Delicate Magic ► George Weasley

fourteen. in echoes

Pretty was a word that Iola heard often growing up. It was the base standard that was set for her, the expectation of appearance that was set with the claim that she should never be any less than that.

But somehow the soft word spoken on a whisper, stolen without the intention of meeting the small dressing room air, made her flush and glow at the appraisal that came from her friend seated on one of the comfortable chaises.

Dinah was looking at her with shining eyes brimming with truth and that she could feel it spread down to her core.

It was enough to make up for the isolation that she had found herself facing. Sofie and Fleur refuses to speak with her and George and Fred were nowhere to be seen — Dinah and Harry were her saving grace, the two the only ones that periodically come to see her no matter how she kept losing track of moments and herself.

They would bring Helene, at times, the shy girl bringing up a protectiveness in her that she hadn't felt in a while, and Iola found herself hoping the girl would come around more often.

Still, she didn't mind the moments she was alone just as long as she wasn't left with Aveline for incredibly impossible lengths of time.

Her mother was becoming increasingly hard with her, her expectations something Iola could never hope to attain, and if she blanked out those moments they were together then she would never admit it.

"Give us a twirl," the dressmaker says, held at the ready to make adjustments.

She does so, holding her hands at her side as the skirt flutters and flares around her. Oh, the layers were wonderful. She needs to get more layers.

"It is wonderful. I trust that it will not lose shape?" She asks, eyeing the plunging neckline that swoops down just to above her bellybutton.

"It's fixed perfectly to your shape. There is not a chance of anything showing that is not supposed to."

Humming, Iola turns, taking into the exposed length of creamy skin along her back.

"That is good. Thank you, it is fine work."

Stepping into the back of the room, she carefully undresses and hangs the dress to the side, slipping on her uniform as she listens to the woman continuously compliment her and how stunning she appeared in the gown.

It meant nothing to her, not when she's heard it what felt like a million times before.

"Dinah, do you wish to try on your gown?"

"Not really. I can already tell it's going to be too fancy for me," she says, settling back into her seat.

"Can you please try it on? It is not nice to let all of her hard work go to waste."

"Someone else will But the dress, I'm sure."

"They will not. It is in a similar fashion to my dress. I would not let someone else wear it."

Stepping out of the changing room, she grins at her friend and motions her to step up to the door.

Dinah goes in with a grumble, sticking her to infuse out at Iola as she passes.

Taking her seat, she smiles at Ponpy who sat dutifully. He was there to take the gowns from her the moment they were paid for, ready to keep them somewhere safe until the night of. They were to be incredibly expensive since they were so last minute and brought in from Paris as a personal favour from an old friend.

She was a Beauxbatons graduate from two years ago and had been Iola's personal designer ever since.

The lady from Hogsmeade was kind enough to close the shop down for an hour (once Iola had spoken to her about paying for said hour privately) and if it cost a few extra galleons to get final fittings from the owner, then so be it. Iola had more than enough money, her private bank vault something that she hated seeing herself simply at the size.