Magic? || Years 5-7

The Wedding!: Year 7/Summer

 About an hour or two before the wedding was set to start—Hermione was already dragging a very reluctant Amisty up the steps to start getting ready—Noel River stepped into the kitchen.

"Dad!"

In a blur of scarlet pajamas (because "No, Hermione, there's no point in changing into proper clothes if I'm getting into a dress later anyway"), Amisty leaped down the stairs and bowled right into Noel.

He grunted but wrapped his arms around her, grinning. "Hi, Amisty. How has your summer been?"

"Would've been better if you wrote back to me," Amisty said, her smile flickering. "Why didn't you?"

Closer up, Amisty could see the fine lines around his mouth, the shadows under his eyes, the slump to his shoulders. There was a new scar along his jaw, faint but present, a burn mark on his collarbone.

"Got caught up in something," he said vaguely, making eye contact with Mr. Weasley over her shoulder for a brief moment. "Fixed it all up, though. Nothing to worry about, now."

"Well," Amisty said, stepping back, "that's good. I'm glad you're okay."

"So am I," he said. "I like what you've done with your hair."

Amisty beamed, only a tad sheepish as she ran her fingers through the messy curls. "Yeah, I figured it was time for a change."

"Amisty, dear." Mrs. Weasley popped her head through the door. "You really should start getting ready. And I'm sure you'd like to settle in, Noel, you've had such a long journey."

"But—"

"No, no, Molly's right," Noel said, digging through his satchel and withdrawing a small, cardstock box. "Here. I picked this up for you."

Amisty took the box without really looking at it, her gaze too busy picking apart the bone-weary tiredness that plagued everything Noel did. He moved slowly, a tightness in his jaw like everything stung. And he seemed. . . withdrawn, peeking over his shoulder and into darkened corners with eerie suspicion.

"Thank you," she said, deciding to let it drop as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you later, Dad."

"Save a dance for me," he said with a smile a shade too sad for Amisty's liking.

Unfortunately, Amisty didn't have much time to worry over than considering Hermione had shoved her into the shower as soon as she got up the stairs, and piled a wide array of hair potions into her arms.

"Hermione—"

"Just trust me," Hermione said, adding one garishly orange potion to the top of the pile. "I'll take care of everything else."

With a fond smile, Amisty ducked under the shower-stream and methodically went through all twenty-six (twenty-six! She counted!) bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and some sort of serum that smelled very strongly of cinnamon. When Amisty stepped out, Hermione tugged her into their shared bedroom and set to work.

Her hair was curled and parted to the side, circlets of gold rings wound around them at random. Blush dusted on her cheekbones and nose, eyelashes curled and gold swept across her eyelids. Hermione was beaming, eyes sparkling the entire time as she blotted scarlet on Amisty's lips.

"The dress your dad sent is beautiful," Hermione said as she clipped a golden rose to the side of Amisty's head. That was what had been in the package, and was now lying on top of Amisty's bed with her shoes. "I'm so excited."

Hermione was already set to go, other than her dress. Her hair sleek and shining, a necklace dangling just above her collarbones. She looked gorgeous, and the lilac dress hanging off the back of the door was really the final touch.