The next time Lillie went to go smoke, the same thing happened. The twins magically turned up, exactly in her path, with devious looks on their faces and enough weed to incapacitate a small army. Soon, the activity becomes routine. Lillie doesn't even have to worry whether the twins will know if she is smoking that night, nor where in the castle she is. They simply turn up, ready to, well, turn up. They refuse to explain how exactly they do this, even after Lillie tried to bribe them with a free joint.
The three have good chemistry together while high, which Lillie is thankful for. Far too many times, she has smoked with boys who get embarrassing while high. They say stupid things, or get moody or quiet. The Weasley twins still say stupid things, but the group's high conversations are often deep, even life changing. They talk about the secrets of the universe and insecurity and feminism.
Their conversations aren't always meta, however.
"Did you know," George says, "That blueberry is the only fruit named after a color?"
"Not true," Fred instantly replies, "starfruit."
George and Lillie erupt into a fit of giggles, clutching their stomachs and each other.
"Thats-" Lillie says between wheezes, "That's a shape, Freddie."
They collapse into more laughter, doubling over at Fred's embarrassed face.
"Ok fine. Fine. What about a... a blackberry!"
"Black is a shade, not a color bro."
Lillie takes a deep, stuttering breath, trying to calm her laughter, "Ok but what about... raspberry?"
This ignites a fresh round of giggles, during which Fred gasps, "GREEN BEAN?"
"LEMON?" Lillie exclaimes, barely getting the words out through her heaves of laughter.
"I cannot," George wheezes, "believe that I voluntarily hang out with you guys."
...
One night, however, was different. It started like normal; Lillie crept out of bed, carefully parting the curtains of her four-poster as to not wake the sleeping Hufflepuffs next to her. She bundles up in her muggle clothing and throws her hair back, tying it in a bun that sits at the nape of her neck. She shoves her feet into the nearest shoes-- her pair of beat-up white converse-- and lifts her mattress to retrieve the pouch that holds her weed. As she heads towards the door, she suddenly stops in her tracks and looks toward the bathroom. She goes in and examines herself in the mirror. Her hair is pulled back in an unflattering way, and the lack of sleep from late nights with the twins by the lake have cast dark shadows under her eyes. She yanks a few hairs from her bun to frame her face and studies herself again. She averts eye contact quickly, as if she were looking at something she weren't supposed to, like it physically pains her. She huffs, turns away, and bustles out of the dorm, softly closing the door behind her.
By now, Lillie is used to seeing the twins at the end of one of Hogwarts' sprawling corridors, their hands in their pockets and grins on their faces. So, when the tip of her wand illuminates only one figure at the end of the corridor, her heart jumps to her throat and she stops dead in her tracks.
"Erm, Lillie?" says Fred tentatively. He is thrown by Lillie's behavior, and worried that in the shadow of the light in front of her, he's mistaken her for someone else.
"Christ, I'm not used to seeing you alone. Thought you were a teacher or something."
"Lillie, I'm hurt. There definitely aren't any teachers at Hogwarts who are this tall, dark, and handsome."
"I don't know, Snape might have you beat there," Lillie retorts as she walks closer. The boy's full figure is illuminated, but Lillie still can't tell which one she is looking at. "Wait. Are you Fred or George?"
Fred let out a bellowing laugh, "Take a guess, Wenlock."
"Hmmm, let me think. Annoying voice, arrogant demeanor," she glances up, "and messy hair? Must be Fred."
"Ding ding ding," he exclaims, grinning wide and locking eyes with her. "Shall we?" he says, offering her his arm in an exaggerated, proper way. They set off for the grounds, Lillie's hand tucked snuggly in the crook of Fred's arm. As they walk she glances at him, and catches him rushedly patting down his hair, trying to tame it. She smiles at this as they pass the normal turn for the exit. Lillie cranes her neck as they walk past in a double take, trying to check if they were indeed passing their usual route.
"Fred, the Great Hall is that way."
"Yeah, uh, is it alright if we smoke somewhere else tonight? 'Ve got a spot in mind. It's a bit riskier, but definitely worth it."
He leads her up, and up, and up, through staircases and hallways, through corridors lined with stained glass and tapestries, before Lillie figures out where he is taking them.
"Are we going to the Divination classroom?"
"Indeed, though I expected you to figure it out a bit sooner."
"I've never taken Divination, it doesn't fit in with my schedule. I've only actually been up here once, when I got lost my third year."
"Lil," he says, "you are in for a treat." Lillie drops her arm as he pushes the door open a crack, listening for anything that might indicate they're not alone in the room. When nothing comes, he turns to her, nods his head, and creeps into the classroom, his wand lighting the way. When he fully enters the room, his posture straightens and his shoulders relax. He casts a spell that lights the room, and Lillie's breath is taken away.
From the ceiling hangs hundreds of different morrocan lamps, each glittering in a different color. The glass around them reflects and refracts the light that emanates, causing multicolor beams to shoot in all different directions. Tapestries and silks in jewel tones of blue, red, green, magenta, orange, purple, and yellow line the walls and ceilings, no part of the flagstone is seen. A fire crackles in the hearth, which is fashioned out of mosaic tiles laid in plaster. The classroom resembles an amphitheater, with pillows lining the seats. Huge, ancient leather armchairs litter the floor, with seemingly no pattern nor reason. The room smells of incense and patchouli, and whiffs of jasmine hit her nose as she walks around, taking it all in.
When she stumbled upon this classroom in her third year, it had been daytime, and none of the lanterns had been lit. Everything appeared huge, and she felt as if she dwarfed in comparison. Now, however, the room feels cozy; like Madame Trelawney built a blanket fort just for her and Fred.
"How have I not been here before?" Lillie says breathily, "It's magical."
"I would hope it's magical. Seeing as we're in a school for magic."
She is too entranced to notice Fred's dig-- instead, she makes her way to one of the pallets set up and plops down, stretching her long legs and leaning back on her palms that support her from behind. Fred does the same, sitting criss-cross and digging in his pouch for his weed.
"Ooooh," Lillie says, "A blunt? Is this a special occasion?"
"You have noooooo idea, Lil. I forced Neville to sneak me some Mugwort from the greenhouses to spice it up. This," he holds the blunt up between them, rolling it slightly between his index finger and thumb, "is premium shit."
"All this for me? Fred, you really shouldn't have."
He simply chuckles and holds the blunt out to her. She grabs it with her mouth and waits as Fred lights it with his wand. She inhales, holds her breath, and exhales. She feels its effects immediately: her head rushes, her vision tilts, and she closes her eyes at the feeling. She feels Fred pluck it from her mouth and do the same.
She opens her eyes and watches as he handles the blunt with dexterity, taking a few short puffs then a long, drawn out inhale. He throws his head back and exhales; Lillie is almost too caught up with the way the column of his throat stretches at the motion to notice that the smoke he's exhaling is a shimmering gold. Iridescent whisps float up, wrapping around the hanging lights before disappearing into the room.
In the dim light, Fred's hair is backlit, giving it an auburn glow that falls onto his face, casting shadows under his cheekbones and illuminating his brown eyes. He watches her as she takes a few more hits, commenting here and there about how the weed is "smooth as butter" and how he's on "cloud nine".
They pass it around, getting more relaxed as the night wears on. At some point, Lillie's head ends up on Fred's lap, which isn't uncommon-- Lillie is known by everyone she smokes with to be touchy when she's high. They talk and talk, switching from fits of laughter about the concept of Snape in a prom dress to the mysteries of the universe.
"Sometimes," Fred starts, breaking a comfortable silence, "it's hard being a twin." Lillie is silent, waiting for him to continue. She shifts her position in his lap so that she's facing him.
"It sorta feels like I'm never my own person. Like, I always exist in conjunction with George. And it's not like I feel like he overshadows me or anything, it's just that... I think people see us as one person. Like, they combine our personalities into this mish-mash of stupidity and bravado."
"I've never really thought of that," Lillie says after a brief pause, "But that makes a lot of sense."
"Like tonight, when you were surprised to see me without George. It felt... weird."
At this, she jerks up and looks at him. His gaze is averted, and he stares into space.
"I'm so sorry Fred, I didn't mean to make you feel-"
"No!" he interrupts, "No, don't apologize, I didn't mean to imply--fuck. I just mean I wish that was normal, that I could walk around without George and not have it be a thing."
She silently studies him, watches the way his long fingers pick his cuticles, the way his hair flops in front of his eyes. Normally, she realizes, he would push it away. It seems he's too preoccupied to care.
"For what it's worth," she says softly, "I think you and George are very different." Yeah, she thinks, I don't have a crush on George. Lillie's eyes widen at the thought. Sure, she's noticed Fred's beauty before. She's swooned over his flirting jests and subtle touches. But it's always been a joke, a lighthearted exchange between new friends. Before now, she has never, ever, considered a crush on Fred to be a possibility. But now, in the dim light of the divination room, with THC running through her veins and the boy in question awash in the glow of the moment, being with him has never felt more natural.
Fred's eyes flick up at what she says, and their eyes lock. He's chewing on the inside of his lip, and his eyes search hers. What they're looking for, Lillie doesn't know. Suddenly he blinks, clears his throat, and picks the blunt up again.
They go back to their normal conversation, getting higher and higher until she can't feel her lips, nor can she control what comes out of them.
"Have you ever shotgunned weed before?" she says.
"Dunno what that is," he replies, "sounds right dangerous though."
"No idiot, it's not. My uhm," she's at the point in her high where her words muddle, "my muh, my muggle friends in France showed me how. It's when-" Lillie stops dead in her tracks, eyes widening. In her state, she had forgotten what shotgunning actually entails.
"What?" asks Fred, "What do you do?"
"Nevermind. It's dumb anyway," she giggles.
"Nuh uh. You can't just say that. What is it?"
"It's literally dumb, just ignore me."
"Come ooooooooooon, Lil, tell me," he drawls.
"It's- it's when-" she pauses, "Shit. Alright. Hand me the blunt."
He passes it to her. "Just, inhale when I say, okay?" She takes a long hit, so long that she can feel her lungs straining under the pressure. She gets up on her knees and tentatively crawls towards him, until she's so close that he has to crane his head to see her face. She leans in, slowly, as if she's waiting for him to pull back, to tell her to fuck off, to call her a weirdo. It never comes. Instead he turns his head just so, to allow her lips to slot with his. However, instead of a kiss, she stops just short, simply grazing his lips with her own, leaving a small space in between. Her hand is on his cheek, holding his head in place. She gives it a small tap and feels him inhale. She exhales, and the golden smoke passes from her lungs to his, an invisible string of scintillating golden smoke shared between them.
She stays there for a second, keeping her eyes closed and holding her breath as he holds his. Finally, she pulls back and opens her eyes slowly. Fred's are closed too, and he exhales the sweet smoke, letting it waft to the rafters. He, like her, opens his eyes slowly, coming back to the room around him. For a moment, they only stare at each other, observing. A slow grin spreads across his face.
"Wicked."