Dora was apprehensive about lacing up the next morning. The nightmare was still on her mind, which was bad enough, but the feeling of not being able to breathe, of being strangled and suffocated even though she had only been laced in one inch, was far worse.
She knew her mum would let her take a day off, if she needed it. After all, it wasn't as though they were going anywhere, and her dad certainly wouldn't pressure her to wear a corset or, far worse, a bra. (They had kept the sports bra, as a last resort, but Aunt Susan had returned the others. The bra was at the bottom of her lowest drawer in her dresser, hidden underneath old, often mismatched, socks that contained holes. Her mum was often in the process of fixing their old socks, being loathe to discard them entirely.)
Dora also knew, from past experience, that the longer you waited to confront your fears, the worse they tended to get. They'd studied Bogarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and every student had the assignment of facing one in private over two lesson periods, or really in private in the professor's office.
Dora had waited until the second class, and had suffered a stomachache until she finally faced her Bogart. It was almost a relief to see Aunt Bella escaping from Azkaban and ready to hunt down her family of "blood traitors," because she was finally doing something about it. Besides, Dora knew the spell, and knew how to make her aunt look silly, and she ended up doing brilliantly (according to Professor Pollock), even earning twenty-five points for her house.
Her day corset was hardly a Bogart. She'd come to think of it as rather a friend, and as something that not only saved her from having to wear extremely uncomfortable bras, but held her in a daylong hug. Besides, and perhaps it was a little vain, it made her prettier. Dora had never thought much about her body before. Sure, she liked being able to change how she looked, and she liked having long hair, even though she never styled it beyond the occasional ponytail. She knew that she wasn't plump (as her mum charitably called it), the way a couple of the girls and at least three of the boys in her year were.
Dora considered her main physical asset (again, as her mum called it) to be the ability to change her appearance. At least, to an extent. She was only thirteen, and her powers would become stronger as she got older, reaching their full strength when she came of age. That was according to the books she'd read, anyway. She knew no one else with her gift, nor anyone else in the wizarding world who had it, so she could hardly start of a conversation or send an owl.
She rolled over in her bed, nearly sending her mum off the edge.
"Dora!" her mum chided, but clearly holding in a laugh.
"Sorry, Mum!" Dora helped her mum away from the edge of the bed. "Really. I'm sorry."
Andromeda gently rose herself to a sitting position, and gathered Dora into her arms. "No harm done. Now, how are you?"
Dora felt her face redden. "I feel stupid. Foolish. I was-I was so certain that I wouldn't have any trouble. I was sure I would sleep just fine, and after a few days, persuade you to let me sleep laced tighter than one inch. Now..."
She trailed off, and Andromeda held her even tighter.
"You needn't feel foolish, Dora. It's perfectly understandable to feel that way. I knew many girls in my house who did. I felt rather envious, as they were allowed to sleep a whole two inches looser, and I was only allowed one inch, even hundreds of miles away from home." Andromeda paused. "We all experienced discomfort at a minimum, usually nightmares, and almost always, the feeling of being unable to breathe at all. It will go away, I promise you. Your body isn't used to the pressure, however light, when you're asleep, and it doesn't recall being laced even tighter when you're awake. Not at first. But after a few days, perhaps a week? You'll wake up after a restful night's sleep, perhaps even better than before you began lacing. You'll rise feeling as though you're wrapped in a lovely hug, and you might not want to rise, even if it's only for an hour or so to bathe and eat breakfast."
Dora nodded as she let herself rest against her mum. This all made sense, and it was very reassuring. She was in for a rough few days, that seemed inevitable, but her mum would be there, ready to unlace if necessary, and certainly to hold her and reassure her that this was temporary, and it would be over soon.
Besides, the rewards of waking up feeling hugged, and being able to train faster, made this dreadful intermediate stage seem worth it.
Almost.
After breakfast, which was a meal both she and her mother always ate unlaced, her mum helped her into her day corset. She worked slowly, taking Dora down to twenty-one at the usual rate, but slowing down as she reached the last inch, pausing a few times to make sure Does was all right. She was. Throughout the process, Dora felt the usual increasing, yet gentle, pressure around her upper body that resembled a good, strong hug by the time her mum tied the laces into a bow, and tucked the long ribbons into her corset. No strangling, no inability to breathe, just the usual hug she'd become used to over the past two and a half weeks.
"How does it feel?" Andromeda asked, as Dora put on one of her robes.
She shrugged. "The usual. A good hug, nothing worse than that."
Dora tried to be nonchalant, but she couldn't hide a slight shiver as she recalled the nightmare from mere hours ago.
Andromeda pulled her into a hug. "It will grow easier. Anyway," she added, with a rather uncharacteristic wink, "I have an idea for tonight which might help."
Dora felt herself perk up. "Oh?"
She laughed. "Yes, and I'll not say anything else about it."
Dora let out a dramatic sigh, which simply elicited another laugh. "Have you heard from Becky lately? Did she want to visit this holiday, or invite you over?"
Becky (really Rebecca) Harper was a pure-blood Hufflepuff, although likely not by her mother's family standards. A bit like the Potters, who hadn't made the Sacred Twenty-Eight list, they were suspected to have some half-bloods and muggle-borns and even (gasp!) muggles in their family. But even though they called themselves pure-blood all the same, they weren't nasty or anything towards those who weren't.
Especially not Becky.
"They're on holiday until the end of July. Maybe even the beginning of August. They're going to their family home at the beach, but it's nowhere near ours. Becky wants me to come over her house or her to come over mine after they return." Dora frowned, just a bit. "I visited her family last summer, so I reckon she should come here?"
"That sounds fair. You were there for two weeks, so I'll owl her mother with an invitation for two weeks, perhaps at the beginning of the second week in August," Andromeda promised. "Is there anyone else you'd like to see?"
"Polly Roberts, but maybe we could just meet up at Diagon Alley when we buy my books," Dora answered.
Polly, a fellow half-blood, was really nice, but Dora didn't fancy inviting two friends over separately, and she and Becky didn't always get along.
They usually went to Diagon Alley for school supplies a day or so after Hogwarts sent this information. Dora had only needed a copy of "The Standard Book of Spells, Year 2" and a couple of books for Defense Against the Dark Arts for her second year at school. Virtually every other book she'd used for her first year had sufficed for her second. But upon entering her third year, Dora expected that she'd need new books for Transfiguration and Potions, at the very least, and certainly books for Muggle Studies and Divination. Fortunately, her family had never been in need of money, thanks to her uncle's continuing generosity over the years. Had Andromeda married a pure-blood, she wouldn't have worked, and relied on his family's income as well as a generous allowance from her parents, so this was not that much different.
"Of course. Well, mind you let me know if there's anyone else you'd like to see or visit over the holidays," Andromeda told her, placing an arm around her shoulder.
"I feel a little odd telling them about...this," Dora admitted, looking down at herself. "Do you reckon that many of the girls in my house are wearing corsets?"
Andromeda considered. "How many are pure-blood or of wizarding families?"
Dora counted down in her head. There were seven other Hufflepuff girls in her year, which was more than average, but only six Hufflepuff boys. Not that they'd have to deal with anything like this, but fourteen Hufflepuffs in one year was hardly record-breaking. (According to "Hogwarts, a History," the Sorting record for Hufflepuff girls in one year was twenty, occurring in 1625, and for males it was eighteen, in 1767. Dora didn't remember the exact records for the other houses, only that they seemed to be similar in number, and took place hundreds of years prior to her birth.) Of the eight, counting herself, two were from muggle families. They would almost certainly be wearing bras, when they needed them. That left five, although three were pure-blood.
"Excluding me, there are five that have at least one magical parent. Of those five, three are pure-blood," Dora recapped.
"How traditional are those three? Do they wear robes during their free time, or on weekends?" Andromeda asked.
The rule had gone into affect after her parents had graduated that wizarding robes were only required during classes. There were those, like Dora, who had grown up wearing robes, and continued to wear robes that weren't black on weekends (at least). Other students, like the two muggle-borns, had started out keeping on their uniforms, no doubt wanting to fit in, but occasionally wore skirts or trousers. They stopped after awhile, though, being the only ones to do so. Besides, robes were far more comfortable than either.
"Pretty much everyone wears robes all the time," Dora said, with a laugh. "Even the two muggle-borns gave up wearing skirts or dresses or trousers after the first year."
Andromeda returned her daughter's laugh with a smile. "I can hardly say I blame them. I've tried muggle clothes on occasion, and was always itching to return to my robes. Well, I would think that the three girls of wizarding families will be wearing corsets when the time comes, although they might not be waist-training. As for the others?" Andromeda shrugged. "I'd simply be guessing."
"Then I won't be the only one?"
"To waist-train? Possibly. But simply to be wearing a corset? I'd be extremely surprised if you were, honey." Andromeda smiled affectionately at her. "Mind, you're the only metamorphmagus at school, and you certainly have other unique qualities."
"Sure, but those are things I can't really control." Except her ability to cause trouble, maybe. "It's different if you're the only one keeping track of how small your waist is getting, especially if you're one of the only ones to wear a corset. And, Mum, suppose I get nightmares?"
"You won't," her mum reassured her, now pulling her into a hug. "That's well over a month away. You'll be long past nightmares, Dora, you'll be sleeping as soundly as you did before. As for the rest, you have lived with these girls for two years already, and you're hardly doing anything that a well-raised girl from a wizarding family has done for hundreds of years. I expect it to continue for hundreds more."
Dora nodded. "I reckon I can get an idea of what to expect when Becky visits. She'll likely be on my side, at least."
"Try not to think of it as there being a 'side' to take, sweetie," her mum suggested. "Just go to school come September, and if you like, you can always lace and unlace in private, at least in the beginning. Mind...you'll need to be extra careful of the laces, then. The house-elves do a thorough job with cleaning the castle, even the floors, but with your clumsiness..."
Dora had the sudden mental image of both ribbons falling into the toilet seat, and scrunched up her face in disgust.
"Reckon you could teach me a cleaning charm, just in case?"
"That would be a very wise idea."
The day passed as the others had, with Dora rewriting her Potions essay (Snape was truly a git, making them at least twice as long as any other essays her other teachers had assigned), then doing some recreational reading, and then sending owls to her friends. They all sounded rather the same, and a bit dull, but she could hardly talk about the main event of her summer through an owl. She certainly wouldn't have written about bras in a letter, and corsets were even more private (so it seemed to her).
She did help her mum with the gardening for a couple of hours. It was nice to be outside, and the day wasn't nearly as hot as some early July days had been. Dora was able to sit and kneel in the grass without any discomfort, although she was all too aware of her corset holding her more upright than she'd be otherwise. Her mum, of course, had the same posture, and simply adjusted her stance so that she didn't have to bend over very much.
Of course, they had advantages over muggles who gardened because they had wands with which to extract the weeds. Andromeda and Dora still wore protective gloves, and still got dirt on them, but their magic did most of the work.
By the time Andromeda thought they had done enough for the day, it was time for tea.
Dora didn't have to be too careful when it came to tea. She found that she could drink however much water and tea she wanted, as long as she didn't drink too fast. The sandwiches and biscuits were small, too, so as long as she took her time there, she wouldn't have any problems later on.
It really came down to what her parents, but mostly her mother, had been telling her throughout her life: slow down and enjoy your food.
Or, as her mother had once said in a fit of frustration, "For Merlin's sake, Nymphadora, don't guzzle your food down like a starving hippogriff!"
Dora hadn't even known what a hippogriff was at the time.
Now, as she chewed her sandwiches in four whole bites, and didn't immediately go from one to the next, her mother smiled in approval.
"I must say, you look very ladylike, honey."
Dora grinned, albeit a little self consciously. Her dad tousled her hair, and she leaned against him, just a bit.
Later that afternoon, when Dora was reading a novel, her mother knocked on her opened door.
"Come in!" she called, putting in the bookmark.
Andromeda ran an affectionate hand over Dora's hair before speaking.
"I was thinking, earlier, about how difficult it can be to get used to sleeping while laced," she began, "and it occurred to me that you might like to try an underbust corset for sleeping."
Dora frowned. "A what?"
Andromeda gestured to her chest, which was covered by her robes, but they were tailored so that Dora (or anyone, really) could see where her waist went in and her breasts expanded. It was a sight so familiar to her daughter that she thought everyone looked like that. But upon seeing muggles for the first time--her father's family--they dressed and looked nothing like her mum. So she'd assumed that they dressed and looked different from witches, and when Dora grew up, she'd look more like her mum than a muggle woman.
It wasn't, she realized now, entirely untrue.
"Our corsets extend to above our breasts, in order to support them and make wearing a bra unnecessary," her mum began, "which is known as an overbust corset. An underbust comes to a bit below our chest, which makes a bra necessary for modesty. However," she continued, before Dora could interrupt, "even though you're training your waist at night, you wouldn't wear a bra then, so you could wear an underbust corset, if you prefer."
This made sense. Except...
"What's the difference? When you wear them, I mean?"
"An underbust extends lower on your body, giving your lungs more room, which makes it far less restrictive. It's far easier to take deep breaths," she explained.
"And since it could be a bit before I am sleeping normally while laced, you think it could help?"
Andromeda nodded. "It certainly couldn't hurt."
Well, this was good news.
"Do you have any that you saved?"
Here, Andromeda sighed, just a bit.
"Underbust corsets were not known to me until I was married. I purchased them with my standard ones after I began training, and after I gave birth to you. I still have those, and we could see if they fit you, but I would be very surprised if they did. Bodies change quite a bit after giving birth, and what fit me then is unlikely to fit you now. Of course," she added, a bit teasingly, "they might be a perfect fit after you've given birth."
Dora made a face. "I'm only thirteen!"
"I didn't say it would be tomorrow. Not for awhile, I would hope. But come, let's see if they would fit."
The first one, a twenty inch, did not. Or rather, it fit at the waist, but was loose and uncomfortable everywhere else. Her mum's hips had expanded, and so had her ribcage. Dora practically felt swallowed up in it.
"Now what?" she asked, after resuming her usual corset.
"We get you fitted for your own pair." She stood. "Madam Malkins will be open for at least four more hours, and so will her corsetierre."
So off they went.
Author's note:
I figured that even though many pure-blood, and even half-blood, families still wore corsets to some degree at the time of this fic (which, according to the Harry Potter universe, starts when Harry is around four...), it doesn't have the same clientele as a wizarding robes. It's generally a female market, for one thing, and likely not growing because wizarding families don't have a ton of kids. Which means that the witches who make and sell corsets are essentially partners with those who make and sell robes.
Oh, and I think it's safe to say that the Weasleys have entirely rejected corsets in favor of bras.
Next up:
Getting measured (again!), ice cream, and waiting.