20th March, 1894 — Hogsmeade High Street

“For Mrs. Greengrass, if you please,” she had said to the shop clerk, brightly enough – brightness had been her default tone and expression in public today, sure that the gossip mill would have eagle-eyes upon her in one way or another, and not much wanting to give them anything else to chew on from her life.

But her brightness faltered at the clerk’s refusal – I’m sorry, we can’t put this on credit for you, Mrs. Greengrass. Jemima was too mortified to ask or to protest. She hadn’t enough cash on her, because she never carried more than she could use on a treat from Honeyduke’s – and previously she had always been shopping with her parents or a maid or someone who would be in charge of this sort of thing, so she had no idea how to argue her case. Instead, she stammered something like an apology and left the new gloves on the shop counter, and by the time she had stepped out of the shop in shame, Jemima had come to the conclusion that she must have been blacklisted as a customer there for her post-cloakroom notoriety.

It made a certain damning sense. She had managed to order some new calling cards without any problem by post, and she supposed there had been no trouble with her wedding wardrobe thanks to Greer... But she hadn’t been in society properly yet since marrying. Maybe she (and the Greengrass girls by extension) would receive no invitations all season. Maybe all of her acquaintances would cut her, too, if they passed her by. (For all she knew the calling cards she had just had printed might sit uselessly in their little case for a year or two, miserably untouched.)

Here came a test of society, right this moment: someone was coming along the pavement towards her. Someone who would recognise her well enough, and would evidently want to get past where she was standing in their path (looking far more flustered than she had intended) – but would they so much as acknowledge her as they did so, or would they prefer to cross the road to avoid her?

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   Aldous Crouch, Fortitude Greengrass, Octavia Fawley

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Daesyn was visiting Hogsmead catching with old friends from Hogwarts, she had been in South America on a Gringotts escapade that had proved quite fruitful so was taking a week or so to herself to just mingle with society. She needed to find a husband at some point and as handsome as Prince Nochxochitl was, the nine hundred years since his death had been an insurmountable barrier to development of their relationship. Also his ghost was likely fuming when he realised she had snuck out with his golden burial mask.

As she wandered down the High Street her mind wandered, she hadnt planned much, that had been the point, but was now regretting the lack of direction in her day. As she walked she played with the dark green tunic that she wore over pleasant dark linen trousers. Ahead, movement caught her eye as a woman she recognised left a shop looking rather flustered. She was the year blow Daesyn in school but the girl remembered her from classes.

"It's Miss Farley, isn't it? How are you my dear? Is everything OK?" she asked her, stopping the pretty curly haired woman and eyeing her with a little concern. She stopped and encouraged the other woman to stop to chat too.

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   Millie Potts

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This was proof that familiar faces were not always comforting ones. Jemima had been anxious enough to see anyone she knew out and about, but Miss Mackenzie was a confusing case. There was nothing wrong with her, necessarily – she had always seemed friendly enough at school – but her stopping to talk said little good for Jemima’s status.

So she wasn’t sure she wanted anyone else to see her talking to the very rough-and-tumble sort of girl here, a woman who had not only become a cursebreaker but had also, apparently, become accustomed to wearing trousers. Dear Merlin: what if society’s supposed outcasts and oddities were the only ones who were inclined to be nice to her now? That would be less than ideal.

So Jemima’s smile was – strained at best, and not merely because of the shop clerk’s reception. “Oh, yes, thank you,” she said vaguely, with another anxious look along the pavement, in case anyone else was witnessing this interaction and making further assumptions about the people she associated with. Perhaps someone else would sweep in to save her? Abruptly, she remembered the correction she needed to make: “It’s actually – Mrs. Greengrass now.”

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   Daesyn Mackenzie

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Jemima Greengrass seemed nervous, and most uncomfortable with her situation. She glanced back and forth along the pavement as if all eyes were on her. Daesyn had hoped to be a friendly face, but the girl still seemed so anxious. "My Apolgies Mrs Greengrass, I do seem to remember the announcement of your nuptials but I wasn't aware of the date." she took the correction and nodded politely. She tried to remember the name of the man who would be her husband but it escaped her at this time. Marriage seemed like a fun proposition, she hoped that one day, she could find her own partner, this seemed like a difficult prospect though as her lifestyle did tend to put some men off.

"Is everything OK?" she repeated her opening query, still aware of the obvious discomfort, but seemingly oblivious to her own part in the other woman's worsening state. "Perhaps I could buy you a chamomile tea and we could get caught up, you could tell me all about your celebrations, I am sure it was lovely." Her soft Inverness accent always came across friendly, except perhaps when she was drunk or angry.

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The apology could well be genuine, but after the shop clerk’s refusal to serve her, Jemima could probably read knowing snideness in anything. Wasn’t aware of the date felt like a coded remark about how rushed the whole thing had been, caught at the party to engaged in days and married in mere weeks.

The impromptu invitation to catch up did not quell the queasy feeling about this at all. “Oh, I would love to,” Jemima started, not-quite-convincingly, and when no easy lies leapt to her lips for an excuse, she added vaguely, “but I’m – expected elsewhere.” (By whom, exactly, she might have asked herself bitterly. Her husband was at work for hours yet. She had no real responsibilities in the household that she could yet discern, given they lived with Ford’s mother, and her social calendar had not exactly filled itself up since the honeymoon.) “But I’m – perfectly well, thank you. How have you been?”

It would be impolite to leave without asking Miss Mackenzie anything, after all. And perhaps it would even be a safer topic of conversation.

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   Daesyn Mackenzie

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The response coming from Jemima Greengrass was cool to say the least and Daesyn was now beginning to believe she wished herself excused from the conversation entirely, looking for an exit, she wouldn't be the first well to do type who acted similarly. "I won't keep you much longer Mrs. Greengrass, I have much to do myself too. I've been keeping well, life has been interesting, Gingotts keeps me busy."

She let out a little laugh and raised her eyebrows.

"Perhaps if you fine husband has any bachelor friends, he should send them my way, merlin knows my parents would thank you." she looked at the store behind Jemima, not really her thing, but it was as good an excuse as any to allow the woman to go about her day. But she was still concerned about her and her voice dropped quietly. "Are you sure you are OK? I feel quite rude to just leave you alone but we are both quite busy women it seems." she gestured and pointed her way to the shop that she would enter, not expecting Jemima to follow, but keeping up the polite appearance.

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Even if Miss Mackenzie was inclined to judge her, and even if Jemima was trying to be cool with her, she felt a stab of guilt when the other woman began giving her an out. She was grateful for it, certainly, but she felt bad, too.

The remark about Ford having bachelor friends was not best helpful, because Jemima didn’t even know Ford’s friends yet, besides that one of them was the married Mr. Lestrange and the other was a ghost; and this was just one more thing on the list of things a wife really should know about her husband. She had never been a good enough student at Hogwarts to have faith in her own ability to retain so much new information at once.

So perhaps it was better they discussed Miss Mackenzie rather than her own life? One more polite question could not damn Jemima any more than this conversation already was, so – she gave her acting a try with a little more gusto. “Oh, you’re not rude at all – it’s just been such a whirlwind, getting married, that there’s just so much to do,” she explained, with a more convincing smile. The other girl had gestured at the shop, so it felt easy enough to ask: “What are you shopping for today?”

(A dress or two might be a good idea, if she was actually inclined to ever be married. Jemima scolded herself for the thought – but she had thought it, nonetheless.)

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   Daesyn Mackenzie

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With a nod and a smile Daesyn agreed with Jemima's assessment on getting married, not from her own personal experience but her elder sister was not long married and it had been quite the tumultuous time for the whole family.

Mrs Greengrass enquired what she was shopping for. "hmmm, I've not really thought much of it, perhaps a dress for the inevitable summer formals?" she had at least one Gringotts event to attend, and her father hoped she might go to a dance or two before all the best bachelors were snapped up by the fresh faced Hogwarts debutantes, it made her smirk the idea of the annual summer ritual that she played half heartedly. "What are the fashions like this year? I was never very clued in on that."

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Jemima Greengrass

  

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Evidently not, Jemima thought darkly, because men’s trousers never were the fashion. But she had been the recipient of too much talk in the past few weeks to make anyone endure the same, and she would have stopped herself anyway, because she knew it was mean. Recognising that she was being unkind had to be better than nothing, didn’t it? If she cast away her worse thoughts, and tried to be better?

“Bigger sleeves,” Jemima recommended, for what the fashions were – though sleeves the size of balloons could not make Miss Mackenzie a traditional debutante. (There she went again.) “Will you be attending events this season?” Jemima asked, determined to get through the conversation kindly. “I supposed you were always too busy, travelling the world.” Was that what cursebreakers did? She pictured a lot of dust.

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   Violetta DeCroix

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She grinned and rocked her head back and forth in a way that indicated it was a descision she was considering still "I think so, yes. This will be my..." she counted on her fingers one, two, three "Fourth season, although I skipped my second and third for work, so I'm not counting them. Bigger sleeves you say?" Daesyn let out a little laugh, she could picture herself now in some puffy ball dress with gigantic ruffled sleeves. A couple of the girls from her Hogwarts coming out ball wore similar if she recalled. If she were to wear a dress, she would undoubtedly want to wear something a little simpler, perhaps something that allowed her to accentuate her collar bones, a part of her body that she was always quite fond of.

"And how does polite society view a young woman's skin this year? Less is more, more is more?" she joked, well, partially joked at least.

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Jemima Greengrass

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   Jemima Greengrass

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“Oh no, they needn’t count if you weren’t here,” Jemima assured her, still trying to be kind. She wished they were not in public; but it was nice to speak to someone who had next to no knowledge of or care about the scandal she was currently mired in. She nodded earnestly at the questioning of sleeves; she would be so pleased if she managed to offer Miss Mackenzie any useful advice. (Was this what married women did – reform other girls for the better?)

Jemima was just about enjoying herself in this conversation when Miss Mackenzie mentioned skin, and Jemima’s face fell, her colour going ashen. She gulped. She couldn’t comprehend the comment any other way. Miss Mackenzie must have heard the rumours in all their sordid glory. Jemima had been half-dressed with a man in the coatroom. She had shown enough bare skin (in front of the Minister’s wife!) to last a lifetime, and this felt like a much unneeded reminder of it.

“I’m s-sorry, I really must be on my way,” she spluttered out, feeling as humiliated as she had in the shop not so long ago. She couldn’t meet the other girl’s eye now; she nodded at her stiffly, without looking. “Good day, Miss Mackenzie.”

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   Daesyn Mackenzie, Fortitude Greengrass

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The reaction from Jemima Greengrass was quite abrupt and even more baffling than her earlier response, had she done something to offend her. The curly haired woman stuttered an apology and then moved to excuse herself. Daesyn was about to try to convince her not to retreat but what could she say.

"I'm sorry, I guess yeah. It was lovely to see you Mrs. Greengrass, I hope marriage treats you well, we should do this properly next time." Dae would not stop her walking away but would watch on puzzled at what was playing in her schoolmate's head. Something was certainly amiss, but with Daesyn being so out of the loop it would take further investigation to discover what the situation was.

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   Elias Grimstone

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