Written for round 3 of the Quidditch League Competition.
Prompt: manmade disaster
Additional prompts: Bold, decision, and "Do what you want."
AN: I didn't really know where to go with this prompt without feeling like I was exploiting the hardships of actual people, so I went with a really fluffy romance type thing. It's a bit meta. Remember the Patented Daydream Charms mentioned in the sixth book? Yeah, like that, only on the Titanic before it sinks. Here goes nothing.
A small group stood on the deck of the glossy Titanic as it glided over the flawlessly blue sea into the setting sun.
Only a few feet from them, a few fireworks flew up with a bang and spangled the sky with green and silver. Startled at the noise, Lorcan instinctively grabbed Lucy's hand.
"Lorcan!" she snapped.
"Sorry. It's hard for me to remember that this whole thing is just a spell," Lorcan mumbled, letting go of her hand. Lily and Lysander exchanged amused smiles. Analytical Lucy and wishful Lorcan were just too cute together.
Felicia played with the ribbon of her Art Nouveau picture hat and sighed with contentment. The Belle Époque costumes were so beautiful. She, Lucy, and Lily were wearing the loveliest old-fashioned dresses in shimmery pastel silks, and Hugo and the Scamander brothers were in full white tie. "Thank you, again. It's so nice of your uncle to let us try his new immersion charm."
"You're welcome," said Hugo politely. "Although technically you shouldn't be here. This is an experimental product, not for sale to underage witches and wizards. The immersion spell is terribly complex, I don't think Uncle George wouldn't have made an exception unless it was for Professor Longbottom's daughter."
Felicia's face fell slightly at the reminder that she was 1) only invited because the Weasleys were old friends with her dad, and 2) an ickle sixth year.
Misinterpreting her frown, Hugo tried to reassure her. "Oh, it's perfectly safe. Dad and Uncle George would never let us use it is there was any risk involved, and Roxanne and Freddie already tried it. They said it was brilliant. We party here on deck for a while, then the ship starts sinking and there's this absolutely thrilling ride. Apparently it's based more on the 1997 Muggle film than the actual ship."
When the Hufflepuff still looked downcast, Hugo took her hand awkwardly. "C'mon, let's go take a look around." As they walked away, the rest of the group could hear him still explaining things to her. "The pretend Muggle passengers were somehow simulated from a color photograph. Glamour charms were cast on their faces, so they don't bear too much resemblance to the originals. Their conversation is very repetitive, I'm afraid. As for the ocean . . ."
Lily chuckled. Lysander offered her his arm.
"Shall we follow suit?"
"This is all so surreal," she said, taking it. "I can't tell what's true in this dreamscape."
" 'Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.' Hamlet." Lysander darted close to kiss her cheek, then the couple set off in the opposite direction from Hugo and Felicia, Lily's bell-like laugh chiming on the cool night air.
Lorcan drank in the scene eagerly. It was all so festive: the glittering lights, the glassy black water, the star-sprinkled sky, the softly chatting Muggles, and the faint strains of a string quartet somewhere.
"It's so beautiful," he breathed. Lucy glanced sharply at him.
"So beautiful, from something so tragic."
Something in her tone made Lorcan turn to her with concern. She avoided his gaze, hunching her frail shoulders defensively.
"What is it?" he asked.
She worried her lower lip.
"Lu . . ."
She flinched slightly. Only her family ever called her Lu.
"So many people died on Titanic!" she said bitingly. "And here we are, some witches and wizards, having a laugh mimicking it with our cheap tricks!"
Lorcan had known Lucy since they were seven, and he knew very well that when she was genuinely worried, she became snappish and short-tempered. Gingerly, he folded an arm around her.
"It's fine. We're not really mimicking the Titanic sinking. It's a pretty boat, with lovely lights and music. Just for fun."
"Exactly!" Unexpectedly, she found herself verging on tears. "People died, and we're doing this just for fun!"
Lorcan rubbed her back gently, searching for the right words to keep the glassy tears from spilling down her face. "Hey . . . You remember how Hugo said that this experience is based more on the Muggle film than the ship itself?"
"Yes."
"Have you seen Titanic?"
"No. I only watch classic Muggle films, like Casablanca and Gone With the Wind," she said, a hint of smugness creeping into her voice. Lorcan smiled secretly. That was the Lucy he knew.
"And you have no problem with the fact that Gone With the Wind uses the American Civil War?"
"Well -no," she said, her brow creasing when she saw where her friend's thoughts tended. "I thought that the war and suffering was portrayed quite adequately. Besides which, it's based on a classic novel."
"But it has racist undertones."
"No project is perfect! It's art. Gone With the Wind is a romance story set against the historical backdrop of the Civil War. The minor thematic elements of racism are highly unfortunate, but they reflect the attitude of the time and do not detract irrevocably from the value of the story."
Bingo. Lorcan smiled innocently at Lucy. She disentangled herself from his arm, unable to keep from smiling a little herself.
"Point taken. So, what is the point of the film, Titanic?"
"It's a love story. Cheesy, but nice. I think it's sweet."
Lucy raised an eyebrow at him. "You watched it?"
He smirked. "Guilty as charged. I'm a sucker for romance."
"Funny, I never pegged you as the rom-com kind of guy."
"No, no. Rom-coms are a horse of a different color. I prefer historical romances."
"Who would have guessed, yeah? Lorcan Scamander-Lovegood, amateur magizoologist and flutist wunderkind, outstanding Ravenclaw scholar and Quidditch commentator extraordinaire, likes historical romances."
"The costumes are fantastic, if they're done right." He raised his eyebrows pointedly, and Lucy twirled for him, laughing.
"Yes, yes," he mused half-jokingly, "perfect. The neckline and color are flawless for the time period. That pale tea rose color is at the height of style. However, I find issue with the waistline. An empire waist, like Lily's and Felicia's, would have been much more apropos. I think we can make an exception, this time, because the Victorian style is just so flattering on you."
"Er, thanks," said Lucy, momentarily flustered. She ran a hand self-consciously through her short hair. "My hair is completely all-wrong, though," she added self-deprecatingly. "Most ladies of this time don't have bright purple hair, yeah?"
"I like it," he said decisively. "I've always liked your hair like that. You dyed it between fourth and fifth year. What made you decide to?"
She blushed. "Ugh, this is so embarrassing. You know Victoire's husband, Teddy Lupin?"
"Please, Lucy. Our families have known each other for ages. I remember Teddy from long before he married your cousin. He's the Metamorphmagus, right? He's cool."
"Yes, very."
"I think I can see where this is headed . . ."
"Oh, shut up," she said, punching his arm playfully. "So, you remember that he and Victoire were really serious for ages? But then they broke up. I still don't know why. Molly was really stressed about early studying for her NEWT exam that summer, so I ended up spending a lot of time at the Potters' with Lily and the boys. Teddy was there too, since he was shadowing Uncle Harry to become an Auror. He was like a brother to Lily, but I hadn't seen him too terribly often before, and yes, I fell head over heels. He had violet hair that summer - I think he was trying to get over Victoire, since she always liked his hair turquoise - and I got mine dyed to copy him. He thought I was cute, but he never meant to lead me on. So, I went back to Hogwarts, tra la la, and within two months I heard that he and Victoire got back together. I was sad for about a month, but I bounced back really quickly, so no harm done, yeah?"
She said all of this very fast, glancing at Lorcan every so often for confirmation. When she finished, he squinted judiciously at her. "There's just one thing."
"What?"
"It's been three years. You could've grown your hair out, or dyed it back to normal. But instead, I have it on good authority that you get the roots redyed every few months. Are you still hung up on him?"
She blushed even deeper. "No! I just like it like this."
He smiled. "Me too."
"So you said."
"Update: three minutes later, I still like your hair, and I will still like it in another ten minutes. Hell, I'll probably like it seventy years from now. I've already gone three years without missing a beat, what's the rest of a lifetime? Do what you want, but I'd leave my hair exactly the way it is now if I were you."
"You sound like Lysander when you talk like that," she muttered.
"Ach, you can't be so cynical tonight, okay? You are a vision in pink and heliotrope, and we are going to have a lovely time aboard the Titanic, Hollywood-style. Now, let's go gaze at the stars reflected in the Atlantic, and I'll get drinks."
"How can I refuse such a convincing offer, and from such a handsome gentleman?"
Lucy didn't usually think of herself as flirtatious - ever, at all - but Lorcan was right, this was a truly marvelous experience. Besides, with her cousins already paired off with her friends, it was only natural that she reflect on the enchanting light in Lorcan's mismatched eyes. They were charming, really. One green, one brown. Odd, but charming.
Arm in arm, they coasted over to the railing. Lucy tried not to look at the Muggle apparitions for too long.
"They give me the creeps," she hissed tersely, nodding her head towards the glittering crowd.
"Well, as Hugo would tell you, that's the Uncanny Valley effect."
Before Lucy could gently inquire whether this was a legitimate theory or one of his mother's "far-fetched" conspiracies, he had winked and gone off to get drinks from a smiling waiter.
When he returned, Lucy fingered the stemmed glass suspiciously, then tasted the golden liquid.
"Aged mead. Delicious," she said in surprise. "Uncle George really went for it with this one."
"As a smug little first-year Gryffindor once told me, Weasleys never do things by halves," observed Lorcan, sipping his own drink as Lucy snorted into hers.
Without either of them really noticing the time, a glistening hour ticked by.
The purple-haired girl leaned out over the railing, watching the faux Atlantic glide by with rapture. The white-haired boy beside her couldn't help watching her face. He had never seen her like this before, so free, so . . . beautiful.
Lucy sang softly. "Say, it's only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea. But it wouldn't be make-believe, if you believe in me. Yes, it's only a canvas sky, hanging over a muslin tree. But it wouldn't be make-believe if you believe in me."
She stopped, embarrassed. "My mum taught me. She's a huge Ella Fitzgerald fan."
"It's perfect. Please don't stop."
With a slight smile, she continued. "Without your love, it's a melody played in a penny arcade. It's a Barnum and Bailey world, just as phony as it can be. But it wouldn't be make believe, if you believe in me. That's all I know," she finished apologetically.
"It's very appropriate for our situation, I think." The water parted smoothly around the hull of the magnificent ship. "Such a shame they don't make boats like this anymore."
Lucy laughed. "I think not!"
"Who would have guessed?" Lorcan continued, taking her hand. "Lucy Weasley, brilliant Gryffindor and enthusiastic Pride of Portree fan, potioneer-in-training and determined realist, has an absolutely sweet voice. Like a Fwooper."
"Fwooper song drives people mad, silly," she reminded him.
"I'm mad about you, Lu," he said intrepidly.
Kissing Lucy Weasley was definitely a bold decision, but Lorcan would never regret it as long as he lived.
After a few golden minutes, they broke apart with a jump when a tremendous CRACK shook the entire ship. Lucy's eyes flew open to see a shining white mass filling the entire sky.
"That's our cue to jump," she said breathlessly. Hand in hand, they jumped off the deck of the Titanic.
The spell was perfect. They slipped into the "water" as smoothly as if it was silk over gelatin. The ensuing ride was remarkably similar to a Muggle water slide that Lucy had been on as a little girl. They reappeared in the back room of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, both back in their regular clothes and spotlessly dry.
The other four arrived only seconds afterward, laughing and jostling each other. George and Ron Weasley were waiting for them. It had all been pretend, but genuine relief passed over their faces at the sight of the six reappearing with a small pop.
For Hugo, Felicia, Lily, and Lysander, it had all been a glittering, golden dream, delightful but entirely void of content. Lorcan and Lucy would say that they felt the same way, Lorcan with an embarrassed smile, Lucy sounding slightly irritated at the implication that she would really get so involved in a fairy fantasy.
Something real did happen on the faux Titanic, though. They both knew it, looking out at the starlit enchanted Atlantic. They both knew it back at the trick shop, laughing along with the others. And they both knew it eight years later, when Lorcan asked Lucy to be his wife.