[thd] Why Do You Dress Me In Borrowed Robes? [Nerys]

It was a fine August weekend, and Jonathan found himself with the rarest of days: a free schedule. For once, he didn’t need to bring work home, and all his lessons and grading for the ISS were complete. He had spent the morning lazing and lounging, finding time to actually sip and savour his coffee rather than gulping it down for the caffeine. Slinkering slowly to the second level of his flat, Jonathan took his time through his wardrobe, assessing his selection.

As he walked through his cavernous walk-in closet, Jonathan frowned. He tugged at the sleeves of his wardrobe, then decided to pick up a few for closer inspection. He gasped. Some of these things were nearly a year old! He’d been harbouring and possibly wearing something so painfully out of date. Jonathan dropped the dress robes in disgust on a dresser, and made his way over to another side of the closet, where he knew he had his most recent purchases.

Feeling calmer already, he grabbed a well-pressed shirt with contrasting collar and French cuff, deep indigo stone washed denim, and camel wingtips. Laying them expertly on his bed, he proceeded to go through his morning regimen, brushing, showering, styling, then putting on his chosen outfit of the day.

Jonathan was out the door in half an hour, eager to get through his agenda today: shop. He’d been so busy with work and the ISS that he’d neglected his monthly wardrobe overhaul, shocked that nothing in his closet contained anything made this month. It wasn’t that he was overly obsessed with clothes. But felt that fun things were being designed all the time, and outside of work he loved finding something both fun and aesthetically pleasing.

He left posh streets of his Kensington home, cutting over to another part of town as a shortcut toward his favourite clothiers. As he turned on a corner, Jonathan let out a shriek. But after the initial shock, Jonathan braved the possible danger of the situation, dashing forward to the terrible scene.


‘Are you all right?!’ he asked worryingly. He was so concerned for her that he momentarily forgot about respecting personal space, resting one hand comfortingly on her shoulder while another touched the ends of her wild locks.

He looked the mess of strands that passably passed as hair, her seemingly hit face, and the awful stain on her already awful top. His eyes were beginning to well with tears, imagining the state of pain she was in.

‘Had you been robbed earlier? Were you forced to take rags from the rubbish bins? I can escort you to a hospital if you need medical attention, and I can treat you to a whole new wardrobe as well! I was just on my way to the clothing ateliers, but I can’t bear to have you suffer in such a state. Plus, think of the indecency laws! Why, you could be arrested on the spot! Please, plese, you must let me care for you.’

@Nerys Blevins

Saturday mornings were always hectic. Niall had to be dropped off at Eric's apartment and then she only had a few hours to run all her errands for the week before going into St. Mungo's in the afternoon. Today, however, had posed a particular challenge: her son had been up late with a flu and she had spent much of the night caring for him before finally getting the boy into bed around 3. Her hasty owl to Eric had gone unanswered and, as a result, the plan to drop Niall off by 8 was still on. The late night had taken its toll and she woke up thirty minutes later than intended and pulled on the dirty clothes from last night, hoping she'd have time to dash home before heading out again.

Niall had protested when she had tried to wake him, fighting her off and drifting in and out of dreams with the end result that he had smacked her rather hard in the face before she could get him out of bed. Nerys tried not to take it personally, but the lack of sleep in combination with her son's rather miserable attitude definitely had her in a grump. The morning had only gotten worse when she had spilled cereal milk on herself as she sleepily put the breakfast dishes in the sink. It was a relief to finally step into the fireplace, the glowing green fire tickling her as she clutched onto her son tightly. The few blocks between the back room of the wizarding shop where they emerged and Eric's front door couldn't pass quickly enough, and by the time Niall was into the apartment and out of her hands, Nerys had half a mind to simply go home and get some extra sleep in before work rather than following through on the errands she had planned.

But in the end, it seemed most efficient to simply head directly to Diagon Alley, pick up at least the potions ingredients she needed, and then take a nap after. The time it would take to go home and make herself presentable was time taken away from any sleep she might get before her long shift. Nerys headed back down the street, moving with purpose toward the magical fireplace that would take her over to her preferred apothecary on the other side of London.

"Pardon?" Nerys asked as she found her progress blocked by a well-dressed muggle who seemed very distressed. It took her a moment to register what he was saying, and she wasn't sure if she ought to laugh or be offended. "I -- " She had been attacked, in a way, though it was probably not what this man was imagining. She might've thought he was mocking her if he didn't look so genuinely upset. "Really, I'm fine -- " she started, but the stranger had his hand on her arm securely, already moving to direct her into a shop. She didn't have time for this, but on the other hand, she was a rather small person. A hand twitched toward her wand, and Nerys found herself wondering if she stood any chance of escaping magically without attracting the attention of the muggles around. Unlikely.

"Really, I'm fine," she told him sternly, not appreciating the steering. "I can walk myself."