The Other Side of the Glass

' You are so unbelievably good at complicating things, Lily. It's just weird.'

Lily spared a raised eyebrow, but said nothing as she peered down at her essay.

Dorcas had lost track of exactly which essay it was. Lily was as equally unbelievably messy as she was good at complicating things, scattering her books and quills and parchment all over her bed - it was the bed, in this instance, but it could just have easily been the floor or a table or the top of somebody's trunk.

And she always managed to work her way systematically through the academic explosion. Organised Chaos she called it. Mary and Alice called it a nuisance. Dorcas called it bizarre. Whatever it was called, it was a skill Dorcas envied.

Mary, from the other side of the dorm, cast Dorcas a disapproving look - a mix between a pout and a scowl that Dorcas was used to enough to ignore. She had been on the receiving end of that look so much, she knew exactly what it meant.

Mary wanted her to apologise.

Dorcas was going to do no such thing. She hadn't done anything wrong, merely stated a fact.

Lily Evans was weird.

It had taken five and a half years to come to that conclusion, but it had come in the end. So what if Dorcas wasn't the brightest lumos in the class?

Most people would have found it offensive, probably - or at least a tad rude - calling someone weird. Dorcas never believed in falsities, though.

She supposed most people would say that, when asked. Nobody admits that they like lying - which she also supposed was probably, in most cases, a lie to begin with.

But Dorcas properly hated falsities. Little white lies, false implications, misleading suggestions, downright fibs. The job lot.

The philosophy of Dorcas Meadows was simple - If it's alright to think, it's alright to say.

It wasn't an ideal philosophy, by most standards, she'd happily admit. But it was the only one she'd ever thoroughly believed in.

It had lost her an awful lot of friendships over the years. Her best friend at Muggle school when she was a girl hadn't taken too kindly to being informed that her trendy new haircut made her look like a boy. Her great aunt Frideswide hadn't visited Dorcas' mother for eight years now because she had once asked if her dress was flattering. Dorcas had given an honest answer. Her mother had laughed, her father had snorted his scotch up his nose and sprayed in cheerfully across the parlour, and auntie Frideswide hadn't been seen within a four mile radius of the house since.

On occasion, when she had offended and alienated her latest acquaintance and she was alone again, Dorcas had wondered if it would be easier to conform, to fib and flatter and outright lie to people for the sake of company. It never lasted long, though.

The way she figured, if they couldn't handle her personality, they weren't worth the effort. If she had to hold her tongue, hide her opinion, then she wasn't being herself and the whole relationship would be false. She'd prefer loneliness and honesty.

Does my bum look big in this? Well, yeah, actually. Massive. But, then, it usually does.

Was I out of order shouting at him for that? Yes, it was as much your fault as his, not stop being a daft bint and apologise.

Is this gift a good idea? No, she'll hate it and you know she will.

Are you okay? No, I'm not. And you don't really care. Thanks for asking, though. Now kindly fuck off.

Is Purple my colour? Absolutely not, you look like a plum. Or that girl with the gum from Willy Wonka.

Why can't I get this spell to work? Because you're wrist movement is shit. Always has been.

And, most notably, What do I do if I think I might fancy somebody? Well certainly not keep arguing with him constantly, telling him he's a toe-rag and a show-of.

In the dorm, Lily finally finished performing her scratchy rhythmic and totally tuneless lament of quill and parchment with a symphonic outro of the whispering of paper being rolled into a neat little scroll. She sighed and stretched her back.

'Done?' Mary asked, in a tone of voice that clearly said Finished being a swot? Ready to have some fun?

If Lily noticed, she didn't let it show.

' Nearly. I need to nip to the library before it closes.'

Mary gave a world weary sigh, but dragged herself from her bed regardless.

' Fine. But I'm coming with you. Last time you went on your own you were wittering away to old Vulture Neck.'

' I was only asking Pince to help me find the right section.'

' You were gone for three hours.'

' It was a very obscure section,' Lily said, grinning across at Dorcas.

Sometimes Dorcas was certain that Lily was more like her than she pretended to be. She was a bit of a tomboy too, sometimes. And Dorcas was sure Mary annoyed Lily just as much as she did herself. And, best of all, Lily loved to laugh. Lily could cover it better though.

' Coming, Cassie?' She asked, tying her auburn hair into a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck.

' Aye, I suppose. Better than staying on my lonesome.'

Dorcas had spent enough time on her own in first year. She had just about given up on finding any close friends. In her first twelve months at Hogwarts people had mostly avoided her. She was 'that nasty girl, who's always on her own', or 'the miserable weirdo over there'.

Then, on the second day of the second year, she had met Lily Evans.

Dorcas supposed Lily had always been weird, but in a different way. She was the Gryffindor who was best mates with a Slytherin, but didn't get judged for it. It was like she was so obviously a Gryffindor at heart - brave, even in her friendships - that it would've been wrong to ostracise her for it.

Dorcas had been walking slowly back up to the castle after an evening herbology lesson on nocturnal plants. She had had the stray heart-shaped petals of a moonflower in her hair, and stank of honey and vanilla from the Phlox and had been partnered with Bertram Aubery - who was as much a slacker as he was a sadist - and she had been generally in a bad mood.

Lily and her slimy little boyfriend had been giggling just ahead of her, whispering and laughing all the way from the greenhouses to the entrance hall. It was only after he sloped of to the dungeons that Lily noticed Dorcas mounting the stairs just behind her.

' You're that girl nobody likes,' she had said, smooth as you like.

Dorcas had been stunned. Not because of the comment - she already knew that - but that someone else could be so forward and honest. It was wonderful, and she hadn't been able to stop the grin.

' You're that girl with the boyfriend nobody likes.'

' I also go by Lily. Nice to meet you.'

And that had been that. Lily had a fiery streak in her that suited Dorcas to a tee. She also inherited the acquaintance of Mary and Alice, complete with their disdainful looks and not-so-subtle exchanged glances, but it was an improvement. And Dorcas would be forever thankful that she hadn't had to go through another six years in her little honest world of isolation.

But… sometimes, it just wasn't enough.

The thought came, as it usually did, in the common room. Even in passing, the four boys in the centre of the room caught her eye. They were in the spot nearest the fire, as always, and were sprawled across two separate sofas, an armchair and the rug.

They were bickering. No, goading.

Remus was sat on the floor, back resting on the main settee, open book resting on . Sirius was sprawled out behind him, poking his neck and shoulder repeatedly without even turning his head to look. James was on the second sofa, laid out on his belly and half hanging over the edge so he could lean closer to the prefect on the rug. Pete was snuggled in the armchair, watching with a mixture of amusement and relief. Bless him.

Dorcas caught Lily spare them a glance, too, before she proceeded across the room. As they got nearer, she could pick out words.

' - wouldn't be the same -'

' - have to - marauderly duty -'

' - if Peter can -'

A few steps and broken words became full sentences.

' Come on, Moony! We can't go without you,' James was insisting. ' It'd be fundamentally wrong. We'd be missing a leg on our Grand Throne of Marauding!'

Remus snorted. ' I hadn't realised we had slipped into such a wonderful world of metaphor.'

' He's been into those muggle novels again,' Peter supplied.

' And, anyway,' Remus added, ' I think Grand Throne might be overselling it. We're more of an old stool.'

' An old favourite, treasured forever?' James suggested.

' Well loved and well worn,' Remus confirmed.

' And,' Sirius put in, ' It'd wobble with only three of it's legs.'

' Exactly! The point still stands!' James cried, wafting his arms enthusiastically. ' Be it a throne of a stool, it's the metaphor than counts. And it still needs four legs!'

' So, what's the metaphor then?' Remus asked, at the same time that Sirius muttered, ' Metaphors don't need legs.'

' Well…' James faltered slightly, but powered through. ' We are the Grand Throne of -'

' Battered stool,' Sirius corrected.

' Fine, Battered - but well loved - Stool of Marauding and Mischief and Mayhem and… And -'

' Mediocrity?' Remus suggested.

' Meniality,' was Sirius' input.

' Magnificence!' James cried, desperately.

Dorcas could see little Peter mumbling under his breath, and imagined him trying desperately to think up more M words. But, gosh, he was cute doing it.

They all laughed, and Dorcas found herself grinning along with them, even though she wasn't following the conversation in the least.

Lily was a great friend, and Mary was tolerable in small doses. But sometimes Dorcas wished she had been a boy. How much she'd love to be allowed into that little group, all disruptive and bostrous and anti-authoritarian. Because Dorcas had grown up in a traditional pureblood household with a mostly absent father and a socialite mother and only two loud little brothers to keep her company.

That was friendship to her - noisy and rough and perfectly truthful. But it was an exclusive club, and she was most decidedly absent from the guest-list.

The boys by the fire suddenly erupted into cheers, Remus apparently having agreed to whatever they were badgering him for. Dorcas grinned again, absently.

She turned to the portrait hole, expecting to see a very stony faced Mary. What she saw instead was a soft smile on the freckled face of Little Miss Complicated herself.

Dorcas grinned wider still when Lily caught herself and blushed. She coughed, tucked her hair unnecessarily behind her ear, and turned back to the portrait hole.

Maybe, Dorcas thought, it wasn't so lonely on the outside.

And when the stony face of Mary McDonald made it's belated appearance, and demanded to know what had distracted their attention for so long, Dorcas felt no guilt in replying, ' Nothing unusual.'

It wasn't exactly a lie, after all.

Hey, hey. Guess who has officially finished for the summer? Well, everyone at college level or above, really, but that includes little old me. So, update ahoy! It's a bir filler-ish, and for that I am sorry, but I desperately wanted to do a chapter outside of our favourite mischief-makers.

Now that I am relatively commitment free, I aim to be updating at least once a week, unless something comes up. Just to let you know.

Thanks for sticking with me during these update droughts! Ta very much for reading, reviews always make me smile and Danke Schoen!