XIII

Fleur waited with her eyes closed, and Cassiopeia finished the flower of braids on the back of her head with, moving her silky locks so they'd fall perfectly, and showed her a mirror.

"All done."

The French girl picked up the hand mirror and smiled as soon as her eyes fell on her reflection.

"It's so beautiful," she exclaimed, turning to her friend with huge eyes. "Can you do this at my wedding? Please?"

She smiled.

"Of course. It'll be an honour."

Fleur watched her for a moment.

"You've been dating George for the same time I've been dating Bill, right?"

The teen thought briefly and nodded.

"I have, yes."

While Cassiopeia was working on her hair, she had told her half-Veela friend about her relationship with her boyfriend, how it started and their plans for the future.

"Don't you think of marrying?"

She fell into silence. It was something they never really talked about... marriage.

"I don't know," she finally said. "I never thought about that. I just turned eighteen."

"Well, I was eighteen when Bill asked me to marry him."

Still, she just shrugged.

"I'm just not thinking of it," Cassiopeia decided. "There's so much going on. I don't think George has thought about that, either."

Fleur dropped the subject right after that, and Cas did the same. After the younger Weasleys had left for Hogwarts along with Potter and Granger, she was left with Mrs Weasley for most of the day, and that was at least stressful. While her recent friend had spent quite a time not noticing how the mother of their boyfriend and fiancé was clearly displeased with her, it was obviously now for her that this wasn't just a case of simple personality. Mrs Weasley never treated Cas the way she treated Fleur, for starters.

So, for the sake of her patience, Cassiopeia invited her to stay with her for a while after work almost every day since she was left alone with her future mother-in-law.

"Do you have a dress yet?" she asked. "It's in less than a year."

Cas raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Fleur, you won't get married until next year," she frowned. "I have time to find a dress."

She bit her lip.

"But Bill told me George told him that you have a lot of nice clothes that are almost dusting inside your chest and I want to see them," the French girl explained. "I can't remember the last time I was… How do you say it? Girly?"

"Girly is a good word."

She hesitated but walked to where she had put her chest just a few months earlier, and pulled it from its place, tapping it with her wand and seeing as it opened to show part of the clothes magically stored there.

"I must warn you," she turned to her friend. "This is just probably 5% of what's inside."

The smile Fleur gave her flowed with excitement.

"Oh, please," she put her hands together. "Let's dig in!"