the blushing scale / mar & re.
It seemed that everywhere she looked around, Marlene McKinnon was simply surrounded by Valentineâs Day things. A lover of red and pink herself, she could not fault the colour scheme that was running undercurrent through the scrawled doodles in the margins of notes and flurried conversations about attire for the ballâthough she could fault it when it came to attire, because pink and red were two colours that she adored and could not ever wear to the ball, not when it would match literally every aspect of the room. Marlene McKinnon was not made to fade into the background.
She was considering wearing something white and angelic, to signify how she was pure at heartâto which she amused herself by imagining the expressions that would adorn her friendsâ faces, particularly Siriusâ and Maryâsâwhen she caught yet another snatch of Valentines-related conversation: make sure it matches your dateâs colour schemeâis he wearing a tie or dress robes with a trim? At these words, Marleneâs expression melted into a petulant look. For one, as far as she was concerned, that girl shouldnât have to inherently match her attire to his, what the fuck, especially not if it was only the ladâs bloody robe trim or something. Secondly, and more significantly, a date was required in order to have this dilemma.
Marlene was hardly an unappealing specimen, and the concept of finding a date was no great challenge. In fact, she was rather adamantly avoiding a particularly dogged Fifth Year and had already politely declined one nice enough lad, before, of course, sending him to a Hufflepuff girl who she felt would be rather more suited to him. Marlene, for this reason, felt confident she could find a date if the fancy struck her, but it hadnât, at least not for just a random person. She was magnificent enough to go confidently stag or in a group of friends, but given that Mary and Sirius were attending together, apparently, she might need to reassess her plan.
It was absolutely not warm enough to justify being outside, and yet that was where Marlene had just entered from, cheeks pink from the cold, and pockets filled with enough flowers and petals to keep her occupied throughout the day. She greatly enjoyed enchanting them into crowns, amongst other things, and once cheerfully bequeathed one upon her dear Professor Flitwick. She was, in fact, in the process of crafting one of her floral masterpieces when Remus appeared, and she paused in her work, retracting her tongue from where it was stuck out the side of her mouth in concentration, and sent him a grin. âAyyy, Lupin!â she greeted. Before she could say anything else, she heard, from behind her, two girls gushing about this boy they were sure was going to ask one of them, and she rolled her eyes in fondly amused exasperation at Remus. âGot yourself a hot date for the ball they wonât shut up about?â she inquired easily, shifting slightly so she could face him better, her floral masterpiece momentarily forgotten.
