𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊║𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

Remus and Y/n both looked at each other and shared a smile, finishing up their breakfast quickly after. Y/n took both Remus' bowl and her own into the kitchen, placing them both in the sink, reaching around Camilla.

"You really ought to get ready, dear," Camilla told her, looking back at Y/n.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing right now?" Y/n asked, frowning down at her outfit.

Camilla sighed, placing down whatever dish she was holding and turned off the faucet. She crossed her arms as she turned around, leaning against the counter.

"You're wearing pajamas, "Camilla inclining her head slightly as if Y/n was supposed to get the hint. She obviously didn't.

"These are not pajamas!" Y/n cried out dramatically, pulling at her overly large pink shirt.

"Go and get dressed— in proper clothes ," Camilla pointed towards the wide doorway, a stern look on her face.

"Fine," Y/n groaned, making her footsteps loud when she made her way through the kitchen and to the stairs.

The lazy girl climbed up the stairs with a slumped posture until she reached her door, which was covered in odd stickers she had been collecting ever since she was five—her first one being the teddy bear hugging a large red, sparkly heart she got from the muggle doctors office for not bawling her eyes out when she got her flu shot. Honestly, what a champion!

She opened the door to reveal her bedroom, which had clothes scattered on the floor, but besides that it was fairly clean. Her feet led her to her body length mirror, revealing her somewhat mismatched pajamas. Hello kitty pajama bottoms, large oversized shirts, and a messy hairstyle definitely made her most comfortable. But soon she'd have to change into something more presentable.

Suddenly, Y/n remembered that Fred Weasley would be there. Looking at her. She would be in his presence. Now, she was panicking over what to wear.

"Where's that stupid shirt?!" She yelled.

"Are you alright, Y/n?" Remus's voice bellowed from downstairs.

"I'm fine!" She sounded back, scrambling to find her favorite shirt amidst the piles of various clothes.

If there hadn't been a lot of clothes on the ground before, there was now. She threw clothes over her head and onto the floor as she dug deeper into her drawers. Remembering she had packed all her good clothes in her trunk, she groaned and plopped down onto the floor. She was particularly moody at this time of time of the month, so her behavior wasn't strange at all.

Y/n had begun to have a silly, tiny crush on Fred whenever he and George took her under their wing, claiming her to be the only "cool one" in the golden quartet. He was handsome, witty, hilarious—all the things a young, giggling teenage girl could fall for.

As the girl continued to lie on her back against a pile of clothes, her head turned on its side, she spotted a floral crop top lying there, just dying to be worn. She quickly sat up, cheerfully, and crawled toward the savior of a shirt, nearly screaming with joy. Her vision focused on a pair of pink sweat pants directly behind it, that particular pair matching the color scheme of the shirt. In a matter of minutes Y/n looked at her beautiful reflection in the silver framed mirror, looking in awe.

She had grown a lot over the summer—like, a lot. Her hips had shaped out nicely, giving her waist a smaller appearance—and while some girls found their hip dips shameful, Y/n thought hers were beautiful, and she thought everyone else should, too. Her breasts weren't large, they were relatively small, but she was thankful for the relief of not having major back pains. She liked to think her height to be average, but she was no more than 5'2–for now, of course, she hoped to take after her father in meaning somewhat tall. She had an undenying resemblance to her father now, looking like a true member of the Black family—sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and everything a Black ought to look like. Y/n hadn't really noticed the changes in herself, as she saw herself everyday, but other people who hadn't seen her the entire summer would freak out. As they should.