#HOPE YOU ENJOY IT ZANDRA <33

[elysianymph]

signed, sealed, (not) delivered

A collection of letters exchanged between Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene Mckinnon between 1975 and 1981.

dedicated to @lesbianmckinnonn

ZANDRA HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE <33 i wish you the best and hope you have a great day. i'm so glad i met you, you're so talented and i love talking to you about our silly little headcanons and screaming about the angst we write. sorry for giving you angst on your birthday (i'm not) but that's my brand and this idea came to me one night so i had to. hope you like it <33 (sorry if i make you cry)

The first letter — or rather piece of parchment that they wrote on together — was exchanged during a particularly boring Defence Against The Dark Arts class in their fifth year. Even Dorcas couldn't help letting her mind drift elsewhere as the professor talked, her manicured nails tapping against the wooden desk, counting down the seconds until the unbearably boring class would be dismissed.

Until a piece of parchment had landed right in front of her. She looked down at the offending object like it would turn to ashes from her gaze alone. The last thing she needed was a detention for passing notes.

She looked up, hoping to see who had thrown it at her, and she immediately made eye-contact with a pair of smug hazel eyes that belonged to none other than Marlene Mckinnon, her rival on and off the quidditch pitch. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she glared at Mckinnon who wore a grin on her face, a dimple appearing on her left cheek from how hard she was smiling.

‘Open it,’ she mouthed to Dorcas, sending her a wink. Dorcas felt her cheeks heating up — in anger and annoyance, obviously — but her curiosity took over and she opened up the parchment carefully, bracing herself like it would explode in her hands.

‘Meadowes, are you going to grace us with your presence at the Gryffindor Tower this Friday?’ was scribbled on the parchment in Mckinnon’s messy handwriting. Dorcas’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

‘Why are you so interested? Hoping for something?’ She wrote and threw the note back to Mckninnon’s desk, making sure the professor’s back was turned so he wouldn't catch her.

Dorcas watched Mckinnon from the corner of her eyes as she quickly wrote down her reply, pausing before scribbling something else on the note. She threw it back to Dorcas discreetly.

‘Don't flatter yourself, Meadowes. I’ve just heard you’re good company when you’re high and trust me, there will be plenty of weed. My friends made sure of it.’

Dorcas rolled her eyes, taking a peek behind her to see the aforementioned friends sitting in the back of the class, trying to keep their laughter in at some ridiculous joke.

‘And by your friends I suppose you mean the four imbeciles sitting in the back poking each other in their asses with their quills?’

Mckinnon choked back a laugh as she read Dorcas’ reply and Dorcas had to force her head to turn away so she wouldn't continue to watch as Marlene laughed, mesmerised by how her eyes turned to crescent moons.

‘They’re having more fun than we are, you have to admit.’

‘I would be having more fun if you would stop sending me these notes.’ Dorcas threw the note back, not bothering to even look at Mckinnon.

‘I wouldn't have to if you answered my question.’

Ah, so Mckinnon wasn't going to let it go. Dorcas finally writes the question that had been going through her head the entire conversation onto the parchment. ‘Why are you even asking? It’s not like you're going to spend time with me.’

Mckinnon actually pouted when she opened the note. With a crease between her brows she threw it back at Dorcas.

‘How will you know if you don't show up?’

Dorcas stared at the note for a moment, perplexed and at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say to that? She turned to look at Mckinnon — hoping to read from her expression whether or not this was some big joke — only to see her biting at her lower lip, watching Dorcas intently. When she realised Dorcas was looking she perked up, eyes wide as she mouthed ‘please.’

Dorcas turned back to the letter and let out a sigh, her anxiety leaving her body along with the air as she made an impulsive decision. She wrote down her reply and threw the note to Marlene, not giving herself a chance to overthink it. ‘I’m expecting the weed to be free.’

Mckinnon threw the letter back to her with a playful wink. ‘I’ve got it all sorted out for you, don't worry your pretty head about it.’

Dorcas gave her one last look, the ghost of a smile on her lips. She rested her head against the palm of her hand and the rest of the class seemed to pass by in a blur, her thoughts occupied by the girl in red as she absentmindedly played with the crumpled parchment.

The second (first?) letters they exchanged were over the summer break right after their fifth year. Surprisingly, all that was needed to bring two rivals together was a bunch of weed and Firewhiskey. Dorcas and Marlene had bonded quickly after that night, fights on the quidditch pitch quickly turning into playful teasing in the halls. Marlene had even snuck into her dorm one night, a pack of cigarettes in hand and a soft smile on her face as she asked for some company. Dorcas was grateful that the cover of the night had hidden her flushed face from Marlene’s view.

Which is exactly why Dorcas was stuck in this predicament because Marlene had left her jumper in Dorcas’ dorm and Dorcas — instead of immediately returning it like a normal person — kept it under her bed and wore it every chance she got like some sort of creep. She had held onto it until the last days of the school year when she was packing her bags and reconsidering what she would do with it. Ultimately, she didn't have the guts to approach Marlene and give it to her. So now she was sitting in her room at home, writing a letter that she would attach to the jumper she should've returned months ago.

‘Dear Marlene,

I hope your summer is going well. Everything seems easier now that the threat of our OWLs isn't ahead or at least in my mind it does.

While unpacking at home I found a jumper that definitely wasn't mine and after asking my roommates none of them told me they had lost a jumper while at Hogwarts. I came to the conclusion it must be yours since you were the only other person who I had brought into my dorm. You probably forgot it that night you snuck in.

I’m really sorry it took this long for me to realise but even the nights are too hot this time of year to wear jumpers, so I hope you didn't miss it too much.

From Dorcas.’

Despite second-guessing her choices and being unable to sleep one entire night, Dorcas didn't regret the letter after she had received a reply from Marlene in only two days — along with a pack of homemade cookies.

‘Dear Cas,

I knew I hadn't left that shirt at home! I couldn't for the life of me find it in my dorm room and I was scared I had lost it. Glad to know it was in good hands! Must’ve spilled some perfume on it though, smells just like you :) Not that I mind, you smell really nice.

I hope you’re having fun! I was wondering if you wanted to meet up over the summer sometime? Just the two of us, out in the town or maybe at a pool or something? We could even go to Hogsmeade if you want.

My mum encouraged me to send a gift back since you were so kind as to mail the shirt back to me, so I baked some cookies for you! I’m still new to it but these are my favorite to make so I hope they’re good enough for your tastes.

Can't wait to see you again!

Love, Marlene.’

The simple exchange had left Dorcas a giddy, smiling mess for days, impatiently waiting for the days to pass by so she would see Marlene’s face again, maybe wearing the jumper Dorcas had stolen.

By the time the summer holidays after sixth year had started, Dorcas had lost count of the letters she and Marlene had sent each other. That summer however, unlike the last, was radio silent until the last week of August. This time when a letter assigned to Dorcas arrived and she had recognized the Mckinnon family owl her stomach hadn't filled with butterflies, rather a sickness she could feel rising to her throat. The sickness had built up until Dorcas couldn't handle it anymore and she had finally, finally torn open the envelope that had sat on her bedside table for three days.

‘Dorcas,

sorry if you end up needing to use a decoding charm on this letter but I can't seem to stop my hands from shaking as I write. I’ve written this letter a million times and thrown it into the trash every time, which is why it took me a month to send this in the first place. I’m wearing my Gryffindor robes at the moment, channelling my inner bravery. It’s not working.

I’m sorry for kissing you on the train.

Well, I’m not, actually. I liked it, your lips are really soft, just like I imagined. I’d been dreaming about doing it for so long, I just wished I had done it in a better way. I didn't mean to run away after either. Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit.

I just wanted to let you know how I really felt before we all finally grew up and I was forced to deal with the reality of our world. All of my friends are talking about the war and the preparations, Sirius is losing his mind and Lily is determined to join the fight. James is right behind her and his boys will follow blindly. But all I’ve been able to think about is how I want to kiss you and hold you in my arms, run away with your hand in mine to some place no one will ever recognize us.

I know it’s wrong — not how I feel about you because a love as pure as this could never be evil like the people who can't understand it try to make us think — but the way I’m disregarding every other thing in favour of you. I can’t help it when all that I dream of is your eyes looking into mine and that pretty smile on your face, lighting up the room. Funny to think that even the dead aren't guaranteed to feel heaven but I already have, in your presence.

I’m sorry for being a coward and not saying this to your face, sorry for not giving you the love confession you deserved. Romantic candles and sunsets on the beach but I was never the type to follow the rules, was I?

Hope you like the blueberry muffins I sent you. I know blueberries are your favourite (they might be my favourite too now that they remind me of the taste of your lips).

Yours, Marlene.’

Dorcas hadn't dignified that letter with a reply, instead letting the bravery so unlike her green robes wash over her as she ran to hug Marlene at the train station, pressing their lips together and feeling the fireworks explode between them as the world melted away.

A crumpled piece of parchment was in her pocket, a simple ‘I love you too’ written on it in case her words failed her. But by the time she had pulled away from the kiss and seen Marlene’s teary eyes and wide smile, she felt like no words were needed when her actions had done the job.

After that, the years had passed by in a blur. The world had changed and Dorcas could feel it crumbling beneath her feet and threatening to swallow her too but she hadn't paid it any mind, too focused on holding her love in her arms.

Marlene.

Marlene with her pretty smile and soft lips, always a cigarette between them — a bad habit she couldn't seem to break. Marlene with her hazel eyes that pulled Dorcas into a forest she dared not to escape from. Marlene, beautiful and alive Marlene, whose arms would always be Dorcas’ home.

There was no need for fear when Marlene would press a kiss to her lips and wish her good luck on her next mission with the Order, a playful promise of making her favourite meal by the time she returned. As if Marlene wouldn't be far away on a mission by the time Dorcas was back. The reality didn't matter, not when they would always come back to each other, alive and in one piece.

At least until Dorcas had received another letter from Marlene. Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help the smile that had crossed her lips when she opened it, feeling like she was once again 16 and hopelessly in love. Only one of those things had changed.

‘Dear Cassie,

sorry for sending this on such a short notice but I had to tell you I won't be waiting for you at home when you return. Don't blame Dumbledoor this time, blame my mum. My brother is back from abroad along with his family and mum is insisting we have a family reunion in the middle of a war.

I can't even blame her when things are getting so rough. I hate to think about it but it may be the last time I see my family all together. I’m sure you’ll understand why I’m inclined to visit even when it’s so risky.

I assure you I’ll be fine like I always am. You take care of yourself, can't have you sitting in St. Mungo’s during our anniversary.

See you soon, love, miss you terribly.

Yours, Marlene.’

Dorcas held onto the letter like a lifeline only a week later, wearing black robes wet from rain as she watched her love be lowered into the cold ground undeserving of embracing her. Her salty tears had smudged the sacred ink which had immortalised Marlene’s last, hopeful words.

“I think it's strange…” Lupin began to speak as he walked up to her. Dorcas remained unflinching, staring straight at Marlene’s casket and hoping, praying for a miracle that would confirm this was all a dream. She would wake up in Marlene’s warm arms, safe and sound. Instead, Remus’ next words only served to twist the knife further in Dorcas’ chest: “That the Death Eaters just so happened to attack the one night that Marlene was there.”

“What are you insinuating, Lupin?” Dorcas asked, not in the mood for his vagueness.

“There are only a few close people Marlene would've told she was leaving to see her family,” Remus continued, “and we know there is a traitor among our ranks. I’m afraid Marlene may have just told the wrong person the wrong thing.”

Dorcas’ eyebrows furrowed and she looked up at Lupin, who was turning his head away, inviting her to follow his suspicions.

She followed Remus’ gaze, landing on Sirius’ hunched over form. She had to do a double take, to make sure she hadn't already gone crazy with grief but there was no mistaking who Remus was looking at. When she looked back up at Remus he only gave her a nod, confirming her thoughts.

But it couldn't be.

No.

Dorcas’ eyes trailed down to Sirius’ hands and there it was — the red and gold friendship bracelet Marlene had made back in 6th year for Sirius’ birthday. The two star charms still dangle from the worn out threads, shining against his pale skin. It was all the confirmation Dorcas needed that Sirius was innocent, as if the tears streaming down his face weren't enough.

She wasn't sure what had possessed Remus, if the war had really made all of them so distrustful, if perhaps she and Marlene had only been shielded away from it because of their love for each other. In that moment Dorcas dared to think death a mercy, for at least her and Marlene trusted each other until the end. At least she had lost Marlene instantly instead of watching her drift away and turn into an unrecognisable shadow of the version she had fallen in love with.

“Remus…” She looked up at him, tears that she thought she had bleed dry threatening to fall again. She spoke again, unsure of who she was convincing, herself or Remus: “You don't actually think that.”

She watched Remus shake his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m just telling you to be wary,” he said and walked off, leaving Dorcas alone with her thoughts.

One thing was for sure, she wasn't going to stop until every one of those wretched bastards was dead.

Dorcas’ body was found in early August of next year, surrounded by the corpses of Death Eaters she had dragged to death alongside her. One final act of revenge. She was buried alongside Marlene by request of her family, with two unused wedding bands on a chain around her neck and her final letter in her pocket — two declarations of a love that wasn't allowed to bloom.

‘My dearest, Marlene,

I love you, my star.

I know how much you loved to hear it when I would press a kiss to your lips and smile, whispering the same words into your soft skin. I hope the words reached you all the same when I whispered them at your grave with my lips pressed against cold marble.

Forgive me for not writing to you sooner, I’m sure you’ll understand why. Every time I tried to pick up a quill to write, the only thing that would stain the parchment were my tears. I had no words for such a long time, nothing to say, to express my grief when it seemed like everything was gone and everyone had moved on without me, without you.

The distant look in your hazel eyes still haunts me but I’m afraid I can't remember what your smile looked like. Your laugh still rings in my ears when I wake up but I can no longer remember the sound of your voice. The fragments are there and I’m still desperately clinging onto how your tongue used to curl around my name, how you would stretch the last syllable when you wanted to tease me.

I can still feel your hand ghosting against mine, your cold breath against the nape of my neck as I cook your favourite meal in our kitchen. I still make enough for two and bring out your favourite plates, although I’m not sure why. I hope you don't mind that I’ve been using your cherry perfume, that expensive one Peter bought you for your birthday last year, I know it was your favourite. I’ve used up almost all of it by now, even though I used as little as I could every day, but I can't help myself to find comfort in every small thing that reminds me of you. I’ve been wearing your clothes recently, the old ones that still smell like you and your cherry body wash, though overpowered by the smell of smoke that still clings to them. Your old quidditch jumper is very comfortable, if a little small, I’m not sure why I stopped stealing it from you.

You had looked beautiful even that day, as they lowered you into the cold ground and I watched my own life be buried alongside you. Ever since then, the world has been cold and grey, the same as your tombstone. I hope you didn't mind my constant company those first few weeks but I couldn't bring myself to leave you alone, I could barely restrain myself from digging my fingers into the dirt and wrapping my arms around your cold bones and carrying them back home. I think they would offer more comfort and warmth than this cruel world has this year. I think my love should be enough to wake you up from your slumber.

The heavens are not merciful enough to agree.

I’m writing this to say goodbye one last time for I never got the chance to before and I hadn't mustered up the courage earlier. I’m going into this mission knowing it will be my last, knowing that all that will remain of me is my lifeless body if I am lucky enough. I had expressed my fear of dying to you when we were younger, eyes brighter and lungs full, but now I find myself strangely numb to the knowledge that I’m inviting death to my door. I had been afraid then to die without living the life we had planned together, to die without letting you know how deeply my love for you lives inside me, engraved into my bones. Now that my biggest fears have come true, I find that the fear has left me — perhaps just another thing I left buried alongside you.

My hands are stained red from the revenge I’ve tried to take but I know you will welcome me with open arms. Your friends — and what little I have left of mine — have tried to comfort me, to help me but they can't understand how I feel without you. They do not know that without you I am nothing, not when I had spent half a decade planning my life with you. I love you so much that even in your absence you are all I can think about, the words and touches I did not get the chance to share, the plans I did not get to fulfil because of my cowardice. I cannot imagine loving anyone the way I’ve loved you in your life and continue to after your death. You, dead, are so much better than anyone alive.

I cannot avenge you because even if I killed every single one of them, their souls wouldn't be enough to make up for the loss of yours. At the same time I cannot move on, not when you stand in the way of my life and when I dare not push you away, you are so far out of my reach already. There is no other choice for me but to join you. So this may not be a goodbye after all, perhaps just a notice that I’ll be with you soon if the heavens decide to bring us together again.

Please forgive me for not mailing this last letter, I don't know your new address.

Yours, in life and in death, Dorcas.’

Somewhere, far away in time and place, brown eyes meet hazel and Dorcas’ heart beats once more with no other purpose than to love.