Poisoned Youth | ✓

53- Tottenham Court Road

Per usual, I helped Hermione get ready for the wedding. For the last two parties, Hermione and I have been to, we both have helped each other get ready. Hermione was wearing a floaty, lilac-coloured dress with matching high heels; her hair was sleek and shiny. On the other hand, I wore a red cap shoulder knee-length dress, much to Fleur's delight; my hair was left out, curly and all, with a few pieces pinned back and out of my face.

Much to my dismay, I had the pleasure of meeting the Weasleys' Great-Aunt Muriel. Dreadful woman, told me my hair resembled a spiralled pasta and I was too skinny for my own good.

Running down to the wedding tables, we met up with Harry (Barny) and Ron, who were both talking in hushed voices.

"Wow," Ron said. "Hermione, you look great."

"Always the tone of surprise," said Hermione, though she smiled.

"Thanks, Ronald," I smiled sarcastically.

"You look pretty too, Iverson," Ron added. "Love the red dress."

I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing very well he was referring to the Yule Ball dress I had worn fourth year.

"Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree, we met her upstairs after she gave Fleur the tiara," Hermione laughed. "She told me I had 'bad posture and skinny ankles' and then told Iverson she's 'too skinny for your own good'."

"And I have noodle hair!" I huffed. "Not my fault I'm a blonde."

"Don't take it personally, she's rude to everyone," said Ron.

We were all laughing so much that none of us noticed the latecomer, a dark-haired young man with a large, curved nose and thick black eyebrows, until he held out his invitation to Ron and said, with his eyes on Hermione, "You look vunderful."

"Viktor!" she shrieked and dropping her small beaded bag, which made a loud thump quite disproportionate to its size. As I scrambled pick it up, I heard Hermione say, "I didn't know you were— goodness— it's lovely to see— how are you?"

"Good, good," Viktor smiled. He turned to me and also gave me a hug, "you look nice, Ivy-er-son. Talk to Ivan?"

"I've sent him a few owls," I smiled. "He's off with... oh, I forget her name but he says he's happy!"

"How come you're here?" Ron blurted as Hermione, Viktor, and I talked.

"Fleur invited me," said Viktor, eyebrows raised. "Your friend is not pleased to see me, Ivy-er-son. Or is he a relative?" he added with a glance at Harry's red curly hair.

"Cousin," Harry muttered, but Viktor was not really listening. While people were still craning their necks to get a good look at him, Fred and George came hurrying down the aisle towards us.

The ceremony was beautiful, as was the reception afterward. Hermione and I spent most of the evening together while Ron and Harry moped around. It reminded me of the Yule Ball we had gone to during our fourth year; it was the same, Hermione and I danced until we dropped while Ron and Harry sulked at their tables— except our dresses were different and it was the middle of the summer, not Christmas.

Luckily for us, Fred and George accompanied us on the dance floor while Harry and Ron got trapped with Auntie Muriel, who I had the displeasure of meeting. By the time Hermione and I gave up, I swore Fred or George placed a dancing jinx on our shoes.

Pulling Hermione off the dance floor, I saw Ron sneak away from Harry and Auntie Muriel, "Can you get us some butterbeers or apple cider please?"

Ron huffed and nodded.