Disclaimer: As always, copyright's belong to J.K. Rowling, etc, etc. Marigold, Pierre and Glin belong to me.
Author's note: Well, I'm trying to be more regular about turning out chapters. Hopefully, this will be appreciated when it comes time for reviewing... I also wanted to thank all my reviewers, because I've passed the 100 mark on reviews and done so within a week and my 19th birthday. Chix, you were my 100th review, your reward, meager as it may be, is this mention. The French in this chapter is insignificant, at best. Merely
Padma sat at her desk, sipping a cup of tea. Since her mention in "Witch Weekly," the shop had been full of people. Unfortunately, around half of them were just waiting for someone famous to make an appearance. Her two assistants, Natia and Jean-Luc had the throng of window shoppers and celebrity hangers-on under control for the moment, leaving Padma free to linger over her cup of Earl Grey.
The bell signaling arrivals tinkled, and Padma looked at the four women who were now walking towards her. She recognized them, of course, as did everyone in the store. The general shop noises stopped as women whispered to their friends "isn't that...?"
Hermione walked just a step ahead of her companions, not wasting any time getting places. Of the four women, she had changed the most. No longer the harmless, frizzy-haired bookworm, she walked with her head held high and an aura that reeked of danger.
Angelina had changed, too. Rather than the girl with dirt beneath her fingers, she was the woman with pearls around her neck. Her figure was well maintained, but had a few more curves than it had during her quidditch days. She seemed content in her role as liaison between the quidditch players and the team owners for the Cannons.
Glin hadn't changed a bit. She was still trying her hardest to stand out, and was doing a bang up job of it. She was tall, willowy, and classically beautiful. Her outrageous sense of style merely served to guild the lily. The latest gossip placed Glin on the receiving end of a very lucrative offer from one of the top wizarding modeling agencies in Europe.
Padma hadn't really paid much attention to Ginny while they were in school together. She was a grade below them, and a bit of a nothing, so Padma hadn't remembered much about her. She'd seen Neville occasionally, and heard him babble about his beautiful girlfriend, but she hadn't really expected his description to be accurate. Yet here she was with the porcelain skin and mane of red hair that he'd waxed poetic about.
"Hello ladies. Need any assistance?"
Hermione smiled broadly. "Hello Padma. Things are going well?"
"I can't complain. The only downside to publicity is all of the tourists it brings. Is there anything in particular you're looking for today?"
"We'll be needing new dress robes for Ginny's appointment ceremony."
"Of course. Natia and Jean-Luc are busy with the masses, so I'll be seeing to you personally. Follow me please."
Padma led the four women and the familiar looking tabby cat that was following them out of the show room and into her studio. Bolts of French lace, Chinese silk, and Italian leather were haphazardly strewn across the work table, and a paper cup was laying on its side on the floor. "Excuse the mess. Pansy Parkinson was in here earlier and just couldn't survive without looking at every scrap of fabric in the place. Didn't buy anything, mind you, just made a nuisance of herself. I suspect she just wanted to make an appearance. If you ask me, I'd say her tastes were better suited to the Knockturn Alley shops. Accio." The paper cup flew into Padma's outstretched hand, and she placed it in the wastepaper bin next to the table. "I'm sorry. That was terrible catty of me. I can't think what's come over me lately. It's probably the stress. Ginny, let's start with you. Come into the light and let me get a good look at you."
Ginny obliged and stepped forward. "I'm not looking for anything spectacular, just something that'll hide all the little bulges."
"Nonsense. You have a fantastic figure. Besides, no one wears Padma and looks anything less than devastating. It's my only rule." She circled Ginny, tilting her head and making a contemplative face. "Aubergine for the actual ceremony." She said cryptically. "Not too red, of course. We don't want to clash with the hair. Much more of a raisin than eggplant really. What are you doing for the gala afterwards?"
"I hadn't really thought of if. I guess I'm supposed to plan it."
Glin spoke up from her perch on a stool by the window. "What about a costume ball. It'd be a nice break from the stuffy ceremony in the morning. And it'd certainly be easier than convincing your brothers to wear dress robes all day long."
Angelina looked shocked. "For once, Glin's come up with a smashing, yet socially acceptable, idea. Now we've only got to decide what to go as."
"And book a reception hall, and hire caterers, and decorate, and owl invitations," Hermione added practically. "But after that, it'll take care of itself."
"I sew costumes, too, if you need any assistance in that department. Let me get Natia in here to help me take measurements and we'll get down to business."
The women exited the shop with a spectacular feeling of accomplishment. Since it was only one, they ambled down the streets. After a short stop in "Flourish and Blots" to buy invitations, they committed themselves to window-shopping. Angelina was the first to notice the newest addition to Diagon Alley, a small and exclusive jewelry store called "Dazzle."
Feeling a desperate urge to accessorize, Angelina convinced the other women to take a look. The store was sparsely decorated, with a single glass display case, behind which say an impossibly old, little man wearing a small beret.
"Bonjour mes petites! You have found my little shop, eh?"
"We're just looking," Hermione advised him. Best not to get the old man's hopes up when they were all on a budget because of their new robes.
"Bon, bon. But if you ladies find anything you like, you tell Pierre. I'll make you a deal. Pretty girls like yourselves should wear jewels tout le temps."
The women looked over the display case. It was filled with beautiful rings, necklaces and more. Each piece was different, each an exquisite work of art.
"You make these yourself?" Glin asked.
"Oui, ma fleur. Pierre makes them all."
Glin smiled at the elderly man. It was nice to see someone who took pride in their craft, rather than in the money it brought in. "Which one's your favorite?"
"Ah. A good question. I do not keep her in the case. Too many false men with money in their pockets. I keep her to myself until I know the time is right to let her go. But I will show you, mes petites chou-fleurs."
The old man bent low below the case, and Ginny half expected his back to make a creaking noise. When he stood, he was holding a dusty purple velvet box. He placed it before them. "'La Belle de mon Coeur." He opened the box to display a deep red jewel on a pale gold chain. "'The Beauty of my Heart.' She is my masterpiece. I make her for my Isobelle. A Burma ruby, the rarest of all gems, set in the best gold. My Isobelle died of small pox on the night I finished. Now 'La Belle' will wait for it's next beauty." He watched as the women's eyes began to glaze over with tears. He snapped the box shut. "Enough of that. No crying. Isobelle and I- we have 10 happy years. To be truly happy, even for just a moment is worth more than the entire shop. Go home now, mes belles dames, and tell your husbands that you love them. Then give them this." He gave them each a business card as he escorted them out the door. "Men are not so good at saying it back."