When We Fell In Love

Chapter 4: Plans

September had flown by in a flash, absorbed by the tight pace of lessons, assignments, notes, and the constant sound of quills scratching across parchment. The O.W.L.s loomed like a threat over all the fifth-year students, and the professors never missed an opportunity to remind them of the importance of the exams, piling on an enormous workload. It was as if they had forgotten that a day only had twenty-four hours.

In addition to the academic pressure, there was also the physical strain: with Quidditch practice starting up, for some students, mental exhaustion was compounded by physical fatigue.

Dorcas constantly felt overwhelmed. But perhaps more than school or Quidditch, what confused and tormented her the most was her own future. She had no idea what she wanted to do after Hogwarts, nor did she truly know who she was. She felt like she lacked a real identity, and this thought weighed heavily on her. In the few moments when her mind was not occupied with thoughts of classes, Quidditch, or her friends, it always returned to one person: Marlene.

Marlene. Quidditch. Marlene. McGonagall tormenting them. Marlene. Marlene. Marlene.

Her long blonde hair, the way her nose crinkled when she smiled—these images accompanied her especially in the late hours of the night, when Dorcas felt loneliest. She had never grown particularly close to the other Slytherin girls in her dormitory; she found them annoying, always stirring up trouble and sowing discord. Even though Dorcas was a true Slytherin at heart, she had found a particular affinity with a few of the Gryffindor girls, especially Lily and Mary. The two Gryffindors had accepted her without hesitation, making her feel part of their group, just as they had done with Marlene, who was younger and less experienced than them.

Dorcas had always known she was a lesbian; there had been no big revelation. It was a certainty she had always carried with her, one of the few things about herself that had never changed. She had changed hairstyles, clothes, the way she spoke, and the way she walked, but that part of her had never changed. As sure of herself as she was in this regard, she wasn’t foolish enough to openly flaunt her love for women. The only person who knew was Lily, and that was only because Lily had figured it out on her own, being incredibly sharp. They never discussed it openly, not because Lily would not have understood, but because Dorcas preferred to keep a low profile, especially since they were always surrounded by their friends.

She had no doubt that if she revealed her feelings to her friends, everyone would accept and support her. But a little voice inside her kept warning her. It was her mother’s voice, always repeating that certain things could ruin your life. Even though she knew rationally it was not true, that voice was hard to ignore.

As much as her crush on Marlene sometimes made it difficult for her to be near her, that was the least of her problems. She was overwhelmed with homework, essays to write, and spells to practise. The library was her second home, and she often stayed there until Madame Scribner kicked her out. She always tried to occupy the table in the back, right next to the Restricted Section, near the window. She filled it with books and parchment, immersing herself in her studies, occasionally glancing outside at the blue sky, where she imagined flying on her broomstick, chasing the Quaffle. The feeling of having the wind in her hair and the world around her blurring as she zoomed by as fast as she could was one of her favourite sensations in the world. She could not get enough of it; it was addictive.

While she was lost in daydreams about the first match of the season, a book fell with an exaggerated thud on her table. Coming back to reality, Dorcas looked at who had disturbed her in one of her few moments of pause.

"Dorcas, let me tell you, you desperately need help." Dorcas could not understand how Lily was always so energetic, managing to keep up with all their work while maintaining some semblance of a social life.