Daisy's father said, and she herself agreed, that the Weasleys were one peculiar bunch.
They weren't as affluent, sociable, and affable as her other neighbours. They never came to the local kids' birthdays, they never invited the local kids to their...
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THERE WERE TOO many delicious food and choices of drink —juices, beers, teas, coffees, wines— laid out on the table, circling a three-tiered cake with white and pink frostings.
"Molly, dear— this is too much—"
"Really not— necessary, Mrs. Weasley—"
But Mrs. Weasley still made Mr. Weasley wear a tall, purple paper crown and Daisy a yellow one.
Fred and George, stuck to the hip with Daisy since morning, took the liberty to introduce her to everyone, saying, "This is the long, lost Weasley kid."
The former particularly enjoyed keeping her by his side as she enjoyed the festive evening. He kept on filling her plate with food he knew she loved. He nimbly helped whenever she wanted to stand up or sit back down. He fussed over her pain whenever Tonks used her Metamorphmagus skill and made her laugh too hard.
"This is— wonderful! This is how a party— should be!" Daisy exclaimed, laughing over the background noise.
The Louvre Gala was 1000 times more extravagant and expensive than this, but Daisy would choose this ambience 1000 times over and over again. She loved the setting, the menu, the drinks, and above all, the people.
Don't get her wrong. She loved her friends, and she knew she could actually enjoy any event if there weren't any prying adults around. But this crowd...
Daisy looked at George and Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill... Even these people she just met today and yesterday: Tonks, Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Jones, Fletcher... They weren't trying to be the best in the room or faking perfection. They just wanted to have a good time.
And with them, she felt free to have her own definition of good time, too.
Daisy leaned to the person on her right and said loudly, "Do you often— have parties like— this here?"
"No, not really," Fred replied, "We had one when Harry was acquitted by the Ministry, and another one when Ron and Hermione were made Prefects... That's all."
"Wait— What?!" Daisy's eyes lit up and she turned to look at Ron, three seats away. "Ronald?"
Ron looked startled at first. He froze on his position —teeth sunk into the flesh of a chicken thigh, back hunched— then said, "What?"
"You're this— year's Prefect?"
"Y— Yeah," Then the boy's ears turned red. "Y'know, it's getting offensive. Why does everyone find that so hard to believe?"
"Why didn't— you tell me?"
He shrugged, "Slipped my mind."
"That's a momentous— accomplishment! It's a big— deal, and after all— you've been through, you deserve it. Congratulations!"
