I hadn't wanted to see the old matchmaker in the first place, the whole idea seemed stupid to me. But it was no use arguing with Mum. Once a Weasley, always a Weasley, I suppose. Stubbornness and all. Sigh. Anyways, I didn't really see why I had to see a matchmaker; I was young still, just seventeen. I had plenty of time to fall in love, get married, live happily ever after, and all that fantasy stuff Mum imagined. And I still held out hope for Harry, however little hope it was, though he and Hermione were the epitome of love itself. Though it wasn't as though I still loved him; more, he was my fall-back candidate. Ron and Luna were no better, and I feared soon all my friends and family would be married and happy, 'til death do they part. According to Mum, Harry was even going to propose to Luna next Christmas.
As we walked down the obscure cobblestone path, Mum was chattering on and on about how this matchmaker had first introduced her to Dad, and their first date, and blah blah blah. I was no hopeless romantic, like those flimsy girls in the romance novels Hermione kept giving me. Up ahead I could see a small cottage, painted a cough- potion pink. It was a sickening color, unlike the pale pink of the purse Mum was carrying. The roof was bright white, giving the home a birdhouse look. I concentrated on the number of steps it took until we reached the steps to the door. A perfect red heart was painted on the old wooden door. A bronze knocker interrupted the middle of it. Mum picked it up and dropped it, the clunk of metal against wood echoing behind us.
"Come een, Mees Veasley and daughter," a voice rasped from somewhere in the tiny house.
Mum opened the door, and we heard the jingling of bells that dangled from the inside doorknob. We walked in, and the smell of perfume intoxicated me. I gagged at first, poking my head back out of the door and gasping in a breath of fresh air, the last for the rest of the visit.
"Stop being so dramatic," Mum reprimanded me. I pouted and resisted the urge to storm out of the building. My worn out sneakers squeaked on the shiny dark floorboards.
We walked into a room covered in a thin Persian rug with a roaring fire, (extremely odd in the middle of summer, might I add) a coffee table covered in a giant doily, and a large maroon armchair. Upon it sat a small woman with dark leathery skin. Bags sagged under her heavily made-up eyes. Her ebony hair flowed out of the sheer red scarf head band and heavy gold earrings dangled from her earlobes. She wore more shawls than Professor Trelawney and a flowing skirt that reached her ankles. She was beautiful in a mature way, and I could only imagine what she looked like when she was younger. I never thought I would meet a Gypsy, much less one that was really a witch.
"Velcome, Molly. And eez zis your young Geeny?" she rasped.
"Oh, it's such a pleasure to see you again, Madame Lyutbitshka." Mum picked up the old woman's wrinkly hand and kissed it. Madame Lyutbitshka lowered her hand with a tired smile.
"And you and Arthur are steel happy?" she questioned, her eyebrow lifting expectantly.
"Oh, of course. I just hope Ginny could find a man she can love as much as I love Arthur." Gag. And Mom thought I was the dramatic one. Madame Lyutbitshka grinned wider, her lower eyelids rising into her eyes.
"Zank you for coming, Molly. I shust need to ask Geeny a few questions alone. You remember?" she asked, smiling so small pointed teeth showed.
"Oh. Right," Mum's smile faltered, but she dipped her head respectfully and said her farewells.
"Now, let me zee you," the Madame said once Mum had Disappirated. I stood straight and held my arms limply at my sides. She looked me up and down, and I could feel her eyes burning into me, into my soul, straight into my heart. I felt totally naked in front of her gaze.
"You have a lovely frame. Quite zee preetty face, may I add?" I blushed and muttered a thank you. "Speen." I took that to mean, "spin" and I did, slowly.
"Now, seet down, draga." She conjured a stool with her squat wand. I sat.
"Zo, what do you vant een a man? Does he have to be tall, short, vat, skeeny?" I tried not to giggle.
"Well, I'd like him to be taller than me. But I don't really think much about looks, especially if he's boring." Lyutbishka chuckled at that.
"Anything else? A preety girl like you should be with a nice man with zee brown hair, no?" I puzzled at this. I didn't much care for brunettes, anyways. But I thought I'd be difficult, so I could leave soon and not be expected to come back.
"Um, I don't think it really matters. I mean, this is a bit shallow, isn't it? Choosing people for their hair color?" She smiled, but I could tell it wasn't genuine.
"Please, do not question my art."
"I'm not questioning it. I'm just saying that I think we should start talking about personalities now." I bit my lip to keep from laughing. The small woman's face twitched and her eyes narrowed considerably. I had something next in mind; something I knew would really tick her off.
"Fine. Zo be eet." Her wand hand shook a bit. I was surprised at how angry she was; I hadn't thought this would have upset her so much. Perhaps it was because I was undermining her zillion years of practice. Ah, well. I wasn't particularly scared of her, though little did I know, I definitely should have been. "And vat personality have you been craving, draga?" She emphasized the word, though I did not know what it meant. Years later, when asked, Hermione had looked it up for me and found it was Romanian for "dear." That makes me laugh, every time I recall this day.
"Well, I'm not sure. But could you use a nicer tone, please? It would help me think." I was being such a jerk, but hopefully she would just ask me to leave and not come back.
"Vy, you ungrateful leetle girl! How dare you!" Madame Lyutbishka cried, her hand squeezing her wand in a death-grip.
"How dare I what?" I widened my eyes and folded my hands in my lap, feigning innocence. But she saw me trying to hide my smile and her eyes widened in anger. Her mouth became a thin red line.
"Get out of zee house."
"That's no way to treat a client." Thank Gods this was working! I just wanted to go home and sleep. Though I did feel bad for mistreating her, I really didn't think I needed a matchmaker. I silently tossed a galleon under the coffee table to repay her when her eyes were closed as she tried to calm herself. It was the least I could do, even if it meant I couldn't buy the sundress I had been eyeing in Diagon Alley.
"You nasty child. You shall regret ever setting foot in zis house," she hissed, her eyes glaring daggers at me. I started cowering in my seat. I didn't bother making a remark as I was already feeling scared of this tiny ball of fire. She picked up her wand and shouted a spell I couldn't hear as light shot out of the tip and into my chest. It spread out, sending what felt like electrical charges across my body. My hands shook and I tried to stand up, only to fall on the floor.
"Seence you have no respect with your words, you shall no longer talk until you are kissed by your true love." She spat. You have got to be kidding me, my head cried. I opened my mouth to scream as tingles shot through me, but no sound came out. The tingles didn't hurt, exactly, but it was intensely uncomfortable. I lay face-flat on the carpet until the tingles finally stopped. I could hear her laughs echoing in the room, and as I stood up, the telltale crack of Disapparition left me standing alone.
This is a nightmare. You are going to wake up. Wake up. Wake up! I shouted in my head, but several pinches later I realized I was wide-awake. "Hello?" I tried to call, and even though I could feel my throat vibrating, I couldn't hear the sound of my voice. A tear escaped my eye as I Apparated home.