The Boy and His Dresses

Yawning a little, Trowa poked a pin into hem of the dress clinging to the mannequin before him. He rubbed the side of his nose with his free hand and reached down to pluck another pin from the large pin cushion sat beside the cushion he was leaning on. Trowa took his eyes off of the dress and looked down at the fabric that he would have to attach to the waistline from underneath the dress skirt itself. Trowa hummed as he thought. He picked up the pink lace he’d taken from the shop and looked at the measurements from the skirt. He picked up his scissors and began to cut out a length of the material, being careful to keep to the line he’d drawn in his mind and not stray from it. Once the material was cut, Trowa put the roll and the scissors down. He folded the material up and put it on the stool that was holding the various pieces of cut fabric.

Reaching forward, Trowa picked up the bottle of Butterbeer he’d picked up from The Three Broomsticks on the way back up to the castle. He’d been given the task of altering a flock of dresses that had been ordered for a gala that was set to occur within the next two weeks. In fairness that didn’t leave Trowa with much time but he was revelling in the stress it brought. Trowa took a swig of the Butterbeer ad sat back on his haunches. He leaned over and picked up the History of Magic book sat on the floor amongst some newspapers and a couple of old Felix Barker wanted posters he’d taken down as keepsakes. Trowa folded the posters up and tucked them into the book. He flicked through it before stopping on the page of information he needed for class. Trowa took another swig of his Butterbeer and put the book on his lap. He looked up at the dress momentarily and fingered the soft material.

Trowa got to his feet and put the bottle down on the coffee table. He chucked another log onto the fire and sparks flew. He smiled and pulled his jumper off. Trowa was slowly spreading his things around the room. It was late and no one was in the common room but him, now. He liked the solitude. The snores coming from the dorms were slightly off putting, though. Chuckling to himself, Trowa folded his jumper up and threw it over the back of the sofa before picking his Butterbeer up and sitting back down again. The rain that had been falling since lunchtime continued to hammer against the windows. The comfy common room and the warmth from the fire was making everything rather cosy – just how Trowa liked it.

.

Renny had no idea why she put up with her sister. She had been comfy, in bed, warm and sleepy when her intuition began petering her. She told herself to ignore it, but she had too look. She went to the window and felt her heart drop. An ember on the grounds. She knew. Only her sister would be so contrary as to try and smoke in the rain at night.

Being the good sister she was, Renny had pulled on a jacket and pulled the hood on and slipped out of the common room and out to the grounds. There had been another row. "Pie, what are you doing?" "Riding a unicorn, what does it look like?!" "Piper, when are you going to stop pulling this crap?" "When are you going to get off my back?" "I just want to-" "God, I hate you sometimes." "You don't mean that. Now, shut up and go to bed!"

More yelling ensued and finally Renny had said, "Fine, get pneumonia AND lung cancer. See what I care." Feeling like the most evil person on the planet, she had stormed back to the castle, soaked, hair dripping wet. She managed to get back to the common room without any mishaps besides leaving a trail of water, which she used a handy homemaking spell to get rid of as she went.

Finally, she reached the common room and answered the eagle's riddle without really comprehending what was happening before stumbling in. Everyone was gone except for Trowa, who was acting like a little busy body. She shook her hair and scattered more drops before beginning to dry it with her wand. "Hi, Trowa," she said breathlessly. "I didn't think anyone would still be up."

When the portrait door opened, Trowa’s concentration broke. He found himself to be sketching out the changes he could make to a completely different dress order and he put that to the side before he confused himself. Trowa got to his feet and turned to find Renny walking into the common room. He smiled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Back at you,” he chuckled, looking at her soaked person. Shaking his head, Trowa leaned down and picked his wand up off of the table. He flicked it at one of the thick, frilly cushions and transfigured it into two towels. He picked them up and walked over to Renny. He put one under his arm and opened the other one out. He draped it across her shoulders and handed her the other one. “For your hair,” he told her.

Turning, Trowa walked over to where the dresses were. He stopped mid-step and paused so he could take them in. He looked at the nearest dress, the one he’d been fiddling with a few moments ago, and then turned back to look at Renny. A cheeky, childlike smile spread across his face and his eyes lit up with excitement. “You wouldn’t want to do me a favour would you?” He asked, continuing to grin as he stepped backwards towards the mannequin. Trowa turned and picked up the measuring tape that was in his box of tools on the table. He crossed the room and motioned for Renny to lift her arms up. “I think you’re round about the same sort of size as the person who ordered it. Nice girl. She doesn’t have much faith in me as a designer or maker, though. That’s a little disheartening but I enjoy a challenge.”

Trowa brought the tape-measure around Renny’s breasts and committed the measurement to memory. He crouched slightly to do her hips then moved lower to do her thighs. “I read somewhere,” he said, rising to his full height, “That a dress should be tight enough to show she’s a woman but loose enough to show she’s a lady. Coincidently it was a woman that said it – care to interpret? You fit by the way.” He added the last bit in case she wanted to know. “Your hips are teensy bit small but the skirt is rather tight at the top around your hips so it’ll be a bit of room that you’ll need I think.”

Trowa picked up a design sheet and held it out for Renny. “Can you give me your opinion on that? Janet, the woman who hired me, she wasn’t in the other day so I couldn’t get her opinion. It’s always good to have a woman’s opinion but I am thinking that that particular dress might be something your sister would favour.” Trowa took his eyes off of Renny for a moment and busied himself with getting the dress off of the mannequin without disturbing the pins in it.

The design sheet he’d given her held a design that was the sister dress to the toga one he’d had in mind a while ago. Made from the same type of fabric, the dress was misleading at best. It was strapless and the top part was bodice-like. The front of the skirt fell down to mid-thigh, at a stretch, where as the back tickled the backs of the woman’s ankles – in theory. Trowa had been imming and ahhing over the idea for a while and it wasn’t until the other day. The skirt was to have two layers as the material was sheer and when wet see-through. The extra layer would dampen, excuse the pun, the effects of the wet and hopefully keep the material from revealing all. But as long as the woman was wearing a nice pair of knickers that were made to be seen then Trowa saw no problem with it.

Trowa himself wasn’t fond of seeing lots of skin but he often didn’t have much choice in the matter. This dress was his own design and he was shocked to find that it was a dress that would look as good on the woman as it would on the bedroom floor which was inevitably where it was going to end up. He liked the idea, though and it was definitely a sister to the toga dress he’d had in mind. He just hoped Janet liked it.

Trowa draped the towel around her shoulders and handed her another. She smiled a tired smile and said, "Thank you." She pulled the towel around her head and began to rub it vigorously against her head and the slowed down, slowly smoothing out her hair in log strands with the towel. Finally, it was try enough and she set the towel up on a chair by the fire.

She began combing through her hair to relieve it of any moisture and any frizz slowly smoothing it down as she went across the room to a pen. Trowa began to speak as she transfigured the pen into a comb and began to brush her hair out, before reaching into her pocket, pulling out a ribbon, and tying up her hair to prevent any further damage.

Renny always helped people out. she always did favors. Anyone who knew her know that 'no' was a rare word from her mouth. "Sure." He motioned for her to lift her arms and she did so and he proceeded to begin to measure her. She knew Trowa was somewhat of a fashionista and had been unsurprised to see dresses and fabrics in the common room. There often was.

He went about measuring her and she chuckled slightly at the saying. "It means you have to reveal enough to be attractive but hide enough to retain the mystery. Make the guys want you but also still have the task of getting you." She grinned, biting her lip. She knew she had struck the balance quite well, though it was not to lure unsuspecting males. She had enough on her hands without worrying about their kind.

He handed her a design sheet and she tilted her head slightly. "It's very pretty, but you're right. A little revealing. It hasn't found that balance yet. I would not want one of my friends wearing it." Or her sister. Her sister would not wear a dress of course. That might make her appealing. Renny swore she would never understand her sister... "But I see what you were going for. It's a great design."

As yet another idea sprang to mind, Trowa pounced on a spare piece of paper and a pencil. Immediately he began to sketch the design that had spontaneously presented itself to him. His pencil darted across the paper and quickly, the design began to dominate the previously blank page. Trowa hummed a tune to a muggle song he heard in the craft shop he’d gone to with his mother in London and continued to design the dress, not bothering with shading but instead annotated the rough drawing. He leaned over and picked up a file. He shoved the drawing inside and jumped up; letting it drop on top of all of the other folders and pieces of paper he had spread across the coffee table. He’d have to make a trip into Hogsmeade to drop some of the work off. He had a key and it was really for his own sanity as well as his dorm mates’.

“Mystery, mystery, mystery,” Trowa echoed as he slowed down. He carefully started to lift the dress off of the mannequin as he contemplated the words. “Leave enough to the imagination I take it? It’s probably why black dresses are so popular. Black is not a colour, it’s a tone and it’s not the most forthcoming with information. There’s no telling what it can do to an outfit or to a colour. It’s mysterious in its own right. But here’s me...I like soft, feminine colours. Not on me but on girls. You’d suit them because you’re quite pale and it would look just right. Pale blues, pinks, yellows, cream colours -- a bit of traditionalism. But now, everything has to be eye catching and edgy or whatever. I can do that, no problem, but I like things simple, clean, well cut and just...pretty.”

Trowa smiled impishly and freed the mannequin from the dress. He held it by the sleeves and crossed the room so he was stood before Renny once more. “It might be best if I fit it,” he considered, sparing a look at the dress which had several pins in it around the arms and waist. “I don’t want you to get pricked by anything.”

He looked at the design in Renny’s hand and pursed his lips in thought. She had a point. She had a very valid point. “It wouldn’t be a good party dress because the back would get caught. Maybe one of those dresses that belong a semi-formal affair. I sort of see it as a beachside restaurant number. Something classy yet cool and floaty. It’s definitely revealing but I think you’d like the material. It’s that thin stuff that makes you feel like you have nothing on at all and it sort of just caresses your skin. It’s really strange to work with actually. Fun though.” Trowa shook his head. “Listen to me, blathering on. Ignore my ramblings!”

Renny really was amazed by her housemate's talents with fabrics. The skill he displayed was simply fascinating and she could not stop herself from staring, her blue eyes wide on her pale skin as she watched every stroke of his pencil, watching the gently curved lines of the dress, though trying not to openly stare as he did so. Artists usually liked privacy. And what he was doing was art.

He filed away the drawing and moved back to the dress, gently pulling off the mannequin and commented on colors and mystery. He really did know fashion. She could not have figured that out though once he said all of it, she knew he was right. And she could not help but allow for a smile when he said she looked goof in pales because she knew it was true. She looked down at her feet slightly and smiled.

He came over to her and suggested he do the fitting and she nodded. He commented on her opinion on his dress design. A small, amused smile came onto her face as he went on and on about it before realizing himself and apologized for rambling. She waved a carefree hand. "No, no, go on," she said, laughing. "You really know what you're talking about."

Gladrag’s would be open at the weekend. Trowa was working the Saturday morning and afternoon and Sunday lunchtime shifts. He was half tempted to invite Renny to the shop and pitch ideas to her. He knew that it was perhaps a little too forward but Trowa had a feeling she’d say yes. He’d have to sweeten the deal and include the habitual chocolate and coffee break he insisted on. It was a quick walk down to Honeydukes and then over the road to Madam Puddifoot’s for the coffee then back up to the shop. It took about five to ten minutes, the latter if Trowa stopped to talk to anyone. It would be fun to have someone to have a bit of banter with. Trowa wanted to surprise her, spring it on her as it were, but he had no reason to. Perhaps a simple request would be more appropriate.

Trowa pulled the zip of the dress down and held the dress out to Renny, unsure of whether she’d let him help her on with it so he could fit it in a specific way. It was often viewed as an invasion of privacy and Trowa was always a bit miffed when women protested because there was a man in the shop. He was there to do a job. If he was going to appraise something then it was going to be the dresses, not necessarily the women in them. “Uhm...I can turn around...” Trowa offered awkwardly, feeling more like a six-year-old than the seventeen-year-old male he was. Trowa laughed uneasily and reached up to rub the back of his neck. He placed the dress down on the couch and turned away, deciding to busy himself with sorting out one of the other dresses that looked just as neglected as the last.

Trowa picked up the design specification for this one and frowned. He picked up one of the fallen bits of material and dropped it onto the mannequin before leaning down to pick up yet another design. “I’m thinking about doing something with that dress,” he called to Renny over his shoulder. “Something...better. I’m not...I don’t like it.”

Trowa held out the dress to Renny. She was glad to help him but she was also a very innocent, modest sort of girl. She had her questions about whether she even needed to worry around Trowa- he did like fashion after all- but she did not want to gain the wrong sort of reputation. The reputation Piper seemed to have gotten around home. Luckily, Trowa recognized this and said he could turn around. "Thank you," she said.

He turned around and she shed off her jacket and turned away too, grabbing the dress. She lifted her shirt, pulling her arms out but not taking it off. She slipped into it and the pulled her shirt off, before quickly sliding her arms into place. That had made it so she was uncovered for maybe a millisecond. She shimmied her pajama pants off and carefully set them with her shirt and jacket.

Renny heard him call to her and she listened as she plucked at the dress to make it fit right before reaching back to zip it up. "Yeah?" she said as she found the zipper. "It's not bad, I mean it's good. It's just a question of style. A lot of your dresses are unique, you should keep them that way." And revealing isn't unique, she thought sadly. What had her generation come to?

She began to pull up the zipper, her arms folding up gracefully as it closed up the dress, all the way towards the top when she really could not pull it up much more, though she knew Trowa would probably check to see it was zipped up first. She turned around, checked herself a last time, and said, "Okay, I'm done. You're right, it fits nicely."

Renny had infinite patience and saw infinite good in people. Trowa knew that one day that trait would be her downfall. No one was all good, neither were they all bad, but the potent mix often wasn't as counterbalanced as one would like. There was a fine line between love and hate but there was also a fine line between good and bad. Someone who is too good could easily become bad but someone that was already there would just become worse -- there was no going bad. An unbalanced mixture of the two had made Lord Voldemort. Trowa was waiting for the day someone appeared -- as equally unbalanced -- with a mind to run the Wizarding World.

"My dresses," Trowa began, rising to his feet from where he'd been knelt looking over his designs, "are meant to compliment the wearer's beauty," Trowa walked over to where Renny was and swept his eyes over her, taking her in, "In your case, it has worked."

The Ravenclaw smirked a little and motioned for her to turn. He walked around so he was behind her and pulled at the zip. He brought it down slightly before bringing it back up again. Satisfied with that, Trowa turned his attention to the material at the back. He took a pin from his shirt and began to pin bits back, being careful not to poke her with it.

"Although, I'm sure you don't need a dress maker's creation to do that for you. You seem to exude it without fail or help." Trowa smiled.

Renny watched Trowa's expressions carefully as he approached her to inspect his work and how the dress looked on her. She almost felt nervous, as though it was something of hers he was inspecting. He was reviewing his own work as in the dress, nothing to do with her, he was not judging how good she personally looked in the dress. And yet- Renny quickly stopped her train of thought. When you find yourself in a hole, put down the shovel and stop digging.

And besides, she was not thinking anything of any consequence. Trowa began to talk about the purpose of his dresses and Renny nodded, her large blue eyes watching Trowa carefully. When he said that the dress had done what it was meant to do, Renny could not help but concede a small, shy little smile, though she did glow at his words, even if they were more directed to praising the dress than to her.

He made a move to indicate that she should turn and she did so elegantly, her arms at her sides but loose so that she did not pin the dress down at her sides. Once she stopped, he carefully checked the zipper and zipped it all the way up before standing behind her and beginning to pin up the back. At his words, a humble blush crept into her cheeks and she scuffed one of her feet, smiling. "Thank you. You're very kind. The dress is magnificent."