"Do you know a 'Professor Slughorn'?"
Lillie shrieks, her magic instinctively zipping to her fingers as she spins her head to the side. Of course, almost the moment he opened his mouth, Lillie knew who had purposefully startled her. If the low, sonorous voice didn't give it away, the muscular weight on her shoulder did.
"Fucking hell, Fred! How do you always find me?" she asks.
"We're connected," he says, kissing her, "'M like a whale. I've got that inner GCS, or whatever. Always know where you are."
"You're a bastard," she gripes.
"Mm. Fuck like one, too," he whispers, his smiling lips brushing her ear.
"Anyways," she says, attempting to change the subject before she pulls him into the closest broom closet.
The truth about their feelings have been out in the open for almost a week, and Fred and Lillie have not yet had sex. Though not for a lack of trying; every night they attempt to sneak off, and every night, through some twisted divine intervention, something prevents them. Twice they caught other Hogwarts students participating in their own midnight activities, effectively killing the mood. Once a house elf with a mop and bucket walked in as Fred was unzipping his pants, and for three nights Lillie had a Room of Requirement-induced headache so bad she spent it in the infirmary.
"Slughorn," Fred says, "Heard of him?"
"I think Dumbledore might have mentioned him to me the other night. He's new, yeah?" Lillie replies after a moment's thought.
It took her a bit to recover the memory, as she and Dumbledore talk about many things in their weekly meetings. When the practice began, their conversations were strictly safety related. Though, as it became clearer that the castle is not under any immediate threat, their meetings became more social. Sipping on jasmine tea and cauldron cakes, Lillie and the headmaster discuss a variety of topics. Lillie found a worthy intellectual companion in Dumbledore, and he quickly took on a sort of mentor role, beguiling her with stories of his youth. When Dumbledore speaks, he reminds Lillie of a preacher, his speech riddled with parables, his cadence flowing and even.
"Right. Ok, well, he's having a party tomorrow night."
"Yeah, Dumbledore mentioned that. But it's only for members of his little club, I think."
"Feel like gatecrashing?"
"Oh, Godrick, yes. Can we get, like, so fucked up? Cause a scene?" she says excitedly.
"It's like we share a brain."
***
"You're sure I look ok? Not like I'm trying too hard, or anything?" Lillie says, pulling the hem of her dress down in a futile attempt at covering herself. She borrowed the dress from Ella, and despite its beauty, it's not the frock she would have chosen for herself.
"Can you shut the fuck up? This is literally the hottest I've seen you look. Fred's going to come in his pants."
"Thanks," Lillie says, blushing. They stand in a corner, away from the thick of the party. She twists the fine silk curtain that covers every wall of the room between her forefinger and thumb, rolling and unrolling the green fabric. She gnaws on the paper straw that leans limply in her warm glass of lemon punch, her wine-colored lipstick leaving faint marks around the circumference. She notices this and pulls her compact from her clutch, a small silver circle with an engraving of a rose, to check that her makeup hasn't smudged. It hasn't, so she snaps her mirror shut and shoves it back into her bag.
"Twins are here," Ella says, craning her neck towards the servant's entrance, covertly covered by the sheer green draping. Lillie follows her gaze and sees the curtains rustling, bulging with the forms of three very tall bodies. One by one, George, Lee, then Fred slip into the party, obviously attempting to act naturally.
"Fuck, how's my hair?" Lillie says, her eyes frantically scanning Ellas.
"Listen to me," Ella says while arranging Lillie's long, glossy curls, "You look killer, like some evil virgin vampire slut. Fred literally told you he loves you, that's not going to change any time soon, and he's definitely not gonna stop now. Get your shit together, because he's literally bee-lining towards us."
"Fuck Ella, I'm so nervous--"
"Shh! Get. Your shit. Together–Fred!" she says, putting on a wide, sugary smile as he approaches, "Welcome to the party!"
"Hiya," Fred answers without even a glance in Ella's direction. His eyes are locked on Lillie. "What the fuck?" he says, standing a few feet from her. Lillie scoffs, turning redder every second. "No actually, what the fuck?"
"Like what you see?" Ella jokes, elbowing him in the arm.
"You are the fittest bird I've ever laid eyes on," Fred says.
"Woah, Lillie," Lee says, walking up to the group with George, "You look hot. You too, Ella."
"Thank you, Lee. Fred seems to agree," she laughs, "Oi! Fred! Are you gonna greet me, or just stand there like an idiot?"
"Sorry, love," he says. He closes the space between them, kissing her quickly and deeply before hugging her, his hands wrapping tight around her waist. "Bit distracted is all, yeah?" She pulls away, laughing and using her thumb to wipe the lipstick that rubbed off on his lips.
She runs her hands over the babydoll-style dress. The fine, gauzy fabric falls high on her legs, brushing with an insubstantial caress against the skin of her upper thighs. The pink, so pale it is almost white, compliments the carnal blush that flowers on her cheeks as she watches Fred's eyes travel down her figure. The blush spreads to her chest when she sees his eyes widen as he realizes the dress is slightly transparent, and the barest hint of her white panties peeking through the shimmering fabric.
"You don't look too bad yourself," Lillie says, registering his outfit. As always, Fred and George wear three piece suits of matching cuts but differing colors. George wears a bright yellow suit, brocaded with small silver suns, their shimmering rays faintly visible in the low light of the red lanterns overhead. His plum shirt compliments the brightness of the outfit; Lillie notices how nice he looks standing next to Lee's blue suit. Fred wears the same suit, though his is a deep, rusty orange, only a few shades darker than his hair. Fine gold thread is woven throughout, catching the light as George's does. His shirt almost identically matches Lillie's dress, though the shade is a bit darker, more muted. Instead of a tie, a long, gold chain hangs from his neck, and a small gold pendant glimmers at the end.
He smiles, "Yeah? Tell me I look handsome." He closes his eyes and tips his ear to her, waiting.
She raises her head, no longer having to stand on her toes in her plum-colored stilettos, and puts her mouth to his ear, "You look handsome." She whispers it slowly, letting the words drip, sticky and sweet.
Fred's cheeks puff out in an exhale, and Lillie turns to where George, Ella, and Lee chat. Fred turns too, though his face burns as bright as his hair and she can tell he isn't really listening to the conversation.
A little while later, as Lillie stands in a large group of Hogwarts alumni, Fred approaches, holding two cups of punch. He subtly steps into the circle, giving her a drink and snaking his hand around her waist.
"Hi, love." He murmurs, not wanting to interrupt Angelina.
"Hi. Did you know we were already invited to this party? All of the Order was."
"Yeah."
"What?" she says in outrage, "Why didn't you say that from the start?"
He shrugs, "Bit more fun this way, isn't it? Sneakin around, swigging booze? Speaking of..." he glances around casually before reaching into his lapel and pulling out a flask. He unscrews it quickly with his teeth before pouring it into each of their cups, the firewhisky gluging thickly and turning their shimmering yellow drinks an amber brown.
"Bit obvious, no?" Lillie says, sipping her makeshift cocktail, "Jesus Christ, a bit strong, too."
"Who cares? We're of age. What are they gonna do, expel us?"
"So Fred and Lillie,"Angelina says from the opposite side of the small circle, "You two finally made it work?"
"Yeah," Fred says, "At least until the love potion wears off. Right, sweetie?"
Lillie nods, playing along, "Aah, I thought you were just spiking my drink. Silly me!"
Angelina laughs, her smile blank and courteous, "You two are cute, I'm happy for you."
"Yeah," Alicia says, "So cute. I was so surprised when you got together with Charlie, it seemed like you and Fred were..." she trails off as she realizes the sudden silence of the group. All eyes are either on Lillie or Fred, whose jaw ticks with the force of his clenched teeth. His nostrils flare as he waits for someone to say something.
"Don't worry," Lillie says gracefully, her countenance nearly unchanged by the awkward scenario, "'Charlie' isn't a dirty word. I can talk about him."
"Okay," Alicia says, suddenly made very anxious by the tension in the group, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"
"Really, it's okay. Fred and I have always had a really unique connection, whether it be platonic or otherwise. I wasn't really at a time in my life where I could fully...realize that connection," she looks up at Fred and rubs his back soothingly, knowing how uncomfortable he must feel in the situation, "But now I am. With the help of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Love Potion, of course." The group laughs, obviously grateful that the tension is broken. "But, if you'll excuse me, Fred put way too much firewhisky in my cup, so I need to dilute it before I start dancing on tables."
Lillie smiles as she turns away, then walks quickly to the punch bowl. Tears sting in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over her lids as she ladles the yellow juice into her shaking cup.
"I'm sorry, love," Fred says, coming up behind her with a gentle hand on her waist, "That was really tactless of Alicia, I can't believe she did that."
"It's okay, Fred, I'm okay," she sniffles, attempting to collect herself before turning to him, "Really, it's not that big a deal. Honestly, at this point the tears are compulsive. It's, like, a bodily response when I hear his name. Like sweating or peeing." Fred pulls her to him, one hand cradling the back of her head, "I'm sorry," she says.
"What?" Fred pulls away and looks at her with a furrowed brow, "What are you sorry for?"
She shrugs, "I dunno. I feel terrible for you whenever he comes up."
A troubled look passes over his face, confusion bleeding into his amber eyes. He blinks, shakes his head, and pulls her to him. "You, uh... you don't have to feel that way."
She pulls away sooner than she'd like to, not wanting to make a scene, nor make Alicia or anyone else in the group feel bad for her.
"All good?" Fred says, his hands on both her cheeks. She nods. "Alright," he pulls his flask and his wand out, "Cover me."
Lillie moves next to him, creating a barrier between the punch bowl and the rest of the party. Fred sets the flask on the table and handles his wand, gripping it lightly and mouthing an incantation. Behind their backs, the flask begins to levitate, somewhat wobbly, up and over the bowl. Slowly it turns, the firewhisky trickling out in a tiny stream from the narrow lip. Miraculously, it never empties; Lillie figures he put a spell on the container so that it can hold more than it seems.
"'Scuse me," Neville says awkwardly, wringing his hands as he stands in front of them. He's wearing the white uniform of the waiters, who pass out finger food and flutes of champagne.
"What, Longbottom?" Fred says, acting as if he doesn't know why Neville is standing there.
"Well, I was just wondering if I could have some punch."
"We're all out, hate to break it to you," Fred replies.
"I–I just saw Colin Creevey refill it," Neville ventures, the wringing of his hands intensifying.
"I said we're out, Neville. Scram!" Fred says.
"Alright, sorry," he says before turning away, his head bowed and shoulders hunched.
"Scram?" Lillie says, "Who the hell says 'scram' anymore?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"All you're missing is, like, a transatlantic accent and a cigar."
"Well I'll tell ya, baby doll," Fred says in a truly terrible transatlantic accent, leaning on the table as the flask ceases its pouring, "You're the finest cat in this place, what do you say we blow this pop stand? Find somewhere a little cooler?" Fred laughs, kissing her quickly on the forehead, "Alright, I gotta piss. I'll see you in a few?" Lillie nods and fills her cup, barely having time to taste it before a stranger approaches her.
"Hello," the old man says, one hand tucked between his vest and shirt. He comes to stand next to her, observing the party from the vantage point of the relatively remote punch table.
"Hi," Lillie says politely, smiling and scanning his face. She's never seen him before, but she has a feeling this is Professor Slughorn.
"What is your name, my dear?" he asks.
"Oh, I'm Lillie," she says, extending her hand to shake his. He grasps it with both of his, studying her face intently.
"'Lillie', what?"
"Oh, Lillie Wenlock, sir."
"Wenlock," he says, his eyes narrowed, "Of Bridget Wenlock?"
"Yes," Lillie says, nodding her head, "She's my distant, distant ancestor."
"My goodness!" he chuckles, "Her contributions to the field of Arithmancy are immeasurable. Has the family intelligence passed to you, then?"
"Well, Arithmancy was my best class–my father made sure of that," she says humbly.
"You know," he says, leaning in, "She was a famed beauty, Bridget Wenlock. And obviously her good looks are a family trait--you're a vision, my dear!" he exclaims.
"You are too kind," Lillie says. If it were any other man, she would feel uncomfortable by these words. However, if what she knows about Slughorn is true, they are simply compliments designed to butter her up, so to speak.
"You must join my little club. We have dinner parties nearly every week, though not as extravagant as this one, I'm afraid."
"I'm flattered, Professor, but I'm not a Hogwarts student anymore. I graduated last year."
Slughorn stares blankly at her, then his face lights with understanding, "Oh! Yes! Ms. Wenlock, now it all makes sense. You're the energy worker Albus has told me so much about. Why, you're an interesting woman indeed. Never mind you're not a student anymore! You're here, aren't you? Swing by my office sometime, I'd love to have a chat."
"I'd love to, Professor, thank you."
"Anytime, my dear, anytime," he looks past her distractedly, "Now, I'm afraid there's some commotion involving Filch and a student, so if you'll excuse me..."
Lillie nods her head graciously and lets him walk ahead of her a few paces before following him to the front of the room, where a small crowd has gathered around two figures. Lillie can just make out Filch's balding head, inches over the rest of the crowd even as he hunches. Pushing through to the front, she sees that Draco Malfoy stands in the circle, his coat bunched in Filch's gnarled fist.
"Professor Slughorn, sir," Filch says. A camera flashes somewhere nearby, and Lillie blinks against the harsh light. Their silhouettes, imprinted in Lillie's vision by the blinding flash of the camera, swim before her in a muddled mix of green and red. "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party--"
"Okay, okay, I was gatecrashing! Happy?" Malfoy interrupts.
"I'll escort him out," Snape interjects, stepping smoothly into the circle of students.
Draco jerks his shoulder from Filch's grasp. "Certainly," he stares at Snape with such open, shameless contempt, that Lillie looks around, wondering if anyone else notices the blatant disrespect, "Professor." They walk out through the parted curtains and into the hall, and Lillie cranes her neck to watch them leave. She starts to follow them when she feels a tug on her hand, then a stronger one, pulling her behind the chiffon that hangs in front of a large window, paned with small diamonds.
She's immediately pressed against the cool glass, her back arching against the shock to her heated skin. She makes out Fred's face, illuminated coolly by the watery night floating in through the thickly paned window. The light beyond him is bottle-green and tinged with an apricot haze from the red lanterns, dancing formlessly beyond the iridescent curtains like smoke. He folds his lips against hers hungrily as his hands glide quickly and desperately up the expanse of her thighs.
"Don't know how I kept my hands off you all night," he says against her lips.
She gasps as he moves to her neck, "You're a saint."
He snickers and kisses up, landing at her ear, "Can I tell you a secret?" She hums, unable to form a coherent thought as he licks around her neck. "I wanked in the bathroom. Thought of you, fucking you in that fucking dress. 'M no saint, my love."
"Dirty--Oh!" she exclaims when he finds a particularly sensitive spot under her ear, "Dirty bastard."
The hum of the room swells, then, signaling the opening of the curtain they found precarious refuge in. They spring back from each other, Fred nearly slamming himself against the wall and Lillie covering her likely smeared mouth with her hand.
"Oh, hello. Sorry," Hermoine says. Fred and Lillie stare at her, confused by her nonchalance at finding them in such a position. "Normally I'd leave you to it, but I've just escaped. I mean, left Cormac in a deserted alcove."
"Cormac?" Fred says, incredulous, "That's who you invited?"
"Yes," Hermoine says tragically, "You know him?"
Fred shrugs, "Tries out for the Quidditch team every year. He's a git."
"Freddie!" Lillie scolds.
"No," Hermoine says, "He's right. I thought it'd annoy Ron the most." The curtain parts again, and a waiter sticks his head in, a platter wielded in front of him like a weapon.
"Dragon tartare?" he offers.
"No thank you," Hermoine says, glancing behind him.
"Just as well..."
Lillie nor Fred stick around to hear the end of the sentence, sneaking around the other side of the curtain and disappearing into the thick of the party.
Lillie bursts into laughter upon seeing Fred in the full light of the room. The rich red of her lipstick is, quite literally, all over his face. When Fred see's Lillie's face, his reaction is identical; she, too, has lipstick everywhere.
"What?" she says, between high, uncontrolled giggles.
"Your face!" Fred says, punctuated by a braying laugh of his own.
"My face?" her diaphragm heaves, "Your face!"
Fred doubles over, stomping one foot. Lillie gives tremulous little breaths before letting out a cackle so loud, the partygoers in their vicinity glance over and move away from their discordant display.
"You've got--" he gestures at his own face with his hand, moving it in a circular motion indicating the mess he's made of it. Lillie digs out the compact from her clutch, gasping and out of breath. A fresh gurgle of laughter erupts from her belly and she hands Fred the mirror, who also breaks out in a new fit. It takes them a few minutes to calm down, though their shoulders still shake silently as they attempt to wipe the makeup from each other's face, nicking cocktail napkins and water glasses from passing trays.
"Can we get out of here?" Fred asks, once their faces are relatively free of streaks; only their lips bear the brick red ghosts of their illicit activities.
"Yeah, are Lee and George and Ella okay?"
"I'm sure they're fine, 's not like they're flying home or anything." Lillie nods and they exit the party, Fred holding Lillies hand as she teeters down the hall in her stilettos.
"Fred!" Harry says, charging towards them from the end of the corridor.
"Hiya buddy, have fun tonight?" Fred asks.
"Yeah. Listen, I need the Marauder's Map."
Fred glances at Lillie, whose eyes narrow. "Marauder's Map?" she wonders aloud, looking at Fred.
"Yes," Harry says, "I need it. Now. I've just overheard Snape and Malfoy, he said something about hexing Katie, and how he was chosen, and--"
"What?" Lillie interjects, letting go of Fred's hand and stepping forward, "What exactly did he say? What were his exact words?"
"He said, 'I was chosen. This is my moment.' Snape said he made an unbreakable vow. Something's wrong, and you have to give me the Marauder's Map."
Fred chances another glance at Lillie, who looks from Harry to Fred in confusion. He clears his throat, "Listen, Harry, I'm not keeping it to be a dick. It's a matter of security. I told you I'd keep an eye on Malfoy, and I have been. I mean, all he does is go in and out of the Room of Requirement. 'S a bit sad, actually. And Lillie has been trying to break into the Room for weeks. We're doing everything we can. You just need to keep yourself safe."
Lillie nods, "Harry, I know you've been... working with Dumbledore lately," she tries to convey in her tone that she knows the nature of their meetings, though she doesn't know exactly what they're looking for, "What you're doing there, with him, means much more to the cause than obsessing over Draco Malfoy. You need to concentrate on that."
"But--"
"Harry, I promise I'll watch him. Any time I can, I'll have eyes on him. It's become my top priority, yeah?" Fred says. Harry sighs, dissatisfied, but nods anyway, knowing he'll never get the map from Fred.
"You're not crazy, Harry," Lillie says.
"What?"
"I know no one believes you about Draco," she leans down, speaking quietly, "But I do. I think he's up to something, and I think he's a Death Eater. Snape, too. I'm going to take care of this. I promise."
"Thanks," he mumbles, turning his wand in his hands. "You look really nice, by the way--"
"Aaaand we're leaving," Fred says, grabbing Lillies hand and walking away quickly. "Will you do me a favor?" Fred asks once they walked away.
"Yeah, what?"
"Let's not think about what Harry told us until tomorrow. We can't do anything about it tonight, so let's just," he brushes his arms down his body and splays his palms out, "Let it go."
"Okay. Yeah, alright. Good idea. Where are we going?"
"I dunno," he shrugs, "Walking, I guess."
"Alright."
"Bloody hell," he exclaims, after a few minutes of walking and idle, pleasant conversation, "We are so stupid."
"What?" Lillie says.
"We are stupid. You and I are the two stupidest people on this planet."
"Stop it, what do you mean?"
He laughs, incredulity in his tone, "I don't know why I didn't think of it before, every night this week when we..."
"Freddie, what?"
"Follow me," he says.