September 10, 1993
Iris and Harry were the sole inhabitants of the Gryffindor Common Room as they lounged atop one of the plush crimson sofas. Iris's feet, swaddled in wool socks Molly Weasley knitted for her last Christmas, were perched on Harry's lap as she flipped from page to page of Quidditch Maneuvers Monthly.
"Did you know you have to fly under an opponent for the Speelman Steel?" She peered over the top of her magazine at Harry. "If I can master that, I'm bound to impress Oliver at tryouts."
Harry's eyes had been glued to the bright orange flames roaring within the fireplace, his mind elsewhere entirely, until the sound of Iris' voice brought him out of his trance.
"What?" He mumbled as his eyes darted to meet hers.
"Tryouts? For Quidditch next Sunday?" Iris arched an eyebrow. "Ring a bell?"
After Oliver announced an opening on the Gryffindor Quidditch team for a starting Chaser that past June, Iris had spent the whole of the summer holiday studying up on different strategies and maneuvers.
She didn't own a broomstick of her own, so she hadn't been able to train in the air until she returned to Hogwarts, but she and Harry had spent nearly every free minute they had preparing her for tryouts.
"Oh, right, I'm sorry." Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. "The Speelman Steel would be perfect, but you're going to get the spot regardless. Katie and Angelina have already talked you up to Oliver."
"They have?!"
Iris had watched Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor's remaining Chasers, fly around the pitch for the past two school years and she was in total admiration of their abilities. The witches speaking on her behalf was big news and, normally, Harry would've come to her the moment he heard.
His lack of excitement was telling of his somber mood.
"Sickle for your thoughts?" She asked as she shut the Quidditch magazine and laid it gently on the rug beneath the sofa.
"A Sickle wouldn't be worth it." He chuckled softly. "A Knut maybe."
Iris frowned and removed her feet from his lap so she could sit up and scoot close to his side.
"Harry Potter, what's going on inside that head of yours?" She poked his forehead gently. "You've been out of it all afternoon."
"Just dreading the Frog Choir concert is all."
To celebrate the beginning of the school year, the Frog Choir was performing in the Great Hall and all were highly recommended, but not required, to attend. Hermione had convinced Harry and Ron to go with her, on the promise of doing their Potions work for the next week, but Iris had refused.
Most of Hogwarts was going to the concert which meant the corridors would be void of unruly students, giving Iris the perfect opportunity to roam the castle uninterrupted. She found the quiet calming and, most of all, the chance to let the ever-moving staircases guide her towards corridors usually left unexplored.
She also found the toads the Frog Choir sang along with highly disturbing and wished to avoid the amphibians at all costs.
"Harry." Iris emphasized. "You know you can tell me anything."
"There's nothing to tell." He spat. "Stop pushing."
She visibly flinched at his tone.
His eyes filled with guilt at her reaction and he seemed about to explain the reasoning behind his sour mood when Hermione and Ron bounded down the concrete spiral staircase, arguing over Crookshanks' latest assault upon Scabbers.
At the sight of their friends, Harry's gaze pleaded with her to drop the subject. Iris was reluctant to do so, as Harry would be forced to spill if she had Hermione and Ron backing her up, but she didn't want to upset him further.
She leaned backwards, resuming her previous lounging position to indicate her resignation, just as Ron and Hermione came upon her and Harry from behind the sofa.
"Honestly, Ronald, being chased by Crookshanks is doing that rat of yours some good." Hermione asserted. "Scabbers' belly drags across the floor, he needs some exercise every now and then."
"Oi!" Ron shouted disgruntledly. "I'll start to worry about my rat's weight once you get your cat's murderous behavior under control."
Hermione snorted at his words, effectively placing the argument on hold, before shifting her gaze towards Harry.
"Harry, are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be." Harry grumbled as he stood.
He drifted to Ron's side and as Iris' eyes glanced over the boys, she noticed for the first time just how much older they looked.
Ron was only a couple inches shy from being as tall as Fred and George, and his face had lost its soft, round innocence. Harry's face had matured the same, and his hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, sticking out at all angles even more than usual.
Her heart panged.
Her closest friends were growing up and it upset her in a way she didn't yet understand.
"Iris, are you sure I can't convince you to come?" Hermione pleaded
"Absolutely not." She answered. "There are some things this Muggle-Born will never understand about the Wizarding World and one of those is its desire to harmonize with toads."
"I'm so disappointed your Boggart didn't turn into a singing toad for Lupin." Ron snickered as he reached over and ruffled her hair affectionately.
She stuck her tongue out at him and he returned the gesture before clasping a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Come on." He said as he pushed Harry towards the portrait hole and motioned for Hermione to follow. "We're going to be stuck sitting with the First Years if we don't get a move on."
"You better get going or someone else is going to steal your seat next to Ron." Iris teased as the boys disappeared from view.
"Will you give it up already?" Hermione gasped before smacking Iris' arm. "I don't fancy Ron."
"You're the one that brought up fancying." Iris' lips curled mischievously. "I was merely suggesting that you should sit by him to make sure he doesn't have any Stink Pellets stuck up his sleeve."
"You're not funny." Hermione glared at Iris as she headed towards the portrait. "I would suggest sleeping with one eye open tonight, Iris Sinclair." She jabbed a finger at her threateningly before disappearing as well.
Iris laughed softly and had just reached for the Quidditch magazine still lying on the rug when she heard the Fat Lady's portrait swing open once again.
"I'm sorry for being a prat." Harry hurriedly blurted out as he appeared. "I—I've just got lots on my mind, and I promise you'll be the first to hear all about it once I've got it sorted."
He then rushed over to her and did the last thing Iris expected.
He bent over the sofa and kissed her softly on the cheek.
Iris, left speechless, responded with a simple, "Uh-huh."
Harry's cheeks were flushed a bright red as he spun around on his heel and ran out of the Common Room, tripping on the rug on the way out.
As the voices of the Frog Choir and their screeching toads echoed throughout the castle, Iris eagerly hung onto the handrails of the staircases as they led her to various floors and corridors.
On the seventh floor, she'd spent nearly half an hour involved in a pleasant debate with the portrait of astronomer George Von Rheticus regarding the existence of extraterrestrial life.
Once she'd torn herself away from Rheticus, the staircases led her to the Trophy Room on the sixth floor where s he'd spent much too long examining the Quidditch trophies, imagining one with her own name engraved upon it one day.
The stairs had brought her to the first floor not long afterwards and she'd wandered into the library. After finding a book on Grindylows, as it was rumored that Professor Lupin kept one in a tank in his office, she spent the rest of that first hour of peace leisurely reading through various passages.
A few twists and turns later, she found herself drifting down the third floor with nothing but the sconces to light her way.
She had just passed the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom when she heard voices coming at her from the opposite direction. She grumbled under her breath, preparing to awkwardly nudge by whoever was headed towards her.
"Oh, Draco. I could hold your hand if I walked on your other side."
Chills shot down Iris' spine as Pansy Parkinson's voice echoed throughout the corridor.
"And why would I want that?" Draco Malfoy drawled.
Panic rose within Iris' chest as they neared, and she tried to escape into a storage closet to her left.
It was locked tight.
She also tried the doorknob to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and that too wouldn't budge.
She scanned her surroundings once more and knew she was out of options. As a last resort, she spun around on her heel and pretended to be lost in conversation with a portrait of Sir Sidley Smirk Platter as she waited for Pansy and Draco to gain on her.
She didn't have to wait long.
"My, my, my, what do we have here?" Pansy snickered. "Is that one of Potter's lapdogs?"
Iris groaned audibly as she turned around slowly to face the Slytherins.
Pansy's arms were crossed over her chest, her lips curled with amusement as she bore her eyes into Iris. Draco stood next to Pansy as still as a statue, his right arm hung in a sling after his altercation earlier in the week with Buckbeak the Hippogriff.
"Parkinson, Malfoy." Iris smiled mockingly.
"After last year, I was under the impression Mudbloods knew better than to wander around the castle alone." Pansy jeered. "Or do you just have a death wish, Sinclair?"
"From one lapdog to another, I'm genuinely surprised you were even aware of what was going on last year." Iris spat. "You know, considering how far your head was, and still is, shoved up Malfoy's arse."
From her peripheral, Iris caught the amused upturn of Draco's lips.
His reaction surprised her; it was the first time he'd acknowledged her presence in months.
The Slytherin's poisonous arrogance and vicious taunting of her friends had somehow increased tenfold over the summer holiday. However, while he directed the majority of that towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he had yet to throw any malicious remarks Iris' way.
It was as if he considered her so beneath him that he didn't want to waste his breath on her.
Somehow, she found that even more hurtful than his usual snide comments and jeers.
"It's a shame the attacks stopped after Weaselette was taken into the Chamber. I was certain you were next." Pansy sneered. "Daphne and I even had a bet going. I swore you'd be the one Pomfrey wouldn't be able to wake up, but she bet on Granger."
Pansy had never been able to get underneath her skin before, but the witch's cruel remarks had hit too close to home, somehow triggering the memories of the soul-crushing worry she'd felt at seeing Hermione helpless and petrified.
"As always Parkinson, it's been a pleasure." Iris said as she tried to push past Pansy.
Before she could comprehend Pansy's next move, the Slytherin witch shoved her backwards so hard that she fell right on her arse.
She hit the rug beneath her feet, and the flagstone beneath the rug, hard enough for a bruise to form. She bit back tears not from the pain, but from the humiliation of being caught off guard so easily.
"What the fuck, Pansy?" Draco raged as he stepped towards Iris.
"I wasn't done with her yet." Pansy pouted.
"I don't care, you insufferable moron." Draco hissed over his shoulder. "Only Muggles resort to that sort of barbaric physicality."
Pansy whined and then Draco did something unexpected.
He offered his free hand to Iris.
Her eyes met his and her heart raced at the way the flames from the sconces brought out the silver quality of his grey eyes. A few strands of platinum hair fell loosely across his face, the absence of the gel he used to slather onto his head left his hair looking soft and full.
A part of her wanted to reach out and brush the strands with her fingers, but instead she placed her hand on top of his and he pulled her up off the ground. He released her as soon as her feet were solid beneath her, and not a second later, the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom swung open.
"I thought I heard voices out here." Professor Remus Lupin's brow furrowed quizzically as his eyes studied the faces of each of his students.
His sea green gaze rested upon Iris and widened with concern at the sight of her ruffled clothing and the blatant discomfort that twisted her features. His shaggy, sandy brown hair delicately curled near the scars on his cheeks—deep, carved claw marks that drew one's eye instantly.
Professor Lupin was one of the youngest professors at Hogwarts, only a few years into his early thirties, and that fact alone made him a favorite with the older students. On the second day of classes, Iris and Hermione had laughed manically after passing a cluster of Seventh Year Ravenclaws whispering about the professor's "ruggedly handsome" features.
"What are the three of you doing out here?" Lupin asked, eyeing Pansy and Draco purposefully. "Shouldn't you be at the Frog Choir concert?"
"Professor Lupin, how are you?" Pansy feigned a grin. "Draco and I were actually on our way to the Great Hall when we ran into Iris here. I was just about to ask her to join us, would you also like to come along?"
Iris felt bile rise in her throat at the sickeningly sweet tone shift of Pansy's voice.
"Pansy, I appreciate your offer, but I'll have to refuse. I have far too many Boggart essays to read through and mark up by Monday." Lupin smiled faintly. "Draco, yours was one of the first I finished. It was very impressive."
"Thank you, sir." Draco said, seeming surprised by the genuine praise.
"Now, Iris," Lupin returned his gaze to her, "Do you wish to go to the concert with Pansy and Draco?"
"Uh, not particularly, no."
"Well then, that's settled." Lupin's lips curled as he held back a laugh. "Pansy, Draco, go on, I'd like to speak with Iris alone."
"But—" Pansy complained.
"Pansy, let's go." Draco growled. "Good evening, Professor Lupin."
He stormed down the corridor and Pansy grumbled under her breath before chasing after him.
"Iris, are you alright?" Lupin asked, his eyes trained on the Slytherins until they disappeared from view. "I know I didn't stumble upon a friendly conversation."
"Oh, that?" She waved her hand. "That was nothing."
He arched an eyebrow as he shifted his gaze towards her, daring her to say more, but she grinned widely instead.
"Well then, if that was truly nothing, I could use your help if you're not busy." Lupin explained. "A couple of your classmates forgot to put their names on their Boggart scrolls, and you might be able to recognize their handwriting."
Iris nodded her head eagerly.
"This is Ron's." Iris grumbled as she returned a scroll of parchment to Lupin sitting behind his desk. "I tried to remind him to write his name and he threatened to jinx me for treating him like he a child. Turns out he's a child and a moron."
"That certainly explains the tale he spun about being chased by spiders the size of Muggle cars." Lupin laughed softly as he retrieved the scroll from Iris and placed it with the others. Quite the imagination on that one."
"If that's what you want to call it." She looked at Lupin pointedly as she paced around.
Lupin's eyebrows shot upwards with surprise but before he could ask for details, an aggravated growl reverberated throughout his office.
Iris' eyes darted towards the Grindylow that was not just a rumor, but an occupant of an extraordinarily large tank of water adjacent to Lupin's desk.
As soon as she'd made eye contact with the creature, it had a taken strange liking to her. It would growl loudly whenever it wanted her attention, which was around every five minutes or so, only to smash its face against the glass and bare its teeth as soon as she got close enough to the tank.
"Be quiet over there." Iris scolded it.
She returned to the tank and crouched so she was eye to eye with the Grindylow. On cue, the creature smashed its face against the glass, and she stuck her tongue out as it bared its teeth at her.
"Can I keep it? After your lesson on the Black Lake." Iris smirked at Lupin over her shoulder. "I think I'll name it Severus."
He snorted. "Absolutely not."
Iris stuck out her bottom lip at the Grindylow and it disappeared into the mass of algae within the tank.
"At least I tried." She sighed as she stood and retrieved the next scroll of parchment from Lupin.
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, this is Harry's." She groaned after scanning only the first line of handwriting. "Honestly, I don't know how he and Ron would manage without Hermione and me around. Barely at best."
A sad smile found its way onto Lupin's face as she returned the scroll to him. "The four of you remind me of my friend group when I was student. From what I've heard, you have a knack for getting into trouble the same way we used to."
"Is that a compliment, Professor?"
"The very best." He assured her.
She smiled warmly as she plopped down onto the plush desk chair opposite his and Lupin seemed lost within his memory as he handed her another scroll.
"Lavender Brown." Iris snorted as she unraveled the parchment. "She doodles all over her parchment during class and then runs out of blank rolls for our assignments. That's why there's ink hearts all over an essay discussing her worst fear."
"Speaking of worst fears, I have yet to reach your essay, and I noticed the Boggart didn't know what shape to take when you approached it." Lupin retrieved Lavender's scroll from her. "It reverted back to Dean Thomas' fear of severed hands instead. Why do you think that is?"
"I don't know what my worst fear is, and apparently neither does my subconscious, so I suppose it has something to do with that." Iris pondered. "I have been agonizing over Quidditch tryouts, but that's just nerves."
"Fear and anxiety are opposite sides of the same coin." Lupin replied. "It's possible the Boggart wasn't able to find shape for your fear because it comes from within, from the unknown, not from an external danger."
"Well, Professor," Iris began, "If something other than singing toads sends me into fight or flight mode, you'll be the first to know."
"I'll hold you to that." Lupin chuckled. "What is bothering you so deeply about tryouts, if you don't mind me asking? Besides the usual nerves, of course."
"I don't have a broom. That's where it all stems from." Iris crossed her arms absentmindedly. "I'm Muggle-Born, if you didn't know that already, which means my parents aren't exactly swimming in Galleons, so I don't have the means to buy one."
"I've spent plenty of time practicing on the school's ancient supply of Shooting Stars, as well as Harry's Nimbus," She continued, "But I worry that without a broom of my own, I'll never be able to reach my full potential and, if I do manage to make the team, I'll be the slowest player on the pitch."
"Iris, you're only thirteen. Believe me when I say you have decades of potential left." Lupin clasped his hands together. "As for the broom, a close friend of mine also practiced on one of those Shooting Stars. His parents were Pureblood and wealthy, but they refused to buy him a broom of his own until he could prove that he was capable of flying properly."
Lupin stood from his desk chair. "He made the Gryffindor team on one of those old brooms and I believe you will too."
Lupin's kinds words did little to ease her anxiety, but they warmed her heart all the same.
"Thank you, Professor."
"And thank you for your help with the scrolls." Lupin said as he glanced at the watch clasped around his wrist. "It's nearly ten. Let's get you back to Gryffindor Tower and you can tell me all about your avoidance of singing toads along the way."
"It's the eyes." Iris shivered as she stood. "Those big, beady eyes stare right into your soul—"
Just as Harry and Professor Lupin predicted, Oliver Wood offered Iris the position of starting Chaser mere hours after her tryout. Her demonstration of the Speelman Steel had impressed the Gryffindor captain as well as her ability to keep up with her opponents on a Shooting Star, nonetheless.
However, with the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match on the horizon, her anxiety over not owning a broomstick of her own, and her internalized fear of being the slowest player on the pitch, had returned tenfold.
To calm her nerves the Wednesday before the match, Iris had agreed to help Hagrid pluck the weeds from his vegetable garden after classes. The Gameskeeper preferred the Muggle way of gardening, believing it to be more satisfying for the soul.
Her pile of weeds and roots had been growing to an extraordinary height when an owl soared directly over her head and planted a large package in the dirt in front of her.
It was undoubtedly a broomstick.
"What the?" She exhaled.
"Did ye buy a broom, Iris?!" Hagrid shouted.
"No! It must be a mistake!"
She reached forward and snatched the tag off the package only to discover that it was addressed to her and Hagrid's hut was listed as the place of delivery. Hagrid thundered towards her as she retrieved her wand and cast Revelio on the package to reveal any trickery that may have been intended for her.
None appeared, and so, with all of her bases covered, she tore the packaging to shreds.
Iris gasped audibly.
It was a Comet 270.
She trailed her fingers over the smooth, mahogany handle down to the tightly bound bristles that looked as if they'd been dipped in melted gold.
"What a beaut!" Hagrid exclaimed. "But if ye didn' buy it, who's it from?"
To answer Hagrid's question, and hers as well, Iris opened the envelope that had floated to the ground when she'd ripped apart the packaging.
Iris,
Congrats.
Show those badgers what you're made of.
R. J. L.
September 15, 2000
Iris was covered from the neck down by iridescent bubbles as she soaked in the bath.
Warm light washed over her as lit pillar candles floated high in the air above and the scent of the lavender and chamomile oil she'd poured into the steaming water soothed her senses with every inhale.
That evening, Iris, Ron, and Harry were throwing Hermione an early birthday party at her flat along with Ginny, George, and numerous old friends from their days at Hogwarts. Hermione's actual birthday wasn't until the following Tuesday, but the witch was going out of town with her parents and thus her closest friends had improvised.
Drinking with old friends in celebration of her favorite's witch birthday seemed the perfect remedy to the stressful week Iris had dealt with at work.
Her position as Draco's temporary mentor was tense, to say the least. After their visit to Andromeda's, the Slytherin had retreated within himself. Earlier that morning, Iris had tried to draw something other than a silent nod or groan of disapproval out of him, but her efforts proved fruitless.
At the thought of Draco, she submerged herself in the water and reveled in the blissful silence that followed. The otherworldly quiet she found underwater eased her anxiety in a way that nothing else could.
Well, except for flying.
Iris waited to resurface until her lungs burned and there was a knock at the bathroom door soon afterwards.
"Iris?" Ron Weasley's voice drifted through the closed door. "Are you alive in there?"
"That's a loaded question." She replied as she scooped a handful of bubbles. "But I am in the bath. What do you need?"
"Can I come in?"
"Ron, I'm naked."
"We shared a tent for nearly a year. I'm immune to your feminine wiles."
She scoffed. "Should I be insulted? I feel like I should be insulted."
"Iris." Ron grumbled. "Please."
"Oh alright, come on in."
Once Ron opened the door, a startled yelp left his lips as Nyx snuck up from behind and ran between his legs into the bathroom. The white cat then jumped onto the countertop and rolled onto her back, mewing softly at Iris once she laid eyes on her owner.
"Bloody hell." Ron shuddered. "I can't believe that thing is still alive."
"Watch it." Iris flicked water at him. "She's very sensitive."
"Your cat is not sensitive, she's malicious, and you're drowning in bubbles. I wouldn't have even known you were naked if you hadn't said anything." Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "Honestly, woman, you just enjoy listening to me beg, don't you?"
"Maybe." She smirked as she laid an arm over the side of the tub. "But you've done enough. Now, I ask again, what do you need?"
"Your help." He sighed as he sat on her closed toilet lid. "I desperately need your help."
"With what?"
"Don't yell at me." He eyed her out of his peripheral.
"I'm not going to—"
"I still haven't bought Hermione a gift." He blurted out.
"Ron!" She shouted. "The party is in four hours!"
"I know, I know, but I've been distracted!" He threw his hands in the air. "You know how busy the shop has been, especially with George out scouting for a second location."
Iris sat up straight, taking care that her chest was still hidden by the mass of bubbles. "I've been plenty distracted as well, remember the Slytherin sleeping only a floor away? And I still managed to buy her a gift."
"What did you get her?" He asked much too eagerly.
"I'm not telling you. You'll just try to piggyback off of it."
"But I'm out of ideas and out of time!" He agonized. "Should I just pop over to Flourish and Blotts?"
"Do not get her a book."
"Why not?" He furrowed his brow. "She loves books."
"So much so that she buys more in a week than she can carry out of the shop." Iris leveled gaze at him. "You need to get her something personal, something that could only come from you."
"Well, I can't exactly give her an old shirt, now can I?" Ron ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. "Maybe if I wasn't busy at St. Mungo's three nights a week, I'd have a gift! Maybe I should've held off a couple months on group therapy—"
"Stop right there." Iris interrupted. "You deciding to take care of yourself was a gift to Hermione, to all of us, all its own. It's—" She lost her train of thought as a lightbulb went off in her head.
"I know that look." Ron leaned forward. "What're you thinking?"
"The perfect gift." She grinned brightly. "It's been right in front of you this entire time."
Hermione had demanded that everyone dress in their party best.
And Iris was never one to complain about getting dolled up.
With a final twist of her hair, she pinned half of her long curls back with a silver hair clip and let the rest hang loosely past her chest. She leaned in close to the mirror to paint her lips a crimson red, examining the symmetry of her winged eyeliner and the diamond studs that adorned her ears as she did so.
Once finished with her lipstick, she stepped backwards so she could run her eyes over the long-sleeve, black velvet dress she'd chosen to wear. The dress had a low square neckline that accentuated her cleavage and a hem that ended mid-thigh with a small slit that went up her right side.
She twirled around, allowing herself a moment of self-appreciation at the way the fabric clung to the curves of her body.
She felt undeniably sexy.
After buckling a pair of black heels around her ankles and spraying perfume on her wrists, Iris snatched her purse from off her bed and slowly began her descent to the parlor where she was meeting Harry and Ginny.
Draco's bedroom door was shut firmly as she came upon it and she hesitated for a brief moment, the thought of knocking on his door crossing her mind briefly. With a sigh, and her fist half-raised, she decided against it and continued down the stairs.
She heard Harry and Ginny's voices before she crossed the threshold into the parlor and was greeted with the sight of the happy couple standing by the fireplace. Kreacher lounged on the loveseat, a glass of scotch in his hands as he swayed to the sound of a soft tune being played on the piano.
Iris' eyes darted towards the other side of the room to find Draco behind the piano with his eyes closed.
"Iris!" Ginny exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace her.
Ginny hugged her and Iris squeezed her back tightly, but her gaze was locked onto Draco over Ginny's shoulder who had opened his eyes and stalled his fingers on the piano keys when he heard Iris' name called.
The expression on his face was stone-cold, and once Ginny released her, Iris tore her eyes away from him to give the Weasley a once over.
Ginny had outfitted herself in an emerald silk dress that hung to her knees and was held up on her freckled shoulders by two thin straps. Her red hair was plaited down her back and curled tendrils of red hair framed her face, showcasing the pair of square-cut emerald and gold drop earrings that hung from her ears.
Iris whistled sharply. "Gin, I'm speechless."
Ginny spun around in appreciation on gold block heels.
"Have you seen yourself?" Ginny smiled brightly. "I'm the one that's speechless."
Harry drifted from the fireplace to rejoin Ginny's side, looping his arm through hers.
"You both are stunning." He smiled.
Harry was dressed to match Ginny in an emerald, long sleeve button down with black trousers and black leather loafers. He had yet to shave the scruff of facial hair he'd grown out and Iris couldn't believe how much older it made him look.
"Kreacher agrees. Mistress Iris is the picture of beauty." Kreacher toasted her with his glass and then shrugged his shoulders at Ginny. "And the Weasley has looked worse."
Ginny snorted. "Thank you?"
"Kreacher." Harry's eyes darted towards the House-Elf. "That's the best you could come up with?"
Iris hid a laugh behind her hand as Kreacher ignored Harry and instead focused on chugging the rest of the scotch in his glass.
"Harry, you look great. I can only hope Ronald managed to clean up as nicely."
"I, for one, can't wait to see what he dragged out of the back of his wardrobe." Harry chuckled. "If not for Ginny, I would've shown up in one of those old getups I wear to the Ministry once a week."
Iris looked away as Ginny kissed Harry's cheek, shifting her gaze back towards Draco.
He'd resumed playing the piano, his eyes open but his head down as he focused on the keys.
Her heart sunk.
She felt disappointed.
And she didn't know why.
"Ready to go? Ron is going to meet us at 'Mione's flat." Harry asked, drawing Iris from her thoughts. "We still need to decorate but Ginny is going to lock her in her bedroom, so she won't see the downstairs until we're done."
"Great, yeah, let's go." Iris smiled weakly. "After you."
Ron let Iris, Harry, and Ginny into Hermione's flat and the group collectively sighed in relief at his outfit.
He was dressed in a white dress shirt, tan trousers, and brown penny loafers. However, in typical Ron fashion, he'd added a touch of authentic Weasley with suspenders decorated with the Gryffindor colors of scarlet and gold.
Ron whistled at the three of them. "Looking good, not as good as me of course, but nice job."
"He gets it right once and his ego grows to the size of a Quaffle." Harry whispered to Iris, making her laugh under her breath.
"Shove it." Ginny pushed past her brother. "Is Hermione upstairs?"
"You bet. I threatened the life of that demonic cat of hers if she tried to sneak down here."
Iris shut the front door loudly behind her and, as if on cue, Crookshanks bounded from the living room and up the stairs.
"Harry, Iris?!" Hermione's voice bounded throughout the flat. "I'm coming down!"
"Hey, I'm here too!" Ginny shouted a bit disgruntled. "And no, you're not!" The redhead raced up the stairs, carefully maneuvering around the various stacks of books in her path.
Once Hermione was secure, under the ever-watchful eye of Ginny, Harry and Iris retrieved their wands and got to work alongside Ron who had already laid out an array of Hermione's favorite finger foods and desserts on the round dining table.
With a flick of her wand, Iris sent the stray stacks of books piled on the stairs and scattered throughout the rest of the flat upstairs into the guest bedroom where they would be safe from accidental spills. She then conjured lit candles and charmed them to float around close to the ceiling, out of reach but close enough that they created a warm ambience.
Harry filled champagne flutes placed on trays around the living room and charmed the glasses so that they would refill once emptied. Then, with help from Iris, he stocked the bar cart near the kitchen with various forms of liquor that George had sent with Ron for those that weren't fans of bubbly.
Half an hour later, Ron had just finished twisting a garland of autumn leaves around the staircase railing when Ginny returned downstairs.
"Are you guys ready?" Ginny asked. "Please tell me you guys are ready."
The trio glanced around the flat, and at one another, before nodding.
"Oh, thank Merlin." Ginny exhaled with relief. "You know how terrifying she is when she's forced to sit still."
Ginny shouted to Hermione, announcing her freedom, and then the redhead raced down the stairs at the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing and rushed to Harry's side.
"It's about time!" Hermione laughed as she descended the stairs. "Not having any control over what was going on down here was driving me mad."
Hermione had chosen to wear a satin, off the shoulder scarlet dress that flared out above her knees. She'd braided her untamable curls into a soft updo, pinning her hair in place with a diamond encrusted clip that allowed loose tendrils to delicately caress her bare shoulders.
"She's so beautiful." Ron whispered.
Iris squeezed his arm in solidarity.
"You guys, you've outdone yourselves!" Hermione gasped as she reached the landing in her nude, suede kitten heels. "It's all so perfect, thank you." Her smile lit up the flat as she glanced over the candles floating near the ceiling to the array of food on the dining table.
Ron rushed forward to be the one the first one to embrace her.
"Happy early birthday." He said softly as he released her, placing one hand on her cheek and kissing her forehead.
The raw expression of devotion on Hermione's face forced Iris' eyes away.
She glanced at Harry and Ginny, Harry's arm was around her waist and Ginny's head lay on his shoulder.
Iris smiled sadly to herself, overwhelmed with happiness for her friends, but also instantaneously aware of the absence of love at her side.