fabricated worlds (marlene mckinnon)

do enough dazzling

There were flowers in every inch of the bedroom, spreading from corner to corner, blooming with bright yellow, calm greens and many more colours.

A small seventeen year old was standing in the room, a pink dress wrapped around her petite body, half of her hair expertly curled by her mother who was behind her.

"Smile," her mother said to her quietly. "Stand up straighter."

Her parents were having a ball, to celebrate another victory for their stupid company, Olive wouldn't dare say this out loud, and they were also celebrating Olive and her sisters' return to Hogwarts for their seventh year.

In a week, it'll be September 1st and Olive couldn't wait to go back to a life filled with magic, pop tarts and members of her house, Hufflepuff.

Olive obeyed quietly and straightened her back, her smile strained.

"Good girl," her mother whispered, wrapping a strand of hair around her wand. "You are lucky your mother passed on her lovely smile."

She smiled coyly at her before yanking on Olive's hair, causing her to wince.

Her mother leaned in close, eyelashes fluttering. "Now, make it look natural."

Olive automatically smiled a little brighter, and her mother nodded. "Mum—"

"Mother." She corrected, wrapping another bit of hair around her wand.

"Why do I have to come?" She asked softly. "I'm sure that Damien and Annabelle would do enough dazzling."

Her mother yanked once more on her hair. "Because I said so, child." She stood up and dusted her hands. "Do hurry up and keep your back straight."

Olive nodded and her mother left the room.

When she was young, her biological parents died for a cause her mother absolutely refused to talk about.

Her original parents left them in the care of Mary and Adam Baldwin.

She was trapped in a wide house somewhere in England (oh, how stereotypical) with guardians who cared to much about who married so and so and siblings who acted like they weren't really family, which in a sense, they weren't.

She breathed in deeply, gathered the frills in her arms and exited the room.

The ballroom was carefully polished, shining with silver, gold and something else. The ceiling was high, it was a little bit wider to accommodate the mass of people inside it and it smelled like lavender and floor polish.

There were people dancing in the middle of the room, twirling and offering hands to people they wanted to dance with.

Cocktail drinks were stored to the side of the room and wrapped in white was the star of the night, Annabelle Baldwin, talking with the Wendlows' son.

Olive felt eyes on her the second she stepped in and she shuddered.

She had always hated the attention, whispers following her very presence. The Baldwin's were popular in the muggle world, and the people always wondered how the Baldwin's adopted someone like her.

Little, quiet Olive with her chubby pink cheeks and dark hair that refused to stay in the ringlets her mother made her wear in their stupid, stupid, stupid dances.

She would never say that to their faces of course.

She also disliked most people. It wasn't her fault, she couldn't muster the urge to care about speaking to them or dabbling in their little affairs.

She could only manage about half a dozen Hufflepuffs, one or two Ravenclaws, and her Slytherin friend, Hestia Jones.

Gryffindors were always too loud, too unpredictable, too wild and did she mention too loud?

Maybe if Lily Evans wasn't so perfect, that scared her, and if Dorcas Meadowes wasn't so friendly, friendly people were always judging you, if the Marauders weren't so loud, she might be able to handle them.

Oh and Marlene McKinnon.

Marlene.

Wow.

She was the worst of them all, she was just as loud as the Marauders and just as perfect as Lily Evans.

She was unpredictable, wild and completely threw Olive off of her plan for the school year.

Her plan being to survive the school year.

"A dance, Olive?" Someone asked her, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, and hear, they did.

"Y-yes." She didn't even bother to register who asked her but she let the person take her hands and lead her gently to the dance floor.

"Are you feeling alright?" The person asked her, leaning closer, the person's breathe fanning her face.

"Yes, always." She murmured. Her train of thought drifted off slightly.

She admired the room, glancing at the flowers in a vase in the side of the room longingly. What she'll kill for her to thread that into her hair right now. It was red or pink, she couldn't tell, the room was dark. A poppy? Carnation? She was never good with flowers, she just liked the colours.

They swayed on the spot for a few minutes before someone tapped her shoulder.

"Olive?" Her father asked her, watching the person who was dancing with her walk away. "Can you meet me outside? We have to speak."

Her eyes flickered to him quickly and she nodded.

He led her outside and they walked alongside each other for a moment.

"Annabelle was dazzling the room, right?" Olive said quietly.

"You dazzled the room as well, Olive." He replied evenly, his voice low enough for them to not be heard, though she didn't know why. "The servants' quarters would be enough."