S E C R E T
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Autumn leaves performed a last dance in the wind together before gently kissing the browning grass. The sun harshly gleamed against the waters of the lake. Freya's head rest on her best friend's legs, and her blonde locks stretched across both Remus's lap and the rough wooden bench that sat on the dying grass of Hogwarts's grounds. Their bench, underneath their tree.

A small smile threatened to tug her lips upwards as she imagined what they must look like. Remus with his book held over him and his head tilted back uncomfortably to peer at the novel above. Though he could not place it in his lap as he normally did since Freya substituted it, it was more than alright to him. Freya's cigarette slowly met her lips before falling back down to her side along with the hand that held it. Her mind was on Sirius.

When one of the friends attempted to move slightly, they were greeted with protests made from none other than James Potter. He sat on the grass with a paintbrush wedged between his teeth, instead of his normal cigarette, and another held loosely in his fingertips. Swipes of yellow were added to the canvas shielded from her sight. His glasses began to slide down his nose as he worked, only to result in accidental paint on the tip of his nose from pushing them back up again.

This is how that past twenty minutes had gone by since James had hunted them down to be his muses. Sketching was one of the boy's favorite hobbies, an enjoyed talent that he shared with Freya, but painting was an art he had yet to perfect. He called this his practice, and whined for nearly all of breakfast the previous morning until the two halfheartedly agreed.

James moved slightly to cross his legs and Remus let out a loud groan. Apparently, he'd thought the movement signified the drawing being completed at last, but to their disappointment, he was incorrect.

"It wouldn't take me as long if Frey would just put the damned cigarette out and stop holding her stomach," he replied in an obviously fake cheerful tone. The top of his bushy black hair and spectacle covered eyes were the only things in sight from behind the white canvas.

"And anyways," he replied in a more monotone voice, "You lot were not my first choice."

They needn't ask who his original selection had been, but she repeated the name with a roll of her eyes anyways, "Yes, your precious Lily flower."

"Just imagine," James said dreamily staring at his surroundings instead of the painting he had so obsessively been focusing on moments before, "It would've turned out beautiful. Especially the leaves blending with her bloody ginger hair. Adorable, absolutely adorable."

"Anyways," Freya coughed, snapping the artist out of the daydream that he was more than likely painting permanently into his mind, "Get on with it, I'm hungry."

The boy whose lap her head rested on sneakingly peered down at her. Freya, thankfully, was not looking at him, but at James who was still adding strokes to whatever it was that he called his "masterpiece." His eyes followed the long, golden hair that trailed down his trouser covered legs. Her red stained lips formed a small pout as she impatiently wiggled her cigarette in the air. Her blue eyes watched small embers fall from it and land on the grass below.

She was a masterpiece herself. One that James, or any other artist, could never hope to accurately paint the beauty she portrayed.

Not only was she art herself, but artists seemed to use her as their muse in every picture some way or another, as far as Remus could see. Monet clearly used the same shades of blue that were trapped in her eyes, and the illuminated moon in Gogh's Starry Night was obviously depicting the way her smile lit up the room.

Suddenly, the girl's gaze peered up at him — brown eyes connecting with blue. He bashfully altered his stare towards the clumps of leaves strewn on the ground, but it was too late. Freya gave him a what-the-hell-are-you-looking-at look which Remus shrugged in reply too. The only reasonable response for the girl was to move her head from his lap and push him off the bench.

Remus landed on the ground with a small gasp, wet leaves and grass sticking to his trousers. When he looked up in astonishment at the playful girl, she was turning beet red, her cheeks swelled as she tried to hold in the giggles that desperately attempted to escape.

They all came out at once, a melody to his ears that he couldn't help but join in. His hand wrapped around her wrist and he easily but carefully pulled Freya down from the bench and she landed on top of him with a loud snort. Her hair tickled his cheekbones and the adorable crinkles under her eyes started to appear amidst her many beauty marks.

"This is important!" James fussed, although he too looked on the verge of laughter. Anyone would know that was struggling with himself wether to finish the painting or join in the wrestling.

"Oh really?" Freya asked sarcastically.

"Yes! It's technically my detention for divination!"

"Divination is preposterous," she rolled her eyes, "Mary said Dumbledore is thinking of getting rid of it for good."

"Well, be that as it may, it's still a requirement this year and I'd like to get it over with."

"Well, Merlin knows we can't argue with him for actually wanting to do his assignments for once," laughed Remus as he offered his hand to Freya to assist her up from the ground.

"What kind of detention is that thought?" Freya asked curiously when the pair were once again seated back down on their bench.

The bespectacled boy did not glance up from the canvas but simply backed up slightly with his head tilted before stating nonchalantly, "Oh, we're supposed to predict some shit that's going to happen by the time the next forty moons or something have passed by."

Her glare deepened as she already knew where the boy was going with this.

"I predicted you guys firing it up in the common room before the year is done," he replied cheekily before turning the canvas towards them.

Remus's hand twitched slightly in her's and she raised a brow at the sight of them clamped together. She hadn't realized that after he helped her up, neither had let go. She turned to him with a scowl on her face due to James's comment, but it only deepened when she realized Remus was not going to make any effort at all to calm his friend's absurd match making. On the contrary, all the boy did was sit with a idiotic grin on his face that was wider than even James's himself.

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Despite her mind telling her that she should, Freya could not fall asleep. After flopping over on her opposite side for probably the twentieth time, she gave up trying. The time was unknown to her but the color of the sky outside of her drapes showed no sign of lightening anytime soon. The same curtains that she peaked out of to glance at the window were soon opened slightly by Lily. Without explanation, the ginger crawled beside the blonde and stared above her, as if comparing the wooden ceiling view above Freya's bed to her own.

"Lily," Freya yawned, the right edge of her body slightly hung off the mattress, a drafty breeze seeping up underneath the sheets. "This worked in third year, but we're too fat now."

"Sorry, just had a bad dream. Do you mind if I sleep in here with you?"

"Of course not," the blonde paused for a moment before continuing, "Want to talk about it?"

"Just... I dunno," Lily picked at the black polish that coated her fingernails. Body heat from both girls now radiated beneath the covers, "I mean, you've read the articles in The Prophet. The ones about Muggle families being murdered. I'm just worried sick."

Freya immediately understood. Although her parents treated her magic as if it was downright repulsive, she wouldn't want to see anything happen to them. The idea of any of the Unforgivable curses being used on either her mum or dad brought tears to her eyes.

"I understand," she ran her tongue over her chapped lips, something she could only do when the cherry lipstick was washed off in the evenings, "I just wish there was something, anything I could do to help."

Lily suddenly bolted up into a sitting position, her posture eagerly straight and her striking green eyes wide, "Oh thank Merlin you mentioned it —"

"Wha —"

"— Dumbledore said I could only tell you if you asked! And I mean, technically, you did. Sort of."

"Get on with it before you explode."

"Okay," the redhead paused for what she knew was dramatic effect. Freya couldn't help but move her hand wildly in a circular direction to signify for her to speed the story up. "So Dumbledore formed this secret society to defeat Voldemort. He, hesitantly, gave me his word that I could join once I turned seventeen. And I'm going too."

"Who's all in it?" Freya questioned with sudden curiosity.

"Dunno, everything I just said is all I know. Oh, one more thing. It's called," she leaned closer, her red hair tickling the side of Freya's cheekbone, "The Order of the Phoenix."

"You're so dramatic," Freya laughed. Her tone soon changed and with seriousness she asked, "Do you suppose I can join?"

"Once you're of age. I'm sure of it."

Freya hummed thoughtfully before she sank back underneath her blankets. As her head rested on the white pillow, her blonde hair sprawled across carelessly and mixed with Lily's red locks when the other girl laid beside her. Nothing else was heard except for the peaceful breathing of the other girls in their dormitory.

"You can definitely tell Dumbledore named it huh?"

No laugh in response gave Freya every indication that Lily had fallen asleep. Though while her friend was finally able to face the soft grasp of slumber, Freya's mind continued to spin. She didn't know which was worse - the waterfall of conscious dread that she currently faced awake, or the impending and dark ocean of nightmares that Lily was currently sleeping through.

"We're just kids," Freya whispered through the darkness, "We aren't supposed to be heroes."

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Warm, almost gold in hue, light trickled through the aging castle windows. Shadows of morning dew covered tree branches painted lines against the light that sprawled across the floor. Distant birds could be heard announcing their morning song.

"Well, this is certainly something I could get used to seeing everyday," Sirius teased.

When Freya's blue eyes opened she saw the raven haired boy leaning against the door frame with a casual smirk playing across his lips. From behind his shoulder she could see the dark figures of the other Marauders.

Her cheeks flushed a slight pink as she realized her chosen pajama pants from the previous night flaunted childlike flowers. To her further embarrassment, Sirius had seemed to notice them from where they peeked from underneath the covers as if they were an embarrassing secret that she was desperately attempting to hide — such as her crush on he himself.

The pile of red hair besides her stirred and grumbled in a voice unlike usual that was barely audible, "Don't get used to it!"

James called, "I'd certainly like to."

A pillow was chucked across the room from the crackled curtains in Marlene's bed. A soft, tired giggle escaped Freya's lips at the girl's action. Marlene was definitely not a morning person, and the fluffy white material that slapped James directly across the face proved this.

Somehow, after Marlene had retreated behind her curtain once again, her heavy breathing mingling with the snores of Mary, the four Marauders managed to wedge themselves onto the bed sideways with Lily and Freya. Lots of quiet giggles and groans sounded during the process of throwing pillows off the edge to make room and in response to Lily's protests.

Nobody noticed Remus stroking the vaguely aware Freya's blonde hair as she yawned and snuggled underneath the warmth of his right arm. The boy silently wondered if she too could feel his quickly pounding heart from where her ear pressed against his chest.

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a/n: I didn't recheck this chapter for grammatical errors, but since my goal was to publish every three days I'm just winging it & I'll come back later to revise any mistakes

qotd: what are you asking for for christmas, if you celebrate it?

aotd: more vinyls, a camera and some ankle boots tbh