Who: Lavender Brown, Charlie Weasley
Where: Mirror, Mirror
When: 30 May 2002, afternoon
Lavender was bored. It was the slowest Friday afternoon in the history of slow Friday afternoons because she was only a few hours (and a shift at the Grotto) away from her birthday weekend. And her birthday weekend was going to be fabulous and chic and not involve telling cranky women how marvelous they looked. (Lavender didn’t like that part of customer service. She’d much rather tell the truth and then help them find something they really did look marvelous in.)
But, birthday looming or not, she was doing what she always did on slow afternoons: leaning against the counter and sketching.
Charlie was torn. On the one hand, buying new robes of any kind had never been something that he had looked forward to. As a child he’d usually worn Bill’s hand-me-downs, of course, artfully hemmed by his mother to account for the difference in height. And on the other hand buying robes meant that he got to see Lavender who was really fucking hot.
He pushed open the door to Mirror Mirror, sending up a silent pray to the gods of tailoring that he wouldn’t be talked into pinstripes or anything ridiculous. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” he asked with a lazy smile as he saw Lavender working so diligently. “Should I come back later?”
Lav looked up from her sketchbook and grinned at the really sexy ginger who’d just walked in the door. She was attracted to Charlie, obviously, but she also genuinely liked him. She enjoyed their flirtations and their banter and she’d had fun shopping for things for his flat with him.
“Hi!” she chirped, setting her book and pencils aside. “Not at all. I was just passing the time.” She bit her bottom lip and looked a bit naughty. “What can I help you with, hmm?”
“I have a party to go to,” Charlie said, affecting his most effeminate voice. “But I have absolutely nothing to wear.” He grinned and dropped back to his normal register. “Think you can help me out?”
He held up his hands. “But no pinstripes and no ruffles. Promise?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Lavender laughed. “It isn’t the twenties or the eighties, so you should be safe. I like a man with sleek, modern lines.”
That was the thing she loved most about the clothes in Mirror, Mirror. They took the styles of Muggle fashion and worked them into the robes. None of that Madam Malkin nonsense, selling the same designs for 150 years and whatnot.
Charlie grimaced. “I’m just gonna keep my fingers crossed that the eighties don’t come back into fashion ever. It wasn’t good the first time around.”
He stood up straight, bracing himself for what was inevitably to come: the tape measure. “Go on, then. Do your worst. You’re the one who’s going to have to look at me during this party.”
Lavender thought some great things had come out of the eighties. Herself, for instance. But also neon and statement jewelry and the occasional overstated shoulder pad. Just not dressrobes.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You look like you think I’m going to maim you.”
“I’ve never liked buying robes,” Charlie admitted to her, frowning. “But I guess I’ve never had to buy them from you before.” He smirked. “This could be a lot more pleasant. And I’ll get to be smug when I prove that I look like some sort of dressed up gorilla in formal wear.”
“You won’t look like a dressed up gorilla when I’m done with you,” Lavender insisted, grabbing her tape measure and coming around the counter. “Clothes are kind of my thing.”
“Never would have guessed that.” Chuckling, Charlie shrugged off his jacket and put it on the counter; he had a feeling that she would baulk if he dropped clothes on the floor. At least in this setting. There was always a chance that she might want to toss clothes around in other circumstances…
And, damn it, that was all he was going to think about now. Thank Merlin he wasn’t some raw sixteen year old who reacted to a girl simply coming near him.
“Do your thing, then.”
Lavender nodded to the platform they had folks stand on while they were measured and then grabbed a mini-clipboard and sheet for noting down measurements. It was better to focus on that than on the fact that Charlie’s arms were practically about to bust out of the sleeves of his t-shirt. If she focused on that too much she might end up jumping him and losing her job.
She went for the nice safe measurements first. Like his neck.
But then of course she started thinking about kissing his neck.
Charlie exhaled. She smelled better than Madam Malkin. That was a plus. A very nice plus. He stared straight ahead at a display so that he wouldn’t look down at her boobs.
“I’m only buying one set of robes,” he warned her. “This isn’t like going bed shopping and ending up furnishing the whole flat.”
Okay, he looked. But they were nice boobs. Boobs to be proud of, in fact. Unfortunately, he would sound like a complete perv if he complimented them now and he couldn’t begin to imagine what an offended Lavender would do to him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Lavender said, rolling her eyes. “Just one set.”
Just as she moved to measure the width of his shoulders (very wide), she caught him glancing down her blouse. She smirked, glad to know he was appreciating her. But she also did something rather more rare in her arsenal: she blushed.
“I’m sure we can find something in the shop that you want to take home.”
Adjusting his posture, Charlie was very aware of how closely Lavender was looking at him. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we can.”
He averted his eyes back towards a selection of colourful dresses. “So, are you looking forward to your party?”
“Yeah,” Lavender nodded. “Should be fun. Last year I kind of did the drunken club party thing, it’ll be nice to mix it up this year with something a little more chic, you know?”
Not that there was anything wrong with drunken dancing, of course. Lavender wouldn’t work at the Grotto if there was. “Arms out.”
“Sounds more energetic than my last birthday. I was in Romania and I just ended up staying with friends and breaking open a bottle or two or țuică.” He grimaced as he thought of the morning after. “The hangover was impressive, I’ve got to say.”
He stuck his arms out, conscious not to accidentally hit her. “So have you decided what you’re wearing yet?”
Lavender looked up from his (still ridiculously impressive) bicep and gave him a look that said ‘you have got to be kidding me’.
“Of course I have.” Her grin was a bit cheeky. “But it’s a surprise.”
Charlie enjoyed her indignant look. It was usually worth getting her a little riled up just to see it. He smirked. “And I’m sure it’ll be a very nice surprise. I look forward to seeing it.”