12 February 2010
7pm, Friday Night
St. Mungo's Charity Shop, Hogsmeade

Figaro Sellaphix, a lad of seventeen, and Sophie Flickwick, a witch of the same, are engaged in a montage of tomfoolery.  They strut down the aisles between musty racks flaunting outrageous hats, out-dated fashion, and gender-bending expressions. A series of swipe cuts set to fashionable electronic euro-wrock as the two alternate stepping out of the dressing room in ever more hilarious ensembles, each one more incongruous and non sequitor than the last.   They strike poses inspired by Vogue and National Geomagic.[1]

They grab ass.  They steal kisses.  They hold up used or holy undergarments for the other to try on.  Figaro wobbles in awkward beige pumps.  Sophie wears seven bowties seven ways.  They debate who looks better in the chartreuse faux-fur bolero with the fringe of false raccoon's tails. 

It is mad teenage love.  It is exhibition goofiness of the most innocent and attention-loving caliber.  They have silver to spend on an experience, certainly nothing that will ever be worn again with sincerity. 

"I've found it!" declared the boy.  "The holy grail of charity shops!"  He was amongst the knitted wear.  He held up a turquoise knitted jumper, stretched at the shoulders where it had hung on a hanger to long.  It was wider than it was long and it smelled.  Butt was a thing of ironic beauty.

It had upon it the knitted head of a sparkling white and silver unicorn, facing to the right.  The right sleeve was more sculpture than sweater, acting as the long graceful neck of the magical beast.  All along the top were fluffy tassels of yarn to represent the mane.  A plastic jewel was sewn in place of a unicorn's ethereal eye.  And around the hem, stars applique with rainbow puffballs all in a row. [2]

Figaro held it up like the Quidditch World Cup.  In awe.

1.	You heard me.
2.	An artist's interpretation of this incredible artifact.

Even people who liked Figaro Sellaphix often questioned what Sophie saw in him that screamed "boyfriend material" (especially after they had gone this round a year ago). The thing that she could never really articulate to them happened in these moments, the silly hilarity that was watching him wobble in pumps or stealing kisses between robe-racks.

It was the absolute best parts of every single song or story about teenage love affairs came to life between them. When they were together like this she could forget about all the weighty things in her life. He made her feel invincible, like nothing really mattered but the way he grinned that stupid grin of his at her.

She almost screamed with laughter when he produced the holy grail of Nan-made-jumpers from the stacks of terrible terrible clothes. Sophie had been inspecting her reflection, lips pursed as she tilted a battered Witches Hat to a jaunty angle top her mass of black curls, "I'm going to start calling you the Gaudy Niffler! Hufflepuffs really are  particularly good finders".

With Figaro in heels he was actually a bit taller than Sophie's short sneaker'd feet, so for once she had to crane her neck and bounce up a pit on her toes to kiss him, lips twitching with a smile as she giggled against his mouth, "I can't decide if you you wear it every single day or if we should put it in a case on display. It is a thing of great and terrible beauty, Master Sellaphix. Just the thing for high tea".

Figaro kissed her back happily, the effort of it distracting him enough that he lowered the sweater down to his side.  "Mmm," he said against her laughing lips. 

When it came to acting classy, Sophie was better at it by Figaro's reckoning, but it didn't matter.  They could vamp as a team and elevate this very silly holiday to the pedestal that it was meant for.  His monocle was hanging forgotten for the moment, from the chain around his neck.

He held up the sweater again, giving it a proper look.  It was glorious.  It was just so imaginatively horrible.

"What have you found then, Mimsy?" he asked her in his poshest accent.  "I should think you'd have discovered something suitable in velour?  Something to put that Gracie Slant-Smythingtonshire to shame at her own gala, hmm?"

There was a big party planned for Gracie's birthday, and the two of them had plans to attend together.  "Something with ... blinking lights?"