December 5th, 1890 — Greengrass Home, Bartonburg

It had been one year ago, today. It felt simultaneously as though it had been only yesterday, and an entire lifetime ago, at least to Ford. Shouldering the weight of the family's situation felt as though it had aged him ten years over the course of one, but he also felt as though he was far too young to assume this level of responsibility. He felt keenly the grief, disappointment, and resentment from his various siblings. He was trying his best to carry on just as they'd always done, but with only mixed success. Their last Christmas had been ruined by death, and although this one would be different, it was unlikely to be truly happy. With so much uncertainty, it was unlikely they would have a happy Christmas for at least a few more years. With the proximity of the anniversary of their father's death, they may never have a truly happy holiday again.

Ford already knew what he was getting for Christmas: a renewal of the Black's membership that had lapsed the previous year, which he neither needed nor wanted but had to maintain for the sake of appearances. Last year he'd had grief as an excuse, but this year as they thrust themselves into society, his presence there might be missed — particularly if anyone wanted to talk to him about one of his sisters. Which, Merlin, he hoped they would.

"It'll be refreshing to see you in color again," he said to one of his sisters upon finding her in the parlor.

  

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Set by Lady!

Decembers were, traditionally, the most eventful month for Grace. She was a Christmassy person by nature, enjoying the holiday displays and the warmth of the fireplace on a chilly night, but she had not been afforded the opportunity to enjoy her holidays last year, and it didn't seem like that was poised to change this year. She had not worn any colors but grey and black since her fathers passing one year ago to the date, and today would be the same—but the next morning, she would rise to find a colorful dress, hopefully the pretty blue one she saw every morning in her armoire, laid out for her. The prospect of abandoning her mourning dress came with a flurry of emotions: happy that she was no longer weighed down by mourning conventions, but also ashamed, because returning to her colorful dresses made it seem like she was pushing her father from memory.

She took longer than usual to dress, but then it was a return to her routine. She scurried down the stairs and ate her breakfast before retreating into the parlor with her embroidery materials in-hand. She was not alone for long; soon she was joined by her brother, who seemed to be on the same wavelength as her that morning.

"I've gotten used to it," she admitted as she brushed a hand the fabric of her skirt, and in truth had found the color to be something of a security blanket. She did want to debut, but she was not blind to her own social ineptness and knew that the road ahead would not be without its bumps. The black—the mourning—was a way to procrastinate. "It will make no difference, though. It's still half a year 'til the season." And what a season it would be with both her and Verity vying for an eligible bachelor in a rather limited market.

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Despite it's convenient distance to most town events, there was nothing Verity enjoyed about the Bartonburg house. She missed the expansive nature of their country home even more than she missed her dearly departed father. Hogsmeade had its pleasantries, she supposed, but even in her own bedroom she often felt cramped. At least she wasn't like poor Grace who now had to share with Clementine (granted, Clementine didn't use it nine months of the year). But, still, it wasn't what she was accustomed to. More than that, there had yet been an obvious reason stated for the move.

It was these thoughts that accompanied Verity through her morning dressing of her bland colors. Tomorrow, she could resume the wardrobe of a bride-to-be (provided she found a husband, that was), thank Merlin. Mourning was perhaps the most unfortunate fact of Society life. Those of lesser status weren't expected to halt their lives simply because a beloved family member died. No, they donned their black dresses and continued on. They worked and served and did whatever else working folk were expected to do. Meanwhile, Verity had been living the life of a trapped dove for a year and a half. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

"Plenty of time to practice with our brothers, then," Verity teased mildly upon entering the parlor. Although she resented the six months spent 'finishing', she was also grateful to have debuted at the Coming Out ball. It meant six months without Grace glued to her side at all events. She sat herself on the piano bench and smoothed her skirts. "I, for one, cannot wait to be out of these colors."

  

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set by mj

Verity's remark was, perhaps, a little callous — both towards Grace and towards their late father, though luckily Mama wasn't around to hear (or would their mother have agreed with her? Ford wasn't sure; he had found it harder and harder to anticipate what their mother would say or do since she had become a widow). In any case, he didn't want to poke the bear this afternoon particularly, while Clementine was home visiting and tomorrow was such an important day for them all. Why shouldn't Verity be in a good mood? That was the whole point of the mourning period, to consolidate all those feelings of grief into a specific time so that when it was over, one could continue on with life without feeling guilty about it. Verity certainly didn't seem to be feeling guilty.

"It'll make a difference," he told Grace confidently, with a small smirk in Verity's direction. Grace was right that she would still find herself quite restricted in her movements, but they could still go out to the same sorts of places they had been allowed to visit while in mourning. Art exhibits, sport events, turns around the Park, the library, the Museum. There were all sorts of places to be seen — and she would be seen, once she was out of black and no longer blending into the shadows. She was pretty enough that someone would take notice even if she wasn't off at parties dancing the night away.

He might have offered her more in the way of a comforting explanation, but the realization of what he was considering — strange men looking desirously at his sister — made him immediately uncomfortable, and the idea of actually voicing any of those thoughts was too much to handle. He coughed and went to get himself a drink from the sideboard.

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Set by Lady!

She payed no mind to Verity's words apart from an inward sigh of disappointment. She could not expect everyone to feel the same way she did, but surely her sister did not see their dresses as merely an unfortunate social obligation? It wasn't as if they were mourning a distant uncle or aunt—this was their father. Grace had no intention to linger in sadness for the rest of her youth, but she did not think the return to everyday life should be an emotionless affair. (Then again, Verity rarely shared her priorities no matter how dearly Grace loved her.)

"I shall take comfort in your excitement, then," she responded with a hint of sarcasm, glancing up at her sister as she passed her on the way to the piano bench before her eyes fell on her brother once more. They would have plenty of practice indeed, but it would all be in vain; everyone knew, from her old schoolmates to her professors and even her siblings, that Grace could practice all day and still underperform when it came time to put her skills to the test. It had always been that way, not matter whether the subject was Charms or conversation.

Ford would be all too eager to show them off once they did not look so grim; he'd been speaking of their marital prospects for long enough now. She could not imagine what difference a color would make apart from helping her look a less ghastly pale. Any pretty green could brighten her eyes, and any lace trim on her dress sleeves could accentuate the length of her fingers, but mourning was a mindset, and Grace was not sure she would be ready to emerge from her shell when they awoke the next day.

"Maybe we ought to attend the holiday festival they're hosting in Hogsmeade later this month. Not the season, but plenty of time to show off our new dresses?" There would be new dresses, right?

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Ford balked at the notion of new dresses, but he supposed he really ought to have been expecting this. His sisters were used to new clothes at least once a year, and more often for special occasions — the fact that they'd had nothing but black for the past twelve months and the ending of their morning period was an excellent reason for new dresses. And, of course, Grace didn't know that the bill for the last set had only been paid a few months ago.

Well, he'd have to find a way. Even if he wasn't trying to keep up the charade for his sisters, it was a necessary expense — an investment in a good first season, and hopefully one that would play out better than their late father's investments. If Mama had been in the room, she likely would have agreed already and started making plans for a visit to the modiste immediately, but since she was not perhaps Ford could buy himself a little time to move some money around.

"New dresses on December 6th, and a second new set for Christmas, I suppose?" he joked, replacing the decanter and moving with his new drink to the nearest armchair. "I'm afraid your old dresses will have to at least last the month. Do you think your pride can manage that?" he teased. With Grace it was only a tease; with Verity it might have been a legitimate question.

  

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Set by Lady!

In her rightful opinion, she, Grace and Mother all deserved to have an entirely new wardrobe for this upcoming season. If they were hopeful to have not one, but two, Greengrass girls marry this year, then they all had to look their very best. Gowns from the House of Lytton for every occasion, impeccable dresses for everyday wear, the works. However, Verity had always had eyes larger than her (father's, now brother's) wallet, and knew, especially after the six months of finishing she ought to be glad to have any new dresses at all.

"A trip to the modiste Monday morning, then." Verity stated as if the matter were left entirely up to her. "We'll need them sooner than later if we're to look proper for the Christmas and New Year's events." It would be an insult as it was to spend the next few weeks flitting about in gowns that were two years old. Imagine having to attend High Tea in fashion so outdated magic couldn't even help matters!

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set by mj

"I doubt that my own wardrobe will require much change," Clementine offered as she entered the room, having caught the subject of conversation from the corridor, "but I do hope that I might prevail upon you for some new ribbons, Brother?"

It was, if one thought about it, Hogwarts students who suffered the least in mourning; a black armband largely blended into the black robes students already wore. She was no Verity, primed and ready to be launched upon society, nor a Grace, waiting in the wings for a similar catapulting. She was quite happy to let her elder sisters have the pretty gowns—and the limelight!—at least for now.

Her small collection of purchases tucked away in the room she shared with Grace for now, Clementine had made her way downstairs to join the family properly, happy to see them though less thrilled about the occasion. It was a relief, to see them talking about clothes rather than reminiscing over the father Clementine missed dearly, and she moved to sit in an available armchair.

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— set by mj —

Pride was not an issue, not for Grace. With weary eyes she watched the exchange between Ford and Verity, knowing any attempt to intercede on her brother's behalf would earn her a scowl from her elder sister. She would like a new dress very much, of course—she had not had a new colored dress since the summer before her seventh year, every addition thereafter having been a dreary shade of grey or black—but she was not so impractical as to believe that they could not make do. Verity was more difficult to please, but she also bore the burden of being expected to marry first. Maybe Clementine understood that, or maybe she simply did not care; and yet, it gave Grace and opportunity to make concessions without seeming to side with her brother.

"Mother could alter the color of my dresses in a way more befitted for winter, and perhaps the maid can help with the fitting?" she suggested, hoping that her brother might be able to compromise for Verity if she was willing to wear last season's fashions. Three new dresses were not cheap, especially when one considered they would need new dresses for the upcoming season anyways—one dress, though, seemed reasonable enough. "It should not be too difficult to manage, I hope?" She eyed Verity, giving her sister a chance to agree and end the argument once and for all despite knowing her sister was unlikely to be swayed.

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Tomorrow morning? Ford could not help but look up at Verity in surprise. What was she playing at, after he had just said (quite delicately, he thought) that they would have to wait until Christmas? But perhaps she thought he didn't understand the way women's fashion worked — perhaps she thought she was doing him a favor by pointing out a potential flaw in his timeline. Of course, if Verity had it her way she would be courting by dinner tomorrow, so he couldn't exactly blame her for her eagerness. He thought perhaps he might stall her request by claiming it would be unfair to Clementine to go without her, and they must therefore wait until she was home for the holidays — but just as he had the thought, Clem came in and killed that potential avenue of escape. Though he was a little ingratiated to hear that she only wanted a new set of ribbons for Christmas.

"Next year I suppose I'll let you all do your own Christmas shopping, if you have such decisive ideas about when and what to buy," he said wryly. Perhaps by next year, this would all be a distant nightmare. He had no real hope that Verity and Grace would be married by next Christmas, but one of them might — and perhaps their finances might improve enough that the prospect of sponsoring Clementine through a season was not entirely out of reach.

He might have left it at that, and not addressed Verity's demand at all, had it not been for what Grace pitched in with next. Had she picked up on something, he wondered, that lead her to believe he needed help from them in order to put Christmas presents under the tree? She was not wrong, of course, but Ford was loathe to thing she suspected anything of the truth, or that any of his sisters might.

"Now you've set Grace to worrying," he told Verity with a frown, though it was probably just as much his fault as anyone's. He set his drink down and leaned forward on the arm of his chair. "The moon would not be too difficult to manage, if that was what you wanted, Grace," he told her, before offering a reassuring smile to Verity and Clementine as well. "We can go for a fitting Monday morning," he agreed, sitting back again. "If you agree to leave them wrapped until Christmas. And ribbons for Clem," he added.

(One did not need to pay for dresses until they were completed and delivered, wasn't that so?)

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   Clementine Greengrass

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Set by Lady!

It was a pity Ford wouldn't allow them to do their own Christmas shopping this year. Verity would have the finest dresses of the Season if she were permitted to acquisition her own garments without hindrance from her brother. As it was, she knew she was in for a battle when they did go over the types of lace and whether or not to have the more delicate silks. Really, how did he expect them to be successful without the tools to do just that? Verity sighed as she dropped her gaze down to the uncovered ivory keys. Ford could at least try to have a better understanding of how the system worked, rather than deny them what they rightfully should've had.

Grace had good reasons to be concerned, not that Verity was daft enough to address those concerns. It worked in her favor to be unaware of how terribly off the Greengrass' were. She knew it was bad — selling their home and moving to Bartonburg wasn't good after all. Though, she did believe there was still plenty of money for their dowries. What other reason was there to sell the house than to finance the cost of marriage?

"So long as the moon is in the form of new dresses we won't have much to worry over, will we?" Verity answered. Leaving the dresses wrapped until Christmas would be a crime against their reentry into society, but she didn't wish to continue instigating a fight with her brother. She did love Ford, she just loved him more when he wasn't solely responsible for her future. "It should be an exciting Christmas, then."

  

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set by mj

"I'll take a new jounral for Christmas," Clementine piped in, "in case it needed saying."

It most certainly did not. She had been writing down just about everything for as long as she could remember, and without fail, a journal always appeared under the tree for her. True, it had used to be her father who gifted her a blank volume every year, but last year Verity had taken over the tradition, for which Clementine had been grateful indeed.

"And Ford shall have what, a new tophat? Gloves? A fine set of quills?" She was quite decidedly fishing. Where her brothers were concerned, Christmas shopping was something of a challenge. "A pretty heiress to cement your status as head of the household?" the Hufflepuff added, now plainly teasing. Ford was far too young to fuss with a wife any time soon!

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— set by mj —

They would have dresses after all! Grace was pleased, for though she would have willingly gone without dresses to ensure her brother was not weighed down by their impending return to society plus Christmas gifts, she would have found having to addend holiday festivities in dresses that were stylish two summers ago.

"I need not the moon, but if it's possible, I would enjoy a new pair of shoes to match my new dress. Mine are so worn and are better-suited to the Hogwarts greenhouses than a party." she said, clicking the heels against the carpet in demonstration. She hoped it would not be too much for him to manage on his own; she knew very well which shoes she liked, and would be more than willing to drag Noble down to the shop to purchase them.

She knew it would be a matter of time before the shops became packed, so she made mental note of everything Clementine listed—bar the heiress, which caused her to break out into giggles. "I'l keep an eye open for one this next season, just in case," she teased, wearing a broad smile as she looked upon her brother. "That is assuming that Verity does not intimidate them all first!" What a wolf her sister would be now that she was properly participate in society!

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As his sisters took over the conversation once again, Ford wondered at the misfortune of having poured himself a drink and taken a seat. If he'd been unburdened, he could have pretended to be just passing through the parlor and left; as it was, he was trapped unless he made it obvious he was fleeing them. He loved his sisters, but Merlin's beard. Verity was needling him, Clementine was teasing him, and even Grace had decided to switch sides and start asking for new shoes. Which was his fault — he'd just promised to get her the moon, and shoes were a good deal more reasonable than that. There was no reason she shouldn't have had a new pair of shoes, but he was going to be juggling enough things around just trying to make space for new dresses in their Christmas budget...

And that was before even touching Clementine's comment about a pretty heiress to cement your status as head of the household. The very notion made him uncomfortable on multiple levels... or possibly on every level. First and foremost, he was in no position to marry (heiress or no), though of course no one knew that (yet; it was only a matter of time before it started to become quite obvious). Getting shoved together romantically with a pretty young woman made him uncomfortable of its own accord, but the idea that his sisters would have any say in the orchestration of such an event made it infinitely more unsettling. And finally, the entire concept of his so-called status as head of the household, as though it were some kind of honor or privilege and not the greatest thorn in his side for the last year. Clementine might have been joking, but it was too ridiculous for him to find it funny no matter how she and Grace smiled when they said it.

"I hope Verity will have her hands full with suitors and won't have time to intimidate anyone," he said mildly, without commenting on any of the rest. He ought to have answered Clem's question about what he wanted for Christmas, but he didn't have the faintest idea. He would have preferred to get nothing at all — since the girls' pocket money all came from the same shrinking coffers that all the other expenses did — but he could hardly tell them that and expect anyone to take him seriously.

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Set by Lady!

When their father had passed so close to Christmas it was Verity who ensured the last journal he purchased made it beneath the tree for her youngest sister. She hadn't affixed her name to the gift, nor would she ever. For once, it wasn't pride or recognition she sought after, but just the simple gesture of caring for her sister. There was another journal she spotted earlier in the week at Flourish and Blotts that would likely make it beneath the tree for Clementine this year. It's warm brown leather had the prettiest, and admittedly simple, floral pattern etched onto the cover.

Eager to join in on the additional gifts to beg for, Verity easily commented, "if we're to have new shoes and ribbons, might I ask for a new parasol as well? Think of how lovely we would look should our every accessory perfectly coordinate." Unlike Grace's shoes, Verity's parasol was in near mint condition from its disuse. So, the likelihood of her obtaining one was minimal.

Regardless of his status as head of household, Ford was altogether too young to be in pursuit of a wife. He had yet to achieve any notable position within the ministry, their family had no property to speak of, and, perhaps the least favorable remembrance of all, he was spared only by Grace's bumbling nature in terms of social skills. Noble might've been able to secure a wife were his and Ford's positions in the family swapped, but even he had little going for him. No, there would be no heiress for either of her brothers anytime soon. Not if Verity had any say in the matter.

"I should think Ford would be wise to see his wards taken care of before pursuing a heiress." Verity said a tad more seriously than her two sisters. She didn't mean to be so stern with them, and typically wasn't, but the stress of what the new year was to bring was weighing on her heavily.

  

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set by mj

Noble had forgotten the date, and then remembered - it was only as he jotted down notes on the latest shipment to Hogsmeade Hospital, locked in his bedroom, that he noticed. December 5th, 1890 - and as soon as he wrote it down in full, he remembered. A batch of healing potions went to the hospital on the fourth of every month, and he started prep for the next month's on the fifth. He had just started chopping ingredients when he got the owl about father last year.

In that case, he was not going to be able to lock himself in his workshop this afternoon. He could start prep on the sixth. He was going to have to be social with his family today; probably he owed them that much.

He steeled himself as he left his bedroom, locked the door behind him - there was such limited free space in this house that Noble ha embraced an absolutely not level of privacy-protection - and walked down the hallway, already hearing their voices. As soon as he stepped in, he sort of regretted it, but moved to pour himself a drink.

"Teasing Ford, now, are we?" Noble asked, tilting his head at the sentence of Verity's he caught.

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   Clementine Greengrass