The appointment arranged was at 1pm, and despite the fact he was going to see a tailor about his attire, Ignan couldn't help but feel that he was slightly shabbily dressed, even in a black suit, white shirt and deep crimson tie. Colour, Merlin, normally one would be surprised to see it in his outfits. Normally Ignan didn't consider himself to be underdressed, especially not for a tailor, but this was no ordinary tailor, this was Darian Morgan.

Johann by contrast, didn't seem to give too much thought into how he dressed, but his lean frame seemed to be a suitable clothes-horse for the set of suits he wore to the Ministry each day. Whereas Ignan preferred a cloak, Johann was far more a coat-wearer, given his traipse on foot from his Muggle abode each day.

"You never know, Morgan might be the making of you in your father's eyes." Ignan was telling Johann as they approached the door, "If you look the part, he's far more likely to believe you're actually making an effort to see that engagement through to marriage."

"The most basic of illusions." Johann remarked, and shook his head. "I've heard elaborate tales of how his less conservative pieces involved someone wearing a potted plant on their head. I do hope he recommends that for you."

The sarcasm in Johann's voice was clear, and Ignan felt it safe to assume it was a joke. Hopefully.

The two relatives entered Libertine Ltd and fell quiet, taking in their surroundings.

"I don't see any pot-plant attire for heads." Ignan uttered quietly to his companion, eyebrow raised.
"He must keep them in the back." Johann replied, grinning, eyes already busy inspecting the interior and the materials.

Ignan cleared his throat, stepped away and greeted the assistant he could see, giving his name, and confirming he had an appointment. It had all been suggested back on New Year's Eve. Ignan hadn't been sure if it was business, pity or an honour, but he was now hoping it was both the first and last.

"Now you will behave yourself, won't you?" He intoned to Johann across the shop floor, "Otherwise I'll have to send you out." His cousin chuckled, not looking round, fingertips gently caressing the furniture and fixtures, eyes busy. 

Ignan turned his attention back, ready to greet Morgan, curious at what an appointment with the infamous tailor would reveal.

After they'd checked in with Misa, she ushered them into the main showroom and left them. As well as the dark wood, William Morris wallpapering, inlaid shelves and all, nearby on a marble-top table silver carafes steamed invitingly before a selection of sweets. And of course all around them - on the shelves and the racks - were so many, many clothes.

Quickly thereafter Darian came down the center aisle of the show room in a light flurry of designer robes and riotous waving hair, his shoes as polished as his salesman's slick smile. He'd given the men but a moment to soak in the interior before he emerged from the back. Of course he'd known he had the appointment at one o'clock, and could have stood there waiting for when they'd come in. But, well, it was the look of things, wasn't it? And at Libertine, there was an awful lot to see.

"Gentleman," he cried, "Welcome. How good it is to see you today." His eyes flicked over Ignan's buttons and seams, then Johann's - professionally assessing, quick as a hummingbird's wings. Politely he asked, his tone implying nothing at all, "Are you both looking for new attire, or is it just the one?"

He mustn't seem too eager for the appointment, no more enthusiasm than he'd show for an ordinary customer (which was still normally quite a good deal). In truth Darian was both excited and powerfully intrigued, especially when he saw that Storm had brought his tall cousin along. They were both so interesting. That made them the best sort of people, the kind Darian wouldn't mind getting his teeth into a bit. But, well. Business first. And if he was any kind of good tailor - and oh, he was - he'd find some way to get his pleasure in as well.

"Gentleman, welcome. How good it is to see you today."

Darian Morgan, there he was. He looked incredibly sharp in his attire. Ignan was most definitely feeling rather shabby in his presence. Tired and shabby. The man was young, bright and incredibly well recommended. He'd been quite surprised to even get an appointment. He only hoped he didn't have to take a bank loan out to pay for the results, but then again, he had a house sale on the horizon.

"Mister Morgan." Ignan inclined his head and extended a hand courteously. Johann came out of his material gazing daze and stepped swiftly across to do the same and then retired a few paces back, continuing to let his eyes wander.

"Are you both looking for new attire, or is it just the one?"

"Just the one I believe, I am aware your time is sought after." Ignan lowered his voice, "Though if you have the time for both, it would probably be for the best, might end up tailoring for the wedding."

Behind Ignan, Johann narrowed his eyes in puzzlement, not hearing the second part of the sentence but it was clear it regarded him. He was only there to confirm to Ignan if he looked ridiculous, and because Darian Morgan intrigued him, and he'd never been inside the shop. Some of the big wigs at the Ministry came here for their suits.

"Thank you for taking the time to see me." Ignan added politely.

They each shook hands, all very proper, all very posh.

"Just the one I believe, I am aware your time is sought after. Though if you have the time for both, it would probably be for the best, might end up tailoring for the wedding."

At that Darian's smile widened like the Cheshire's grin, particularly as Johann looked their way and narrowed his eyes a bit. Of course, he read the papers. He had a shark's nose for those particularly lowered tones which implied that there was more to the story.

"You will be amazed what I can do given just a little time," he said, his own voice redolent of some warm, lurking amusement.  "It is not the slightest trouble for you, Mister Storm. If anything I might thank you for the opportunity to assuage my curiosity! You understand that your reputation precedes you in the most intriguing of ways." This last was delivered in the sly manner of a grade O gossip, rendered harmless and even cheeky by the honey-thick purr of Darian's courtly charm. "If you will follow me? I intended to start with the fitting."

In the back of the shop down the center aisle there was a large, clear area. A stool stood in the center of a rug before a great three sided mirror, and on the wall to the side there were two sleek doors with ornate brass keys sitting in their locks. To the far left was a curtained entryway similar to the one from which they'd entered the showroom, though this led to the backroom and so customer exploration was not encouraged.

Darian came to an easy stop when they reached the spot. Casually he extended an arm for the measuring tape, which bore itself from a nearby small table to wind around his wrist like a lovingly devoted snake. With his other hand he gestured to the stool with a stage-magician flourish, fingers fluttering and head just slightly bowed. "If you would stand just there? I will take your blazer."

Morgan was quite the host, and gestured for the pair to follow him further into the shop, Johann found his gaze wandering around him as he trailed a few paces behind Ignan, trying not to look too keen to see Darian take his older relative's measurements, but wanting to remain in earshot now. Ignan was acting the cordial customer, taking direction with apparent ease, so the younger man hung back out of the way to one side and folded his arms to preoccupy his hands and continued to let his gaze drift, curious of the two doors with the keys.

"Thank you," Ignan uttered calmly as Morgan took care of things, and the straightened out his cuffs and deep crimson tie before stepping up on the indicated stool, glancing back at Johann with a raised eyebrow, and thinking about the potted plant comment.

Turning back he was faced with three of himself given the mirrors, and tried to ignore the nagging feeling he was looking shabby. It was just functional, Morgan would see to it that he had something a little smarter for the more formal occasion.

"Here's hoping the Christmas season hasn't gained much on me," He muttered with a smirk before smoothing a piece of white hair that had got loose back onto his scalp.

"Just the Christmas season?" Johann joked from aside and ruffled his black hair with a grin.

"Just because you can hide behind a beanpole in a greenhouse, you wait, it'll catch you up one day."

"So you keep saying." Johann's reflection in the back of the mirror was still grinning and he refolded his arms.

Ignan directed his full attention to Darian once again, letting himself be directed as required for measurement.

"He was teasing me about your more radical designs, on the walk here, something I've missed, I'm afraid. You haven't ever put a potted plant on a model's head have you?" Ignan asked, as if it was rhetorical, but one small part of him still wondered. These young artistic types were forever pushing boundaries.

"If not, do arrange to dress him in one for a publicity stunt sometime." Ignan suggested with a smirk. "Think he'd rather look forward to it."

The fitting was over in minutes as, once Ignan had ascended his perch, the tape measure which twined so sinuously around its master's hand shot out to snap about his body from shoulder to inseam. Darian himself did not touch him but murmured directions, "Lift your arms, yes, thank you, if you will just plant your feet - " as he beckoned for a thick black book nearby.

With pencil he marked the numbers that the tape flashed at him, each measurement jotted down under a new entry: Ignan Storm.

"Regrettably such a creative idea has never crossed my mind," he said, smiling from Ignan to Johann. "But of course, I aim to please. If Mister Storm wants a potted plant, a potted plant he shall receive." The measuring paraphernalia bore itself off with a professional snap of his wand and wrist. "I could do you something lovely in ivy or narcissus -" he spoke to Johann now - "Or perhaps you're more the hyacinth type?" He caught the taller man's eye and winked.

"I do have a - how shall we say? - more daring selection in the back. Such stock isn't for everyone. It's the more colorful pieces in my line." Those things were the sort that Darian could wear, flashing fabrics, color-changing suits, feathers and sequins and whatever else burst recklessly forth from his manic mind. Some things wouldn't sell, or he only offered them to those whom he knew they would suit. Naturally, he also kept his most expensive and time-consuming creations back there. The great shell of a gown with its silver ruching and yards of delicate Venetian-glass beads, or the cloak cut from 1920s green velvet with hand-sewn embroidery, were not the kind of pieces Darian displayed on the floor.

Johann's eyes watched the tape measure flit around his cousin under the gaze of the tailor, where his gaze went next. It was interesting to compare him to the other Morgan he spent time with. Darian was altogether a little more rounded in his features, and equally easy on the eye with symmetry, grace and slight form. Johann's eyes followed him intently around the room.

"If Mister Storm wants a potted plant, a potted plant he shall receive." With a start he realised that this reference was to him, not to Ignan wearing a plant. He wasn't sure Hannah would particularly want to see him dressed as a plant ever, perhaps she would. Somehow he wasn't sure he'd ask her any time soon, she might decide it would be perfect for him to wear when or if they got married.

"I could do you something lovely in ivy or narcissus or perhaps you're more the hyacinth type?" He met Johann's eye and winked. A blush rose on Johann's cheeks, and his lips parted to retort but no sound came. But Morgan continued, elaborating on his collection. For a man who did not follow fashion to any great extent, Johann suddenly seemed so very absorbed, imagining what pieces could be in the back of the shop. He'd seen Morgan's pieces in the press.

"I do have a - how shall we say? - more daring selection in the back. Such stock isn't for everyone. It's the more colorful pieces in my line."

"I'd love to see." Johann's words fell from his lips before he could think otherwise. Ignan gave a snort of amusement from the other side of the room, he'd handily interpreted Johann's uttering to be in relation to the fitting.
"I'm in no need of anything too lavish, and daring isn't part of my clothing vocabulary."

The younger cousin stepped forward slightly, as if coming to from a deep thought - he hoped Morgan had heard him right and realised Johann wasn't talking about Ignan there. His gaze didn't deviate from the tailor, but the fingertips of one hand traced along the other hand's fingers, investigating the bumps and scratches from earlier in the week where he'd wrestled Hannah to the floor.

"Ivy and narcissus are far more Ignan's flowers, dependence, endurance, unrequited love. Hyacinths... well..."

He paused, brain mulling over whether that was further flower language or instead a delightful literature puzzle. His lips quirked into a smile, the blush still at his cheeks.
"I'd give them a go if you offered."

At the edge of his gaze, the older man twisted and raised an eyebrow.
"Been looking at flowers for the wedding already?"

Johann ignored Ignan, focusing solely on Darian as he took another step forward, closing the gap. He wasn't about to admit he'd studied the victorian language of flowers[1] ahead of visiting a florist to choose flowers to send to his mother for Christmas.

"Yellow tulips, hopeless love is apt if you believe the paper. I've never been dressed in flowers, but surely there's a thousand more awkward things to happen to a man." He held Darian's gaze, his mind keenly comparing the two relations between the one before him and the one in his mind's eye, the first two fingers of his right hand pinched between the thumb and forefinger of his left as he stared.

"I'm distracting you from attending to Ignan, forgive me." He dropped his hands to his sides and then clasped them behind his back, lowering his head respectfully and taking a step aside to get out of their way.

1.

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"Would you," he said, amused. "Well, perhaps a private viewing later. I must attend first to your cousin and see him outfitted in more traditional gear. But I assure you, afterwards I will be all yours."

Johann was very fetching with a little pink on those alien cheeks; he seemed to have took Darian's meaning, or not to be adverse if the way he was looking at him was any indication. And his delightful little answer! What a charming thing. Perhaps not as committed to his upcoming marriage as others thought. Darian would be happy to investigate his halting grace later but alas, business called. Family members were a notoriously hard audience in front of which to perform. Whether Ignan was more likely to be offended or amused by any more overt flirtation would have to remain a mystery.

Still, he could not let such a surprising event pass entirely unremarked.

"Someone who knows their flower language!" he laughed. "What a prize!" His eyes kindled in interest or admiration. Libertine Ltd. was entrenched in the Victorian Romantic, though as the name suggested it was hardly an innocent romance. He even knew some of the language of fans, though he had surely never tried to use it and no one would understand him if he did. Such lost arts of conversation were not supposed to be so easily found in the cousin of his afternoon appointment. He was impressed. "I don't believe anything the papers tell me; I've put too many things in there myself. So you'll have to tell me: are the tulips apt?" Now he turned to Ignan, addressing him, "It is such a pleasure to find one educated thus. Do you likewise have any interest in history or literature, my good sir?"

It had been very clear that any subtext in his and Johann's exchange had flown right over the man's head - if not the implications, then the specifics - he did not know the flower language like his younger relation. But Darian could not simply leave him standing there bereft, or he might become annoyed that his tailor had turned chatty without the productivity to match it. It was a matter of professional pride. He said, with a hand over his heart, "I promise not to dress you in flowers. But tell me, what do you prefer in terms of color?"

"I don't believe anything the papers tell me; I've put too many things in there myself. So you'll have to tell me: are the tulips apt?"

"I don't -" Johann's confidence failed him and he shrank into himself, "I don't know." Since he'd elaborated to the meaning of yellow tulips, he wasn't overly keen on admitting that before family, or to the tailor, but it had been a rather mixed up week.

"It is such a pleasure to find one educated thus. Do you likewise have any interest in history or literature, my good sir?"

"Enough," The older wizard replied, his eyes running between one wizard to the other, working out exactly what the two of them were up to, but coming to an alternative conclusion that it was instead to do with Hannah and Johann's wedding. "I specialise in defences, so much of my reading outside of teaching is related to it. Flowers aren't my area at all, if that's what you are wondering...?"

Johann raised a hand to his face and covered his mouth to stop his grin being visible to Ignan who had missed everything between that exchange. He'd been a bit unsure of Morgan's line of enquiry, but the part of him that had emerged during December without the sleeping potions had become intrigued.

"I promise not to dress you in flowers. But tell me, what do you prefer in terms of color?"

Ignan was back where he was happiest, away from cryptic conversation of flowers. Johann stood back to let them to discuss colours, having admired several of the fabrics on the way in, he could predict the colours that Ignan described moments later - he was a creature of habit.

"I tend to wear black, deep navy, greys... I spend most of the week in academic attire, but I'm not here to ask you to create those - but rather something far more suitable for other occasions. I'm not one for bright colours." There was an edge to Ignan's tone that suggested please don't put me in something bright, and this further amused Johann. He'd rather like the tailor to surprise Ignan with something bright, it would make his day.

"He'd love magenta really." Johann added slyly.

"Even if that's the colour Hannah pick for your wedding you wouldn't catch me doing that." Ignan replied with a wagging finger.

"Shame. Do push him out of his comfort zone," Johann implored Darian, "otherwise your talent is wasted on him."

Darian's face split into a grin as Johann advised magenta and Ignan admonished against it. "Oh," he said, "I'm sure I can find something to please. I take it you want something a little more formal, then, if it's not to be worn as your weekly teaching attire?" He was speaking solely to Ignan now, and with several unspoken accios beckoned garments to unhook themselves from racks and float the designer's way. "It won't seem fit for an occasion if I make you robes that are exactly the same, obviously. Nothing bright, but a navy might be enhanced with a little richer blue - see, with this one? - or obviously, there are so many dignified pinstripes, even the subtle elegance of black on black. If you don't want color, you must at least allow me to persuade you into some small patterning."

He showed Ignan the fabric of each, a mix of Muggle and Wizarding styles. "And are you interested in robes, or suits, or both?"

Ignan nodded,
"Yes, quite I'll not waste a good new suit from your shop on students."

The materials began to dance their way across the room towards them and Ignan tried to stand firm though the thought that they might attempt to wrestle his limbs into their stitches at first was a little disconcerting.

His gaze flitted from one to the other of the pieces, nothing too outlandish here, that was good, and what he reached out to trace fingertips over felt of fine quality and good weave.

"The blue…" His face betrayed him a moment in this, although modest, burst of colour. "Yes, no the blue would…" He considered, stepping back a moment to tilt his head and glance over towards a mirror in comparison.

In the background of the reflection his young cousin was grinning.

"The blue would be quite fine." Ignan replied a little more firmly, fixing the grin with a glare before turning round and addressing the tailor with a far more cordial facial expression.

"Though a stripe would be too much - at best," he turned from one piece hanging in the air to another, "something like this," he caught the arm of the piece with the neat diamond pattern.

"Definitely not a nice pink polkadot?" Johann asked from behind, his eyes seeking out something as outlandish as his imagination was attempting.

"We're not here to pick your wedding attire yet." Ignan replied but didn't look to his relative, but was running a hand thoughtfully over material.

"Blue is more of a summer colour, is it not?" He asked, somewhat rhetorically to Darian, looking up with a slight frown as he for once considered fashion with a proper focus. 


It was perhaps the longest trip to a tailors in quite some years, but they did not leave empty handed. Darian was richer for the visit - and quite possibly all the richer if Johann returned regarding his wedding, Ignan thought as they traipsed back up the street, away from the smell of suit materials and linens.

End