Her mother, Liliane, called some incoherent sentence to her from downstairs, and ran frantically about in her heels against the hardwood. She was notorious for packing last minute, and was scrambling to gather anything that she may have forgotten for their trip.
They were to be heading to Rome for the summer, celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary in no fashion other than extravagant. They had expensive taste, whether they liked to admit it or not, and the capital of Italy was one of the few places that they hadn't visited. It was a necessity, as her father had said the night before. How ridiculous.
They were built on old money, but her mother claimed that their fortune derived from hard work. She knew, though, that the root of their wealth came from the generations of talented witches and wizards that came before them. Not because her parents worked hard. They hardly ever lifted a finger without a complaint waiting to follow.
A knock comes from her open door, startling her, and she turns to find her father filling the doorway to her bedroom. He stood at 6'1, and was a rather wide man. He had broad shoulders—Which just barely fit within the door frame—And ashy blonde hair, as he called it, sitting atop of his head and chin. He just didn't want to admit that it was slowly turning grey with his age.
David Wright could've been an extraordinary wizard, had he tried. Had he not cared so much about riches and luxury. He had a rather ordinary job and worked with rather ordinary people, but sheerly out of boredom. Because it became tedious sitting upon money that he didn't work for. However, he had an epiphany, one day, and decided that he wanted a challenge. As if being a support staff in the ministry was a challenge.
"Are you almost ready to go?" He asks, leaning against the frame. She nods, refusing to turn her head in his direction as she shoved the last of her belongings into her trunk.
No, she wasn't going to Rome with them. She'd be damned if she had to spend a whole summer listening to her mother gushing about the decadency of the wine from the vineyards, and oh, how much more fragrant the flavor was when in Italy. All wine was the fucking same.
"You'll love it there, you know. Arthur is one of my dearest friends. He's got lots of kids, too. Around your age, I think." He says, and she nearly lets a laugh escape her lips. She wasn't sure if he even knew of her age.
A false smile masks her face, and she turns to him, fidgeting idly with the dainty necklace upon her chest. Just to do something with her restless hands. "Don't worry about me. I just want you and mum to have a good trip. I'll be fine."
"That's my girl." He smiles, pulling her into his side to give her an awkward hug. He hardly knew how to coddle her, but regardless, she accepts the gesture. He was trying, at least. "I'll go put your things in the car, and if you may, go help your mother? She's running mad down there. Something about a lost earring." He lets out a deep breath as he shakes his head, and she solemnly complies, following him down the hall and to the curved stairs that led to the foyer.
"Rome awaits!" His voice booms happily throughout the immense space of their home, and her mother laughs distantly, still scrambling for that lost earring that surely, she would never find.
While Italy awaited them, the Burrow awaited her. And from what her father had described, it was what she was in desperate need of. A break away from the mind numbing ignorance and avarice. To be around people her own age. To have a change of scenery and to not be surrounded by these bland, white walls. Decorated in such hideous paintings that she never quite understood why her mother bought them. Perhaps just to make a dent in the fortune that they sat upon.
And while her father packed the car with their luggage and trunks, her and her mother tore apart the bedroom one last time. Searching for the diamond stud a few moments before ceasing hope, and leaving it behind in the room that sat in ruins.
They left a few minutes after, utilizing an enchantment spell that Arthur had taught her father to make the car take flight, and headed off to Ottery St Catchpole. A small village where just on the outskirts, Mr. Weasley, and the rest of his family resided. The Burrow.