“It gets easier. Practice.” Though Charlotte had been a social butterfly (if slightly hard to pin down) since puberty. Or before, arguably. She wasn’t lying: the dress was the hardest part. The rest was more a matter of sitting still.

Margo’s sudden willingness to discuss the task at hand, or at least participate, wasn’t a direct answer to her question, but Charlotte decided to let it go for the moment. There was time to ask the same question after the dress had safely been purchased. Even so… “I could see if one of my brothers is free.” She couldn’t help herself; childhood memories came snaking back.

Triumphant over the routine they were quickly falling into, with Charlotte holding up the next dress and Margo stepping into it, she felt emboldened to offer an anything-but-unnoticeable shade of red with a plunging back that would show off the tattoo. When there was no protest, only silence, she kept her smile mostly to herself, but she knew she was winning.

This time there was difference: Margo had looked good in all of them, but this was one was her, from the cut to the color to the simple but bold design. It also went nicely with the boots, looked like it could be paired with the jacket for post-party drinks and still work. It brought out Margo’s striking height and dark features, enhancing them without changing the personality evident in her form. Charlotte’s blue eyes landed on the other woman’s again, her approval obvious. “I think this might out-do my dress.”

Margo didn’t know whether to laugh or roll her eyes when Charlotte mentioned she could get one of her brothers… She wasn’t sure the “spark” that had been there when they were younger would still exist between her and Geoffrey, but she could go with Norris too.  It wasn’t as though it mattered – twins.  But, Margo wrinkled her nose at the idea.  “I might just go solo,” she informed her cousin, which probably seemed strange. 

But, it wasn’t like she couldn’t find a date.  She just… didn’t know if she wanted one.  Or if she wanted one that she didn’t really want to ask.  Thinking of it made her palms start to sweat again and Margo refocused, looking in the mirror. 

She was a little surprised.  She looked like herself… but somehow different.  Red had always been her color – half of her wardrobe was in various shades, but this was really different.  She couldn’t see it, but she knew that her back was exposed, the blue dragon she had on her shoulder probably twitching its tail and blowing smoke out of its nose in full view.  She liked things that showed off her ink – even if only one of her tattoos was showing. 

She didn’t necessarily feel bashful, but it was weird.  She didn’t hate standing there in it.  Turning a little, she wanted a peek at her back.  She swiveled her hips, getting a small view of the skin and puffed out her bottom lip appraisingly.  “It’s good,” she conceded to Charlotte, not wanting to say that she actually liked it and thought it was the least offensive long dress that anyone could have put her in.

“I don’t know if we’ll find anything else more comfortable,” she added, wanting to point out that it was her comfort that was getting the pick on this, not Charlotte’s win.  Of course not. 

“Well, if you want to be depressing…” But Charlotte smiled. “I’ll be solo, too. If you need me to save you from the chairman of St. Mungo’s, just give my arm a tug.” Charlotte was well versed in the man’s ways. If it was the very same man she had just explained would donate a large chunk of gold… well. “Going dateless has its benefits…” Like scouting men who loved dragons. CeeCee was Charlotte’s primary reason for joining the event, but… there had been once-promised perks in the form of eye candy. Now up in the air. It didn’t mean she couldn’t help Margo find a date in the middle of being a sociable host.

Charlotte waited for Margo to crack.

She would take her vague approval as a win.

“It’s better than that,” she challenged. “It’s like it was made for you.” And at her cousin’s apparent assent, she grinned wider. “I’ll let you change out of it and we’ll get on to our next stop.”

As she waited, she explained to the shop employee that they had found what they were looking for, and did not need to try anything else.

“I’m not depressing!” Margo countered, quickly.  She was just… confused right now, and sort of holding onto something that she wasn’t sure could be fixed.  It was a weird place to be.  But, if she had a chance of anything.., this was probably the dress to do it in.  She could show she was capable of growing – changing a little bit.  But, at heart, she was always herself, and Charlotte was apparently always herself.

Margo rolled her eyes at her cousin, even if she had a point.  “if I change my mind, I’ll definitely let you know.  You can give Geoffrey an owl for me,” she winked and looked over the dress one more time before she internally decided that yes, this would be the one to wear.  It fit like a glove.  She didn’t imagine she’d have to try it on again to be poked and prodded, which was definitely a good thing.

Charlotte politely exited the dressing room, allowing Margo the time to pull the dress over her head (probably less delicately than it should have been) and struggled to hang it on the hanger before she shimmied back into her clothes.  The intricate ‘let’s put our clothes on’ dance resulting in knocking against the walls and rustling the curtains again.  There must have been someone trying something on next to them based on the shocked sound as her elbow knocked the wall.  Margo just used some colorful words.  That must have gone over well. 

Finally in her own clothes, Margo stepped out of the dressing room and made her way to the front where Charlotte was.  She didn’t give a thought to the expense of the garment, it was inconsequential with the family vault available to her and when she approached the register and produced the address to be billed for the purchase: her parents’ home.  They’d be happy to gift it to her. 

As she waited for the garment to be bagged up – or however they took care of these things, Margo glanced at Charlotte:  “Drinks now?”

“And not touchy at all.” Charlotte grinned. But she knew these things could be… complex. She almost laughed at the wink. It was easy to remember scenes from ten years ago; they were as vivid as if they been poured into a Pensieve. “Geoffrey might show up, anyway. Free champagne.” Granted, most of the witches and wizards sipping from the open bar would have donated or raised awareness, or were experts.

Once the dress was safely being bagged, and Charlotte knew that Margo couldn’t easily back out of the event, her avoidance on the topic of dates aside, the witch in white seemed to hum over the question posed. “We could…” She knew that Margo earned a drink.

“Or we could multitask,” she suggested, as the bag was handed over, the money having already been exchanged. “I think you’ll like this kind of multitasking.”

They exited the shop, making their way half a block to a conveniently located but well-known establishment. Its charming, old London exterior lead way to a well-kept, high-end reception. Charlotte was in good standing with its proprietors, and so had little trouble with the witch behind the desk, with whom she had not booked appointments.

“Two manicures. Follow me.” The witch was sweet-faced and friendly, talking animatedly as she led them to a pair of oversized, exceptionally comfortable chairs, each outfitted with floating trays of mint water, biscuits, and drink menus. It was obviously not the standard little salon. (Even if the time window for scarfing down biscuits before ones hands were occupied was brief.) “Cynthia and Ella will be with you soon. You can give you orders to Harriet.”

“Their hot-stone massage is amazing,” she told Margo, as she took her seat and began to pour a glass of water. “It’s like having someone rub you down with ashwinder eggs, but it’s worth it afterwards.”

The perk of magic was that polish dried in an instant, and drinks would arrive well before the pre-manicure hand massages were complete. “Have you met CeeCee?” Charlotte asked, having placed an order quickly.

Margo had to roll her eyes.  Geoffrey.  If she had been a little older when that party had happened things could have been totally different right now.  But they weren’t, and it wasn’t, so Margo just had to laugh.  “I believe that’s what brings your brother out to any party,” she commented back with a little smirk.  It certainly hadn’t hurt when she’d asked him to sneak her a flute or two when they were young.   

She shook her head, pursing her lips as Charlotte suggested they multitask.  That sounded like another bad idea.  She’d been tricked into this under the false pretense of drinking, now she felt like she would be stupid to fall for it again.

But, maybe Margo was stupid.  She was curious.  Curiosity killed something.  Margo had been close enough to death at one point or another it was unlikely this was going to do her in.  So, Margo followed and blinked – it was a strange experience from the get go, everything was clean and white. 

Then, there was the lead to the chairs that looked like stuffed marshmallows and Margo blinked as everything was brought out.  Margo was a little surprised.  Manicures?  “That’ll last about four minutes on me,” she commented, finally getting over the surprise of this sort of place. 

The chair was at least comfortable and the drink order was taken quite rapidly, even though Margo didn’t really know what any of these fancy drinks were, she managed to order something that sounded halfway decent.  “Ashwinder eggs, eh?” she raised her eyebrows.  Margo really enjoyed heat, but she wasn’t sure about this.  Pampering was not part of her life. 

It wouldn’t last very long anyway.  She popped a biscuit in her mouth and chewed, swallowing before she answered.  “I think I have,” Margo commented, grabbing another cookie.  “She’s helping you with this thing, right?” 

“I believe that’s what brings your brother out to any party,”

Charlotte would toast to that.

Which, coincidentally, she would be able to do very shortly. Multitasking was a witch’s best friend.

“Think of it as a trial run,” Charlotte encouraged. “If you can make it last ten on the night of the charity, we’ll call it a success.” She smiled. She was kidding, of course: she fully expected Margo to wrangle herself into her stunning new dress and find a way not to chip her nails as she glad-handed politicians and tastemakers. If she could coddle baby dragons and evade Charlotte’s attempts to extract information about her genetically blessed boss, she could manage a manicure for a night.

“It’s completely worth the pain. Or… really, it’s the sort of pain that feels good,” she revised, her smile becoming more of a smirk. She knew Margo knew what she meant, that her cousin could think of at least one thing to put it into perspective. “Should we book them while we’re here?” She tempted, raising a brow.

“She’s Rick’s sister,” she clarified, as if that said everything. But it didn’t. “She’s lovely, she writes children’s books and works at Alohomocha. Her new book is about dragons, so we’ve paired the launch party with the charity event.  It’s a perfect tie-in. If you want to help,” she added, again sounding enticing— just as their drinks arrived— “You can meet us at the venue the night before.” She lifted the drink and took a small sip. “Flower arrangements might be your next calling.” Again, she smiled.

“I’ll try and make you proud,” Margo smirked in a teasing reply.  Charlotte was probably one of her favorite distant relatives and pureblooded friends.  She didn’t act haughty or over bearing about things.  She made the torture of something like this at least a little bearable because she was keenly aware of the necessity of alcohol. 

Whatever the case, Margo’s eyebrows quirked as Charlotte explained who CeeCee was and an image reappeared in her mind.  “Oh! Her,” she nodded in understanding.  That made a lot of sense.  She wasn’t sure how she liked the dual purpose of the event, since the money should all go to the dragons, but she wouldn’t really fight it.  She didn’t want to go, let alone help plan things. 

She was at least a little happier when the drinks arrived and Margo took a distinctly not ladylike drawl from it.  The server looked at her a little incredulously, doing a once over before reassuming the blank face she was probably taught to maintain at all times in a place like this.  Blank and white like the walls.  Margo shuddered: she liked color. 

Breathing out of her nose, Margo shook her head.  “You know,” she smirked, taking a much smaller sip to match Charlotte’s, “I think I’ll pass.  Need my beauty rest and all of that,” she laughed and winked at her as a witch wearing white, sterile looking robes came forward with her wand and suddenly, Margo’s free hand was levitiated in the air and a sort of even and pulsing pressure went through her hand, like there was someone actually massaging it.  Surprised, she looked at Charlotte and realized she was unfazed by the action. 

That was weird.  Margo sighed: things she supposed she should get used to?  Unlikely.  “I guess it could be, considering your desire to work so closely with animals all of a sudden,” Margo tried not to be accusatory.  But… it was entirely too difficult to avoid and easy for her to mention.  Word got around, after all, and Margo couldn’t help but find some things out. 

Charlotte laughed. Of course she would.

She was glad that Margo knew who she meant. It would make it much easier to wrangle the dragon tamer in on the night of the event knowing that Margo and CeeCee could spot each other. “Your beauty rest,” she repeated. “With Kurby?” She smiled, unable to help the question that just came to mind. “It’s alright, CeeCee and I have everything covered, really, if you aren’t feeling charitable.” Guilt-tripping mightn’t work on this one, but Charlotte felt perfectly at ease poking.

Charlotte didn’t blink as the massage started, but she did quiet for a moment, enjoying the drink and the sensation both. When the look on Margo’s face registered, Charlotte gave one right back, equal parts innocence and questioning.

And then the tables were turned. Just a little. “Are you saying I haven’t always loved animals, or that I haven’t always been a giving witch?” She asked, holding her glass away as if the conversation constituted it. “I think we’ve both worked with animals once or twice, Margo.” Maybe the same one. She brought the glass to her lips again, staring at the other woman over the brim. “CeeCee was writing the book and I volunteered. It was a completely natural thing. We make a good team.” Department heads notwithstanding.

Margo rolled her eyes, trying to hide any discomfort about Kurby under a healthy level of ‘I can’t deal with you’ eye stylings  Kurby was a tough subject.  It wasn’t like he was really talking to her and talk about mixed signals!  Margo never really knew what was going on – and any time they even started to talk it seemed to turn into an argument.  She knew her friend would probably love to hear about it, but Margo wasn’t sure she actually wanted to go into details.  Needless to say, it was complicated. 

So, she ignored it and moved on in the conversation, grinning at Charlotte’s question.  She might have had a point, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t bring it up.  “I’m sure you’ve always loved your share of animals,” Margo teased – perhaps suggesting something else about her cousin – but only out of fondness and jest.

She was glad though that something was happening.  “As long as the dragons are benefitting, you could pair up with any criminal in London,” Margo shrugged in a half-joke.  She probably wouldn’t ask more questions about it, anyway.  “Who have you invited – or is the guest list still in the works?” she raised her eyebrows as the woman in white came out of the door again and switched their hands (just enough time for Margo to take a drink from her glass and empty it).  She looked at the empty glass, then the witch, and smiled.  The woman’s face pinched.  Margo was probably an irritating customer, but she didn’t care. 

“Because I know a few people who just love to throw their money around.”

Touchy, touchy. Charlotte’s face said as much. Her plan to bring it up again seemed was just as smooth as it had been in the shop— which was to say, a smooth delivery met with an unfortunate roadblock.

She decided it wasn’t worth the energy to keep pushing today, not when she needed to stay on Margo’s good side, but Charlotte was never without a healthy supply of ambition. It would come again, eventually. If that meant plying the dragon tamer with more alcohol in a rowdier setting, where the buzz of a buzzed crowd would drown them out and comfort her presently-out-of-her-element friend, well… it was easily doable.

It was not so pressing a topic as the charity.

For creatures.

“More fun than the average man and more loyal.” She grinned and took another sip.

“I’m unaware of any criminal involvement,” she said mildly. The word blissfully seemed to hang in the air between them. Charlotte was of similar mind (even Margo had been joking)— as long as they got the task done, she was not hard-pressed. She wasn’t an auror. There was no corruption in the event itself. “We’ve invited many of your department and other Ministry higher-ups, some of the social set, people who can spread the word, but with the gracious request that they all buy a book as a donation. Most of them have gone above and beyond, of course.” Which was the point. “The proceeds from the book will go to the research. And then there’s a number of open tickets for the general public. Anyone who buys a book will be admitted, until we reach our cap.”

She sighed out at the feeling in her hand and looked over the selection of colors the witch had brought her. “There’s always room for more guests. Especially ones with extra money. I’ll give you a stack of invites if you’d like.” She gestured to the color she’d settled on. "You just have to promise that everyone's leather pants will stay home, as unfortunate as it is for all of us.” She looked to Margo again, smiling.

It wasn't like Margo was shy about her love life. Quite the contrary, actually. She usually had a pretty good handle on things and a story to tell about it, but Kurby was pissing her off and she hadn't really done anything else about it.  They had sort of talked after the whole dementor thing, but it didn't even really count.  Whatever the case, it was not open to discussion mostly because Margo didn't like feelings she couldn't explain in one good sentence. 

Kurby was complicated.  She hated complicated.  But she also didn't hate him.  See? Complicated.

Shifting in her seat, she had to be honest: she did like the whole hand rubbing thing.   She was pretty calloused and hard, years of climbing and burns and scratches really wore on one's sense of femininity. This wasn't so bad though.  It wasn't intrusive, which generally helped. 

The whole thing sounded like the sort of thing she avoided.  Higher ups and all that jazz... She pursed her lips, turning her eyes to the tray of colors.  That was intense.  There were a lot of choices.  Though, she had to stray toward the oranges and reds.  "What kind of people do you think I would invite?" She smirked pulling the most red-orange color off the shelf. 

"Though..." She turned her gaze back to Charlotte, "are you sure the leather pants have to stay at home? I'm sure they'd make an outstanding addition to my gown."  It was her comfort clothing. Everyone had a shell.  Hers just happened to be made of leather.  "There are just a couple of people I think would like to go," mostly reservation guys who really knew what was going on. Maybe she'd drop on on Bagnold's desk.  Maybe.  She sighed. 

Now she lost use of her hand as the nail polish was being applied.  That was weird. "Otherwise," she raised her eyebrows, "what's going on? I haven't seen you out much."

“I’m mostly joking about the leather,” she clarified, with a tone that said the more the merrier. Though she knew Margo knew how to behave. Or she thought so. “Interesting ones, I hope,” she added, pulling her glass away from her mouth and smiling.

“If you can make it work with your gown, then fine, you have my express permission. But the nightmare when you’re trying to go get out of your clothes quickly…” Her expression now seemed to say if that was what Margo wanted, she could have it.

“Invite them,” she insisted. “You know more people in the dragon crowd than I do.” Charlotte was very good at making new acquaintances, though.

“Nothing, I’ve been working and behaving.” It was truth. Charlotte’s personal life of late revolved around vaguely worrying or celebrating or commentating on Julian’s schoolboy milestones. Any potential storms on the society page front had tempered after a quiet split from a French aristocrat. She had made a pen pal, though. “I’m even thinking about getting a dog. Isn’t that what normal, unassuming people do?” And then. “Have you been handcuffed to any more tables lately?”

Margo laughed out loud at Charlotte.  She had a distinct knack for being completely ridiculous while also maintaining some level of normalcy.  "If your goal is to be normal and unassuming then I do suppose a dog would be a good purchase.  What kind?" Margo commented with some level of skepticism.  She couldn't imagine anyone like Charlotte could want to love that sort of life. It seemed so boring... And well, normal and unassuming.  She wrinkled her nose at the thought.  They were still in their sewing wild oats years. 

Margo figured at this rate she still had quite a few oats left.  The next question threw her a little.  That night had been... Interesting.  She couldn't help but laugh just a little bit.  Her hand moved and the witch painting her nails looked upset at her.  "Sorry," she mumbled toward the girl and settled her hand down again, trying to stay still so this witch could do her job.

She cleared her throat, taking a deep breath and shook her head.  "Not recently, no," she smirked.  "I try to save that for special occasions anyway." That was true enough... Clearing her throat, Margo sighed.  She hoped this whole thing was almost done.  She was getting antsy. 

"Is it almost time for a bar yet?" She rolled her head to the side and looked at her cousin imploringly.  She really hoped so. 

“I haven’t settled on a breed, but I know I want a big dog. The little yippy ones remind me too much of Aunt Caroline,” she said, of a distant aunt they both knew. The woman had a way of showing up to every family event in existence and making her presence known near the alcohol. Charlotte couldn’t blame her for that, or wouldn’t have, if alcohol didn’t make her sound distinctly someone’s angry chihuahua, having a meltdown over the inoffensive goings-on of others.

Charlotte paid Margo’s inexperience with nail polish no mind, but laughed at her answer. Special occasions for handcuffs. “Of course you do.” And Margo looked so sincere saying it.

“Almost,” she promised, as the trained witch on the other side of the table waved her wand over the second coating. And sure enough, a few minutes later, they both had dry, perfect manicures and were allowed out of their seats. Charlotte took care of the bill at the door, offering friendly partings with the staff before turning back to Margo. “There, now you have something flashy to hold your pint with.” In good spirits and thinking she could talk Margo into a makeup artist the day of the event, she lead the way to a familiar pub.