"Agreed. I've Missed You Too." While She Was A Few Years Younger Than Willa, The Other Never Made Her

Her smile widened when he said that Leta Rosier designed his clothes, clearly excited and not bothering to hide her approval. "Oh! Now I know for sure that you have great taste. Leta has done all my dresses for this wedding season. Her work is exceptional. Don't worry your secret's safe with me." She giggled. A handsome man that understood fashion and went to the same designer she did? And he could dance? Was this fate? Serra might just have to rethink her stance on staying single.

"I do not tend to wear such dresses more than once. I get bored easily and I want to stun in something new at every event. I think going shopping is a great idea. I might even take your opinion into account when I let the next one get commissioned."

He twirled her around the dance floor effortlessly which only highlighted his charm more. "It is because I am so graceful and light on my feet. I have taken ballet lessons for several years." Modesty was not one of her talents, clearly. "You're a good dancer."

"You will have to model them for me some time. I trust most of my outfits to Leta Rosier personally. Capable and I find up and coming designers or anyone really have more to prove and thus provide better work, but you didn't hear it from me if Madame Malkins ever asks." He tapped his nose signifying the gossip that now bonded them. As they approached the dance floor he released her arm standing in front of her and taking a more regular posture. "Let's see how well we can show off this dress of yours. I'm not afraid to wear it out now that I know you have six others, besides dress shopping with you doesn't seem like too harsh a punishment for a lively dance, does it?" He barely let the question sit before pulling her into a quick spin. The dress and Serra both twirled nicely. It was a good test of woman and garment he thought. He smiled as he caught her. "You spin delightfully."

"I care. I'd much rather receive a letter from an owl that looks well looked after, than some raggedy ugly one." She didn't see what seemed to hard for him to understand, it was completely logical to her. "First impressions carry a lot of weight Mr. Avery."

“Who the fuck would care what your owl looks like?” Clyde asked, baffled. Was everyone else really this vain, or was it just Serra? The Minister didn’t care what his owls looked like, but the Minister was also an idiot. Merlin did she actually have a point? “Wouldn’t the letter itself leave more of an impression?”

"Wonderfully. With lots of champagne." She sighed wistfully, already missing the beautiful city she got to call home for a few short months. It had more charm and elegance than London did. It felt more refined.

"I ran into him on the street as I was going to visit my father at the shop. He said something about me looking much better here than I would in Paris, so I said I would look good everywhere. Because that is a fact." The last bit was said as an afterthought. "He's been begging for forgiveness for years. With all the jewellery and dresses he's been buying me. I have yet to see him on his knees though."

"How did Paris treat you? Too many hours spent at the Avenue des Champs-Elysées" Willa asked intrigued, quietly thanking the waitress as two teapots were sat in front of the pair. Serra understood Willa's love for the finer things in life, and while most would expect their attitudes to clash, in fact it made quite the harmonious balance.

Pouring tea for herself and Serra, Willa's eyebrow quirked in response the the mention of Malcolm Parkinson. Back at Hogwarts, Willa recalled first talking to Serra after the commotion between Serra and Malcolm, and of course, Charity Burbage. She was slightly older, but that didn't stop word from spreading. "What happened?" Setting the teapot back down, she looked back at her friend. "I sure hope that he begged for forgiveness."

"Don't bring that thing anywhere near me." She grimaced, not bothering to hide the disgust that was so obviously noticable in both her tone and her expression.

where; a park whomst; open

Clyde enjoyed many different things about life, chief among them spending time with Bonnie, his pet ferret. He'd always loved ferrets; they were smart, affectionate, and amusing creatures. Great for distracting young children while their shitty parents fought in the other room. ... Not like he'd know, or anything. Bonnie wasn't his first ferret and she certainly wouldn't be his last. She was the first that truly loved taking walks however.

"Why are you gawking?" He asked as Bonnie ran circles around his feet, tangling her leash. "It's like you've never seen a ferret before."

"Obviously. I am not meant to be poor. I am too pretty." She would not want to miss any of the luxuries she grew up with, her quality of life was excellent, never having to work or lift a finger to do anything she didn't want to do. The prospect of struggling disgusted her. "My parents love me. They want to spoil me, I do not see a problem with that."

𝐚𝐬    𝐢𝐟    𝐭𝐨    𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡    𝐡𝐞𝐫,    his    eyes    rolled    as    he    head    shook.    “    and    that’s    the    end    of    the    world    for    you,    is    it    ?    ”    he    teased,    though    he    knew    a    lot    of    children    of    pureblood    families    thrived    in    their    riches,    caellum    however,    though    not    one    to    want    to    lose    his    fathers    money,    still    had    his    own    to    keep    him    afloat.   

"Yes I am sure. Stop trying to get into my head and project your insecurities onto me. Just because that happened to you doesn't mean it'll happen to me." She huffed, crossing her arms in annoyance.

There was something satisfying watching Serra close up and let her words sink in. None of them were safe when it came to a pureblood marriage and wanting to make sure names were carried. "Are you sure about that? Or, are they buying time until the right match comes up. I bet you'll be in one soon and you can kiss your freedom goodbye."

"She is very talented. She made me this dress as well." Serra boasted proudly. She had told Antonin that green was one of her favorite colors when they went shopping and when the invitation for the wedding came in, it was only natural that they would attend together, having commissioned matching robes that would work for the occasion. Annoyance flashed on her face for a second when Alara was mentioned. "It would make sense if she did."

Alecto took a moment to let her eyes rake over the witch in front of her, placing the name easily, related to the Selwyn's. She did note that the other did come in with Antonin Dolohov, which intrigued her slightly. "Leta Rosier." A small pause. "The sister to your cousin's fiancé." It had been obvious the tension that laid between the two of them. "I wonder if she'll make Alara's when the time comes."

Serra nodded her approval when he explained. "That is good. She is a woman of good taste, you are well off listening to her." There had been a moment in time she'd been jealous and disliked the blonde, but she had gotten over it. She actually quite liked her now.

"I will wear it. It's quite lovely. If it was ugly I would have no problem telling you so. I think you could handle my honest opinion." Perhaps it went against propriety, but as long as people did not listen in she was fine stretching the boundaries. "They think they know what's best. It is hard to tell them that they do not. "

“Leta made comments and observations.  I think that I have spent enough time with her to understand the basics of picking out something that won’t end up as an expensive paperweight at least.” Antonin never wore much jewelry himself.  A chain was just something that could be grabbed or used against you if a fight went on long enough or got too heated.  Fighting against Leta had told him that much too, but he didn’t need to bore Serra with that, especially not on her birthday. “Don’t worry I’m not the type to tell you to put it on, it’s yours now and you can do with it what you will.  At most if I see you wearing it some time I might be quietly delighted.”  He thought to his own parents.  “Yes parents are hard to defy at times no matter your age, at least on the important things.  They always find the way to make you want to defy them, and still regret it if you get your way, don’t they?”

Serra couldn't believe the words she was hearing right now. He had the nerve to ask her what she was talking about. How dare he? When he looked at her did he think her a fool? That she will still the same fifteen year old girl hopelessly in love with him? She sighed, letting him lead her outside before she continued to talk. "I understand some marriages are accepting of infidelity, but I do not plan on ours being one of them." "And in such a public way. It is degrading. You could have picked someone beautiful, so that it is at least understandable how you could be swayed. But her? Again? It makes me look like a fool." What did Charity have that she didn't? Loose morals? "Evan told me. I do not see any reason for him to lie. He is my cousin's best friend and he is your business partner, is he not?"

Malcolm glanced around as she did one of her best fake smiles. They were in public and Malcolm didn't wish to be a spectacle with whatever Serra was considering saying. He was desperately trying to follow along with her, only becoming more confused when she dismissed Nick. "What are we talking about then?" he said, his eyes gazing down at her, also trying to mold his features to something that didn't resemble stress. There were people who were unemployed here and only lived off generational wealth, the same people who loved events like this so they had something to talk about until the next one. Malcolm didn't wish to be a topic of conversation or cause a scene. "Charity?" he echoed, keeping his voice as close to a whisper as he could. "Serra, that's not-you know? You know what? I'm not-I'm not with Charity. It wasn't-Who told you that?" Malcolm gave a look around the room, finding that there wasn't anyone watching them still. "Should we talk about this outside?"

"Well she doesn't look like one." Serra sneered, looking down at the ferret. "Normal would be a cat. Or an owl."

“Of course she’s a pet.” He said, offended. Better a ferret than a frog, for fucks sake. What could a frog even do? Ferrets could do loads. “How am I the odd one here? I’m being very normal.”