"you will stay young and I will grow old, forever."
↠ In which Marigold Knight has to face her 7th year at Hogwarts while trying to cope with the death of her best friend, keep up with her classes, manage joining a resistance a...
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The day of the twin's birthday came rushing toward her, and before Marigold had even a moment to look up from where she was drowning in work: it was April 2nd, signifying not only the boys' birthday, but the end of term.
Marigold couldn't be happier when evening rolled over the castle and she found herself strewn across an open bed in Angelina's dormitory, trying to block out Bernie and Angelina's bickering with not a single worry about Potions homework or early quidditch practice plaguing her thoughts.
"Bern, I told you I wanted to wear this top tonight!" Angelina whined, holding a glittery black top closer to her chest.
Bernie pouted, "But Ang, look how it matches my skirt. Please?"
Angelina watched her with heavily irritated eyes before tossing the top at her, "Fine. But I'm borrowing those white boots next time we go down to Hogsmeade."
Grinning, Bernie skipped over to Angelina and pulled her into her arms. "Love you!"
Marigold tugged on the lacy stockings she'd borrowed from Bernie where they sat uncomfortably underneath her short black skirt. "These things are riding up my arse," she moaned, cringing as she pulled on them again.
Bernie slapped her hand away, "Hey, careful! Those rip easily." She took the edge of Marigold's skirt in her hand, lifting them so they sat higher up on her hips. "They're uncomfortable, but you look fucking stellar in them."
Pulling the skirt down again, Marigold sighed. "What do you think, El?"
Elin looked up from where she was braiding her hair into two neat plaits by the mirror against the wall, she smiled and nodded. "Looking cute, Goldie."
Marigold had pulled on her favourite boots and paired the skirt and stockings with a pear green sweater, a necklace swaying from her throat.
"Oh! Girls, look!" Angelina yelped, waving her ivory card up and down before bringing it to her face to examine, "The invites are showing!"
Marigold leaned back to slip her own invite off the table, watching as spots of ink clouded together to form letters:
Fred and George's 17th
Meet at the Quidditch Pitch at nine o' clock, come quietly if you would.
"That's it?" Elin frowned at the invite.
"Straight to the point, I guess." Angelina shrugged, tossing the card down: "The quidditch pitch though?"
"I think it's brilliant," Marigold commented, "It'll be cold, but a good ruckus at the quidditch pitch? That'll be fun."
Bernie grinned, flopping against the side of her bed to pull on her platforms. "I am going to get absolutely wasted. I need to forget about how badly I failed that arithmacy test today."
