"Good evening," Dumbledore says, his soft voice resonating so clearly, the room instantly falls silent. "I imagine after all these months spent here, you are all expecting an update on our progress thus far."
The crowd murmurs, and Fred and Lillie glance at each other. Dissent has been brewing amongst the ranks of the newest recruits of the Order. Fueled by teenage contrarianism unconvinced of Dumbledore's grip on the situation, many of the members have been questioning the effectiveness of their presence. From outside the Order's inner circle, the Death Eaters are winning; Muggle and Wizard deaths are higher than even the first Wizarding War, sympathizers are flocking to join You-Know-Who like crows, and Harry Potter is public enemy number one. Many are wondering what, exactly, the point of all this is.
"I apologize for having kept you all here so long. Know that your work is not idle--you are here to keep the students of Hogwarts safe, this much has not changed. The nature of your task is placid, even boring," he jokes, smiling knowingly, "But very soon, it may not be so dull. I want you all here, ready, when that day comes."
A few wizards in the crowd nod, others simply keep their arms crossed and their gazes narrowed. The Daily Prophet, it seems, has begun to infiltrate even the most devoted members of the Order.
"While I cannot disclose my own plans, know that I am working tirelessly to defeat Lord Voldemort, and I believe," he frowns, "I know that with your help, we will."
The crowd stirs again, struck by Dumbledore's certainty and his use of You-Know-Who's true name.
Always with a flair for the dramatic, Dumbledore ends his speech here, turning to where Kingsley and Moody stand near his desk. Fred looks around at the crowd, fully assembled for only the second time since they arrived. Then, he looks down at Lillie, who watches Dumbledore speak to Kingsley at the front of the room; he can tell she's trying to read their lips.
"What are they saying?" he asks quietly, bending his head to talk in her ear.
"I don't know, I'm really bad at reading lips," she says, still lost in concentration. Fred laughs and shakes his head. He can't help but remember the last time he was here, how different his life has become. When he was forced to close Weasley's Wizard Wheezes due to the growing number of attacks on Diagon Alley and his duty to the Order, Fred was convinced his life was over. So juvenile were his anxieties, he realizes now, after knowing what Lillie went through. He'd give up pranks forever if it meant staying here, with Lillie, for the rest of his life. His fears have transformed before his eyes, from losing the shop to losing her.
He'll never forget the feeling of seeing her walk through that fireplace. The way his heart leapt from his chest, like a Muggle cartoon; how his legs turned to pudding when he saw her bright, tanned smile. He actually had to grip George for support, though he disguised it as a nudge.
Fred knows he still doesn't have Lillie; not really, not in the way he so desperately wants. Needs. It keeps him awake at night, this fear, tossing in his bunk until George kicks up from the bottom like a donkey. He lost her so quickly the first time. In the time of a blink, of a cough, of a flap of a bird's wing or the splash of a mermaid's tail, she was gone. As sure as he was that he had won, that he had beaten Charlie, she fell through the gaps of his fingers like soft fine sand.
For a brief moment, she chose him and he chose her and all was well in Fred's world. His planets had aligned, a once in a lifetime conjunction that brought his solar system back together as they spun around her, their new center of gravity.
Winning, he reminds himself, was his problem all along. Planetary conjunctions are fleeting and rare; they last for only a few weeks before the planets pass each other by, continuing their journey around the sun. She wasn't won, nor lost, like some spoil of war in a Greek tragedy. She simply passed him by. If, in this poorly executed metaphor for Fred's love life, Charlie is a meteor, Fred's pride is a black hole, swallowing his perfect universe until nothing remained.
When Lillie walked through that fireplace in March, a star exploded. A supernova so big and bright and huge that life began anew; quintillions of particles flying through space, making two beings from stardust.
***
Tonight, after Dumbledore's brief meeting, is a rare night when nobody has a shift. With their schedules cleared, every member of the Order of the Phoenix sits in the Hog's Head. There's something magical about the Order, Lillie thinks. It has this special ability to blur lines--house affiliation, birth status, even race and gender--all divisions are parochial when you have a common enemy. A pleasant hum fills the room, occasionally punctuated by Hagrid's booming laugh, his belly shaking the table and floor, spilling a few beers each time. Though the entire room smells like stale beer and the floors make a loud sticking noise against the sole of your shoe, Lillie finds herself feeling incredibly at home under the impossibly low vaulted ceilings and wrought iron chandeliers.
Lillie's cheeks hurt from smiling; the energy in the room is infectious, settling around her head, making her feel drunk after only a few sips from her pint. Suddenly, she gets an idea and curses herself that she hadn't thought to do it before. Tonight, she supposes, is as good a time as any.
She glances at Fred, who is listening intently to Ella's recap of her romantic escapades in the summer after graduation. Subtly Lillie shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath and sinking into a happy memory.
Today, she choses an image of her first boat ride as a child, somewhere in the South Pacific. She imagines the blue water, a color so specific and deep she couldn't begin to recreate it. A sea-bird flies overhead, and the smell of gasoline just barely tickles her nostrils. The sound around her fades, as though she just dove into those cobalt waters.
The image around her takes shape first, the mass of bodies around her moving simultaneously in animated conversation or drunken sways, like tropical fish. Then, slowly, energies begin to emerge; some dim, some bright, all in a gleaming, brilliant display of invisible magic, as vivid as the coral reefs of her youth. Lillie is almost jarred out of her state, the scene is so beautiful and so wholly unique. Each person has their own signature of energy; Lillie has heard muggles call them auras. Every color of the rainbow glimmers here, and each cloud of scintillating, tendrilous energy twists with those surrounding it, muddling colors and creating new ones. Auras flash and dim as each mood changes, a spectacle of living light rivaling even the best of the Weasley firework shows.
As she focuses on her own table, the room bursts into light, so bright it would hurt her eyes, if they were open. Fred's aura almost drowns out that of those around him, a radiant and pulsating heat that penetrates Lillie's very core. Now, she understands that he has this effect on most people. It's the reason he so often escaped punishment in school, why he can talk his way out of any situation, why heads turn when he walks into a room. He's just bright, infectious.
On Lillie this effect is magnified, yet morphed into something different. Unlike the other energies in the room, her cool, deep, glittering blue aura is not drowned by Fred's. In fact, Fred seems to be reflecting off her, like the sun against an ocean, throwing rays of warmth around the room. Her aura helps Fred's to mingle with those that are far across the room, auras that his light alone likely wouldn't reach.
Fred, wrapped in conversation with Ella, suddenly notices the now-familiar feeling that comes over him as Lillie scans. It takes all of his concentration to stay engaged, fighting the urge to give up all social graces and slip into the calm ocean that laps at his heels. He breathes a silent thank-you as Ella turns her head, answering a question Lee has asked about one of her many recent boyfriends. Carefully, he places a hand on Lillie's thigh, diving into her tranquil waters.
Lillie smiles when she feels the full effects of Fred's energy as he rests his hand on her leg. Drinking him in, she almost doesn't notice the other set of gleaming energies to her right, barely affected by Fred's own glow.
George and Lee's auras intertwine in the same way Fred's and Lillie's do. Lee--an achingly bright yellow, so neon it's almost green-- moves in tandem with George-- a purple with facets like the rarest gemstone. Lillie knows very little about her ability, and even less about auras and energies. However, the way Lee and George's energies interact mirrors that of Fred and her own. Therefore, the logical conclusion is--
"Hoooogwarts, hooooogwarts, hoggy... hoggy warty... hogwartsssss... teach us something, puhleeeeeeease,"
Lillie's eyes snap open, startled by the sudden onslaught of noise. Fred's hand jerks from her thigh, as if he'd been caught in a salacious act. At the front of the room, standing by the head of a table, are Hagrid and Sturgis Podmore. Arms around each other (or as around as Sturgis could manage), they drunkenly belt out Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, in two very different tunes. Most at the tables below them cheer and shout, raising their glasses and singing along as best they can. Lillie laughs, never having seen Hagrid drunk before.
"Is this how it's supposed to be sung?" Lillie asks, cringing as the assault on her ears continues.
"Well," Fred says, leaning close so that he can be heard over the racket, "It doesn't have a set tune. You can technically sing it any way you want." He looks at George with an eyebrow raised and a glint in his eye that Lillie recognizes far too well.
"Nooooo," Lillie groans, putting her head in her hands. Fred and George smile identically, as if there were a mirror between them reflecting their own wicked grins. Fred chugs the rest of his pint, clambors up onto the table, and joins the cacophony of drunken noise. He and George opt for a dramatic rendition of the song, complete with low, operatic belts and hand gestures.
Fred and Lillie can hear Hagrid's bellowing hiccups echoing through the corridors, distant though scarcely less loud, as they walk to their bunks.
Laughing, Fred asks, "Are you tired?"
"No," she shakes her head. Lillie is only slightly drunk, the type of tipsy that gives you the kind of rush of energy that makes you want to run for miles.
"Me neither. Want to go somewhere?"
"Yeah, where?"
"I dunno, you chose," he says.
She sighs, thinking, "Astronomy tower, Divination classroom, the Lake... the Room of Requirement?"
"The Room of Requirement?" he says.
"Yeah, it might have something fun up its sleeve. Though I guess it doesn't really have sleeves... is the Room of Requirement sentient?"
"I dunno, let's go ask it."
When they approach the tapestry that marks the entrance, Fred cups his hands over his mouth and shouts, "ARE YOU SENTIENT?"
They wait in silence, holding their breath. Nothing happens and Lillie giggles.
"Not sure what we expected," she says.
"I guess the answer is no," Fred shrugs.
She cocks her head, "Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of sentience. Who says language skills are the only marker of a sense of self? Just because it didn't talk to us like the Wizard of Oz, doesn't mean there isn't anything behind the curtain, so to speak."
"I don't know what that is," Fred says.
"Never mind. What do we want the room for?" she asks. Fred reddens and clears his throat. A place to shag, perhaps. He cringes, willing the thought away before the Room spits out a bed and creates an incredibly awkward situation. "I mean, we should both be thinking about what we want so it reads our combined brain power, or whatever," she continues when he stays silent.
"Right. Just a place to chat, I suppose?"
Lillie nods, "Works for me."
They both close their eyes, thinking about how they need to have a pleasant place to talk, uninterrupted. They stand, and think, and wait. And think, and wait. Finally, Lillie cracks an eye open, afraid that if she sees the door opening she might somehow ruin the trick and the whole thing would stop working. However, she need not be wary of this, for no door has appeared. The tapestry hangs as it always has, perfectly still, undisturbed.
"Fred!" she whispers.
"Hm?" he replies. She scoffs--Fred would probably stand there all night if she let him, frowning, convincing himself he wasn't thinking hard enough.
"It's not working."
"Well what the fuck?" throwing his hands up in exasperation as he glares at the unmoved tapestry.
"Has it ever done that to you?" Lillie asks.
"No. Maybe it heard us making fun of it. Can rooms hold grudges?"
"Where should we go then?"
Fred hums a nonsensical tune, trying to think of the most romantic, unexpected place he could possibly take her.
"The boat house?" he offers. He cringes at himself; Really? That's the best I could think of? He didn't have time to think of nor suggest a better place before Lillie let out an excited gasp, exclaiming that it was "perfect" and "sorta spooky". Maybe she'll be so scared she has to hold on to me.