Marley Chapman

May 2, 2020, 3:08 p.m.

But I am good at badgering

They might have a bit of an age gap, but a couple years apparently didn’t make any difference here - Drew was totally on the same page. With literally everything he said, Marley kept nodding along, her afro bouncing enthusiastically, punctuated by a “Right?!” when he mentioned magical bloodlines. “Maybe in ye olde archaic times when Pureblood families first started marrying off their kids, everyone thought they had to do it for the preservation of magic, but you’d think that with all the evidence against that nowadays someone would have common sense. I mean, of course I get that challenging norms is hard, especially if like they’re ingrained from your parents and grandparents and everyone up the line--” obviously she’d felt that pressure too; some people, relatives included, reacted really strongly when they found out her parents weren’t monogamous or that she sometimes dated girls “--but every group is full of diverse individuals. There’s gotta be some who break the pattern eventually, whether out of personal values or, y’know. Science. Genetics. Etcetera.”

Marley couldn’t imagine letting social pressures actually change anything about herself or her family, and she knew for a fact there were Purebloods out there who felt the same way. She still really looked up to Danny and Holland for everything they’d done to push the system. It would be amazing to have that kind of relationship; they were #goals. Marley had never dated a traditional Pureblood (or any type of Pureblood, now that she thought about it) but if she ever did, she hoped it went the same way.

...Well maybe not exactly the same. She’d heard all the Dubois family fallout from Claudia, and had even reached out to Danny directly instead of just adding her usual postscripts on her letters to Holland, partially to be sympathetic and say she hoped he was doing okay but mostly to congratulate him on escaping the patriarchy (which in retrospect may not have been the most sensitive thing to write, but unfortunately once Mister Sprockets had flown off there was no way to lure her owl back without investing in an entire rotisserie chicken from the Pearl Street market, smuggling it up the bookstore stairs, and wafting the scent from the roof. Owl-mail regret was like texting regret, except without a little checkmark to instantly validate your regret by letting you know that your message had been read and not replied to).

Anyways. If Pureblood betrothals really were all about maintaining magical bloodlines, like, no wonder traditional Purebloods were super not gay-friendly or queer-friendly or anything-beyond-cishet-friendly. It was basically the same stance as those groups of ultra-conservative Christians who camped on the roads at Toronto’s Pride parade every year: if you and your partner couldn’t make babies you were basically just committing genocide against society! And if there wasn’t a guarantee you could make magic babies (whether because it wasn’t a perfectly Pureblooded partnership, or for queer reasons) then it was basically genocide against the magical world! Was this why there wasn’t Magic Pride, and the magic community in Toronto just glommed onto the regular Pride parade? She could imagine bigoted Purebloods causing a bit more of a hassle than the Muggles.

Then Drew mentioned “Poor Connor”, and her constant head-bobbing paused. “Connor?” Ugh. Marley had done a great job of not interacting with him so far this year, which was helped by the fact that for any of their shared classes that required the seventh-years do project work, he had picked objectively boring topics that had zero possible overlap with hers. (According to Annie, he wasn’t even doing a proper project for Spellwork. Meanwhile, Marley’s embarrassing motorcycle incident and subsequent minor concussion last year had inspired her to combine it with her project for her Healing class, and she was taking full advantage to pick Professor Aaron’s brain on everything she could think to ask about detection spells in hopes of replicating one of the devices she’d seen at the hospital. Connor was so out of her league.) “Oh, heck no, this is the best thing that could’ve happened.” Not that she’d ever met Nathaniel, TBH, but Claudia was happy whenever she spoke about him, and he sounded like a way better fit. And he wasn’t Connor, which was a bonus. “Besides,” she added as if letting Drew in on a secret, “I’ve heard the Farnons are way below the Dubois’ level. If social climbing is at all part of the betrothal process, it wouldn’t have happened anyways, and flobberworms would dance before someone like Connor contradicts Pureblood society.”

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