Nightingale, spent most of the weekend preparing for this week, he spent most of his week's salary as well, but found a lot of old fabrics around the castle to help fill the void.

His classroom was done up to look like much like he imagined Darian's shop to be behind the scenes. Charms of all sort sent various machines to work, while thread and needle alike put life into various patterns. The buzz of the room was almost comical as a few students arrived earlier with sketches and torn pages from picture books for what they'd like to achieve, and made Gale's one eye go cross with as many details some of the younger years went on about.

"Let's just get the base done first, M'dear, then we'll talk about a button detail." Maker, he was sounding like that horrid woman who tended to the attire of the fine estate he spent his summers in with his Slytherin lover. Buttons, he had a plenty however, and would let them have as many as they pleased--as his people found buttons to be an omen of good luck no matter where they were worn.

Early on he tried his best to do this without magic, to teach the few that came how sewing was a work of art, just like any other painting, and how his people when passing the needle through the thread said little bits of prayers to aid in good fortune. However, upon the first night, after countless bloody fingers, and sticking pins--that all went to hell.

Salagadoola menchicka boola bibbidi- bobbidi-boo, put 'em together and what have you got, bippity-boppity-boo

Gale had posted a few flyers in the common places of every house and staff room asking for help. He gave in that if no one showed he had at least tried, and he would have enough fabric left over for some new curtains to put up at Chaz's flat.

---

Object of this thread is for those of you who have students who would want to make a new dress since they could not afford one. If your character wants to come help that would be great too. It's just a general open thread to mingle! No posting order.

Play-on playah.

Warren's fingers were tired and bloody. He wasn't sure how many dresses he had helped sew, but the number was far higher than what he assumed it would be in a lifetime. He had always assumed that number would be zero. Yet there he was, sitting in a chair with a high back near Professor Kesali. The fabric the Professor had acquired was of varying quality it seemed to Warren, and because of that he didn't know how to treat one fabric as compared to the next. He was constantly leaning over to the monocular wizard to ask if he had made some sort of mistake.

Warren himself already had his attire for the ball. If his clothes at the dancing lessons earlier in the month seemed on the ridiculous end of opulent, then his wardrobe for the ball itself would probably cause someone to retch. Warren didn't mind though, when it came to dressing up he preferred to do it with style. It wasn't like he'd go dressed like a bard or dripping in jewels. He just didn't want to look shabby in front of the other schools.

He pricked his finger again while working on a particularly difficult piece of lace trim. The Slytherin let out a loud sigh and pulled out his wand. He quietly spoke an incantation and the blood disappeared from the fabric. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out another length of cloth to re-wrap his sore finger.

"I'd almost think this was some sort of punishment Professor," Warren jibbed at Nightingale, "I hope there's some house points in this for Slytherin since I've shed more blood than in any quidditch match."

Warren snickered at his own joke, realized that it wasn't true, and then stopped. Such was the price of playing quidditch in the physical manner that he preferred. He gave up on trying to sew the trim onto the dress he was working on. Instead he used his wand to bring the needle to life, trying to guide it from a safe distance. The job looked sloppy, he slipped his wand away and slid out the thread from the work. He gave another loud sigh, and then attempted the job again by hand.

"Just keep working, Warren. You're doing great." Althea said, walking back into the classroom. In her arms she carried another box full of bright fabrics. Althea walked to an empty table, and plopped the box down. "That's the last box I have." She dusted her hands together.

She put both of her hands on Warren's shoulders, smiling. "Look at that trim! It's absolutely fabulous!" She sighed happily, as she removed her hands. "You have a knack for this, Warren." Althea then walked over to the box, where she withdrew a bright pink, and started to work on the design Natalie had given her earlier that week. The original color Natalie asked for was a dark purple. But Althea being Althea knew it needed some more color.

She sat down at a sewing machine, and started pressing the peddle, sewing the soon to be dress. "You know, when I worked in the muggle world I acquired such a love for sewing!" She said happily, sliding the fabric.

Warren didn't pay much attention to Professor Santucci when she walked into the room. Warren didn't take muggle studies. Not because of any disdain for muggles, but because as a pureblood wizard from a long unbroken line he didn't have any reason to learn about muggles. He never planned on going off into the muggle world, and he didn't feel the need to learn about their history. However, he also never thought that he'd be spending his night sewing dresses. When the teacher told him good job he merely grunted his thanks while trying to avoid stabbing himself in the finger again.

This quickly proved to be a fruitless endeavor. Once he felt a pair of feminine hands slide onto his shoulders, he stabbed himself so deeply through the thumb that he was sure it was only stopped from coming out the other side by his nail.

"Thank you very much professor" he whimpered. He yanked out the needle with a quick tug. With a hesitant hand he laid the needle on the arm of the chair.

 Warren then proceeded to pull out his wand again to clean the rag that was wrapped around his finger. The crimson fabric turned dove white, then crimson all over again. Warren repeated the process a few more times until he was sure the bleeding had stopped. Then he placed the wand on the other arm of his chair. At this point he figured it was best to just leave it out. Without much ado, he picked the lace back up, and continued his task.

"Do they sew a lot in the muggle world? I always just assumed they just slapped still bleeding chunks of animal carcass over themselves. Or used some sort of adhesive to keep large leaves and bird feathers together to fashion rudimentary sorts of coverings."

Nightingale, wasn't well liked by much of the staff. He was quick to be defensive, and often came across as rude. His erratic behaviors, and impossible mood swings made him sometimes horrid to be around. He was eccentric about some things, and stone silent about the next. To say he wasn't bothered by the way his relationships were turning out would be a lie, but he hoped it wasn't the case with Althea.

Her name came up upon her hiring, and he wondered if she would remember him at all. They were the same age, sorted in the same house, and had the same interests. But those years at Hogwarts had been strained, and the last four of them he spent doing the biding of House Slytherin. Gale in school was rather pathetic, he was much shorter than the rest, an outcast at every turn, and his less than traditional interests often found him seeking the solitude of the trees. If they had ever talked at all, it would have been she doing the talking--he blushing and trying to get away.

"Warren, I'll happily award your house." He said with a smile looking up at the young man from the sleeve he was sewing by hand. "Thank you for coming. Demonstrate some of your charms as well, I'll even give you a little extra credit." Not that Warren needed it, he was a very good student. Warren's comments about Muggle sewing had him arch a thin brow.

"Yes Mister Neifrion, there is a lot of sewing done. Its what the women of our caravans would do by the fires, while sewing either blessings or curses in with every prick of the needle." The little Hufflepuff girl who was sitting beside Gale had large round eyes looking at him, and he smiled back to her. "Blessings, M'dear. You won't fall down. I promise." She relaxed.

"Where was it you worked, Professor Santucci? If you don't mind my asking." Such proper manners seemed like such a task on Nightingale, and he had a hard time even looking her in the eye.

Althea smiled at Gale. She had remembered him from Hogwarts, but didn't doubt he'd remembered her. She was the hyper child until 4th year, where then she found somewhere to expel all of her craziness; muggles. That was when she started creating stuff, and reading muggle books. Researching muggle history, and all the works.

Gale asked her where she had worked. "I worked at a diner for a few years and went to muggle university. I actually wrote two books, that did terrible on the market, probably because of the names. See, one was called Cooking with Muggles, and the other was calledUniversity. The first book didn't actually include recipes on how to prepare muggles, for the record." She laughed at her own joke. "Most people thought that it was a book about canabalism, when it really was just about muggle recipes, what tools to use, and funny stories from the diner."

"See, the diner didn't ever pay well. They never actually gave me a raise, since I was really weird around customers. So, I needed clothes, and cloth was cheap, so I picked up the talent of sewing." She explained. "What about you, Gale? What's your background? What compelled you to do this?"

Gale listened very intently, so much so that he stopped sewing long enough to watch her. Captivated by the way she seemed so upbeat, and still so very much like the girl he knew—he couldn’t help but admire her for that. Nightingale, glanced to her ring hand, surprised to see it empty—someone this smart and beautiful had to have many offers. He laughed at her joke, though not because it was particularly funny, but because she had the sort of laughter that was contagious. He liked her story, and wanted to know more. However, what he liked the most about her was the way she used his first name so easily—like it should have been.

“I got the idea teaching the 1st and 2nd years their dance for the ball. Most of the students don’t want our charity, but I figured this way they could at least work

Without meaning to he instantly started to compare her to Aileen Reid. The stark contrasts were enough to point out the obvious, but unlike Aileen, Althea had personality, wit, and a kind heart. Too harsh, Nightingale. A voice condemned him somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but I never seemed bothered by it until the Yule Ball. My first year here I didn’t care so much, it was all so new and exciting, but that second year? I noticed rather quickly that my thrift store garments didn’t um…Well you know.” When he spoke, he did it softly, almost afraid that if he started in on her too much she would leave.

“I grew up with Muggles. Well…sorta.” He flushed thinking about how many ways there were to describe his family. “I grew up with gypsies, tramps, and thieves; with hair as dark as yours, and eyes much the same. You could be one of them. Just put a few bells on your toes, Bella.” Putting his sewing down, he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to ease the ache.

“Do you dance much, Professor Santucci?”

Angie bounced into the room with a bright expression, all of her work was done so she decided that she would come relax for a bit and sew. She hadn't done anything too artistic since she got here, being busy with the course load and her Captain position of course, and she thought it would be comforting to come and get in touch with her 'roots,' as her friends grandmother used to chide her.

A proper lady should know how to sew, the old lady would say in a trembling, warbling voice. And you missy, you should be a proper young lady.

To be honest, Angie quite enjoyed the art of sewing. She took a certain pride in her craftsmanship and her stitches, it was something she enjoyed to do, even if she didn't necessarily flaunt her hobby like some Hufflepuff's she knew... She smiled at the professors, "Sorry I'm a bit late to the party, but I thought I would come help out for a bit." She said, noticing a first year stabbing the fabric angrily, and gently correcting her hand and re-threading the girl's needle.

...You could be one of them. Just put a few bells on your toes, Bella.”

Althea smiled a cheeky smile. "I actually have shoes with bells on them!" She added, with another smile. It was true. Althea had many pairs of shoes and tried to wear them all. Many of them were pumps and almost all of them had heels. She felt like a shoe no matter what it looked like, needed an owner. And that she could be that owner.

Althea saw as Gale rolled his neck, and she stood up from her machine, and went over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders, and gently but forcefully rotating her thumbs into the back of his shoulders. "You know, I did a lot of massages for friends and family when I was young. Sorry, couldn't resist the temptation to get the knots out." She said, as she focused her left thumb on one knot in particular.

“Do you dance much, Professor Santucci?”

"Not much. I do enjoy it, however. I used to dance when I was little, but less and less as those years continue to fade." Althea answered, focusing on Gale's hair. It was a lovely color. Angie joined them, and Althea smiled. "Oh, no bother dear. Thanks for coming. The more the merrier!" She added cheerily.

Nightingale tensed instantly with her touch, even if it was welcome it was strange to be invaded so casually. Not that he minded much, but this wasn’t proper protocol. He was certain that if he had tried this instead of getting Aileen to smile, he would have been hexed and fired. Gale couldn’t help but want to flinch away, and when he looked back at her he tried to mask his fear with a smile.

“You have magic hands, Professor.” Curse this school. Curse them and their over formalities. He would get the hang of it he was sure, but it wasn’t until Althea did start to regain faith in the whole staff.

“Your friends are very lucky.” With that he stood to turn to her and smile with a small bow, “Thank you.” He hated himself already for leaving that gentle touch, and wanted nothing more but to curl up against her palm and purr.

“Welcome, Angie. If you don’t care to take over the threading here.” He motioned for where he was sewing. “I’m going to go get us some air drink, I mean—drink of air. Water. And Air. I’m going to get air, and return with water.” He finally admitted with a flush to his face, from both the touch and his mix of words.

Go ahead, Nightingale, put your foot in your mouth further.

Nancy floated in from the floor into the Charms classroom where she heard the unmistakable sound of sewing machines. "Ooh! I loved sewing!" Nancy drifted over to where the new Muggle Studies professor sat. "Hello! I am Nancy Finch!" Nance said smoothing her sundress. "I do not believe we have met." Nancy waved a little at the other people in the room. "Hello Angie!" The Ghost directed to one of her favorite Huffles "Professor Kesali, Warren." She said, addressing the two men in the room.

"What are you working on?"

"It's alright professor, I think this," she said as she held up a dress that had already been started, "this piece in particular needs a bit of TLC." It almost hurt to see such beautiful blue fabrics haplessly thrown together, but Angie was going to set her mind to it and fix it up as best she could, even if she had to finish it on her own time.

"Nancy!" Angie chirped gleefully, she loved the adorable ghost. "As always, I'd give you a hug, but it wouldn't work out too well!" She joked, picking up a skein of cloth that would match the dark blues of the dress. She chose a free work are where nobody was doing too much of anything and laid out the started dress. She grabbed her sketchpad out of her bag and began to sketch out the design she had in mind.

Her creative mind took over, racing ahead of her to plan out how this could be fixed, how the fabric could be stitched and woven so that it would work together. "Take a look at this, Nance." She beckoned the ghost over, "You think I should just hack off this shoulder?" She asked quietly, gesturing to the left shoulder which was basically beyond repair. "And this hemming job, I think it'll have to go as well." She added, "I'm thinking, knee length, one shoulder... any other ideas?"

Gloria should make it official now. Needlework was not as fun as she first thought it was going to be.

Gloria had always admired some of the more exquisite tapestries in the castle, with all the millions of miles of little thread that went into them (an approximation). So when one of the more eccentric professors said he was holding a session for sewing not only was Gloria not surprised, because this was Kesali doing the offering, she had brought along her drab pale blue plain dress in hopes of making it a bit more exciting.

Problem was she didn't know how to sew so she didn't know anything about embroidery. Which might that she would flinch wildly whenever the sharp end of the needle poked her, causing what had been planned to be an arraignment of flower blossoms into a tangled snarl unfit to survive a Herbology greenhouse, looking like a selection of thread eaten by a goat and regurgitated onto the dress.

By this point she was frustrated. "Isn't there a way of doing this by magic?" she asked, in hopes of ever picking up on the whatever spell it was better than manipulating and failing with the sharp sliver of metal.

Gale smiled at the new faces, welcoming them as they came, but had to offer a little bit of a chuckle at Gloria's protest, "My people, Miss Gibbon, sewed everything by hand whispering little prayers...or curses upon ever thread. Don't you think you can handle one dress?" She looked rather flushed, and it pleased him so to see. At least this way they would understand the importance of magic, and how much more convenient it was.

"Though, we are not a lost band of heathens, and certainly not my wild Gypsy Roses no?" He pulled out his wand and offered a flick of his wrist, the blue dress strung up on it's own as if held by little wings, and the thread started to spin like a silk spinning spider. "The Tricky part is keeping the concentration long enough to guide the needle, and a very soft gentle hold on your wand. But..." He let the dress down and the needle stopped, "You are doing very well with your dress. It's looking very good. Yours too Miss Lemon. Miss Finch, perhaps you can help Gloria since it seems Angie is doing rather well?"

Gloria had thought about praying, in a "Please God don't let me destroy the dress" kind of prayer but her grandmother had said such prayers were a tad superficial, praying the moment you hoped for something.

Her heart leapt for an overjoyed moment if the Professor had offered to fix her dress but it was only to remove the thread. Shucks. Gypsy Roses even would have been a welcome addition, unknowing as she was to creating such a piece with nothing but thread. Maybe there were patches she could just sew on, like Girl Guides.

"I've succeeded if the effort was to have a yarn factory about my neck," Gloria said under a half breath. Certainly unique for the Yule Ball but she didn't want her style be seen as rubbish. The dress should look decent at least, she could always leave her hair untempered.

"Hang on," Gloria said, not meaning to be rude but recognizing the obvious, "how is a ghost going to help me sew?" Nancy wouldn't be able to hold the dress or anything.