she wasn't really alone up there. Torrance couldn't focus on the aged book in her hands. Remus Lupin was there. He was sitting by her, close enough to distract her but not far enough away for her to ignore. She kept lifting her eyes off the page to look up, watching him scribble down on a bit of spare parchment while he held a small book open in his other hand.
He hadn't tried to talk to her since he had asked for her help in Astronomy. Torrance figured whatever he told him worked; he even kept to himself up in the Astronomy Tower during classes. Torrance paid him a lot of mind during classes, she didn't know why. She paid him a lot of mind then, watching the way his shoulders hunched and his long bony fingers held onto this book.
Remus Lupin was strange. She didn't know if that was a werewolf thing or just a teenage boy thing or some combination of both, but she knew it was something. He was quiet, resigned to quick sly smirks and breathless laughs, at most. Lupin was all bottled up and tightly sealed, hiding behind worn books and the boisterous nature of his friends. But he would pass around whispers that looked far from innocent. He would walk around corridors with his hand tight around his wand and there was something foreboding about his presences. Maybe that was the werewolf thing.
Torrance had decided, suddenly and with conviction, and she had spent too much time studying the way Remus Lupin poured over his texts. With a heavy breath, she dropped her book in her bag and stood.
She was halfway towards the door when she heard Remus called after her. "Oh, Torrance, are you leaving?"
Torrance stopped and turned. He was seated at his table, frozen with his pen in hand, looking up at her with wide eyes. She tilted her head, eyes narrowed. "Aye."
"I'll walk with you," he said, leaping into motion, packing up his quill, closing up his books.
"Oh, naw, that's alright," Torrance dismissed, waving her hand. Heat was creeping up her cheeks. She didn't like the idea of it.
But he was already standing, bag over his shoulder and shaking his head. "No, really, it's no problem."
"Erm, you don't have to leave on my behalf."
"I was just about to, anyways."
Torrance stared at her shoes, tapping her toes against the carpet. She watched the floor as his feet stepped closer, until he was standing by her side. "Alright?"
She nodded, turning on her heel. He followed her out of the library. Torrance's ears were hot and buzzing. His presence was foreboding. "What were you reading?" he questioned, voice hushed like they were still in the library.
"Some muggle book," she mumbled, eyes not raising.
There was a thick pause. The sound of their heels echoing against the floor was bouncing off the walls and back and Torrance's ears. She was all too aware of how empty it was. No one was making the trek from their dorms to the library. "Any good?"
Torrance nodded. "Aye."
Remus looked down at Torrance, and she became all too aware of how much taller he was than her. "What's it about?"
"Erm, just this girl in America. New York," she clarified, struggling to find words.
"Sounds fascinating."
"Yeah."
Torrance bit down on the inside of her cheek. Remus Lupin was walking her back to the Gryffindor Tower, and it was strange. She didn't like it, any more than she liked the idea of James walking her to her classes. And then her eyebrows shot up. "You're not," she faltered, looking up at him, "you and your friends aren't trying to," she trailed off, shaking her head. "This isn't about the other night, is it?"
It was just a quick hex from Rosier that hit her when she wasn't looking. It wasn't that worst she ever had and it wasn't the messiest. But Sirius Black was self-righteous and presumptuous and a bloody nose meant a lot more to him that it meant to her.
But Remus shrugged. "I know you don't think it's a big deal, whatever happened, but even if it was, it doesn't have to happen again."
Torrance felt her face burn up. "I can take care of myself."
"Yeah," he teased, tone light, "I could tell that from the bloody you got on my robes."
Torrance didn't say anything, just ground her teeth together and tried to convince herself that he wasn't right.
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