Alex walked along Diagon Alley at her usual quick pace. The afternoon weather wasn't the best she'd seen over the course of the holidays, but the sun was shining, and the few clouds didn't look particularly ominous. She neared her destination, Libertine ltd., with a feeling of slight curiosity. She had heard about the fashion label on various occasions, but she had never intended to shop there until someone- she couldn't remember who- had recommended it to her. She had suggested it to her Father, who had agreed as the prices were acceptably high, and had promptly booked her a fitting, which hadn't really been a part of her plans, but it would at least ensure that she got clothes that fitted and suited her. She just hoped that they would sell the kind of clothes she liked, and if they irritated her Father, that was a bonus.

While Alex didn't put a lot of effort into her appearance, and she certainly wasn't the best dressed student, she did care about the clothes she wore, so everything in her wardrobe was chosen carefully. Today, she was wearing a dress, which wasn't her usual attire, but she did like this particular dress more than most. It reached to just below mid- thigh, and the sapphire blue complimented her eyes. It was, as with most things in her wardrobe, well made, the clean lines of the tailoring emphasised by the lack of decoration. It looked like it was supposed to be worn with her blazer, a black satin garment that went with just about everything she owned. Nevertheless, her wardrobe was in need of restocking, as although Alex hadn't grown as much as she would like, she had still grown enough that she needed new clothes.

She pushed the door open gently, walking through the entrance before closing it quietly behind her. She scanned the racks of clothes quickly, noting that the designs generally seemed to be good- although finding something she would want to wear was quite another matter. Walking to the nearest rack, she began to flick through a few tops, silently assessing each as it passed under her fingertips.

It was, she thought, the kind of place where you could quickly rack up a rather large bill as you decided that you absolutely had to buy that shirt and those trousers. Wide- appeal, nice quality, a lack of price tags… But all of that was not conductive towards buying a dress suitable for the ball at Hogwarts. She liked looking nice, but actually putting the effort in was so… tedious. She was always curious as to how Ligeia could spend so much time on making sure she always looked pristine- although she suspected that her clothes had a dirt- repelling charm in them. Nevertheless, she really did need to find a suitable dress, so she turned away from the rack which she was still idly flickling through.

"Excuse me," she said, pitching her voice carefully so that it would catch attention without being any louder than necessary, looking round the shop again while she waited for someone, either a worker or its proprietor, to emerge.

A girl's voice rang through the shop. In the backroom, both Darian and his assistant Misa looked up from their lunches. Ah, his appointment was early!

"Whoops," Darian said, winking at Misa as she scrambled up, then leapt to his feet himself and strolled out to greet his new customer. Today he was dressed in a black suit shot through with threads of silver, his blazer open to a dark purple shirt and silver braces. His fingers were lined with heavy rings, his shoes were buffed to blinding - and as always when his clothing was somber his fiery hair more than made up for it, blazing red curls bouncing with his every step. He spotted a dark head near one of the racks and made a beeline for Alexandra. He closed in the afternoons for fittings, so she was the only one in the shop and thus easy to spot.

"Welcome to Libertine Ltd!" he beamed, sweeping into a bow. "Ms. Carstairs I presume? What an extraordinary pleasure. I am Darian Morgan, the proprietor, and this is my assistant Misa. How may we fulfill your every desire today?"

Keeping a woman's stock up was an unpleasant expense, but as August progressed Darian was awfully glad he'd expanded for the Tournament business. Of course there'd still been the usual flurry of schoolrobe fittings by last-minute students... possibly like this one. She looked young. If he remembered correctly, her father had booked her.

Alex smiled a little at Morgan's flowery language, although the flattery seemed well practiced. The cynical part of her pointed out that he would be more likely to sell clothes if he made his clients feel fabulous, darling. His slightly extravagant use of words was matched in his clothes, all embellishment and bright colours, although they did look nice together. Of course, he was a fashion designer, so that was pretty much requisite.

"I need new clothes," she began, only to realise how idiotic it must sound. She had been booked for an appointment at a clothes shop, after all. What other reason could she possibly have for needing one? "I've grown out of a lot of my clothes," she continued, thinking that it would be nice if she at least looked like she'd grown. She remained resolutely smaller than almost every one of her fellow 6th Years, despite putting on an inch of growth. At least she had gone from diminutive to petite.

"And I don't have anything formal for all the balls," she added, almost as an afterthought. "Sorry- it's sort of a long list. My school uniform's fine, though." She smiled in an apologetic manner, although she didn't really feel especially sorry. Although it was a large request, he would make lots of money from it, and apart from formal wear, it wasn't especially urgent as she would soon be spending almost all her waking hours in her uniform. Still, she always felt awkward talking to people like this. If she'd bumped into Darian Morgan in the street, she'd be completely relaxed about it, but anyone in any kind of shop anywhere always put her on edge. And in restaurants as well. Which ended up with her convinced she was doing the wrong thing, making her feel at least a little awkward and apologetic.

"All right," Darian said reasonably, smile gentling from blinding to merely pleasant, "Let's start with the less formal. Do you prefer Muggle or Wizarding style clothing?" Admittedly, even his less formal clothing was simply elegant - nothing that'd match trainers here, no jeans, no t-shirts (professors and punk wrockers excluded). But certainly some of his robes were as plain as one could get at Libertine Ltd., and she was bound to like something. Misa, bless her, hovered near the racks with one slender hand poised for the divulging of this customer's taste.

What a dear little mouse of a girl, all quick intelligent eyes and pert nose. Somewhat French-looking, he thought, either in bearing or color. Maybe it was the bob, like a young Joan d'Arc. Some in her shoes would emphasize their feminine frailty - others would scorn it. So, pale frocks and lace, or no-nonsense solids cut to emphasize what young girls lacked? He wondered which she would choose but, based on her subdued and somewhat distant manner, Darian guessed more likely the latter. Teenage girls were rarely this dignified around him unless they cared not a whit for fashion.

"Oh, don't apologize! You've got me all to yourself this afternoon, so we've plenty of time."

Alex shrugged, "I wear muggle clothing most of the time," she said, and although she did like wearing muggle clothing, she knew that at least part of the reason she had started doing so was because it irritated her Father- hardly a mature reason, but the clothes had stuck.

She smiled more sincerely at that, and paused, unsure how to continue. "Do you have something more… classic?" she asked eventually, unsure how to phrase the style she liked- hardly a pleasant experience, she was used to knowing exactly the right words to say. Not knowing was, well, unsettling. "Sharp cut, clean lines," she said, her hands sketching vague shapes in the air, her forehead wrinkled into an unconscious frown.

"I don't know, just- not too… frail, diminutive," she said, her lips pursing slightly, and then she smiled, "I'm not used to this- not that that's an excuse," she added, "But something that doesn't make me look like I'm a little girl dressing up like her big sister, or just like a little girl, if possible," she finished, relieved that she'd actually managed to describe what she wanted, albeit vaguely.

Darian's lips curved minutely in private pleasure, and he gave a little hum. He did so like being right. In a way it felt like it validated his whole career.

"Yes, I've all manner of what you want," he said. "You are talking to a suit maker, my lady. I specialize in the sharp and sleek." The rattle of clothes hangers confirmed Misa's hunt before he'd even turned to give her instruction; used to being master of his own domain, sometimes he forgot how very qualified she was. Certainly more professional than he!  If he happened to die young and tragically from a massive overdose, a disgruntled ex-lover, or some other trial of semi-celebrity, it warmed his heart to think of her here to continue the business.

They both had a cutthroat policy and a critical eye, so they made the perfect team; Misa drew forth the styles and colors to suit as Darian explained them to Alexandra, angling for the wrinkled nose of that's not what I want or the rapid blinks of perfect! As always with his personalized fittings, his honeyed words tumbled over themselves half-education, half-thinking aloud. This smooth quick bright-eyed barrage could cloud the mind and twist the tongue, confuse, befuddle, and convince; quick talking and enthusiasm did most of the job some days, customers propelled in and out again with bags they barely remembered buying and a dazed look upon their face. Oh, but this lovely didn't need the salesman effect. She was neither indecisive nor unwilling to buy.

"How do you feel about high waists?" he asked, coaxing her with a crooked finger to follow him to the back of the shop where the fitting area beckoned. "They will make you look longer, taller, less delicate. Puff and cap sleeves are out of the question - short sleeves in general will tend towards petite. Three-quarter length will be the most flattering on you. And tell me, do you prefer trousers over skirts? Oh, ignore the camel, dear, he doesn't bite nor spit."

Lily, the miniature purple camel in question, looked placidly on from his place under Darian's work table.

Listening to the chatter, Alex felt herself nodding along easily. It didn't require any response from her, leaving her to focus on the swathes of fabric in front of her, almost like background noise. Nevertheless, the easy flow of words demanded attention, its light-hearted flattery coaxing the listener into a feeling of security. Which, she reminded herself, was its purpose, as someone who didn't feel intimidated was more likely to buy something. Still, it was going part of the way to convince her that Darian- who was incredibly difficult to think of as Mr Morgan, not least because that was the name of the librarian at- actually, they were probably related. Hmm, and they seemed so different, at least initially. Maybe Darian Morgan was more like Landis Morgan than she thought?

Pulled out of her train of thought by another question, Alex nodded, the terms actually making some sense to her. Well, it seemed that she wasn't completely hopeless as far as clothes were concerned, which was something of a relief. She had always suspected that she might be, that just picking out things that didn't make her look like an idiot and she liked might be an indication of this, but it seemed that at some point she'd actually picked up some information about clothes.

The specifics of the where and the when would have to wait.

"I generally wear trousers because they're more practical, but I like skirts as well," Alex replied, looking at the camel with mild interest. Unusual pets weren't uncommon in the wizarding world, but this particular camel was certainly slightly more out of the usual than normal, not to mention very pretty. Purple was a nice colour, although she preferred blue.

"And anything that doesn't make me look five years younger than my actual age is greatly appreciated, so long as it also doesn't make me look like I'm middle aged either," she added, a somewhat disturbing image having come to mind. Dismissing it, she smiled, only a little awkwardly, "I'm sure that what you design will fit the criteria with aplomb."