The Potter house is quiet for once.

Summer break has that weird suspended feeling—no Hogwarts schedules, no Quidditch practice, just long afternoons where time feels like it’s melting.

That’s how you end up here:

standing in front of the living room mirror in the first dress.

James Potter is on the sofa, already suspicious.

“You’re not starting a fashion emergency, right?” he asks.

“I’m not starting anything,” you say. “I’m ending it.”

“That sounds worse.”

Behind you, there’s a growing pile of dresses.

Not random ones.

Bridesmaid dresses.

Twenty-seven of them.

All different. All tied to a different wedding, a different “you’ll totally wear it again,” a different friend who lied.

You step out in the first one.

Pale champagne satin. High neckline. Too stiff in the shoulders. The kind of dress that makes you stand like you’re attending a funeral for someone you barely liked.

James squints.

“That looks like it’s judging me.”

“It’s from Hannah’s cousin’s wedding,” you say. “She called it ‘timeless.’”

Sirius, who has absolutely invited himself into this situation, leans over the armchair. “That’s not timeless. That’s emotionally beige.”

James nods. “I hate it. Next.”

You disappear again.

Second dress: dusty rose chiffon, floaty, soft layers, slightly too long so you keep stepping on it.

You walk out, trying to hold it up.

James immediately laughs. “You look like a curtain that escaped.”

“It was for a beach wedding.”

“Beaches should not require this much fabric.”

Sirius: “This one’s less offensive. It’s just mildly tragic.”

You spin once.

“It made me stand in sand for six hours in heels.”

James winces. “Okay yeah, that’s criminal.”

Next dress.

Deep navy. Structured. Strapless. Elegant in a way that feels like you’re supposed to be someone else while wearing it.

You step out slower this time.

James stops joking for half a second.

“…That one’s different.”

Sirius clocks it immediately. “Oh no. That’s the ‘he’s thinking’ voice.”

James ignores him. “It actually suits you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s suspiciously normal coming from you.”

“It’s rare,” he admits.

You disappear again.

Then:

Fourth dress.

Bright lavender, slightly shiny fabric, fitted bodice with awkward ruching that someone swore was “flattering in photos.”

You walk out.

James groans instantly. “No. That one’s a crime against light.”

“It photographed well.”

“Lies. Cameras were scared of it.”

Sirius: “That one looks like it was designed by someone who hates joy.”

You laugh and head back.

Fifth dress.

Emerald green silk, simple cut, thin straps, actually nice—too nice compared to the rest.

You come out.

The room shifts slightly.

James notices first.

He sits up a bit. Less joking now.

“…That’s the one from the wedding you didn’t talk about much.”

You pause.

“Yeah.”

Sirius looks between you two. “Oh, we’re doing emotional backstory dresses now?”

James ignores him again. “Why didn’t you like that one?”

You tug lightly at the fabric.