I watch them often, my cousins. They're obsessed with the male gender, always talking about boyfriends and marriage and babies, in no particular order. I wish I could have stayed away today, but Mum threatened certain death if I didn't show up and behave myself. She meant it too. Mum's not one to make idle threats.
"Lily Luna Potter," she said—that was my first clue that arguing was pointless. All three names come out, it's time to just hold up the white flag of surrender and count your losses. So, I did.
I put on my best dress, and pasted on a fake smile that spread from cheek to cheek. I even pretended to enjoy all the girly banter that was going on in Uncle Ron's old bedroom where Victoire was getting ready for her big, faerie-tale princess day.
"So Cousin," I asked. "What does it feel like to be getting married today? You know, losing your freedom, chaining yourself to someone so he can force you to become a baby-making machine."
"Well, aren't you a fucking ray of sunshine?" asked Charlie from the doorway. He was holding THE box.
"Is that what I think it is?" Victoire asked
"Of course it is," Charlie replied.
We'd all admired the Weasley tiara since we were small children; each of us imagining the day in which we'd have our chance to wear it. Even I had to confess some small amount of envy watching Uncle Charlie place it atop Victoire's head.