| Details for How Fitting |
| Summary: | Variel and Esther meet for a fitting - To check her new measurements and make sure her new robes are going to fit. The conversation turns to politics, and Variel's hands begin to wander… Luckily the two can still leave friends. |
| Date: | 1939-01-13 |
| Location: | Examination Room, Hogwarts |
| Related: | Immediately Proceeds People We Always Have Time For |
| Characters |
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Esther waits in the examination room, seated lightly upon the Proctor's desk. They have chosen this room due to it's lack of regular use, after all - Although she assumes he's going to lock the door anyway. Depending on the fitting though, she supposes. Her bookbag is open, revealing some of the many, many, many items inside. On her lap is a book on Wizarding Construction Methods. It'll be put away when she has company.
Variel steps into the room and, as expected, locks the door behind himself. He's wearing his robes- uniform, after all- but he shucks them, presumably to free his hands from the longer sleeves. He's a bag with him, one which he sets down before pushing a hand through his hair. His eyes fall on Esther, and he smiles- genuine, if small. "It's good to see you, Esther. I haven't had a chance to ask how break went for you."
Esther looks up at the noise, sliding her book away and greeting Variel with a nod. "People're a bit busy worrying about you, Variel. By comparison of importance, nothing really happened. I spent my holidays here." The girl answers simply. "Bored out of my brain, for the most part. While I do love Myrus, I'd not pretend that I didn't miss my friends."
"Fewer are worried about me than you'd think," Variel replies drily, but smiles a touch to soften the comment. "There's bigger concerns, anyhow. Your worry, though, I've noted." A slight pause. "… and appreciate. Thank you." He fishes in the bag a moment until he finds a tape measure. "Here we are. Are you ready?"
Esther smiles a little bit. "I know how sometimes bad experiences can change people. I still care that Variel Weasley and Anthony Rowle come back to Hogwarts, not just.. Whoever's wearing their skin." That's a truly bizarre way of putting it. Worthy of the slender young woman, to say the least. She pushes off the table, discarding her robes, so she can stand in blouse and skirt. "Tape me." She states simply.
Variel nods, stepping to where she stands beside the desk. He comes, perhaps, unnecessarily close as he starts at Esther's waist. His hands guide the tape into place, pressing against her middle as he draws the tape around her body. "Someone said I wasn't innocent anymore- that I'd lost the naivete that let me believe everything'd be fine if the lesser bloods just kept a stiff upper lip and ignored the pranks and such. I suppose they weren't wrong."
Esther's still very small, although not as tiny as she was when he first took her measurements. It's a good thing. "That's an incredibly incensed view. It sounds like whoever said it is either consumed with hate, or afraid…" She muses. "… I save that for Muggles. I want them to have no part in our world - But any half-blood that's willing to be witch or wizard is more than fine with me, if they leave the mud where it belongs." Some would find that statement offensive for either side of the fence. "But my blood is hardly as blue as yours, Weasley." It's not said cruelly. Just reminding him that his family is… Older and purer than her own.
"Trust me on this, Esther," Variel murmurs as he slips his hands lower, leaning against Esther a moment to peer behind her as his hands follow the same close circle against her body, measuring around her hips. "We all bleed just as red as the other purebloods." Another measurement, marked.
"Right now." Esther responds simply, keeping herself nice and still for the measurement. "We all bleed about the same, I've noticed. But whether you think about it historically, tactically or even just with a level head; I'm not certain Purism makes any sense. Seems like a good way to lose any war you care to fight, whether societal, civil or real." The girl admits. "Mostly because you start by losing what, a third of your resources? More'f you include sympathisers.
Variel nods, bringing his hands together behind Myst, checking the markings on the tape as he does."That's a fair estimate at least. And no, it's not a good wartime attitude, but it might be one we have to take. I mean, look at what this attack occured over. Some business practices and rude treatment. What happens when the Muggles go to war, and their relatives want us to help? When they've got something they really care about on the line, how much further are we going to see those sympathizers go?"
"We'll endure." Esther bites her lower lip. "Muggles are stupid. They leap to conclusions, they fear, rather than think… But even I've been prone to that." A pause. "But that doesn't mean that anyone who is related to them has to be. I mean… Dumbledore is a half-blood and he's one hell of a Wizard…"
The teeth on Esther's lip draw Variel's eyes for a moment, and he seems distracted, his hands remaining in place for a longer moment than perhaps necesary. He draws himself back together, however, and gently takes Esther's waist, pressing his palms against her as he coaxed her to turn her back to him and face the desk.
Variel says, "He is, very much so. Clever doesn't start to cover it. Have you seen the list of his accomplishments?" A faint grimace. "It makes it all the more bitter that it becomes harder and harder to trust.""
"Trust who you can trust, Variel." Esther blushes a little at his palms turn her hips, "Pureblood or not. Because you're a fool if you think that there's not going to be a large number of purebloods who will declare against Grindlewald. And there's more than a few half-bloods might share his vision, if only he'd let them.
The blush catches Variel's eye, and he lets himself seem to have become engaged in the conversation, his hands drifting down Esther's hips. "I know there's plenty who will. But I'm trying to see it from a more complete perspective. I agree that there are many halfbloods and such who don't stand with the violence. The danger is that by remaining anonymous, we can't tell who we can or can't trust. That's the worst of it all."
"The only thing we can do that won't provoke more violence, Variel… Is to do what we've always done. Brush ourselves off, and stand up again. Defiant, sure, but…. Never feeding the fires they start." Esther's not been measured for clothing for a little, she's not particularly familiar with the way he should be touching her. Having hands on her at all has made her /quite/ shy. "… Like staring at them. Letting them know that they might attack, but they'll never move us."
Variel frowns a touch, shifting his hands back to Esther's waist and plucking at her blouse until he can tug it free of her skirt. "I need a better measurement. One second." Variel tucks his hands under the loosened cloth, retracing the curves of her waist while they speak. "I hope that's going to be enough. I'm concerned that if we don't do -something-, that we'll find ourselves hit again, losing more lives that we could have prevented." His hands slip around her waist, keeping close to the soft skin as he traces the tape into place.
Esther blushes, reaching down to unbutton her skirt, and allow it to fall to the ground. Luckily for them both, she's wearing a pair of tight black shorts underneath. Putting to bed one of the rumours about herself (Bought on by her lack of bustierre). "Here. It'll make it easier." Not athletic. Just lightly built. "They've the best cover, Variel. Since they're /us/. The only way to prevent the loss of life would kill more people. And we're better than that."
"IT's something I've realized, and hate to think about." Variel's cheeks are a touch reddened himself, the freckles fading into the color as his hands slip to her back, the redhead standing very close to Esther as he does so, working to keep his eyes off her lips.
"We're better than that." Esther says again. A little louder. "Better than the fear. The panic. We're Wizards, we're wise. We think, and we learn, and we apply the best solution when we have it." It's a close moment. A little awkward perhaps, but she's still believing that there's nothing too untoward.
"I want to be. But if our attempting to take the high road means more Wizard deaths? When are we in enough danger to act and protect ourselves?" Variel is asking a very honest question as his hands drop, tracing them and the tape along the broadest portion of Esther's slender hips, then backwards.
"Then we wouldn't be saying what if. We'd be saying 'now'." Esther's answer is simple. "Sometimes the hardest thing to do is admit that you shouldn't be taking action. Ot at worst? Finding out who you can trust. Who your /real/ friends are." There's a faint shiver that passes through Miss Lowe when hands touch her hips… And move backwards.
"I'm figuring that out more and more these days," Variel replies. "Are we real friends? I'd like to think so." The shudder gives him pause, his hands resting where they'd come together. "… Esther, you're quivering."
Esther admits with a gentle rush of color to his cheeks. "We're real friends. I'm just…" She closes her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. "… I'm not used to people touching me. I… I find it disarming. So I hope you realise that this means… That I really do trust you." The fitting, that is.
Variel tilts his head slightly, pale blue eyes on hers. "I realise. Do you want it to stay disarming? Is it okay that I'm touching you?" He gives her the time she needs to decide what she wants.
"I… I don't understand what you mean." Esther admits. "I… I don't mind you touching me." She concedes, her own smokey grey as inscrutable as usual. She forces herself to smile though, despite how nervous she might feel. "I think it's just… 'm not used to it.
Variel shifts his hands on her hips, gently holding them- which, as low as they are, does leave his fingers resting lightly on those tight shorts. "Relax. I'm asking if you want to try to get more comfortable being touched. I'd be happy to help with that if you like." His lips quirk. "It's not exactly a burden."
"I…" Esther's breath is drawn in sharply when his fingers are low enough to touch her tight shorts. "Variel; you know I'm with Myrus, right?" She tries to warn. But at the same time, she doesn't stop him. Either because she's convinced there's something innocent to what she's saying… Or some other reason, hidden for now.
Variel blinks. The point where he's rewinding their conversation is visible, and leaves him chuckling sardonically and rocking his head back with a low sigh. "… of course you are." He's a little preoccupied to move his hands just yet. It takes a moment, but he brings his head back into place and gives Esther a crooked smile. "That… leaves me looking rather bad, doesn't it."
Esther blushes /bright/ red suddenly, when she realises the direction the conversation was heading. The girl reaches a slender hand up, catching his chin - Some would think to keep him from moving away, but it's to keep him from moving towards her. A gentle lean up, and a kiss is given to his cheek. "You're /so/ sweet Variel. It's… It's a compliment, and I'll take it as such." She whispers, trying not to seem so awkward about it. It's a moment that she's just not equipped to deal with though.
Variel is left rather red-faced too. He smiles at the kiss, lifting his hands from her to gently lower her hand. "You should do that. The, ah. Compliment, I mean." His fingers slip from hers and he ducks, taking up her skirt and handing it back. "I had no idea- I apologize. I could have gotten you into more than a little trouble."
Esther takes the skirt, and smiles. Her cheeks still red. "There's no shame in paying a compliment, Variel…" She's trying to make herself a little more comfortable with the moment, and it's working. A little, anyway. "I guess it's only worthy gossip amoungst the mudbloods though…" Not said as a slur, just a simple fact. Some still cough inappropriately when the cousins hold hands, after all. "It doesn't change anything. We're still real friends. I still trust you. More, in fact… For not taking advantage of me." Her smile is shy. How sweet.
Variel says, "I just don't typically pay much mind to gossip. In one ear and then onto my foot en route to my mouth." Variel chuckles faintly, smiling at the shy girl. "But, ah… I wasn't exactly a gentleman. I didn't need to be that close to get those measurements. Hands or body. And I probably ought to've told you that before you took off your skirt, no matter how you look in shorts.""
"It's nice…" Esther admits, "To feel good about myself, physically… I guess sometimes being a gentleman can be tempered with being a bit of a rogue…" The girl bites her lower lip again, "So perhaps being both is the key to getting what; or who, you want…" A faint blush. Just not her, it would seem.