Chapter 6: Dress Shopping
December 9, 1980
Petunia trembled slightly as she stood upon a stool in Celestine's, a wizarding dress shop. She had been ambushed just after breakfast by the two most intimidating women that Petunia had ever met. Cassiopeia Black, her soon to be sister-in-law, was far more intimidating than Mrs. Petula Clarkson, the head of the Privet Drive Gardening Society. Until that morning, Petunia didn't believe a woman existed who was more intimidating than Petula Clarkson. Cassiopeia had issued orders immediately that Marius' servants had rushed to obey. Petunia didn't blame them. She would have rushed to obey as well.
The other woman accompanying Cassiopeia, was Narcissa Malfoy, her future Great-niece by marriage. Petunia didn't think she had ever met a woman more glamorous and beautiful than Narcissa. She was everything that Petunia had wanted to be when she was a child. Elegant, beautiful, and glamorous and she made it look effortless.
It was more than a little intimidating being at the mercy of Cassiopeia Black and Narcissa Malfoy. They had insisted that they were taking her shopping for her wedding dress. She had tried to protest but was swiftly informed that she didn't have a choice in the matter. Cassiopeia was quite firm.
"If you are marrying my brother, then you will be adorned in finery that suits the occasion."
That had ended all of Petunia's protests. She had been bundled into her nicest coat, a piece that made her look like a poor relation besides the likes of Ms. Black and Lady Malfoy. Then she had been bid to touch a necklace and emerald pendant belonging to Narcissa. There had been a horrible lurching sensation, and everything seemed to be spinning out of control. To her great embarrassment, she had doubled over and vomited her breakfast upon their arrival within a very rich looking clothing store.
To Narcissa's credit, she had been deeply apologetic to Petunia about not warning her of the effects of travel by portkey. "It can get the better of witches and wizards who aren't prepared for it, let alone squibs," she had said in a tone that was meant to make Petunia feel better.
Oddly enough, it had. There was a comfort in the thought that perhaps Lily might have hated travel by portkey as dearly as Petunia now despised it.
Standing upon the stool while a pretty blonde-haired witch named Reina Rushden waved her wand to make tape measures dance in the air and then rush to her. Petunia was ashamed to acknowledge that she squeaked in fright and remained stone still as the measures began to wrap around her taking her measurements.
Mrs. Rushden tisked at her in disapproval. "No, my dear, not like that!" she stated firmly. "You must relax. If you do not relax then we cannot get the proper measurements."
Petunia reluctantly relaxed her posture, but she still felt on edge. She was not used to magic. Lily had never done much magic at home, not after she had begun attending that school. She had once explained to Petunia that there was some sort of secrecy thing about magic and she wasn't supposed to do magic away from school while she was a minor. It was part of the long explanation of why Petunia could tell no one that Lily was a Witch. Well, Petunia had been so hurt, so jealous, and so full of herself back then any way that she hadn't wanted anyone to know a thing about Lily.
Lily. Her little freakish sister.
What an absolute monster she had been when she was little. It was a wonder that Lily had loved her at all. She didn't feel much like she deserved it these days.
'Well, that's why it is love now isn't it,' Petunia reminded herself as an unconscious little smile curved her lips. Love was a gift. It wasn't about if someone was deserving, not really. It was a gift, bestowed by the one that chose to love you, chose to nurture those tender feelings for you and let them grow and grow. One day she would tell her boys, her Dudley and her Harry this. She would tell them that love was a gift and that it should be treasured and not scorned and cast aside.
She had scorned her sister's love for her after all and now, as she was being measured for a wedding dress, she wished that Lily was with her. Odd since she hadn't wanted Lily with her for her first disastrous wedding.
"She's pretty when she smiles," Mrs. Rushden's voice took Petunia from her thoughts.
Cassiopeia was looking at her with a critical eye. "Yes, I suppose she is. She is not a great beauty, no one will ever mistake her for that, but she has character."
Petunia flushed in embarrassment at the way that they were so openly talking about her. Never before had she heard people speak of her looks in such a manner.
"She has lovely long legs," Mrs. Rushden said. "It'll be fun to create some fashions for her that will show them off to good effect."
"Show them off?" Petunia asked in alarm. She was hoping that they weren't referring to miniskirts. She had gone through a miniskirt phase. She met Vernon around that time. Now that she was a mother of two she didn't want to consider wearing such things. They seemed too young for her somehow. Yet she wasn't really very old. She felt like she needed to dress a bit older though, the better to seem like she should be with someone of Marius' years.
"Oh, don't worry," Mrs. Rushden was swift to reassure. "I don't mean to see them exposed. I was thinking more along the lines of slack styles that would encase those legs and show them off to better effect. Get the imaginations going without letting them get a real look at the goods."
Petunia thought about that for a moment and then slowly nodded. "I do like the sound of that," she admitted. "I am often doing things in the garden or at least I was," she said a bit wistfully. She was hopeful that she could resume gardening once she was married to Marius. She had not dared to ask him about it yet. She didn't feel comfortable enough in her position in his life at this time.
Gardening was one of the few things she had still shared with Lily after Petunia had turned vicious toward her sister. Their mother, Hyacinth, had a marvelous green thumb. Her garden was always the talk of the neighborhood. It was almost magical watching Hyacinth Evans calmly tending to her plants, talking to them as she watered them, as she cut clippings from them and gently pulled weeds from the flower beds. For the sake of their mother, Petunia and Lily had mutually agreed that they would not squabble while in the garden. It had been in her own garden, in Vernon's home on Privet Drive, that Petunia had burst into tears after learning of the death of her parents. Months later she had gone outside to that same garden, uncaring of the cold November weather to cry over the death of her little sister.
"We'll have to see to some clothing that will be fashionable but practical for your hobbies," Narcissa said encouragingly.
Petunia started to nod but then frowned in sudden remembrance. "But, wait, I am only being fitted for the wedding gown, not a new wardrobe."
"Oh, didn't we mention it?" Narcissa's voice was far too innocent-sounding. "We have Marius's permission to sort out a new wardrobe for you."
Petunia was flabbergasted. "A new wardrobe? That is very kind of him, but surely I do not need," she started to voice her dissent only to be interrupted by Cassiopeia.
"You do," she said with a sniff of disdain. "No sister-in-law of mine will be caught dead in most of what is in your closet. No, you'll be properly outfitted as befits your new station as a woman of the House of Black."
Petunia flinched at the woman's tone. It seemed that Cassiopeia was a fierce matriarch and she expected her word to be law. Well, Petunia was already used to that due to Vernon's sister Marge. She stole a glance at Cassiopeia and frowned in thought. Marge wouldn't have considered getting her a new wardrobe. She would have just complained about Petunia's attire in front of her and then to everyone else. Cassiopeia was keen to see her properly attired so that no one would mock her. All in all, despite her pushy behavior, Petunia was beginning to think that she would like this sister-in-law far better than her last.
"Alright, let's talk colors?" Mrs. Rushden suggested.
"For the Wedding Dress we cannot possibly go with white," Cassiopeia sniffed in disdain.
"Aunt Cassie, you know that white is not a color of mourning for Muggles," Narcissa gently reminded Cassiopeia Black.
Petunia blinked in surprise. "Oh, I wouldn't feel comfortable wearing white if it was going to offend any of my new family," she managed to stutter out. She had not been aware that white was a color of grief and mourning for Witches and Wizards. There was so much about Lily's world that she didn't really know. How much would Lily have shared if Petunia had not turned into an absolute nightmare? Who could say? Now she needed a crash course in that world because Squib or not, her new husband apparently still belonged to the Wizarding World and was respected. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself and him by extension.
"Blue would look good on her, compliment her blond hair and blue eyes," Mrs. Rushden mumbled even as she took up a sketch pad and a blue pencil and began to draw.
Petunia winced at that. She couldn't imagine wearing a blue wedding dress, no matter what the Witches and Wizards might think of white. "I don't think that would do," she protested weakly, feeling almost helpless to decide these small matters about her own wedding.
Thankfully, Narcissa was on her side. "No, this wedding will also have some of Uncle's muggle colleagues. It would be best if we tried to keep with muggle convention for the wedding, at least as much as possible."
"Yes, that was just what I was thinking," Petunia said with some relief. "We have the statute of secrecy to think about," she said hoping that would somehow bring the Modiste back on track to planning a wedding dress that would look perfect for a muggle wedding.
Mrs. Rushden gave a moue of disappointment but then turned the page to a fresh sheet. "Quite right. Muggle sensibilities must rule the day, I suppose," she sighed.
"Not a white dress," Cassiopeia insisted yet again. "This is shall be my brother's only wedding and I will not have it marred with a color of mourning."
"It would be distasteful for me to walk down the aisle in a pure white dress in any case," Petunia said in an attempt to console Cassiopeia. "I have given birth to a son, clearly I am no maiden."
There was silence for a moment and then a giggle of astonishment from Mrs. Rushden. "Oh, dear me, is that why muggle females wear white?"
Petunia nodded. "Yes, it is to indicate that they are pure, virginal, though frankly, few go to their wedding a maiden anymore."
"Oh, but why white?" Mrs. Rushden asked her, clearly fascinated.
Petunia smiled; this was something she knew. "Well, it hasn't always been this way. But it became the craze in England in the 1800s because of Queen Victoria. She showed off her wealth and power by wearing white on her wedding day."
"I see, how very interesting," Mrs. Rushden said as she studied Petunia for a moment. It was disconcerting feeling the woman's eyes roam over her figure.
"So, you cannot wear white anyway, what would you wear?" Narcissa asked her.
"Off white colors are considered acceptable for a woman in my case. Cream white or other such," Petunia replied.
"Oh!" Mrs. Rushden exclaimed. "I think I have it!" She then rushed away from them, leaving them alone in the room.
"Your choice of Celestine's was an inspired one Narcissa," Cassiopeia praised her niece. "Reina Rushden was ideal for this task. Whatever made you think of her?"
Narcissa smiled. "She was the modiste who designed my wedding dress," she said simply.
Petunia could guess by Narcissa's satisfied smile and Cassiopeia's delighted one that Narcissa's dress must have been a beautiful creation. She remembered going with her mother to a dressmaker for her wedding gown. They had managed to get two wedding dresses on the cheap at a retail shop and had the dressmaker scramble them together and modify them to fit Petunia. The woman had done good work and Petunia had been quite satisfied with the dress, though she had been upset that she couldn't wear her mother's wedding dress. Petunia was too tall, too long-legged and too petite in the chest for Hyacinth's dress. Lily had married their mother's dress, her figure and height a match for their mother when she had married Henry Evans.
"Here it is," Mrs. Rushden said as she returned to their room with a bolt of fabric. She rushed up to Petunia and placed it against her chest. "Hold this," she insisted and then she stepped back to look at the fabric and then at Petunia and then back again.
Narcissa looked awed as she too looked from the fabric to Petunia and back again. "As ever you are a genius," she praised Mrs. Rushden."
"It is perfect," Cassiopeia insisted. "A perfect compromise. It isn't white, but it isn't some sort of color she shouldn't wear around muggles."
Petunia frowned and then looked down at the fabric. It was a beautiful silk cloth that was a mixture of pale cream and gold. The pale cream of the fabric almost matched Petunia's own skin tone perfectly. She tried to imagine herself wearing cloth like this and she found a small happy smile curving her lips. "Yes," she agreed. "You are a genius, Mrs. Rushden."
Marius quirked an eyebrow as he entered the lounge and found Petunia on the couch. The lighting had been dimmed, a fire stoked in the fireplace, if he didn't know any better he would have thought she might have been trying to seduce him. She wasn't waiting for him like some paramour with some wine and sweets though. No, she was laying on the couch with her eyes closed, simply relaxing.
"Is everything alright?" Marius inquired as he came to stand before her.
She squinted open one beautiful blue eye; he really had come to appreciate that specific color of blue as of late. A wince of pain creased across her face as she looked up at him. "Marius how was your day?" she inquired.
"You shan't evade my question, darling," he chided her with a playful smile curving his lips. He watched as she slowly sat up and he winced in sympathy when he realized what her problem was. "Poor darling, you have a migraine, don't you?" he asked her.
She avoided looking at him but nodded her head. He took the seat beside her and then gently manhandled her until she was leaning her back against his chest. He brought his hands up to her temples and gently began to massage them, causing a delicious-sounding moan to escape his fiance's lips.
"That feels good," she whimpered.
"Just relax," he urged her. "I'll take care of you," he promised her.
"I'm starting to believe you when you say things like that," she murmured as she gradually began to relax against him.
"How was your day?" he asked her.
"Stressful," she murmured. "I like your sister. She's a tyrant and I think that she could have outmaneuvered Napoleon," she praised.
He chuckled. "High praise indeed," he murmured, and it was. He knew that Napoleon was one of history's best tacticians.
"Narcissa is a treasure. She chose the modiste we saw today, and she has everything in hand. The dress should be ready in a week. Also, I have a new wardrobe thanks to your sister and niece," she added.
"I hope that pleases you," he said and tried hard not to sound smug. He had rather enjoyed the idea of his sister and grandniece bullying Petunia into a new wardrobe. He wanted to see her in clothing provided by his money. He didn't want to see her wearing the things she had worn while married to Dursley. He was growing rather disgustedly possessive of his bride to be.
"It pleases me, Marius," she whispered, and it caused a thrill to shoot through him that Petunia had enjoyed being pampered and spoiled by him, at least a little bit.
"You never answered my question about your day," Petunia then reminded him.
"Oh, it was fine," he said. "I settled two deals that my brother Pollux wished me to see arranged. I met with Reginald Branstone for lunch. It was business as well as pleasure."
"Oh? Do you know him well?" she inquired.
"I mentored Reginald when he was young and new to our particular brand of business," he explained. "You could call him my protégé, Merlin knows many others have called him that."
She giggled then. "You slip up every now and then and say Merlin knows instead of things that a muggle would say as heaven knows. I think you've never really overcome your magical upbringing," she said as she leaned her head back against his shoulder.
He let his arms wrap properly around her, snuggling her close to him. "I never really tried to overcome it," he murmured in her ear. "I was the son of a Witch and a Wizard and had been brought up in that world until I was cast out by them when I turned eleven. But my head of house decided that I could be useful to the family and so he arranged for me to live and be educated in such a way that I would grow up to be a success."
"And you are," she murmured. "A success story."
"Certainly, in comparison to what happens to most Squibs born to important families," he murmured.
"What happens to other Squibs?" she asked softly.
"Most are kicked out with only the clothes on their backs. Thrown into the Muggle world and forced to learn how to survive in that world all on their own without having had knowledge of that world beforehand," Marius explained. "In worst cases, the Squib is killed by their family in some sort of arranged accident. Rarely has a case been proven that the child was killed by their family."
"How horrid!" Petunia exclaimed, aghast! She was stiff in his arms now and that just wouldn't do.
He nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, it is," he agreed with her. "I think your ancestor must have been cast out and survived somehow. That's what you are, Petunia, a survivor. I admire that."
She slowly began to relax in his arms again. "I wish I knew who it was," she admitted. "Was it just on my mother's side or my father's too?" she idly wondered.
"It must have been on both," he informed her. "Because only one wouldn't have been able to produce a Witch," he reasoned.
She nodded. "I suppose that's right," she said with a soft sigh. It was just luck of the draw that it was Lily and not me," she said softly. "It could have as easily been me that was the Witch and Lily that was a Squib."
He nodded his agreement. "For what it is worth, I am glad that you are a Squib," he said. "I doubt I could have convinced you to marry me if you had been a Witch."
She laughed at that and he found that he liked her laugh. Making Petunia Black laugh was going on his list of tasks he would happily perform for the rest of his life.