Make Me Fall

26. ... Something Blue

Tomorrow I'm getting married.

EEP!

Mother sent me to bed early for "beauty sleep" but I'm too nervous and excited to sleep!

I wake up with a jolt, knocking my journal to the floor. The sun is just peeking through my curtains. I wonder what woke me?

"Autumn?"

There's a knock on the door. That must've been what woke me.

"What?" I grumble, cuddling back into my pillows. I hear my door open and groan.

"Darling, we have to start getting you ready!" Mother exclaims. And that's when it hits me.

I'm getting married today.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Mother asks as I sit up.

"Nothing," I say, "oh, I feel sick."

"It's just nerves," Mother sooths, "wait here, I'll get the beauticians!"

"The what-whats?"

But she's gone. I sigh and pick up my journal. My words from last night are smudged, I must've fallen asleep on them. I rub my face and my fingers come away with black ink on them. Great.

Mother returns with three women in mint green robes. One of them sets up a thin, high bed while the others set up tables and fill them with bottles, jars, tins and a whole manner of things. Mother hovers by looking like she's going to start either dancing or crying any moment now. Once they've finished they turn to me.

"Stand up," one orders. I do as I'm told. I'm wearing a clean, white nightgown which, to my embarrassment is striped off me, along with the rest of my clothing. Mother takes this as a sign to duck out, while the women examine my skin.

"Right, full wax," one says, "then a full scrub."

That doesn't sound nice.

I'm placed on the table and they pluck and wax all my hair except what's on my head and some of my eyebrows.

IT HURTS!

Then I'm plunked in the bath, which is full of a golden, sort of gooey liquid. One of them scrubs my hair with something that smells like bleach and makes my scalp burn. It feels like she's scrubbing it with steel wool.

That hurts too.

One of them smothers my face and neck - the only bits that aren't covered in the gold stuff or being assaulted with bleach and steel wool - with thick, orange paste. The woman torturing my head then spends an age combing the stuff out. When she's done that she rubs something that smells heavenly in and wraps my hair in a warm towel.

Then I'm left to soak.

After a little while I'm instructed to stand and they empty the tub of the golden gloop and use green liquid in spray bottles to rinse me off, which takes a long time. They then rub a pale pink cream with gold flakes through it all over. My face mask is removed and I go through the same pain I did for the Yule Ball of having every hair on my face torn out. A cool cream is rubbed into my face and then I'm drapped in a robe - finally, covered! - and my nails are attacked. They slice off my cuticles, douse them in oil, file them into ovals - for my fingers - and straight across - for my toes - and then give me French tips, with a splash of silver across my big toes. I wonder if my shoes will show my feet a lot, I haven't seen them yet. My shoes, I've seen my feet. Once or twice.

"Lunch break!" Mother announces, walking in with a tray. The women disappear out the door and Mother sits and feed me soup as we've been warned not to bump my nails.

"Your skin looks beautiful," Mother says, "oh, goodness, I'm going to cry!"

"Mother, stop!" I laugh, "save it for the ceremony."

"Alright, I will," she says, wiping her eyes, "this came for you."

She hands me a white box with a white satin ribbon, then hurries out as Father summons her. Curious, I open the box. There's a note on top with cursive writing that I recognise from adjustments on my Charms essays.

To our girl.

I open the card.

Dear Autumn,

We thought these might come in handy. Good luck.

Love Always,

F & G

Inside the box there's a silver bracelet that looks like it's made of tightly coiled vines with flowers and little diamonds gleaming around it. There's a note attached to it.

Something new: We thought this might help cover the... Well, it goes on your left arm. Don't put it on until you're ready to go.

Next is a short silver necklace with a solitary diamond on it. There's a note hanging from it too.

Something borrowed: No, really. Hermione wants this back. She sends her love and says that you have to hand deliver this back to her as soon as you can. She misses you.

I feel my eyes fill with tears and try valiantly to hold them back. I pick up a small silver bird hairpin.

Something old: This one is from Mum. She said that today will be the most special day of your life, and this will bring you luck and happiness.

Tears start rolling down my face. My insides are hurting. I wish they could be here! At the bottom of the box is one last thing. A blue photo frame. A note covers the picture, the writing is one I don't recognise.

Dear Autumn,

Before he died, Dumbledore told me that the other baby in this picture is you. I'd always thought I didn't have a proper family, and the whole time you were in the same house! I wish I'd known this before, I would've been a better friend and brother to you. This was the last picture taken before our parents were killed. I hope one day we can meet and talk. I know it's difficult now, because of the war, but maybe, once it's over...

Good luck today. Your brother,

Harry

P.s. George said I have to write "something blue".

I give up and burst into tears. Once I've calmed down a bit, I remove Harry's note and look at the picture. There's a man who looks remarkably like Harry and a woman who looks remarkably like me sitting there, the man holding a small baby with bright red ringlets and the woman a baby with straight, black hair. The babies are grabbing at each others' hands and laughing. I watch as the man kisses the girl on the head. I feel a lump forming in my throat again and quickly look away. I'll have time to weep hysterically over this, but not today. I clip the necklace from Hermione around my neck and put the bracelet and hair pin on the dressing table. I tuck the photoframe into a moving box - I've spent the last few days packing all my things to move out - just ask the women return, this time Mother comes with them.

They sit me down and Mother starts directing them through the styling of my hair and make-up.

"Mother, I want to wear the bird hair pin that's on the dressing table," I tell her. She picks it up.

"This old thing?" she asks. I nod and she shrugs, handing it to one of the women, who pins it above my right ear.

"Here's the veil," Mother says. It gets pinned into place and then I'm shoved into my dress and shoes and handed my bouquet, which is made of pink and white flowers. They all step back and look at me.

"Perfect."

To be continued...