outfit

"What about this one? It says 'I'm sweet and sensible, but I'll bite you... and you can take me home, if I do.'" Charlotte laughed wickedly, a smile etching itself onto her big, bright teeth. She waved the sultry garment at Liadán, her pre-Valentine's shopping and Ladies-Who-Lunch-In-Style companion. The silk material floated between them just enough to tickle the fairer woman's cheek, and then Charlotte let it drop back into the arms of the hassled sales assistant who had been ordered to set up a private fitting for the pair of picky socialites.

Clearly someone needed better training in her chosen career path.

Ignoring all advice from the flustered help, Charlotte took it upon herself to add a dash of sexy spice to Lia's perceived overdose of virginal sugar. Brides wore white. And until that day, Charlotte planned to have the time of her life (again). Young women could wear whatever they pleased.

"Mmmm... I could do this one," she mused, choosing a dark purple, curve-hugging dress from the racks. It was attached to a lighter, silky lilac cloak and hood which were tailored like a kimono and about as seductive as a sheer bath robe. And complete rubbish for cold weather. "I'll wear purple and you take the red," she offered, her voice ringing with faux innocence. She looked over her shoulder and threw a flirty wink in the blonde's direction.

"Could you give us a moment of privacy?" She added, finally acknowledging the personal shopper, who was so bland that she blended into the walls. The woman look confused. "This is a private fitting," Charlotte reminded her. The woman blushed and hurried away, garment in hands.

"Did she just take that with her?" Charlotte's lips parted in mild outrage. It wasn't worth it, exerting herself over such a sad face. "Oh, well, this one is better for you, anyway..." She waved her wand and another brilliantly red, subtly proactive (in the chest area) sort of frock found its way between them.

Outfit

Liadan enjoyed shopping with her friends- but her usual traditional fashions often went unappreciated by them. Her conservative style, and her tendency to give a nod to centuries past could be frustrating. She understood this. So when she went out with her friends, Liadan tried to dress less traditionally- even if her outfits were still a bit dated and overly conservative. Today she had chosen a long sleeved dress for the weather, and although it came to her knees, Liadan wished it was inches longer.

She watched as Lotte grabbed form fitting clothes, dangling things at her, and she sighed quietly at the helper who seemed not only to be clueless, but utterly intimidated by Charlotte's harsh and demanding demeanor. "Be easy on the girl, Lotte," Liadan said- a rare show of pity and kindness toward a stranger.

"I would never have worn that anyway. You know I hate to wear things that give men more of a reason to look. Besides, I haven't the figure for half of this." It was true, as well. Liadan had very little in the way of cleavage, and her womanly figure wasn't womanly at all. Liadan had very straight lines, the look of a young girl- she had always prized her youth, and still did, even if she often wished for nice hips and an ample bosom. Some men liked their girls to be petite and innocent- and that was what she had going for her.

Liadan screwed up her nose at the red, and shook her head. "I don't like red. I like browns and greens and blacks- earthy colors. Occasionally some blue. Really, by now you and Melly ought to know that." For some reason, shopping wasn't helping Liadan to feel any better. She had something serious she wanted to talk to Charlotte about, but she had no idea how to bring it up or if she even should.

"It would look much better on you, you know that darling. Why don't you give it a try?" Liadan asked, hoping to shift the attention back to her friend.

“She’s here to help us,” Charlotte insisted innocently, the vicious smile of a Rottweiler gracing her lips. “If she can’t do that, she should get out of the way...”

But it was apparently Charlotte who couldn’t help: poor Lia was so insistent on keeping her cute little figure shrouded from the world. Didn’t she know it only made her more covetable, more hard to reach, when she played the game? When she showed a little leg, lowered the neckline, posed for the camera then flounced off into the privacy of some soiree the paparazzi couldn’t reach?

The smile soured, and Charlotte shook her head, sighing. “Love, you have a figure a million women would kill for. And men like women-- of all types. Trust me. I know a thing or two on the subject...” Short, tall, big, small, round, curvy, or poker-straight, men liked women. Unless they liked other men-- that, too, was a possibility. 

“What about the same dress in green?” Charlotte compromised, though she was still intent on getting her darling little friend into the rouge. Nevermind that she’d tried a hundred times before, or that Lia knew that she and Mel both knew their efforts would be fruitless. Charlotte had a Slytherin’s ambition.

Charlotte paused in front of a mirror, holding the dress up to herself, but catching the blonde in the three-way reflection. A million Charlottes and a million Lia’s looked back, each one further away than the next. “It would look good on me,” she agreed. “But I have one just like it. Let’s each try something new.” The witchiness had come back to her smile again. She turned to eye her friend. “Just this once?” Her dark lashes batted like a sullen child’s. “You can pick mine.”

"It isn't men I'm worried about," Liadan commented without thinking. "It is a man that I am interested in, and he is the sort to find little use for such dress. He appreciates simplicity." A clear indicator that the man Liadan was speaking of could not be Gregory Morozov. Although the two had been dating for a while, she'd recently called it quits with him. And Gregory was certainly the sort to enjoy all the bells and whistles of the female body.

But Charlotte was insisting- and Liadan had not spent time with her in a while. "I'll indulge you- but only if you give me the dress in blue," she said. Christian had been a Ravenclaw, he might like the blue better. "That ought to be an even better compromise than green. Blue is increasingly becoming one of my more favorite colors to wear."

"And I won't subject you tot he clothes I'd stuff you into. Unlike most, I cling to tradition tooth and nail. I enjoy traditional clothing." She enjoyed it, and Liadan was even mildly aware that it tended to make her look younger. Doll-like, and childish were even appropriate words to describe her appearance. But Liadan preferred it that way. it was how the woman had been raised, and how she intended to raise her future children as well. She still had all of her dresses from when she was young, and she knew that her future daughter would love them too.

"If it means so much to you, Lotte, I'll be your little doll today and I will wear whatever you like without another word of complaint. Just promise you won't tell Melly, she would be so jealous," Liadan said with a smirk. Besides, it was better for her to keep Charlotte in a good mood if she intended to broach the sensitive subject of her own budding relationship with a halfblood. Especially after all of the nasty things that Liadan had said about Felix.

Knowing Lia as well as she knew her... well, Charlotte wasn't one to guess that she might be entertaining two men at once. Or even one man at once. Lia could flirt in her own Lia-ish way, sure, but she didn't entertain by Charlotte's definition. And everyone who cracked the society page once in a blue moon knew who the chaste little birdie of Ó Móráin fame happened to be dating at the moment. So Charlotte had to quirk a brow. "Gregory doesn't like the idea of a trophy bride?" She asked, disbelieving. Were they thinking of the very same Gregory? "What? Is he secretly into rent boys? Is that your arrangement?"

A grin like a magicked cat's and a squeal appropriate for a fifteen year old girl who had just doused a castle in Amortentia could be heard throughout the little boutique. Charlotte had won. Or so she thought. Blue was a compromise she was willing to make. Blue like Lia's eyes-- it was a lovely color for her fair-headed friend. She splayed a hand over her heard, dangerous nails and all. It was a landmark moment. She could have asked for a handkerchief, but she didn't want to overburden the silly shop girl. "Blue. Someone's in love."

Silently relieved that Lia wasn't going to make her wear a bodice meant more for nipping and less for showing, she nodded in sincerest understanding. Yet another triumph. "We all love tradition," she offered soothingly. "Some of us just have different ways of showing it, Lia, love. But oh! This is so exciting. Next you'll be letting me choose your bridesmaids' gowns..."

If only.

"You're a much better dolly than Julian," she giggled, not without an evil tinge. Her poor nephew... spoiled as he might be at the hand of his aunt, it was not for free. He'd served well as her personal mannequin before he was old enough to protest. But now she had a real one, a living, breathing doll with golden curls and a woman's form, all youth and demure eyelashes and authentic blush. It were as if Charlotte were twelve again, and they were playing at tea. "Melly won't hear a word," she promised, casually crossing her fingers behind her back. Her opposite hand flicked her wand most impatiently at the racks, summoning the blue version of the dress-that-killed. A horcrux of a dress. She bit her tongue from saying so. Something about the syllables would likely throw Lia off her yield. "We could do this with a nice coral lip-- or maybe rose-- yes, something darker. And a smoky eye. Oh, you'll be positively--" Vampish. "New."

"Gregory very much likes the idea of a trophy bride, and she is not going to be me. I've turned him loose to pursue other, less shallow affections," she confessed. "I'm sure his talents could be better used charming a woman not so stoic as I. He might be good looking, but he is one of the most idiotic men I have ever met. Besides, I have no intentions of marrying a man with a penchant for alcohol and gambling. My family fortune is not his to fritter away on frivolity."

She took the dress that Charlotte handed to her, and blushed. "I'm not in love," she protested. "I don't believe in love, you know that. I think it is a ridiculous notion. The most a woman can hope for is mutual respect." Although what she felt toward Christian was far more than just mutual respect. "But none of that matters. My love life is my own business. I've had enough of parading about in public with good looking, pureblooded men in the hopes of keeping up appearances."

"And I would die before I let you or Melanthe have a hand in choosing any gowns to be featured in my wedding. I would hate for it to be a spectacle of legs and chest. Nobody is going to outshine me on that day, so the two of you can be readily assured you will be dressed in the most conservative of dresses that money can buy. I'll not have my husband ogling either of you in front of me."

Liadan decided to say nothing further of her new romantic interest. She was still unsure of how to broach the subject, that was true, but she also wanted to make Lotte have to fish at least a little bit. It would make it that much more dramatic when she finally gave her friend the big reveal. "Now stop drawing so much attention, Lotte dear," Liadan chided.

Charlotte had pulled out a lipstick by now, and was pursing her lips to rouge them in the three-way looking glass. She paused, mid application, and her puckered kiss became a fiendish grin. "Oooooh, we have a shiny new toy?" She turned toward her friend, her face demanding details, a name, a photo. "He must be royalty if he makes Gregory look like a..." What was the word? "Shallow beggar."

Lia could deny it all she liked, but this change... whatever it was... meant something. The new man, whomever he was, meant something. And Charlotte meant to find out.

She waved a hand, and then stepped forward, politely offering the cosmetic stick in truce. Her free hand found its way to Lia's silky hair, which she swept away from her friend's youthful cheek. "Come on now," she murmured. "It'll feel so much better if you confide in your friends. We want you to be happy, Lia, love. Nevermind the dresses." She rolled her eyes. As if it was unladylike to show one's legs or chest! Ladies had figures, and they were made to show off. It was how the species survived. But she had to scoff at the idea of any bridesgroom eying her leeringly. Lia would choose no such sort of man. "It will be your day. I'm sure this new love has better sense than that." Even if she still believed that her goods were meant to be displayed. "He probably only likes blondes," she added wickedly.

She turned Lia toward the mirror, forcing her to look at herself more closely, and pulled the woman's hair behind the nape of her neck. "At least show this much skin. You know in some cultures, the neck is the most seductive part of the body."

Liadan frowned. "He is not a toy," she insisted. "That's such a... barbaric notion. I would never use a man as a plaything. Men aren't intended for that." Men were intended to be married. Not that Liadan had any intentions to marry Christian. As much as she adored him, she knew better... "And it does not take much to make Gregory look like a shallow anything, dearest. A dementor likely has more emotional range than Gregory. All he cares about is money, liquor, and pretty women. Not very different from most pureblood men, to be certain, but I hope to eventually find one who is lightly more redeemable than a man like Gregory."

"Do you recall the hard time that I gave you with Felix?" Lia asked. "Because he wasn't pure. I regret that, now," she said quietly, taking the dress and ducking into a dressing room to finish what she had to say. Better and easier to do behind a closed door.

"When we were in Hogwarts," Liadan continued, "there was a Ravenclaw boy that I was friends with. He helped me in some classes, and in exchange I managed to allow him to rub elbows with the pure elite. His father was pure, you know," Liadan said, shucking off her own clothing to pull on the dress that Charlotte had picked out. "He always wished that he was one of us. I don't know if you knew him, or if you remember him at all... His name is Christian," she said. "Christian Colburn."

She smoothed out the dress and opened the door of the dressing room. "He's... different," she confessed. "From other men. I very much like him. But he isn't pure. Which makes things... difficult. I have thought about it, and it is unfair to keep him at arm's length. Do you think it would total and entire social suicide if I took him with me to the Valentine's event?" Liadan asked. "Would it ruin any chance of my finding a proper husband one day?"

Poor Lia. So innocent. So stubborn. Charlotte often wondered what the petite blonde witch would do without Melanthe and herself... but then she found herself wondering, in the dead of night, when she was very alone and very awake beneath cool sheets in her mighty London penthouse... what would she do without someone like Lia to keep her head out of the clouds and off the guillotine? Surely Charlotte would have made a deadly mistake where men were concerned, had she not had such vocal friends. (Felix Marren notwithstanding.)

"Whatever you say, love," she murmured soothingly, intent on getting Lia out of her dowdy maiden's gowns and into something slinkier, as befit her beauty.

But then the very man she'd just been thinking of-- between Gregory and the others Lia might have deemed worthy of tossing back a bride's veil-- found its way onto her friend's tongue, and Charlotte could no longer dodge haughty defenses and hope for the best outcome. She raised a dusky brow, and stared her dear friend down with eyes as blue as Lia's own. "You... what?" It was the only thing she could think to say. She was shocked. She wished Felix could have been there (under an Invisibility cloak, to be sure), to hear the very words. Charlotte's heart was thumping now. Could Lia heart it?

But then the next bit was so delicious. The leaping of Charlotte's weak little heart became joyous. "Are you telling me, after the war you waged against my lover, you're ditching Gregory to play dollhouse with a half-blood?" The words were sharp, harsh, wicked. But Charlotte smiled suddenly, and drew Lia into her arms before the other woman could protest. She spun around, dancing her friend in a circle in the little dressing room, and let out a shriek of a giggle. "Oh, Lia, so much irony. What a lovely Valentine's gift you've given me, you little rebel. I must meet this Christian." She pecked the blonde's cheek, and added, "I'm happy for you, love, really. Maybe he's the proper husband. Did you think of that?"

"The difference between you and I, my darling Lotte, is that I understand how impossible it is to allow myself to marry someone unpure. He is a fine man, we get along very well, and I very much adore him- I have been struggling with my feelings for months. It's not something I am proud of, I can assure you of that. But... I suppose it is unfair, to keep him secret." As she had been doing.

"I know it is much less taboo than it used to be. But I do want to marry a proper man one day. With money and purity and a future for my children. Someone I can make beautiful little pureblood babies with. My mother and my father are dead, and my brother is a disgrace- my family has nobody but me left. If the proper line of the O Morains must die with me, then it will die proudly- it is the least I can do."

She gave Lotte a very long suffering look, then sighed. "This dress really does not flatter me in the way that it should," Liadan looked down at her chest. "I have always been so jealous of yours and Melanthe's curves." It was, naturally, an appropriate time to change the subject away from her romantic activities. "So tell me, dearest, what have you been doing to occupy your time these last few weeks?"

Charlotte felt some invisible nuisance prickle the back of her neck. "Okay, Lia," she said sweetly, poisonously. "Educate me." If her golden-spun-haired friend knew why a pure marriage was mandatory, surely she could elaborate. "What happens if you marry a halfblood? What happens if you bare him children? To my knowledge, they haven't three eyes or six toes or smaller brains than any other children. Do go on..."

Was a surname really so important in the grand scheme of things? And if it were, why weren't they, as women, allowed to keep their names? And were their names really theirs, having come from their fathers and their fathers before them? Charlotte was a St. James and she was proud of it. But taking a pretty man's pretty last name and giving him pretty puppies with the same title and their daddy's jawline didn't mean she was any less a St. James than she'd been from the start. There was something to them, these women in her family-- whether their mothers were pure as peaches or common as fallen leaves. A blue eye, a sway of the hips, a toxicity to men's brain cells. They were St. James, and no silly genealogical chart or drop of muggle blood would change it.

"I have enough money to support five impoverished husbands and all of their whelps, Liadán. No son of mine will be without a future," she promised, staring her dear friend straight in the baby blues. "But don't worry, I have no plans to marry five men or turn myself into a hen. I'll marry whom I please and we'll have the loveliest children wizarding London has seen, I do promise you that. And their name, what of it? I dare someone to say a damn word about it. I dare them." The prickle on her neck, it wasn't shame or anger. It was magic. It was the uncontrollable element, the wary thing. "Because you know what? They'll be my babies, not anyone else's. Everyone will have you believe women are the weaker sex, but we determine the outcome of man. We alone know who the real ancestors are... or aren't. And even if our fragile waists and pretty hair are a rare commodity, magic is a dominant gene. Or have you forgotten, love?" She tilted her head, wondering just what went on in her companion's.

Poor Lia, so young, so... delusional at times. But Charlotte would never use that word. Not out loud! And Merlin knew for all the love they shared between them, the Ó Móráin woman like as not thought the same about Charlotte's opinions on blood status and class.

Placing her fingers most delicately around said doll's waist, Charlotte gave the dress a tightening grip, holding Lia like a pin cushion. "Shush, you. You look amazing. We aren't giving up so easily on this one-- and you aren't going to change the subject, either." Staring over Lia's shoulder, she caught the blonde's eye in the mirror again. She smiled a feline smile. "Small chests are very en vogue, or haven't you heard?" She went on, hoping to entice her friend into purchasing just such a garment. "The cuts of dresses today... they suit you when you're willowy. And besides, you look curvier in this than you do in those old fashioned things. You aren't a girl anymore, Lia. Be dangerous. All you need is a tightening here at the waist..." Charlotte only hoped her friend's wand wasn't too temperamental today. "And you'll find yourself a wet nurse for all those little Lia's, and keep your pretty figure for your leisure. Now tell us about this plaything Christian and I'll tell you how I've... occupied my time."

Liadan frowned when Charlotte poked fun at her. "Just because you do not agree and are not a supporter of a purist lifestyle does not mean you should be so cruel to me! My mother and father are dead, Lotte. The only thing they ever wanted for me was that I marry a nice, pureblood man so that the business the O Morain family has worked so hard to maintain for countless generations will pass into the proper hands. The name dies with me- and if it must die, then it shall die a glorious death with a plethora of beautiful, perfectly pure babies. The least I can do is help keep another pureblood name alive."

And of course Charlotte went on about her money and the life she would have and that her babies would be beautiful- so on and so forth. "Well I certainly hope having beautiful children is enough for you, dearest. Because the best families will not allow their children to socialize with yours and will do everything that they can to prevent any type of union. All you will have to hope for is getting invited to fill empty seats at large events and your son or daughter marrying a muggleborn. So you can have this dream life and dream marriage all you want."

"I, on the other hand, shall continue to be realistic. My marriage will not be a whirlwind of passion and love- because that is not how one builds a successful marriage. Successful marriages come from the appropriate combination of traits and names. A business arrangement more than anything else. And that is how I intend to pick my mate. Whoever offers the most security, has the most money, and the most prestigious name and heritage."

Liadan paused as Charlotte started pulling the dress tightly around her waist, looking at her in the mirror from over her shoulder. "Christian is a doll. We get along well, can talk about anything. He is... handsome enough, in his own way I suppose. I admit that he makes me feel things I've never felt, and to be quite honest I rather hate the way my gut wrenches when I think about him. But no matter how perfect he may be- there is always going to be the matter of his name. It is something that it would be unfair to ignore. I could spend years playing house with him, Lotte, but I could never marry him. And as much as it pains me to say it, if the right man came calling- offering the proper husband- I would marry him."

But she did at least take a break from the seriousness to discuss fashion. "I prefer old fashioned dresses," Liadan stated. "They're far more appropriate. I always feel out of place in these dresses. As though I look like a little girl playing dress up in mother's clothes. And things shouldn't cling to a body in such a way. I am not desperate, and I am proud of the fact that I happen to be a little more old fashioned than most are accustomed to seeing." Liadan pried Charlotte's hands from her waist to allow the dress to hang.

"And I hope not to have multiple little Lia's. I want two boys and one girl. The eldest to be in charge of everything, the second eldest in case the eldest boy ends up like my brother, and a little girl to be my little doll. I've planned it all out," Liadan assured Charlotte. "Three boys, even, just in case. I hope for the farm to go into the hands of one of my boys, and for his line to carry out the tradition."

Huffy, puffy, most UnHufflepuffy, Charlotte crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and shook her hair from her cheeks in protest. The more Lia defended herself, the more Charlotte felt offended. And the more she herself had dared to attack her friend's ideas, the more the tiny blonde in ruffled peach showed her Slytherin side. Like Charlotte's own, it was not easily ignored.

"You know, you're right. I should drag my desperate self straight out of this stifling fitting room and down the street to a less crowded clothier's. Enjoy your unclingy curtains, Liadán, and don't be too disappointed when three little boys don't pop out of them like a first-year's Charms project. I didn't know you were so clairvoyant." She smiled like acid, parting the linen walls with two swift, repelling hands. Her rage might have done the trick for her, but Charlotte knew better than to invite too much gossip indoors.

"Or so dense," she murmured loudly, not meaning it, but not being able to take it back. Her teeth, tongue, and cheeks settled quite uncomfortably into place as she swept out of the boutique, door slamming behind her and nearly causing the salesgirl to take cover from would-be flying shards.