Hi! Because I'm completely ridiculous and can't help myself, the Yule Ball ballooned out to an absurd monstrosity. Of course, I fully expected that, but it got even longer than I expected. As I'm typing this the document is at about 61k words, which is, just, Jesus, I have problems, okay. I'll be splitting it up into multiple parts and posting one a day. The last part isn't quite finished, but it should only be another couple days, it should be done by the time I get to it.
Without any further ado, have the first part — which is entirely just getting ready before the Ball, and is already over 18k words. Ha.
(I'm a danger to myself and others, send help.)
Liz didn't want to move.
Christmas was a somewhat more solemn holiday at the Refuge than she'd expected. The old-fashioned Celtic holidays were skewed funny, not on the solstices and equinoxes or whatever but halfway between them — the first days of November, February, May, and August — which meant the weird traditional, pagan religious people didn't have a holiday at the end of December. Or, the Gaels didn't, at least — ancient bloody Rome had had a holiday around that time, that was where most Cambrian-speaking people (including the Mistwalkers) had gotten it from. There was Yule, which was originally a Norse thing, and was popular in places that had been under viking control for longer, the north of Scotland and the Hebrides and Orkney, and Ireland proper more spottily. But plenty of Gaelic mages happened to be Christian — most of the time recognising Jesus and their own gods, Liz still didn't know how that worked — so people did celebrate Christmas here.
It just wasn't Christmas as Liz knew it. To the Christians here, Christmas was a very serious holiday, involving over-long church services and lots and lots of quietly praying. The vibe Liz had gotten, asking Sylvia about it, was that it was less a celebration, and more...humble, she guessed. Like, God sending his son to suffer and die to save people from sin or whatever was super super serious, in a we definitely don't deserve this thank you thank you thank you sort of way. As far as Liz could tell, anyway, she wouldn't claim she understood it very well, but it did make sense when she thought about it. The town was super quiet today, hardly anybody out in the street, and there were lights up all over the place — not so obvious now, but Liz had seen them in the distance through the windows late last night, hundreds and hundreds of little pinpricks of light, candles set out and left burning...for whatever reason. Some religious thing, she assumed, but she didn't— Oh, maybe a reference to the Christmas Star, right, that kind of made sense.
Liz had never really liked Christmas anyway — growing up it'd been pretty much the most miserable time of the year, and all the chores and shite had kind of tainted it for her even after that wasn't a problem anymore. The festival at the Greenwood had been great, but she wouldn't really call that Christmas, exactly. This Gaelic version didn't seem particularly interesting, all quiet and contemplative, but at least nobody was demanding she participate, as sometimes happened with Christmas elsewhere. (The cultural vibe around Christmas that you have to join in and absolutely must have fun and if you don't you're a bad person always kind of creeped her out.) Didn't seem like her kind of thing, but it also wasn't any of her business, so whatever.
It did mean she didn't really have anything to do. She'd woken up late this morning, had been up too late last night — hadn't been in a great mood, but also hadn't been tired, so had kept herself occupied playing with basic physical alchemy and scrying whatever came to mind. Besides, it wasn't like she had anywhere to be anyway, it didn't matter if she didn't sleep properly. She and Nilanse had had breakfast at, like, nearly noon? She didn't remember what time it'd been, and it's not like it made much of a difference anyway. Nilanse had gone back to Clyde Rock — she was still getting lessons in elf magic from her older relatives, but she might also just be taking a nap, or whatever elves did in place of proper sleep — leaving Liz alone in the house, and she just, didn't know what to do with herself.
She'd tried to work on her Competency stuff for a while, but she... She wasn't tired, exactly — she hadn't gotten to sleep until late, but she had slept enough. Still not a great idea, since she'd need to be up early to leave for Kaunas in two days, but. For whatever reason, she, just, didn't have the brain energy to concentrate on it, the words smearing on the page. Once she had to read the same paragraph three times, because it just wasn't sticking in her head, she gave up.
Not that she knew what the hell else to do with herself either. She'd only been awake for a few hours and she was already... She'd flopped boneless onto one of the sofas upstairs, and just stared up at the ceiling. Feeling numb and heavy and slow, she could hardly summon the energy to move.
This was a depression thing, she knew, she wasn't an idiot. She could feel it, almost like a physical thing, a dragging weight settling on her, it didn't feel worth the effort to get up to do anything...not that she could think of anything to get up to do anyway. Just, drifting, almost like taking a big dose of calming potion in a way, but instead of light and floaty she was heavy and sinking, stuck.
She knew this probably wasn't the healthiest mental state in the world, but she didn't really know what to do about it. (It occurred to her that she could take some of the drugs she'd won from Susan in a bet, since she wouldn't be needing them for the Yule Ball, but that seemed like it'd just be making a bad situation worse.) It's not like— She wasn't really worried, this wasn't like the really bad episode she'd had a year ago. Honestly, it was hard to summon the energy to do things pretty often...or at least it had been, until Severus and later the Tournament had given her excuses to take the day off if she wasn't feeling up to it. The general feeling wasn't so unusual, just the intensity was — normally she could work up the effort to read, at least, or play around with scrying, if she didn't feel like being stuck in her body at the moment. But right now it, just, didn't seem worth it.
And so she lay here, staring at the ceiling, and...waited for Nilanse to get back, she guessed. She was being really nosey lately (worried about her), she'd probably drag her into doing something. Fuck knows they had enough biscuits and shite, but why not, they could just make more whatever, it was something to do. They couldn't eat all of it themselves, but that was fine, she'd just handed the extras to Hermione, and a second round to that werewolf kids' group home thing Sylvia had told her about. Because why not — those places sounded horrible, the kids would probably appreciate it, wouldn't be surprised if she ended up sending a third round before it was time to leave for Kaunas. Liz hadn't handed the stuff over herself, but it would have been made clear that Liz had baked them herself — like, literally, by hand — which might have political consequences, but she was just too bluh to care about that at the moment.
Also, the only people who'd react negatively were racist bastards, so fuck 'em.
She might be the least self-aware mind mage in the world, but she wasn't an idiot. It wasn't unusual for her to have a down episode at this time of the year, sure, but this was at least partially because of Daphne stuff, and also the Yule Ball she'd be missing later today. Like... Breaking up with Daphne was the right move, she knew that — especially since she'd fucked up and set herself off like a bloody idiot, but it was too late to fix it now — but that didn't mean it didn't suck. She'd mostly been avoiding thinking about it, but that last conversation had put her in a mood — delayed by her visit with Hermione distracting her, but once she was back home, nothing left to occupy her, well.
As exhaustingly energetic as Nilanse could be sometimes, it was probably a good thing she was keeping her busy most of the time. Liz was fucking neurotic at the best of times, being left alone to obsess over shite probably wasn't good for her.
She was trying not to think about it, because it hurt, and crying hurt, but she couldn't help it all the time. Especially when they'd had plans, today. She hadn't been looking forward to the Ball, exactly, had expected it to be kind of miserable, but it was still...
She did really like her dress. It'd come in some days ago now — Liz hadn't touched it since, the bag left folded over the back of a chair in the downstairs sitting room. She'd never have another excuse to wear the thing, which she was weirdly sad about, because she could be surprisingly girly like that sometimes. Also, getting the matching shoes and gloves had been a waste. And, maybe she hadn't been looking forward to the Ball itself, but she had been looking forward to seeing Daphne, she was always so fucking pretty in Mistwalker shite, and especially so when she put extra effort into it, and maybe the dancing wouldn't have been so bad, especially if the drugs worked out the way she hoped...
When Liz had been obligated to go, she hadn't really wanted to, but now that she'd be missing it, she was disappointed that she wasn't going. Because brains were fucking stupid like that, very frustrating, honestly.
Thankfully she didn't really have the energy to cry either, just, heavy and empty — she already felt miserable enough without being in pain from hurting herself, because Liz hadn't stopped being bad at crying.
She did hope it went well for Hermione and Neville, or at least that it didn't blow up terribly. Hermione really had no idea whether she liked Neville or not — she didn't know what liking someone felt like, which Liz guessed was fair enough — so it could really go either way. And Susan and Hannah were awkward sometimes lately, ugh, she didn't really like Hannah much, but hopefully they could put aside their issues for the night...
Someone should have a good time tonight, if Liz wasn't.
She had no idea how long she was just lying there — time was kind of...smeary, running together, it could have been minutes or hours for all she could tell. After however long, there was a pinging from the wards, someone was coming through the floo. Who the hell would be visiting her on Christmas, of all— Oh, it was Severus, okay. Liz could feel the whole property and everyone in it through the wards — she didn't even have to be at home for that to work, it was tied to her soul so she could still feel the house while she was at school — though how people felt through it wasn't the same as mind magic. But the wards recognised Severus as someone who was supposed to be here, and his magic was familiar enough, she didn't have to think about who it was.
The person who came through the floo shortly afterward, however, was not someone she recognised. The wards didn't either, immediately tripping an alarm, her attention directed toward the intruder — not super insistent about it (must not detect any harmful intent or cursed objects), just highlighting their presence, asking Liz what she wanted to do about them. The alarm only went for a few seconds, before abruptly going out, Severus had keyed the person in as a guest.
...For fuck's sake. Liz really wasn't in the mood to deal with...well, anyone, really, but especially not new people. She really wished Severus would have asked first...
Forcing out a heavy sigh, Liz sat up, feeling slow and stiff, pushed herself up to her feet. Even that felt like it took way more effort than it should have, fucking sucked, why did Severus have to— Ugh. She stared at the door toward the stairs for a moment before going the opposite direction to pick up a dress first — it was hard to care about other people's sensibilities just now, but Severus's guest would probably be silly about her showing up in her shorts and vest, and she just didn't want to deal with that either.
Liz was halfway down the stairs when she finally felt the minds in the dining room, enough of the structure of the house out of the way for their magic to reach. The mind was vaguely familiar, she must have met the person before, she was halfway across the foyer when she finally recognised them.
Severus showing up at her house on Christmas Day maybe wasn't that strange — he was her guardian and everything — but why the hell was he here with Narcissa Malfoy?
From the sitting room, she could hear that they were talking about something to do with the house, Liz didn't really care. (Narcissa's mind was pretty closed off, but Liz still caught enough to suspect she didn't entirely approve of Severus letting Liz live on her own.) The conversation immediately broke off as Liz walked through the door, their attention flicking to her, sudden and sharp enough to almost make her flinch. Severus was in one of his casual, out of school outfits — Liz suspected the trousers were magical-made, but that was definitely a muggle jumper, hair once again tied back in a loose ponytail — and this was probably the least informal Liz had ever seen Narcissa, including that New Years' lunch at their place. (One of only two times she'd ever spoken to Draco's mum in person, but there were photos in the Prophet now and then.) Curiously, she was wearing trousers, and a top that Liz suspected was a foreign style — it wrapped around somewhat, a line of buttons from her hip all the way up her side until they vanished under her arm, a final one holding it closed at her collar, long sleeves tailored tight against her arms. Liz was aware there was a kind of class thing about sleeves (because mages were ridiculous sometimes), rich fancy people usually with really droopy baggy sleeves, tight ones like these mostly for people expected to work with their hands, which was...odd, to say the least. The colours were pretty dark and muted too, making her pale skin seem even lighter by comparison, her hair (black with a single streak charmed Malfoy white) tied up into a practical sort of bun, held in place with a silvery pin.
She was, of course, unfairly pretty — she might be dressing down a bit, but she was still Narcissa bloody Malfoy, so.
Oddly, Narcissa had a big canvas shoulder bag, as Liz walked in moving the strap over onto one of the chairs, a long garment bag charmed to float as though hung on an invisible coat rack near the hearth. What was...
"Elizabeth," Severus said, voice as smooth and casual as ever. "Happy Christmas."
"...Happy Christmas." Liz didn't know why he'd bothered saying that — he must know Liz didn't give a damn, and he was Jewish. Glancing at Narcissa, shite, how did it go... "Um, grace and good fortune? Is that it?"
Narcissa grinned, bright and pleasant. Rather warmer than Liz remembered, but she guessed it was a holiday. "May you find grace and good fortune as well, Elizabeth."
Remembered it close enough then, she guessed. "Right. So, what's going on?"
Severus glanced at Narcissa next to him. "Let's speak alone for a moment. I understand there may be biscuits and the like available, if you would like to get started," he said to Narcissa, his head tilting toward the door into the kitchen.
Oh, so, they were having tea then — random, but alright. She assumed Severus must be scheming, presumably he wanted to talk to her about whatever was going on first. "Ceramic containers, near the stove."
Narcissa shot her another smile, dipping her head in a little nod, before turning and vanishing into the kitchen. Severus led her into the sitting room, his wand appearing in his hand, a crackle of magic on the air — she recognised this, it was his favourite privacy paling. "I understand you are hardly in the mood for such an occasion, but you must attend the Yule Ball."
Liz scowled. "They'll do fine without me, I'm not even supposed to be in this bloody thing."
There was a flash of a feeling from Severus...but not what she'd expected, honestly. She'd thought she might feel the hot crackle of exasperation, as often happened when she was being stubborn, but instead it was softer and smoother — sympathy, she thought, and...something else, she wasn't sure what that was, it passed too quickly to catch it. "I would not encourage you to participate in such inane pageantry at a time such as this were it only to appease the sensibilities of your class." The rest of the nobility, he meant, not her classmates at school. Though some people were in both groups, she guessed. "As you know, those selected by the Goblet are bound to endure what is expected of them, or else face severe punishment. Are you certain those expectations do not include tonight's event?"
...No. No, she wasn't. The Yule Ball was a traditional part of the whole Tournament thing, going way way back to the first century of its existence — before the concept of a "ball" proper was even a thing, in fact (though the party had always been associated with Yule specifically, it was complicated). It was very possible that whoever had explained the Tournament to the Goblet had included the Ball among the Champion's responsibilities, no different from the rest of the Tasks. There was no way to tell for sure, since they couldn't just ask the bloody thing, and it wasn't worth getting hit with whatever curse it decided to go with this time. "Fuck."
"Quite," Severus drawled, his mind flickering with amusement.
"Severus, I— You might have noticed, I don't have a date anymore. Going alone would be...kind of pathetic—" Liz didn't doubt there'd be cameras there, the Prophet's society pages and Witch Weekly were probably going to do whole big things about it, so fucking everyone would know. "—and it's too late to ask anyone. All of my friends are already going with people anyway..."
There was a quiver on the air, Severus hesitating for a breath, deciding how to word what he was about to say. "Among certain old-fashioned segments of society, it is considered appropriate for a young lady to be escorted at her first formal event by her father." He paused, so briefly as to be almost unnoticeable. "Or a suitable male relative, should he not be available. I suspect Black may be willing to step in as well, if you haven't any other options you would prefer to go with."
...He meant himself. Severus was suggesting they go together. That must be what the garment bag out there was for, his formal stuff.
As the realisation clicked, Liz was suddenly hit with...something. The feeling was intense enough to pierce through the numb slow haze in her head, breaking through to burn in her chest, hot tension crawling up her throat. She had absolutely no clue what the feeling was, her head suddenly far too scattered to have any idea what was going on in here, but it was fucking stupid, she was not going to start randomly crying for no reason, fucking brain, calm the fuck down...
It took several seconds, fight against the building ache in her chest and glaring stubbornly at Severus's elbow, before Liz was certain her voice would come out right. "Why didn't you say anything earlier? It's been like a week."
"Nilanse suggested you might unnecessarily stress yourself over the matter were you informed ahead of time."
Oh, that nosey little... It was hard to work up any real irritation with her — not through the whatever else this was twisting her stomach and clawing at her chest, warmth on her face — especially since she was probably right about that. Liz could be pointlessly neurotic sometimes, after all. "...Fine. If you're taking me, why is Narcissa here?"
"I expected you might want assistance with hair and make-up and the like that I am not equipped to give myself. Narcissa is the only suitable option both willing to do me the favour and whom you have ever met."
...Fair enough. "Okay." Her voice came out a little shaky, she took a moment to swallow against the hot knot in her throat. "Okay, I'll go." At least she'd get to actually wear that bloody dress, she guessed... "Um. Can you go make sure Narcissa is making us coffee? There is tea in there, for Sirius, so. I'll be along in a minute."
Severus, tactfully, did as she asked, leaving her alone to get control of herself. She spent at least a couple minutes in here, leaning her forehead against the wall, the wood cool against her skin, taking long slow breaths. How easily she cried sometimes got seriously fucking irritating, she hated it — especially when she didn't even know why the fuck it was happening! Nothing had even happened, she just— Ugh, fucking thing.
It'd almost make sense if it was like that time a year ago, when she'd realised she couldn't just stay in her dorm room forever, frustrated at actually having to do things, but she was pretty sure it wasn't that, too... This was something else. If anything, the weird soft squirminess reminded her of that time in Godric's Hollow, but she had no fucking clue why. Feelings were hard.
She suspected the bit that had set her off was Severus, just, casually referring to himself as her father (if indirectly), but that didn't help her figure out what the feeling was, exactly. She couldn't even say if it was a good or a bad feeling, because both could make her cry with very little warning, and it could be impossible to tell. It was, just, her head was all mixed up all of a sudden, too much shite going on in here, she didn't know.
Going to the Ball with Severus was also going to be super embarrassing, but she had the drugs from Susan, she'd be able to get through it. People would probably have all kinds of nosey questions afterward, but she guessed she'd deal with that when it happened.
Eventually, Liz thought she had herself more or less under control — her chest was still a bit tight and hot, but she didn't think she was in immediate danger of breaking down, at least. She quick dabbed at her eyes with her scarf, just in case, before walking back out into the dining room.
Tea was mostly tedious, but it wasn't that bad, Liz just idly nibbled on biscuits while half-listening to the conversation going on. (The coffee felt good on her throat, so that was something.) A lot of it was Severus and Narcissa gossipping about mutual acquaintances, mostly complete strangers to Liz, and also she didn't give a shite about who'd said what or whose kid was getting an apprenticeship with who or who had been caught shagging someone they really shouldn't be. There was some politics, but only on certain topics — Liz and Severus didn't talk about politics much, but reading between the lines she'd figured out enough to know that Narcissa was much more conservative than him when it came to, like, economic shite. Narcissa was super-rich nobility, but Severus was a middle-class professional type, class interests like.
The political developments lately were still going on, the big news of the day that Crouch had finally been kicked out from the directorship of International Cooperation. The Wizengamot being more Light-leaning than Liz's new allies had expected had made that not guaranteed to happen, but his direct supporters were less influential these days, and he hadn't handled the fallout from the World Cup well, so. There were also rumours that stress was finally getting to him — he'd snapped at people a few times, other days completely failed to show up at the office at all — so even if the politics of the day hadn't shifted he might have been on his way out anyway. The Wizengamot wasn't scheduled to pick a new Director until after the holidays, until then the Department being run by his Deputies and whatever assistants hadn't been fired along with him, one of whom would be attending the Yule Ball in his place.
During the politics talk, the national situation never once came up — which was a little odd, considering how much that stuff was ramping up these days. Liz would guess Narcissa was trying to be tactful, since Severus was dating a dedicated nationalist and all.
(As far as Liz knew, Severus didn't actually have a strong opinion on Gaelic independence, but indirectly insulting his girlfriend right in front of him wouldn't be very polite.)
Of course, the normal shite adults talked to kids about did come up, about how school was going, what she was studying, blah blah blah. Liz was a little surprised that Severus had told Narcissa about her plans to transfer out after OWLs, but she realised by now that Narcissa could be trusted not to go blabbing — Severus was cautious enough not to give out secrets to people who wouldn't keep them. Narcissa agreed that the Continental curriculum was better than Britain's in a lot of ways, which directly led into discussing the upcoming educational reforms, which at least meant the conversation wasn't focussed on Liz anymore.
It sounded like whether the bit allowing wilderfolk to go to school was up in the air now — a bargaining chip on the table against a whole bunch of other things to do with funding and certification and whatever the fuck, it was complicated. Honestly, it was absurd that they didn't already have public education on the magical side, but if the racist bastards got their way and made it so only humans could go, Liz might have to vote against it anyway.
(Liz was becoming increasingly convinced that they couldn't have nice things until after they offed the nobility, but that wasn't something she was going to come out and say right in front of Narcissa.)
They lingered at the table for rather longer than it took to finish, Severus and Narcissa gossipping about whatever while Liz just idly poked at the remaining biscuits. She didn't actually end up eating much, idly disassembling one on her plate, just to have something to do with her hands. (It was always harder to eat when she was in a down mood, she might forget to do it at all if she wasn't reminded.) They were stalling, so they wouldn't have quite so long sitting around after getting ready, which was fair enough — Liz didn't have anything better to do, so she just sat waiting, trying not to simmer over Severus going with her too much.
It was still really confusing, but at least she hadn't broken down crying over tea for no apparent reason. Feelings continued to be hard.
Eventually, Narcissa suggested they get started. There were still a couple hours before they had to be there, but sure, whatever, why not. Pushing herself up to her feet, Liz grimaced — Severus had maybe underestimated how seriously bloody uncomfortable this was going to be. Sure, Liz had met Narcissa before, but it wasn't like she was super familiar or anything, and Liz didn't even like being poked at by people she knew well. And it would involve, you know, changing clothes, that was going to be bloody miserable...
...Fuck it, she'd just take a sip of calming potion first. It should wear off by the time they got to the school, it would be fine.
She started leading Narcissa through the house, a little surprised to notice Severus was following them, the garment bag now folded over his arm. Oh, stupid, obviously he needed to get dressed too, he was probably going to use the other bathroom. Um, Liz had no idea if there was shampoo and shite in there — Hermione would have brought all her stuff to school with her, but Sirius might or might not have left something — but it turned out Severus had his own stuff on him somewhere, okay then. Liz retrieved her dress from where she'd left it in the sitting room, the bundle with her shoes and gloves should be in her room, silently walking while Narcissa and Severus kept chattering behind her.
Liz had no idea how she was supposed to respond to Narcissa's comment that her house was nice — she hadn't made the bloody thing, had she? Not like she'd known what to say to the compliments on her baking either, just, owning something didn't seem like it deserved praise.
Anyway, they ditched Severus at the guest bathroom upstairs, Liz and Narcissa continuing on the loop around. Now that Severus was gone, Narcissa had abruptly fallen silent, which was nice of her — she'd done the same thing that New Year's, probably put together Liz was shite with smalltalk. Liz led her as far as the sitting room nearest her bedroom, light and shadows from the pensieve playing on the ceiling, before coming to a stop. "Um, what's the plan, exactly? I don't know what we're doing..."
"Is there a private bathroom nearby?"
"Oh, sure, it's back this way..." Grimacing once her back was turned — Liz didn't like letting people in her bedroom if she could help it — she led the way through her room into the bathroom.
In the first half, with the toilet and sink, Narcissa let out a let hum, then hitched to a stop once they reached the second part, with the bath and shower. "Ah, no, this won't do. I will set up in the salon instead. While I prepare, you may wish to wash up, and change into suitable underclothes. You needn't wash your hair, I've brought potions that should help it behave for the night." Good fucking luck with that, Liz's hair was impossibly stubborn. "Will your wards prevent one of my family's elves from carrying furniture through?"
"Yes." Theoretically, Narcissa shouldn't be able to call Malfoy elves here at all, though Liz had never tested that part of the wards. "Nilanse?"
There was a brief pause, before the familiar girl appeared with the familiar little pop. "Hello, Liz! Are you needing something?"
"I'm not buying the innocent act anymore, you know. Severus told me you two have been scheming about the Yule Ball."
Nilanse, of course, just grinned up at her, wide enough to display pointy elven teeth, bright red eyes glimmering. "Yep! Cediny thinks it is best that you be relaxing as much as you can, I wasn't wanting you to worry. Master Severus said it was being very Slytherin of me to think of it." Tone didn't carry on elven voices the same, but Liz was pretty sure that was supposed to be smug.
Liz rolled her eyes — this girl, honestly. "Narcissa is going to need a couple things, go ahead and steal them from Clyde Rock. Be nice," she said to Narcissa, cutting her a glare. "I've seen how other mages talk to elves, and this isn't your house." She paused for a second, before adding, "And Nilanse's only thirteen, if that makes a difference to you." Liz had heard somewhere (probably Severus) that Narcissa worshipped Mother Mercy, and her people could have a whole thing about children...not that she was sure purebloods' concept of "children" would include elves, but. And, Nilanse was barely still thirteen — if Liz remembered correctly, her birthday should be sometime in January — but whatever, still counts.
There was an odd cool shudder in Narcissa's head — her occlumency was too good for Liz to see what she was thinking without intruding — but whatever that feeling was she just kept smiling back at Liz. "As you say. This way, dear," Narcissa said to Nilanse (the endearment dropped without any sign of hesitation), turning to lead the way out of the bathroom, "we'll be setting up in the salon."
Liz followed as far as her bedroom door, closing it behind them — the wards snapped into place, cutting off the babble about arranging a proper makeup counter and a basin they could comfortably wash Liz's hair in. Belatedly, she realised that was why Narcissa had decided the bathroom wasn't acceptable, there was no sink set at a convenient angle. Shrugging it off, Liz double-checked the door was latched, before tracking down fresh knickers, shorts, and vest. She technically wasn't supposed to wear anything under the gown above the waist...and she probably shouldn't wear the shorts either, she recalled the drawstring had ended up a little pinched by the corset part. But she definitely wasn't comfortable just sitting around in her knickers in front of Narcissa (especially since she was unfairly pretty), so, once she was done washing her hair 'properly' Liz would duck back into her room to change into the gown part in private, it would be fine.
It was unreasonably difficult to undress for a quick shower, her heart pounding and her fingers twitching. She was being ridiculous. She could feel Narcissa through the wards, yes, she knew she was right over there, but Liz was literally the only person in the entire bloody world who could open her bedroom door — at least not without a couple minutes of cursebreaking, and she would definitely feel that happening. It was fine, she was fine, why did she have to be so bloody neurotic all the fucking time?!
It didn't help that Liz was...starting to get kind of nervous. She wasn't great with crowds a lot of the time, and she didn't like having panic attacks or getting overwhelmed by all the Seer shite, thank you. And the Yule Ball was going to include a lot of stuff she was, just, terrible at. The formal smalltalk at the dinner table — not just with the Champions and the judges and their dates, but also, like, government people, bloody weird — and the dancing, shite, Liz didn't think she was very good at dancing. Sirius had taught her all the formal dances she'd need to know for this thing...though with the time constraints, they'd stuck with just making sure she could do the women's parts instead of taking the extra effort to learn both, as gay people generally had to. (She'd confirmed Daphne did actually know the men's parts, so that was fine.) Of course, for the most part she didn't really give a damn whether she did things 'properly', but if she fucked up in public people would stare, which would then make the Seer shite worse, which would then make her jumpy, which would make her more likely to fuck up...
She was really hoping the drugs Susan had sent worked.
...Oh shite, dancing with Severus was going to be really bloody awkward. And not just because he was a tall bastard, and she was fucking tiny. She hadn't actually considered that until just now, ugh.
Liz cheated, bundled her hair up with styling charms and then covered the top of her head with an impermeable charm, should prevent it from getting wet at all. Standing in the shower with that on was kind of weird, the water dribbling over the rest of her but not feeling it on the top of her head at all, but she tried to ignore that. She rushed through soaping up and rinsing off as quick as reasonably possible, uncomfortably conscious of Narcissa out there waiting. Once she was out, she dried herself off with wandless charms, summoning her wand to get everything between her neck and hair -lines — her hair didn't like drying charms, but her skin didn't mind them, her wand just let her aim more precisely. Dismissing the charms on her hair with a few flicks of her fingers, she tracked down her special-fancy-event wand holster — initially gotten to go with her white robes, meant to go around the arm above the elbow, enchanted to turn invisible once it was strapped in place — slipped her wand into it, and...she didn't think she needed anything else. Her new shoes were meant to be worn without anything underneath, so, that was it.
Oh, she should bring Lily's jewellery box — she was shite at this stuff, she didn't know what would be appropriate to wear with her dress, that was what Narcissa was for. The box tucked under her arm, Liz took a quick sip of calming potion, waited for the brief moment of dizziness to pass, and walked back out of her room.
While Liz had been busy, Narcissa had made a few changes to the sitting room. The pensieve setup had been disassembled, the pensieve on its little table relocated over toward the door out onto the balcony, three of the special two-seat one-armrest sofas pushed against the glass. The fourth sofa was still roughly in its spot, just turned somewhat, a pedestal with a big basin standing on it set up next to the armless side. There was a counter along the back wall, boxes and bottles and shite, a sizeable mirror above it, a second full-length mirror stuck to the wall just to the side. Which seemed like a bit much, but what did Liz know.
Narcissa had removed the dress from its bag, all four pieces hung from midair by that charm. When Liz walked in she was poking over the gown part, running her wand down the surface, plucking out the skirt to more easily get the whole length — smoothing out any wrinkles picked up while it was in the bag, Liz guessed.
Liz hadn't actually seen the finished dress yet. It was very colourful, soft lavender and solid black, the red stitching vibrant, accents done in gold thread glittering in the light, the little bunches of beads here and there giving off a steadier, smoother gleam. It was really nice, she did like this dress. She couldn't help the thought that she wouldn't be able to pull it off properly, despite remembering it'd looked fine trying it on at the shop, but Liz's brain could be fucking stupid like that sometimes, it was best to just try to ignore it.
"It is a lovely dress," Narcissa said, without turning away from whatever she was doing. "I adore the embroidery, and the beadwork. Where did you get this? Not Twilfit and Tattings."
...How the hell could she tell? "Amsterdam. I don't remember what the place was called."
"Of course, interesting work does come out of Holland now and then. I suspect this is an apprentice's project, I suppose I'll ask around."
That was slightly silly, but okay. "The woman who did the fitting was called Margriet. I don't know if she's the one who actually did the stitching."
"Most likely she is — that will simplify the task greatly, thank you." Narcissa finally let go of the gown, her wand disappearing up her sleeve, turned around to look at Liz. A little shiver in her mind, "Ah, you realise you won't be able to wear the vest under this gown."
Trying not to cringe at Narcissa's attention on her — the calming potion helped, but she was very much aware that this vest wouldn't be doing a great job of hiding her lopsidedness — she tried to force a casual-looking shrug. "I know. I figured I'd dip back into my room to change. After washing my hair, but before fixing it up or whatever."
Narcissa let out a soft hum, glancing back at the hanging clothes. "We will soak your hair and do your nails first, then you will change into the gown, and then we'll do your face and finish your hair, and end with the bodice and other final touches. If that sounds all right?"
She just shrugged again. "You're the expert."
"Very well. Go ahead and lie down, then, and we'll get started." While Liz reluctantly started drifting toward the sofa, Narcissa detoured to the counter to pick up her shoulder bag (now noticeably deflated), before moving to join her at the sofa. "Your feet this way, please," gesturing toward the end with the armrest, "your head will need to be over the wash basin. Not the most convenient solution, but...Nilanse, was it? She isn't aware of a suitable reclining chair at Rock-on-Clyde, so this will have to do."
Trying not to look as awkward as she felt — manageably awkward, though, the calming potion had been a good idea — she sat roughly in the middle of the sofa. Turned sideways, she glanced over her shoulder toward the basin. Narcissa was kneeling on the floor over there, digging a selection of glass bottles out of the bag. Trying to lean back over the basin was kind of awkward, especially since it would leave her head hanging off the end of the sofa, meaning her neck would end up drooping at an uncomfortable angle. She wasn't quite lying level when there was a touch on her head, Narcissa's mind suddenly much louder against hers, she twitched.
The hands pulled away, an odd shiver in Narcissa's head. Liz sighed. "It's alright, just startled me. Contact makes people's minds a lot louder."
"Ah, of course. I believe it was mentioned in the Prophet that you are a psychometric Seer?" Even without looking, Liz knew that was how Narcissa knew about that — Severus hadn't told her that detail, apparently. There was a touch at the back of her head again, light, but still enough to carry Narcissa's mind to Liz through the contact. The hard, cold shell of occlumency was far less overpowering from this close, for some reason, Narcissa's mind warmer and softer than she'd expected, though also with the same hyperactive clicking she knew from Severus, Hermione, and even Rita Skeeter. (Liz still didn't know whether that meant anything, though she had noticed that she seemed to find it only in particularly analytical people.) Gently pulling Liz's hair out from where it'd gotten trapped between her back and the sofa, Narcissa said, "A couple more inches this way, if you would."
Liz pushed against the armrest with her feet, Narcissa guiding her head down. There was a tingle of magic, and then something soft but stable came to press against the back of her neck — Narcissa must have transfigured in place something to prop her up over the basin. Liz's head was at a somewhat uncomfortable angle, her chin tilted up a little, but it wasn't that bad, she could tolerate this for however long it took, she guessed. Though, it didn't take very long before she caught herself staring at Narcissa, 'above' her to the left, she closed her eyes.
Narcissa was annoyingly pretty, okay, she couldn't help it. She did not look old enough to have a son Liz's age, bloody mages...
There was more magic being cast, crawling over Liz's skin along her forehead and her cheeks, she... Some kind of protective charms, she thought, to keep off whatever products Narcissa planned on attacking her hair with. Then there was another spell, the noise making it obvious Narcissa was filling the basin with water. Liz vaguely felt the subtle pull of her hair on her head increase, but not as much as she might expect — some of the weight would be held up by the basin, so. The subtle pop of bottles being opened, and Narcissa was adding shite to the water, not just normal shampoo, whatever it was definitely magical. She could feel it, sharp and crackling, almost coppery on the roof of her mouth...which was definitely a magesight thing, because it smelled just vaguely floral.
Narcissa must have adjusted the basin up a bit, Liz could feel the waterline now, in a circle from the top of her neck along the shell of her ears and over the top of her forehead. Gently, she began massaging whatever this shite was into her hair — the water didn't slosh much at all, barely wiggling against Liz's skin, she suspected a charm was holding it in place — which was kind of, um...
Well, it felt kind of nice, actually. It seemed that the calming potion was stopping her from getting too neurotic about being touched, because, it wasn't like it was really the point of what she was doing, but getting the stuff all through her hair required kneading against Liz's head a little bit, soft pressure wandering in little circles. Maybe if Narcissa's mind was actively unpleasant it would bother her more, but her thoughts were mostly blocked off by the occlumency, the feelings coming off of her soft and nice. She felt a knot of tension she hadn't even really noticed loosen out of her shoulders, little tingles travelling down her spine in time with Narcissa's fingers. It didn't take very long before Liz was fidgeting, struggling not to squirm in place.
Okay, no matter how surprisingly nice this was, she was not going to be a bloody pervert about Draco's mum, that would be weird. (Her brain reminding her that Narcissa was a lesbian was not helping.) She needed a distraction. "Um, I don't know how well this is going to work. My hair is very stubborn."
"I had noticed that," Narcissa said in a low drawl, a smokey edge of humour on her voice. Ugh, that was not helping her avoid perverted thoughts... "The trait shows itself now and again in certain Light families, but it has been almost universal in Potters over the last few generations. Jamie and Charlus hadn't too much trouble with it, as they kept their hair short, but I'm told Liz found it entirely unmanageable. Excuse me, that is Elizabeth Katrin, your father's sister by Charlus's first wife."
...Yeah, having two Liz Potters was kind of confusing, but Liz was more thrown off by Narcissa calling him Jamie — Liz had noticed that only people who'd known him personally did that. "You know about Elizabeth?"
There was a wiggle on the air, maybe surprise or confusion. "I know of her, yes. She was my eldest sister's favourite prefect during her first couple years at Hogwarts."
"Wait, she was a Slytherin?" That did seem to be what Narcissa was implying, at least — Narcissa's eldest sister was Bellatrix Lestrange, who would have had little reason to interact with non-Slytherin prefects as a firstie. Though it was also a little odd to casually refer to your sister who also happened to be an infamous war criminal in conversation, but the magical world could be like that sometimes.
"Yes, didn't you know? She was the first Potter in Slytherin since...Harold Bonafatius, in the early Nineteenth Century, I believe."
"...No, I didn't know that." Hadn't heard about that Harold bloke either, but he'd probably died ages ago. It was still absurd that nobody ever mentioned the other aunt she supposedly had, especially since they had the same name and had both ended up in Slytherin — you'd think that's the sort of thing that would come up. But she didn't want to get frustrated with magical nobles being bloody ridiculous right now — clearly it wasn't worth bringing her up, since she'd been disowned and ran away to marry a veela and therefore might as well not exist — so she changed the subject. "Did you know James? Only people who knew him call him that."
"I don't recall the first time I met Jamie, I would have been too young to remember it clearly. Your grandmother was my great-aunt Dorea — our household and the Potters sometimes attended the same family gatherings." Oh, right, that should have been obvious, never mind. "I didn't know Dorea and Charlus well, and I imagine it wouldn't surprise you were I to admit Jamie and I never quite got along."
Liz snorted. "Yeah, no, I could have guessed that." Though it was kind of funny that Narcissa had apparently gotten on better with Liz's mother than her father, considering.
There was a little flutter of amusement, Narcissa went back to the original subject. "In any case, I'm reasonably confident this will work. I have a cousin, married to a Carmichael who carries the trait, and it was passed on to her daughter — after Severus approached me about tonight, I asked her for advice. The neutralising effects will prevent the use of styling charms, but it should be manageable."
...Liz was aware she was related to some of the Carmichaels — they'd even attempted to challenge Severus's custody of her last year — though she didn't know how closely. Probably pretty close, if they thought they had a shot at winning that challenge. "If it does work you'll have to tell me where to get it, my hair is super frustrating."
"Of course. Do you know how to plait hair by hand?" She didn't say out loud that she suspected Liz couldn't, since she hadn't any women in her life who might have taught her growing up, because Narcissa could be tactful like that.
"Oh." Right, she had just said the stuff would prevent styling charms from working, hadn't she. "No, I use the charm. I'll ask Susan or someone, it's fine." Susan didn't have long hair anymore, but she had the first couple years at school, and Hannah's was often kept in a super long plait, one of them should be able to help with that.
"Very well." Liz felt Narcissa move, she opened her eyes and glanced 'up' to see Narcissa was standing, wiping her hands off with a white cotton towel — whatever magic-neutralising effects were needed to cancel out her hair's shite must also resist drying charms. "There we are. That will need to sit for, oh, fifteen to twenty minutes, at the least." If it was going to take that long every time, maybe it wasn't worth using this stuff herself...though, Liz guessed she could probably go scrying while she was waiting, it might not be that bad. "We may work on your nails while we wait. Do you have any preferences as to colours?"
Liz shrugged. "I'm terrible with this shite. Whatever you think will look right."
"Mm." Narcissa glanced away, toward where Liz knew her dress was still hanging — she couldn't see it from here, her head tilted the wrong way. "Red, perhaps, to compliment the embroidery. Some gold lining will do nicely as well, I believe. I hope you don't mind Gryffindor colours."
She let out a derisive snort before she could stop herself. "They're also Potter colours, so I'm kind of stuck with them. Red and gold are fine."
"Good, then." Narcissa wandered out of Liz's field of vision, toward the counter. There was a sound of glass clinking, and a moment later Narcissa was back, holding four little bottles over Liz. One held a substance in a deep dark purple, another a brighter red, a third looked completely transparent; the fourth container was flatter, with a much wider lip, some kind of sparkly gold something in it. "The purple below and the red above — I'll blend them somewhat, I think it may turn out well. Thoughts?"
Liz had no fucking clue, she didn't know how this shite worked. She was kind of surprised Narcissa intended to use actual physical nail polish, she'd assumed they'd just stick with charms...
"How about I do one hand to demonstrate, hmm?" There was a bit of fiddling around, the casting of some kind of magic, and then Narcissa was sitting next to the sofa at about Liz's waist-level — she must have conjured a stool or something. Which was kind of awkward, Liz feeling uncomfortably exposed, she just closed her eyes and tried not to think about it. (The calming potion had definitely been a good idea.) Thankfully, Narcissa's mind was pleasant enough, the pressure of her attention on Liz minimal, so it was manageable.
...Apparently, Narcissa had read the Prophet article from the Weighing of the Wands, which had included Liz's comment about being able to feel people's eyes on her — Narcissa was consciously avoiding looking at anything she didn't actively need to. Like, she'd taken Liz's hand, held in a gentle grip at an angle to conveniently expose her nails, sharp prickly charms breaking over her fingers — doing something to them, Liz wasn't sure what — she could definitely feel Narcissa's eyes on her hand, but it was very focussed, she didn't feel attention going to anywhere else on her body at all. That was... Liz didn't know how to feel about that.
She appreciated it, definitely, but feelings were hard. It'd been nearly a year now since that conversation in the Malfoy library, and she still didn't know how to process Narcissa being so bloody nice to her.
Narcissa poking at her hand was rather less distracting than messing with her hair, Liz didn't feel compelled to fill the air with babble to keep herself occupied, a somewhat tense silence falling. At least, Liz felt it was a little tense — not unbearably so, with the calming potion — the bits of Narcissa's mind leaking through the occlumency seemed perfectly at ease. Liz felt Narcissa apply the stuff, finger by finger, the tingle of a charm following after each one — drying the stuff off, she guessed. Then there was a second round, the charmwork afterward rather more complicated, one, two, three separate spells, not distinctive enough for Liz to guess what they were doing. One had a bit of a twisty feel to it, that was probably "blending" the layers, however the fuck that was supposed to...
Liz frowned, her nose scrunching a little — there was a chemical tang on the air, subtle, but it seemed kind of... "Is that muggle nail polish?"
"The red is, yes."
"...Really."
"Yes. The industrial chemicals they... I'm uncertain what the appropriate term would be. Lacquer? Some muggle varieties have a more consistent sheen to them than ours."
...Okay, then. Really wouldn't have expected Narcissa bloody Malfoy to have any familiarity with muggle cosmetics whatsoever, but what did she know.
After the second round was a third round. The applying part of this one took longer, seeming to take two different steps — if Liz had to guess, doing the clear stuff and the gold stuff at the same time. Some part of the process was obviously very delicate, tiny feather-light touches perceptible through the nail, Liz didn't know what that was about. Once that was done there was only a single charm, probably drying, Narcissa moving onto the next nail. Seemed very tedious, she didn't know why the fuck Narcissa was bothering...
All said and done, the entire process must have taken five, ten minutes just by itself, which was ridiculous for just a single hand, but whatever. "There we are," Narcissa chirped, "that turned out well. Go ahead and give that a look — if it's to your liking I'll continue with the other hand."
Blinking her eyes open — they'd been closed enough it took a couple seconds to adjust to the light — Liz lifted her hand over her face to... Huh. That looked really neat, actually. The purple was a little lighter than it'd seemed in the bottle, still pretty dark but an intense blueish-violet, the red almost looking like fresh blood, the colours swirled around, seamlessly fading from one to the other. The material looked weirdly solid, a quality to it Liz wasn't familiar with, more used to the charm version, almost looking like chips of painted ceramic, glaze visibly gleaming in the light. A narrow strip in an arc at the tip of her fingernails had been dusted with glittery gold, sparkling with each slightest movement, it...
Well, it was really pretty, honestly, she loved it. Seemed like it'd take way too much work to do as a matter of routine (and the gold would probably be a bit much outside of formal events), but fucking hell. If the real stuff was so much better than the charms she might have to give in and buy proper physical nail polish. "Um, that's good. Let's do the other one the same."
There was a little flutter in Narcissa's head, didn't know what that was — it seemed pleasant enough, so it probably wasn't worth worrying about. "All right. If you'll give me your other hand..."
Narcissa almost finished the first layer before Liz just couldn't hold in her curiosity anymore, had to ask. "Where did you learn how to do this? Most people seem to just use charms."
"You can see through them, can't you?" There was a suggestive note to Narcissa's voice, though suggestive of what, she wasn't sure.
"...Yeah, sort of. Even if I can't see what the person should look like without them, I always know the spells are there. Like, Draco and Lucius, I know their hair colour is fake, but I can't tell what the real one is."
"Lucius's natural colour is a dark honey-blond; Draco inherited black hair from me. For daily use, cosmetic glamours may be acceptable, but they are inadvisable when attending formal events. There tend to be a wide variety of active magics used in decoration and the like, which may disrupt any charms on one's person — and one must remember there may be mind mages or Seers among the attendees, such as yourself. While a minority of one's peers seeing through one's work may not be ideal, the charms being disrupted is far more embarrassing."
"Right, that makes sense." It was a similar idea to why you didn't wear transfigured clothes in public, and definitely nothing conjured — you didn't want to find yourself suddenly underdressed just because of a single stray dispel. Not as big of a deal as that, but Liz could see how glamours failing like that might end up being the subject of gossip. "I'm just... Well, I guess I would have thought you'd have people for that, you know."
"There are, yes. Most elves are capable enough, and there are a number of professionals as well. Myself, I..." She hesitated for a moment, in the middle of applying another layer of stuff (partway through doing the red now), a cold lurch through her mind. "A friend taught me, as a favour." A lover, she meant. "For a time, during the summer of Eighty-Four, I was expecting a girl. I thought it would be something nice for us to play with together, once she was old enough."
...Oh. "You knew she was a girl already? I thought mages couldn't do that."
"Most methods of detection are unreliable, yes, as the mother's own magic interferes with such spells. It came to me in a dream, before I even knew I was pregnant. I've always suspected it to be a message from Mother Mercy — such is not unusual, for those who often approach the deeper magics. I knew she was to be a girl."
Other people might find just knowing things like that unusual, but Liz was a bloody Seer, so. Claiming it was sent to her in a dream by a literal goddess might be slightly out there, but who can say, all kinds of weird shite happened when magic got involved. (And, Narcissa was religious, it was possible it was just unconscious Seer shite that she'd interpreted in a way that made sense to her.) But, this definitely wasn't a happy story, as her hesitation a moment ago suggested. And, well, Draco didn't have a baby sister, as far as she knew, so. "Um...what happened?"
"I lost her, before she was grown enough to survive outside the womb."
...Yeah, she'd thought it'd be that. "Sorry."
"It's all right, sweetheart." It obviously wasn't, not really, an echo of old horror and grief leaking through her occlumency — she meant that she wasn't irritated with Liz for bringing it up. "Afterward, I continued the lessons, and have kept in practice ever since. I sometimes volunteer to help my younger cousins prepare for their first formal appearances."
Which was basically what this was, Liz guessed? They were, um, second cousins, she thought? Actually, besides the aunt she hadn't known about (and still didn't really want anything to do with), she was pretty sure Narcissa, her sisters, Sirius, and also the Muircheartaigh triplets' mum were Liz's closest living relatives — Liz's Black great-grandparents were also their great-grandparents, making them second cousins, yes, that was how that worked. (Liz's grandparents had had James really late, so Liz was on Sirius and Narcissa's row on the Black family tree, meaning Dorea and Draco and the Muircheartaigh triplets and Dora Tonks were technically her nieces/nephew.) Which she guessed was another reason why Severus might have gone to Narcissa, and why she'd actually agreed to do it. Right, that all made sense now, good to know.
By the time Narcissa had finished both hands, it was time to go back to her hair. Narcissa vanished the stuff in the basin, and refilled it with fresh water, rinsing out Liz's hair a bit (which continued to be distracting). Then she... It kind of looked like a muggle curling iron, but apparently what it actually did was strip water out of hair — you started at the bottom, clamped it closed, and drew out toward the ends, water pulled out in thick streams to noisily splash into the basin. That didn't get all of it, though, and apparently the magic-neutralising effects of the special stuff would prevent drying charms from working, so Narcissa wrapped her hair in a towel instead, tightly bundled up in a lump against the top of her head to the back of her neck. Which felt bloody weird, but whatever.
"That will need to sit for another ten, fifteen minutes or so," Narcissa said, once the towel was finally secured in place. "What sort of shoes are you wearing?"
Liz didn't know what the fuck the proper words were for these things. "Um, they're in the tan bag, under my desk," she said, pointing at the open door into her bedroom.
Narcissa dipped into her room, reappearing a moment later with the bag. She gracefully sank to a seat on the sofa next to Liz — while Narcissa undid the ties, Liz struggled not to be weird about the annoyingly pretty woman sitting so close, trying not to notice her perfume. (Because of course she even had to smell nice, so not fair.) Before too long, she retrieved a shoe, tearing away the paper it'd been wrapped in for shipping. There was a faint flicker of surprise in her head, but whatever she was thinking she just said, "Ah, how cute."
Trying not to feel self-conscious, Liz just shrugged. They were heels, made out of some kind of cloth — she assumed the hard insides were made of wood or something, since mages didn't use plastic — mostly done in white with a couple bits in black for contrast, stitching in glittery gold. They didn't really cover the foot, just a (relatively wide) band over the middle and around the ankle, which Liz realised was a more modern style than super fancy mages might think acceptable, and definitely didn't match the old-fashioned dress. But, when Liz had tried them on during that shopping trip, she'd felt super girly, in the good way, she hadn't been able to help herself. Not the sort of thing she'd want to wear very often, she preferred her duelling boots for everyday stuff — she'd gotten a new tournament-legal pair on the same shopping trip, her old ones were kind of beat up by now — but for a special fancy party, why the hell not?
Honestly, she didn't care what the nobles thought of the style not matching — she was more worried about the heels making her more clumsy than usual. Her dancing lessons with Sirius had mostly been done in her fancy white boots, since formalwear usually had heels, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem. It still felt slightly awkward walking in heels, not used to it yet.
(If she could get away with it she might just not wear shoes at all, but that would be extremely inappropriate, unfortunately.)
"While we're waiting for your hair to dry, would you like to do your toenails as well?"
"Um...we maybe should." They would be showing in these shoes, so, Liz had been planning on colouring them with the charm...
"Would you prefer to do them the same as your fingers, or should we try something else?"
"The same thing is fine." The darker purple/red would contrast with the white, and the gold bits might actually be kind of neat, once she was moving around and stuff.
Of course, actually doing her toenails was super awkward. Narcissa gathered up her things again, and sat down on the floor in front of Liz, her legs folded in a pretzel — she was wearing trousers, or that could have gotten even more awkward — conjured a narrow little stool to prop Liz's foot up at a convenient angle. The first round of charms kind of itched, Liz tried to ignore it. Setting her wand aside (but in easy reach), Narcissa picked up the purple bottle, unscrewing the cap, and then reached for Liz's foot with her free hand, and—
Liz twitched, nearly pulling her foot away before catching herself, forcing herself to sit still. "Sorry, tickles."
Narcissa shot her a smile, quick reached for her wand to cast a charm — Liz could feel it sink into her skin and settle there, but she couldn't guess what it was doing. Though, since she didn't twitch when Narcissa (gently) grabbed her foot again, she'd guess it was something to prevent that. It wasn't a proper numbing charm, since Liz could still feel Narcissa's fingers. A charm specifically for ticklishness, she assumed, she hadn't realised there was such a thing...though, why not, she guessed.
Even with the help of Narcissa's anti-tickling charm, this was still much more uncomfortable than doing her fingers. Liz was painfully aware of the fact that the majority of her legs were uncovered, her shorts not really hiding much — especially when Narcissa was sitting on the floor like that, the sofa high enough that her eye-level a little above Liz's knees. The gentle little touches on her foot might not be ticklish anymore, but it was still distracting, Liz was aware that Narcissa might have a certain kind of angle from down there, pressing her knees together just in case, and facing her like this it was hard not to notice how stupid pretty Narcissa was. Like, seriously, that shite just wasn't fair, Liz had no idea how she did that — it was obvious, from her clothes and hair, that she wasn't even trying as much today, but she was still, just, distracting. Liz caught herself staring more than once.
Liz noticed that Narcissa's eyes were a lot like Sirius's — and Tracey's, and a couple other people closely related to the Blacks (though curiously not Dorea) — a dark grey that almost looked black enough to just be an extension of their pupils in insufficient light, but from this close, the room well-lit enough, it was clear it was a lighter colour. Like the sky on a dark, overcast day, darker and lighter in radial segments (as eyes tended to do), little flecks of a deep blue or yellowish-brown showing through...and Liz realised she was staring again, fuck's sake...
One thing Liz had noticed before was that getting really down was pretty much the only thing that stopped her hormones from going fucking crazy — which, as annoying as being distractingly horny all the time could get, the trade definitely wasn't worth it. She'd been down enough lately, that in the week or so she'd been home she'd only gotten off, like...twice. Which, since she'd been averaging at least once a day ever since her body started trying to drive her completely insane, was a big difference.
Honestly, when she thought about it, keeping a calender of how many times a day she masturbated would probably be a pretty good way to keep track of her mood over time, but that seemed like a weird thing to do. And wasn't exactly something she'd be comfortable showing Severus for healer reasons, so.
It turned out that the surprise of being dragged off to the Yule Ball, and how unexpectedly pleasant Narcissa washing her hair had turned out to be, had been enough to shake her out of the rut she'd been in — or at least enough for being only half-dressed while a very pretty woman was actively touching her, in a way that wasn't threatening at all, to be super distracting. Narcissa had barely even started in on the second layer before Liz was struggling to keep breathing normal, trying not to do anything super obvious, like, fucking squirm, ugh, if this could be over as quickly as possible, please...
She wasn't sure what tipped her off, but Liz could tell the moment Narcissa noticed — there was a little flicker in her head, her eyes jumping up to Liz's just for a second before returning to her work. Once she was finished with the red, setting the bottle aside and reaching for the clear and gold stuff, she shot Liz a crooked smile. "You realise you're too young for me, Miss Potter."
Forcing out a huff, Liz sank deeper into the sofa, hugging her arms around her middle. She tried to play it off as well as she could, but she was sure her face was very red. Thankfully, Narcissa didn't keep teasing her, just kept quietly painting her nails, her attention resolutely on Liz's feet and nowhere else — so, could be worse, Liz guessed.
Liz silently suffered through pretty much the entirety of the process, until finally her toenails were done. They did look neat, but she wasn't sure if it was worth the embarrassment — hopefully she would manage to stop thinking pervy thoughts at some point, because being annoyingly turned on was not something she wanted to deal with the whole fucking night, thanks. At this point Narcissa thought her hair was probably ready — Liz's hair tended to stubbornly hold onto water longer than other people's, but supposedly the towel was enchanted somehow — so she stood up, Narcissa untying the knot she'd put it in (Liz didn't know how it was done), her hair released down her back, fanning out to brush against her arms.
She blinked — that felt different. Liz took a few steps to put herself in better view of the mirror and woah, her hair looked entirely unrecognisable. It was still black, but much shinier than usual, getting a subtle blue tone in places where the light hit it right, almost like polished steel (though a lot darker, obviously). It wasn't perfectly straight, still with a bit of waviness to it, but the ridiculous random curliness was completely gone, the stupid shite actually behaving, smooth and relatively straight, sitting where gravity had dropped it and staying there. Straightened out somewhat, it was also significantly longer than usual, which Liz normally only noticed while in the shower. Her hair would refuse to be any shorter than about her elbows — as in, if she cut any higher it would literally grow back overnight — but it also didn't seem to grow much longer than that, staying more or less at that length no matter how long she left it, but now the ends were hanging at about her hips, which was, just, ridiculous, how did that even work...
"Holy crap." Liz nudged a bit of her hair out with a finger, let it fall again — it didn't settle into the exact same spot, but it was still behaving, smooth and shiny and gently wavy and... "That's incredible, how the fuck did you do that?"
Her mind shivering with amusement, Narcissa smiled. "The potion responsible for the greater part of the effect is produced by an alchemist in La Rochelle. I'll send you a copy of the appropriate catalogue. Do you read French?"
"Which language do you think my Competency materials are in?" she said, in French.
"Ah, of course. There should be no difficulty, then." Narcissa had also switched to French, the accent slightly peculiar to Liz's ears — Narcissa's mother was a Rosier, presumably she'd learned the dialect used by the upper class in magical France, which wasn't quite the same as the muggle French spoken around Paris that Liz had gotten. It wasn't so different it wasn't understandable, just sounded a bit archaic and stiffly formal. (Sort of like her English, Liz guessed.) Apparently they were speaking French now, because Narcissa continued on in her slightly-odd-sounding accent. "If you would like to change into the gown now. We mustn't delay too long, I believe we are slightly behind schedule."
Oh, right, they were doing a thing — her hair looking different was just so wild, got distracted. She plucked the underskirt and the gown out of the air, got a brief lecture about how the underskirt was supposed to sit, exactly — once she had the gown on the line should follow her hips, it wasn't complicated — before retreating back into her room, the wards snapping closed behind her. The underskirt she just dropped on the floor, the gown... She didn't actually know the charm people used to hang stuff up in midair, she should probably ask someone at some point. Whatever, she just used a sticking charm to pin it up against a bookshelf, that would be fine for a minute. Liz quickly slipped out of her shorts — she did check just to be sure, but thankfully she hadn't gotten so worked up that she'd ruined her knickers — immediately snatched up the underskirt and... Well, actually, she should use the toilet first, that would probably be awkward to do once she was all dressed up...
The waist of the underskirt was pretty high, she needed to fold up the hem of her vest out of the way, and it didn't have the buttons the one she'd tried on at the shop had, instead laces done in a soft, smooth sort of ribbon. It was high enough that it'd be underneath the corset part, probably more comfortable this way. It took a bit of fiddling to get it settled in what seemed like the right spot, but that should do. Okay, just, do the other part now. Liz checked that the door was still latched, the wards in place — she could feel Narcissa's presence through the wards, but the magic through the door completely blocked her mind, despite only being a few feet away — before pulling off her vest.
Slightly neurotic, yes, Liz was ridiculous, she was well aware of this.
She figured it'd be easier to get the dress on over her head — the underskirt would get in the way if she tried to pull it up — so she left the sticking charm in place and pulled the skirt out, slipped one arm through and then the other, before cancelling the charm. She failed to grab onto the top part before it fell...but the thing caught around her hips, so, putting it on from this direction had definitely been the right decision. She pulled the front part up, flipping the strings of beads at the ends over her shoulders and, um...
Okay, tying this without being able to see what she was doing was kind of annoying, especially with her hair getting in the way. Holding the strings with one hand she pulling most of her hair in front, and then... Okay, the beads were supposed to hang down, so she wanted the knot to be before the beads started — pulling the neck up to her throat, it felt like it was supposed to go right before where the beads started. No reason to do anything super fancy, just, a basic double-knot, should be relatively easy to pull the smooth fabric apart at the end of the night. Yanking all the beads and shite through the knot was kind of a pain, awkwardly pinning the bottom against her neck with her thumb. Her first attempt didn't work out right, too loose, fuck, pulled it apart and tried a second time...
There, that was it. She tugged the gown around a little, making sure it was sitting straight, the waist at just the right spot. Quick checking in the mirror in here, how the skirt flared out a little at her hips, yeah, that looked right.
...Doing her hair and make-up was going to be super awkward, though. The front panel covered her scars and everything, but it didn't do much to hide the lopsidedness...and Narcissa would probably be standing behind her while doing her hair — and Liz would be sitting down, so she'd have an angle from above too — which seemed like it'd be really uncomfortable. The gown was very pretty, yes, but the only reason she was comfortable with this backless style was because the corset thing would be going over it, without that it was...
Fuck it, she'd just take something. The calming potion had mostly worn off already — it'd been nearly an hour, she thought, and the things were primarily for, like, panic attacks and shite, they didn't last very long — but she might as well try the drugs Susan had sent. Each one was supposed to last, like, three to four hours, and she had a dozen of them, which was more than enough to last through the night. Liz retrieved the little linen bag from her bookshelf, pulled open the tie.
This was one of those things that had started out as a potion, but had been somehow reduced down to a sort of crystal for ease of storage and transport — Liz thought of them as magical tablets, which was basically what they were. (Medical potions that had to be taken routinely were often given in this form.) They were little rectangular prisms, greenish-blueish, about the size of a fingertip. Not taking potions given to her by some random person was one of the things Severus could be serious about — also, that was really just a basic safety precaution — but Susan's letter had said that she trusted the alchemist it came from, and that they hadn't passed through any intermediaries, they should be fine.
The letter had also had directions on how you were supposed to take them — Liz dug out one of the little crystals, tucked it into the little hollow under her tongue. It was designed to dissolve in the combination of spit and body heat, being surrounded by her gums and the underside of her tongue would have the vast majority of it absorbed into her bloodstream immediately. (You could also swallow them, but you'd only get a fraction of the dose, and it'd take longer to come into effect.) She wouldn't need to keep it there the whole time, Susan said five minutes at most. Theoretically, it should start working as soon as it started dissolving, but it might take a few minutes before she started to feel it. Liz thought she'd be able to keep her shite together for that long, at least. She tied the bag closed, put it back on its spot on the bookshelf, and left her room again.
Narcissa's eyes found her, she grit her teeth, tried to ignore it, focussing more on the cloth against her skin. (It was all soft and smooth, felt really nice.) "Ah, lovely. I do adore that gown. Come sit down over here, Elizabeth, and we'll get started."
A little stool was set up in front of the mirror, tall enough that Liz's feet couldn't touch the ground — there was a crossbar for her feet, after she sat down Narcissa adjusted it with transfiguration, moving it to a comfortable height. It didn't have legs, but was set on a single post, so it could be spun around, though it was stiff enough that it took actual effort to do so. They discussed what she wanted to do for a couple minutes — pinning most of it up would probably be a good idea, for various reasons (not least of them being so it simply wouldn't be in the way), though a couple plaits framing her face might be a good idea — but Liz didn't have a strong opinion on the subject, whatever worked. Narcissa asked for permission to cut her hair if convenient (it'd just grow back overnight anyway), and then she blanked the mirrors with a charm and got started.
Apparently, she thought watching the whole process might make Liz unnecessarily self-conscious, it would be better to just show her the end result — if she didn't like it, they could start over from scratch. That was fair enough, she guessed, Liz could be ridiculously neurotic sometimes. She didn't think it was likely that she'd tell Narcissa to do it over, she figured she knew what she was doing, so sure, go nuts.
By that time, the crystal was already noticeably smaller, a green herby taste in her mouth, with a coppery hint of blood. It could be hard to tell sometimes, but Liz thought the bloody taste was actually a magesight and/or Seer thing — she suspected the potion had blood from some kind of animal in the ingredients list at some point. The taste was a little odd, but not super unpleasant, not a big deal.
Narcissa was still brushing her hair out — actually finding a few snags, which was very unusual for Liz, the magic-neutralising thing must have affected that too — when Liz started to feel...relaxed. It didn't hit instantly, the way her calming potions did, more subtle than that, the feeling slowly dribbling into place, the knot of tension between her shoulders gradually loosening, her grip on the sides of her seat weakening. It was making her a little lightheaded, though not as bad as at that party — she'd also been drinking that night, it was hard to say how much of that effect was the alcohol or the cannabis — and the odd one-step-removed-ness, Liz forgot what the proper word was, that feeling was still...kind of there, barely noticeable. Mostly she just felt warm (even with her shoulders and much of her back uncovered), and vaguely tingly, and comfortable.
Okay, Liz would have to see how people looking at her felt on this stuff, but she was pretty sure it was going to work. Unfortunately being high all the time would probably be a bad idea, she thought it would make it way easier to deal with just being in public, because being a Seer sucked sometimes...
Supposedly, in magical culture (somewhat more in Daneland than Britain), cannabis was actually associated with Seers, which she was starting to get made a lot of sense...
Liz's eyes had fallen closed at some point, she hadn't been paying that much attention to what Narcissa was doing — not like she could see it, anyway, and she was suddenly much less uncomfortable with the necessary touching. The brushing also felt kind of nice, if not in the same way as the hair-washing, so. Until her attention was gotten by Narcissa stopping, and not moving to do anything else either, an odd shifting feeling in her head—
Oh crap, Liz was, kind of, leaning against Narcissa's mind, unconsciously — the occlumency was mostly keeping her out, but she'd maybe...oozed through, a little bit. She pulled away again, hissing under her breath. She should have paid more attention to that, she was well aware that she did mind magic stuff more without thinking when drunk, there was no reason to think it wouldn't work the same with this...
"Have you taken something?" Narcissa asked...still in French, for some reason.
"Um, yeah. Susan sent me...some cannabis-based potion, I don't know what it's called or what all is in it. I thought it would be a good idea, for the Ball — I have trouble enough with people staring at me on normal days, up with the Champions and opening the dance and all, yeah no, that just wouldn't be doable. And, the touching is bad, especially if you're going to be doing make-up by hand too, so I thought, might as well take it early. Haven't tried it yet, so, getting used to it before I'm in public also isn't a bad idea." Was she babbling? She thought she was babbling, a little. "How could you tell?"
There was a brief pause, before Narcissa started tugging at her hair again — with her fingers, Liz thought, but not sure what she was doing back there. "You were humming."
"...Oh. Didn't notice."
"I'm not surprised. When intoxicated, Seers are often observed to unconsciously hum or sway in time with fluctuations in ambient magic, or whatever other emanations they're receptive to. Your neighbours at the dinner table may find such behaviours peculiar, but they won't think it to be particularly inappropriate — you are known to be a Seer, and Seers are often allotted such considerations as necessary for their comfort."
So, being odd and cold and creepy just because she'd been abused growing up was bad, but spacing out and humming to herself because she was a Seer and needed to drug herself to get through social events was fine? Mages were bloody weird. She'd never noticed that herself, but then, if it was something they just reflexively did she might... No wait, she did sometimes hum to herself or randomly tap her fingers when she'd been drinking — which she'd only even noticed in the first place because someone at the Greenwood had asked what song it was, and Liz had had no idea — that was probably the same thing. Never mind. "Right. Good to know."
There was an added side-benefit to the drugs, in that Liz was basically able to zone out — from that point, their prep work certainly seemed to pass by much smoother and quicker, instead of neurotically agonising over every moment like she'd been before. Not that she was completely checking out or anything, Narcissa would occasionally ask her opinion about things, like, beads and pins and stuff, but mostly Liz just let her thoughts wander, in whatever direction they felt like.
Like, it was still weird to her that Narcissa was so nice to her, considering the whole Death Eater thing. Sure, Liz realised now that the politics with all that were somewhat more complicated than she'd assumed at first, but still, they'd kind of done a lot of terrorism? So. She would think she was just being nice to her because she and Severus were friends, but in that letter before Narcissa knew about their thing she'd also been perfectly nice. And, there was the whole being a lesbian thing — she'd probably used some kind of lust potion or something to have Draco — and how she used to date Liz's mother, and the Mother Mercy cult, she didn't know, it was confusing. She didn't really get Narcissa — it didn't help that her occlumency was pretty good, so she only caught snippets now and then.
Narcissa plaiting her hair reminded Liz that she'd had the idle thought of looking into making her own clothes — mostly because enchanting pre-made stuff was limited, the options were much broader if you were doing it yourself. Like, she knew from reading about other things that you could make the weaving/embroidering/whatever itself into a ritual, which could do all kinds of neat things. That also had the advantage of the magic being embedded in the cloth generally, and not mediated through runes set into the cloth, making it far less likely to be disrupted by damage. And, a lot of clothing enchantments tended to prioritise protections against things that weren't really a concern for her, she'd want to balance them different, ideally. It couldn't be that hard to learn, people had been doing it for thousands and thousands of years...
A weird thing to do, when she had the money to buy pretty much whatever she wanted, but Liz was weird, and she liked making things, so whatever. Might as well try, see how it went, right? She should look into finding books on this stuff, the craft magics section at Flourish and Blotts might be a place to start...though there might be issues there with the guilds hoarding knowledge on the subject, hmm...
Severus being in the healers' guild might have something to do with his politics being different from most of his friends' — Liz didn't pay that much attention, and even she knew that healers tended to hate the current state of the government, thanks to the restrictions on the magics people were allowed to practise and patent laws making treatment way more expensive than it'd otherwise need to be. (Healing was complicated, and often still needed potions and enchanted devices, which were patented, so if the healer wanted to get paid for their work they'd also need to pay a fee to the patent holder, a cost they were forced to pass on to the patient to make ends meet.) A lot of people who had the means to often went to the Continent for medical treatment instead, a good fraction of British healers themselves studied outside the country...and sometimes never came back, or would get frustrated with the situation in Britain and move somewhere more hospitable, leaving the healers who remained in the country terribly overworked. It was a big problem, the healers' guild tended to be one of the more radical ones, for a whole list of reasons. Liz had heard from Sylvia that a surprising number of healers were full-on communalists, though Liz didn't think Severus went that far...
Though, maybe his views were rather more extreme than Liz had thought, if he was comfortable dating Síomha. She thought Síomha herself was from the more conservative wing of the nationalist movement — hard to say, not the sort of thing that there was a lot of public information on — but she was still, you know, actually in a nationalist militia. Severus had also been in an insurrectionist movement when he was younger, but that just made it less likely, since the Death Eaters and Saoirse Ghaelach had very different politics. She did wonder how they worked, sometimes. The Gaels also tended to be more religious, but she doubted that bothered Severus, most of his Death Eater friends were religious types too...
But apparently it did work, because Liz was still pretty sure they were getting married eventually. Not, like, one hundred per cent certain, but the feeling hadn't gone away — she was even pretty sure they'd be having kids, though she had no idea how many, just that they'd exist. (Maybe how many depended on events that were more fuzzy, like if a war broke out and how bad it ended up being? Fuck knows, being a Seer was confusing sometimes.) She had the feeling most of her classmates would think the idea of Severus having children was seriously fucking weird, but... Well, speaking as the closest thing he had to one at the moment, she thought he'd be fine at it, so.
It was obvious in retrospect (and also while a little high) that that moment downstairs when she'd randomly almost started crying was because she was all twisted up about family in general and whatever was going on with her and Severus in particular, but she didn't feel like trying to untangle that right now.
Anyway, eventually Narcissa was done with her hair, cancelled the charm blanking the mirror and asked her to take a look. The first thing Liz noticed was the narrow plaits on either side of her face, her eyes drawn by the colour from the beads slipped in every few turns. Not that those were a surprise, Liz had noticed her putting them in — even if she hadn't been paying much attention, Narcissa had cheated and used transfiguration to get them in place, and Liz could hardly miss magic being cast that close to her face. They drooped down behind her cheeks for a little bit before looping back up to the top of her head toward the back, where a bunch of her hair had been gathered in a plaited...knot...thing. Tilted a little behind her, Liz couldn't see it very well, but, it looked like her hair had been plaited first — an extra stripe of pale purple twisting in and out of sight through it, a ribbon attached somehow — coiled up into a sort of spiralling blob, held in place by a pin. A somewhat fancy pin, too, pretty little golden leaves spread out against the black. (Goblin work, looked like.) Not all of her hair had been used up in the bun thing (whatever the fuck it should be called), let loose to brush over the tops of her shoulders. The ribbon ran all the way to the end, Liz turned her head enough to have it swaying to one side, so she could better make it out — her free hair was kept loose and wavy, thanks to the potion stuff, the ribbon edged with silver, twinkling a little even when partially hidden by black.
It seemed like a little much to Liz, but she hadn't grown up with this ridiculous fancy noble shite. And everyone was going to be watching her, so guessed she might as well look ridiculously overly pretty. "Um, it's good, yeah. Should I just send you this by owl after?" she asked, pointing at the gold leaves. The beads and the ribbon weren't a big deal, but the pin looked like it might be kind of expensive.
"It may be simpler to hand it to Severus, and it will find its way back to me. I'll leave the box for you."
"Right, thanks. It does look really good," Liz said, belatedly realising she hadn't actually said that yet. "The plaits are neat, and I guess you picked something all leafy-leafy to go with the silly forest theme I've got going on here?" vaguely waving at herself. She blinked, realising after the fact that qui est si feuillu-feuillu was a fucking silly thing to say, but it was too late to take it back now. At least Narcissa mostly just seemed amused with her, so, no harm done, but she forced herself to stop babbling anyway.
She wondered if it was possible to get the not-freaking-out effect she wanted without making her act weird. Maybe some other Seer would have come up with something useful at some point, but she'd have no idea how to go about finding something like that. She might just have to invent it herself...and she had no idea how to do that either, mind-altering potions were complicated...
Narcissa blanked the mirror again, and they moved right into the make-up part. While painting over her face with some shite in a jar — like, literally painting, with a brush, it was weird — Narcissa asked what she wanted done, which...not much, really? Like, don't go crazy with it. She did like fun colours — if you were going to do make-up or whatever, it might as well look neat. And, if she could feel it there, that might be distracting, you know. By the time Narcissa finished, Liz couldn't feel that painted-on stuff at all (must have been absorbed, a potion or something), but she didn't get started with her face right away, instead...
Instead Narcissa picked up a jar of stuff, and moved behind her, started dabbing something cool on her skin, low on her back. The lines on her back, from the sofa, some of them must be visible. Pins and needles crawling over her skin, an odd creepy chill dribbling down her spine, she felt herself tense, and—
"It's all right, Elizabeth. They're faint enough I imagine they're invisible at a distance, and they'll likely be hidden by the laces on the bodice even from nearby." She paused a moment, carefully tracing something on Liz's back with the stuff, a little tingly numbness left behind. (Slightly cold, Liz suspected light magic was involved.) "I don't expect anyone will notice, but I thought it would be better to conceal them, just in case. They truly are very subtle, Elizabeth, I don't think anyone will see."
There was an oddly hard feeling to Narcissa's mind, distracting Liz for a moment. Simmering anger, felt like, cold and harsh, almost like Severus in his more murderous moods. She suspected Narcissa had guessed what the lines were from — she did worship a protector of children, so... Yeah.
...That was a little reassuring, she guessed. From looking at herself in her pensieve, Liz knew they weren't really discoloured much (with a couple exceptions), and while there were some higher up on her back they were mostly concentrated lower, the bow Margriet had made with the laces had covered most of the ones the gown didn't hide. Also, the worst ones were angled to her right side — Vernon would stand to her left, the angles just worked out like that — so, yeah, they might not really be noticeable. With whatever Narcissa was putting on, they'd probably be fine, yeah, she was right, nobody would notice. Liz still took a few moments to focus on her breathing, trying to stay calm, it was fine, she was fine.
(If she weren't high at the moment, that would probably be rather more difficult to do. Yet another reason this stuff was kind of great.)
She was mostly back to normal by the time Narcissa was done, moving up to her face, rotating the stool a quarter turn so she could reach more easily. Liz closed her eyes again, mostly because Narcissa's annoyingly pretty face being right there was awkward. Narcissa decided they'd skip, like, blush or whatever the fuck — Liz was stupid pale anyway, so it'd be super obvious that it was there by contrast, and just kind of weird-looking — started with her lips...which was itself awkward, but whatever.
Narcissa asked if they could get rid of her lip ring, but of course not, she liked that thing. A flutter in her head, Liz got the very clear feeling Narcissa thought that was weird — Liz recalled that purebloods could be stupid about piercings — but she didn't say anything about it aloud. It actually took three steps, which was slightly tedious — the colour stuff on her lips proper, a line drawn rather more delicately along the edge, and a top layer painted on with another (narrower) brush, all of it finished off with drying charms. Getting around the piercing was a little awkward, nudged this way and that to get one side and then the other, but Narcissa managed it. It felt kind of funny, the drugs making Liz feel slightly numb and tingly, but she wasn't freaking out because someone was touching her, so feeling funny wasn't really a big deal.
Her eyes were also somewhat more complicated than she'd been expecting — and super awkward, since she couldn't keep them closed all the way through it. Eyeliner was fine to do with a charm, but doing it by hand it was really hard for Liz not to cringe away, some part of her convinced Narcissa was about to stab her in the eye with that bloody thing. Same problem with mascara — which wasn't something she'd ever done before, but she assumed Narcissa knew what she was doing...and also wouldn't actually stab her in the eye, calm the fuck down. The eye shadow was super easy by comparison, kind of a relief.
Narcissa decided not to stop to check out the make-up, to finish dressing and see how she felt about the whole thing instead. (Liz knew for mind-magic reasons that Narcissa was confident Liz wouldn't be asking her to redo it anyway.) First she had Liz put on her shoes — Liz guessed that'd be harder to do while wearing the corset part...and Narcissa pointed out the heels also might change her posture enough to be a fitting concern, which wasn't something she would have thought of. And the laces did have to be done by hand the first time it was worn, the enchantments would help her with it the second time. Assuming she ever had a reason to wear this dress a second time...
Liz's inexplicable appreciation for tight clothes hadn't magically gone away over the last couple weeks, Narcissa tightening the corset around her felt really really nice. In fact, she was positive she made embarrassing noises at least a couple times — theoretically embarrassing, anyway, the drugs stopped her from caring too much at the moment. Narcissa did make a teasing comment, that Liz knew from the feel of her mind was probably a sex-adjacent joke, but it went right over her head.
...It was a lesbian joke, apparently. Liz hadn't realised that lesbian mages had in-jokes. She hadn't realised there were enough lesbian mages to have in-jokes, she only knew of a handful...
Of course, Narcissa then went ahead and explained the joke, which was also a little embarrassing...even if the stereotype she was describing did apply to Liz pretty well. Apparently women who liked super girly stuff but were also cold and blunt, and often skilled with battlemagic in particular, was just a thing with magical queers? Like, according to Narcissa there were a few different stereotypes about what lesbians were like, and it turned out Liz actually slotted right into one of them, which was kind of what the joke had been about. Good to know, she guessed.
Liz was also told that if anyone made puns about archery or lunar shite around her, she should assume they were calling her super gay — apparently this particular lesbian stereotype was associated with Diana, as in the old Roman goddess, for cultural reasons Liz didn't really get — but she suspected that sort of thing would just go right over her head anyway.
Anyway, when Narcissa was 'finished' tightening the laces, Liz could tell it wasn't actually done — the cloth was firm and comfortable around her, but she could feel a little too much give, not quite right. Narcissa agreed, apparently the sides of the open stripe down her spine weren't quite parallel, but they were going to wait for it all to settle for a few minutes before tightening it all the way. Might as well put on the funny poofy scarf while they were waiting, which took some doing. Narcissa hadn't been certain what the thing was even for, Liz ended up casting an illusion of what it'd looked like in the shop, as well as she could remember...though it probably wasn't actually necessary, since Liz's hair was up and the drugs would make her less self-conscious about her shoulders and back being uncovered. She might get kind of cold, though, and the thing was enchanted for warmth — also, she might get a little self-conscious about not having tits at all — so they might as well. There should have been a pin with the dress, Narcissa had missed it, after a bit of digging around found it hidden in the folds of the bag. Pin the end in place, wrap it around her several times, adjust it a little here and there until it looks right, and there, that would do.
Once that was in place, Narcissa swished her wand at the mirrors, cancelled the charm blacking them out. The dress, of course, looked about as awesome as Liz remembered it. She still loved the way it hugged tight around her from chest to hips, the skirts all swishy, all the fine little details super pretty (if way too much to wear day to day). The proper, finished version looked even nicer than what she remembered from the store — the transfigurations and glamours hadn't looked quite right to Liz's eyes, the colours now coming through much more vibrantly, the contrasts between the dominant black of the corset part and its red stitching and the lavender gown around it standing out sharp against each other, the gleaming of glass beads and the glittering of the gold thread much brighter. (The gold accents in the embroidery was probably why Narcissa had picked a gold hairpin, come to think of it.) Just, super colourful, which was maybe a bit much — though, from what she remembered of the other girls' dresses, maybe it wasn't at events like this — but Liz really liked it.
The makeup was also a bit more colourful than she'd been expecting. The eyeliner was mostly invisible itself, just for contrast, and woah, her eyelashes were way more visible, she hadn't realised it'd make that much of a difference. Her lips were, surprisingly, purple, a similar colour dusted over her eyelids. Narcissa had been aiming to match with the lavender of her gown, apparently, though a darker shade, it was very obvious against the super paleness of her skin. Liz liked it, very dramatic, but she was aware her taste could be a little weird. "Is that too much?"
"What do you mean?"
"The purple. I think it's neat, but, um, in the muggle world, at least, the purple would be weird." She was pretty sure, anyway — it was the sort of thing that would make Petunia say very insulting things about a woman, which was still Liz's measuring stick for this stuff.
Narcissa seemed slightly confused by the idea that people wouldn't like colours, but she didn't voice the thought. "It is not too much. To a degree, the purpose of events such as these is to...show off, so to speak. If how you choose to present yourself is more colourful and eye-catching than on an ordinary day, so much the better."
Oh. Well, that made sense, she guessed. Purebloods were normally so stiff and formal, just hadn't occurred to her.
...Maybe getting dragged off to society parties and shite wouldn't be so bad, then, if they actually all got the sticks out of their arses for once...
From there, they talked about jewellery and stuff, though there actually wasn't much to do there. It helped that Liz would be wearing gloves, so bracelets wouldn't really be doable. She went ahead and quick pulled those on, the inside surface smooth and soft against her skin — black cloth, solid from her elbow to about her wrist, the bit covering her hand more lacey, the design all curly and floral. (Fingerless, of course, most fashion gloves were, to avoid interfering with spell-casting.) They did switch out the Mistwalker-style bars in her ears for more dangly ones — some of Lily's, all gold and glittery — and, um...yeah, actually, she would wear her mother's necklace again, why not. Narcissa immediately recognised it (Liz remembered Severus had too), but she approved — apparently, it was totally appropriate for a girl to wear her mother's courtship gifts at her first formal public appearance, so.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Liz frowned. This just...didn't feel right somehow. Oh, she knew what she was missing! She darted off to her room quick — wearing heels and a corset was messing with her posture, she noticed, forced to lead with her hips more, the inner layer of the underskirt brushing smooth and cool against her legs — grabbed a big handful of Mistwalker-style beaded bracelets. She came back at a more normal walking pace on the way back, paying more attention to how she moved — she thought she actually liked how this stuff changed the way she walked, felt all...swishy. Anyway, these would be for her ankles, but they'd be kind of awkward to get on, since the corset made it a little harder to reach her own feet, and also she already had shoes on. Narcissa had her sit on the stool again and did it for her, picking three or four loops to each foot and cheating with transfiguration to get them on. Once she was done, Liz hopped off the stool, took a few steps, hearing the beads tinkle against each other as she moved.
She grinned — there we go, perfect.
And Narcissa tightening the corset the rest of the way just made her feel even better, fingers randomly wandering over the stiff shell over her stomach and hips, tracing over the stitching, her breath thick in her throat, helplessly smiling at herself in the mirror. The drugs were probably helping, but she did like this dress.
Through the mirror, she could see Narcissa coming up behind her, her hands lightly settling on Liz's upper arms, just below her shoulders. Liz tensed for a second, but then let out a breathless giggle as the expected discomfort just...didn't come. The physical contact did make Narcissa's mind louder, but it wasn't too unpleasant, the intrusive jaggedness smoothed out with occlumency, warm and inoffensive — and, more importantly, the drugs were doing their job and stopping her from being pointlessly neurotic about someone actually touching her.
...No, she couldn't just be high whenever she was in public, no matter how much easier that would make things. She might not be able to come up with a compelling reason why that would be a bad idea right this second, but she knew it would be.
Smiling at her over her shoulder through the mirror, Narcissa said, "Look how lovely. I do adore this dress, and you wear it well. Altogether somewhat eccentric, perhaps, but all the same."
This moment might be slightly creepy if Liz was picking up any hint from Narcissa's mind of sexy thoughts at all, but she wasn't — Liz was pretty sure she meant it in the d'aww, aren't the little kids being adorable kind of way. Which was maybe slightly condescending, but at the moment she was too pleased to care. "Yeah, but I am somewhat eccentric, so that's just appropriate, isn't it?"
Narcissa's smile tilted, her mind shivering with amusement.
"It's— Thanks. For the help, you know. I wouldn't have been able to pull this off nearly as well without you." The original plan had been to go up to Ravenclaw to get ready with Hermione, Padma, Lily, and Mandy, but that had been back before she ran home like a coward. Maybe she could have packed up her things and gotten there in time, but she kind of doubted it — Severus would have had to come tell her she was going whether she liked it or not at least a couple hours earlier.
"Of course, sweetheart, it was my pleasure." Narcissa hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking away from Liz's reflection. Her voice dropping a little, and switching back to French for some reason, "I know you're going through a difficult time at the moment. The business with the Tournament, yes, but not only that — heartbreak is all the harsher before you have developed the experience to manage it."
"Severus told you about that?" She hadn't even told Severus himself (that was probably Nilanse's fault), she had no idea how far her and Daphne breaking up had gotten already...
"I asked how it came to be that he is escorting you." Oh, well, Liz guessed that made sense, in context. "I know tonight will not be how you may have wished it to be, before, but I do dearly hope that you come to take some enjoyment from it."
Liz smiled at her own reflection, her eyes tracing down her dress, tight and silky and shiny and super colourful. "I already have."
Letting go of Liz's arms and taking a step back, the edge of a giggle on her voice, Narcissa said, "So I see. It is fun dressing up sometimes, isn't it?"
"...Yeah, I guess it is. Makes me feel all girly, a little embarrassing, but."
"Perhaps it slipped your attention, Elizabeth, but you—"
"Yeah yeah, I am a girl, Severus already made that joke once..."