Tea had been served, as would be the case for all of her wealthier clientele, but Lavinia's cup remained untouched as she stood, moving to get the figurative measure of the young (well, not exactly...) lady before her. As it had been a Miss Zabini in the books, the modiste had been rather surprised to see her turn up without a mother or elder sister or even cranky grandmother in tow, but at least there would not be competing visions to contend with.

"Eager to beat your rivals to the newest designs, you mean?" Lavinia asked, frank but playful, as she jotted a few notes down in her notebook. Miss Zabini's colouring would be an absolute delight to design for, as there would be few colours out of bounds, and with stays in the right places, her willowy figure could easily become an envy.