The Potter Twins and the Deathly Hallows {7}

7. Treat You Better

"I know I can treat you better than he can, and any girl like you deserves a gentleman. So tell me why we're wasting time on all your wasted crying when you could be with me instead?" - Shawn Mendes, Treat You Better

Three o'clock the following afternoon and I find myself finishing off my makeup with Hermione, as the wedding guests begin to trickle in. Harry and I have now taken large doses of Polyjuice Potion: he is now the double of a redheaded boy while I have taken the form of a tall, blonde girl, both Muggles from the local village, Ottery St. Catchpole, from whom Fred has stolen hairs using a Summoning Charm. The plan is to introduce Harry as "Cousin Barny" and trust to the great number of Weasley relatives to camouflage him, while I am posing as "Violet", one of Fleur's Veela friends from Beuaxbatons: there are plenty of real blonde-haired Veelas present today that I'm sure nobody will even take notice of me.

The Muggle girl whom I am impersonating is much taller and slender than I, so I've borrowed a dress from Fleur which is massively out of my comfort zone: ("It may be out of 'Aylee's comfort zone, but you are not 'Aylee anymore!") It's gold and flowy, with a scooping low back which hangs loosely on my body, something I could normally never pull off. It cascades to the ground in a high-low fashion, appearing to be floor length from the back, but actually cutting off well before my knee in the front (to which Fleur says, "Violet 'as ze legs to pull it off!"). All in all, it is the complete opposite of my usual style, but I suppose that's the entire idea of Polyjuice Potion.

I finish off my makeup with a sigh, and, despite my utter frustration with it, slip Dumbledore's locket over my neck, allowing it to hang low over the top of my dress.

"You look pretty," Hermione smiles, as we set off outside together.

"Let's just get this over with. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can leave."

Ron appears to be speechless as we approach, his eyes absolutely glued to Hermione, who is wearing a floaty, lilac-coloured dress with matching heels, her hair sleek and shiny.

"Wow," he says breathlessly, blinking rather rapidly as we come hurrying towards them. "You look great! Both of you," he adds quickly, sending a small glance at me.

"Always the tone of surprise," says Hermione, smiling. "Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree, we just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said, 'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?' and then, 'Bad posture and skinny ankles.'"

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

"She didn't say a word to me," I say with a laugh. "Probably didn't think I could speak English, I overheard her cursing out some French girls earlier."

"Talking about Muriel?" George inquires, emerging from the marquee with Fred. "Yeah, she just told me my ears are lopsided. Old bat."

I snort into my hand. "Looking good, Violet," he adds with a wink. "I wish old Uncle Bilius was still with us, though; he was a right laugh at weddings."

"Wasn't he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hours later?" Hermione asks.

"Well, yeah, he went a bit odd toward the end," George concedes.

"But before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party," says Fred. "He used to down an entire bottle of firewhiskey, then run onto the dance floor, hoist up his robes, and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his --"

"Yes, he sounds like a real charmer," says Hermione, while Harry and I roar with laughter.

"Never married for some reason," says Ron.