January 23rd, 1891 — Slytherin Common Room

The worst thing about your best friend being a third year when you were a first year was that she got to go to Hogsmeade on weekends and you couldn't. Thankfully, Hesper couldn't go to Hogsmeade either, so they kept each other company while Flora and Sirius were away. However, the next year would be a problem, as Hesper would also be a third year, leaving Zenobia all alone.

Zenobia had grown impatient waiting for the older students to return. She had taken up an armchair and sat in such a way that her legs hung from one armrest, while her back rest on the other, fashion magazine on lap. Flora would actually get to see the newest arrivals, whereas Zen would have to satisfy her apetite for fashion through magazines.

Finally!

The older students were there.

"Flora!" Zen jumped up and approached her cousin as soon as she saw her. "Well? What was the Modiste Rose like?" Zen never even shopped at Hogsmeade, but she was excited about the new dress shop all the same.

Flora Mulciber

  

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One of the unfortunate side-effects of having a group of boys as her best friends was that she was often subjected to their interests whereas hers were treated like an afterthought. Flora did not mind, not too much; Flora loved Rex more than almost anyone, and she enjoyed Sirius' company just as much, but it was difficult to enjoy herself when they did not share the same interests. It would have been much different if Hesper was there, or Zenobia!

Flora crept back into the common room, having left Sirius to chat with a group of boys outside.

"I couldn't go," she complained, frowning, "for the line was too long, and they did not wish to wait with me!"

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While it was disappointing that she wouldn't get a coverage on what the new dress shop was like, Zenobia felt some joy that Flora couldn't go either. She'd experienced great FOMO thinking about all the fashion her cousin would get to enjoy while she was stuck at Hogwarts.

"That's a pity!" Zenobia commented. "What did you do instead? Did you find time for Honeyduke's at least?" She always reaped the rewards of her cousin's visits to the candy shop.

  

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Flora sunk down into the chair across from Zenobia, a frown still etched on her face.

"We went to Quality Quidditch Supplies. Boys," she said with an exasperated sigh. In truth, it was amusing to watch Rex and Sirius bicker over the latest equipment, and on the few occasions they asked her opinion—usually to back up one of their argument's—she'd been able to do nothing other than give a noncommittal noise or shrug.

"We got hot coca from the Painted Lady afterwards. And we did stop at Honeyduke's, but only for a moment." It wasn't one of the more exciting Hogsmeade weekends, but she was being a tad dramatic about how little she'd enjoyed it.

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Men made fun of women for their interest in fashion, but they didn't fall behind with their Quidditch obsession. Zenobia had been to some Quidditch matches and while she had enjoyed the games themselves, she found obsessively following all things Quidditch tedious. At the end of the day, it was just a silly ball game that men with no other talents played until they reached thirty.

"Well, what did you get?" Zenobia asked her cousin, hoping that she had remembered to get some of Zen's favourite sweets. It wasn't that she went without candy herself. Whenever she did well at school, she received a box from home with goodies from Fudge's - the London sweet shop.

"I'm sick of eating that cake we've been getting for dessert recently!"

  

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Flora dug into her pockets and pulled out a small handful of candies—enough for them to split, but neither would get very much. "Mostly sugar sticks," she said somberly, grabbing one of the pink ones and peeling back the thin wrapping. "One of the ladies behind us told me not to get too many, that I might mess up my figure. What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, a fully-fledged pout now on her face.

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Zenobia took one of the yellow ones — lemon was her favourite flavour. She ponded on Flora's question. She knew what that meant, from eavesdropping on people, usually her mother and her friends when they had tea and discussed society things.

"That's when you look like Miss Shona Lukeson," Zenobia replied, because it was the one plus size person she knew off at the top of her head. Even though she was much older, and a Hufflepuff, she belonged in the pureblood circles.

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   Flora Mulciber

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Flora's brows shot up in the air. She couldn't even picture herself being so round—but it had never dawned upon her before that girls got like that because of too many sweets and not because they were just like that. She looked at the sugar stick and put it down.

"I don't think it's possible," she said dismissively, "Mama is so slender and pretty—and so is your Mama. We will be just as stunning at Miss Lukeson's age. It was just as much a reassurance for herself as it was for Zenobia.

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It was true that they had very beautiful Mamas, all of the Longbottom siblings were very attractive. The Zabinis were also a quite good looking family. Flora's own Papa wasn't that attractive, but Zen wouldn't say as much out loud — besides, Flora took after Auntie Rufina more than Uncle Ernest.

"And we're not redheads," Zenobia added after she removed the candy stick from her mouth and pointed with it at Flora to emphasize her words. In all honesty, she didn't understand the disdain for red hair other than it was so hard to pair it with most colours. In any case, dark haired women were the prettiest in her opinion. They looked mysterious. She was also one.

"The other way to ruin your figure is when you are with child," Zenobia said matter-of-factly. She licked on her candy stick and then smiled mischievously. "But Miss Lukeson would be beyond reproach!"

Zenobia didn't know exactly how babies were made, but she knew that a man had to be involved in the process, and men tended not to prefer chubby redheads.

  

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Flora had nothing against redheads; in fact, they had a number of cousins through the Weasleys and Prewetts who had reddish, if not outright orange hair. They were made for red hair, though, with their lily white skin and freckles, whereas Flora was fair but peachier, and her thick brows and freckle-less skin would not look nice with such bright hair. No, she couldn't comment on it—not without feeling as though she was betraying her family.

"That doesn't last a lifetime, though," Flora reminded her. She had seen cousins of hers have children, and their stomachs were very round while the rest of their bodies remained slim. It was not at all the body type that Miss Lukeson possessed. "And Mama had me and she still looks perfectly slender. I believe the body returns to its normal state after, does it not?"

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Flora had a point, both of their Mamas were perfectly slender and so was their grandma, who had had a dozen children.

"I suppose some people are cursed to look like that," she commented. "But the other Misses Lukeson aren't quite so - big." Miss Sybille in particular looked like she could snap in two.

"We should write Witch Weekly," she suddenly suggested. "And ask them how one keeps a figure and avoids being a Miss Lukeson!"

  

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Flora nodded. It seemed mighty unfair that some girls were slender with proper curves while others looked as though they'd been given too many curves. She was obviously not blind the differences in body shapes among women, but she had never considered that it was a result of anything other than genetics. "I wonder if Miss Lukeson always looked like that," she pondered, no cattiness intended, "Do you think Sybille Lukeson will grow to that size?"

Flora had never had anything against the younger Miss Lukeson—she was a friend of Mr. Belby, even if she was also friends with the wretched Miss Bénet—but the thought of not having to compete with her in the husband hunt in four years sounded a little appealing.

"You certainly should, for I cannot! Mama would kill me if she ever found out I was writing to the gossip rags," she explained, nodding solemnly.

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"We don't have to sign it with our names, Flora!" Zenobia pointed out furrowing her eyebrows above a smile. "Don't be a chicken."

She didn't mind writing to Witch Weekly herself but she wasn't going to not tease her cousin a bit.

  

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Flora crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. "Don't you call me a chicken," she bickered childishly. Zenobia always brought out the worst in her, but that was their relationship; they teased and bickered and did things together that Flora would not do on their own. "Fine—we will do it together. But if someone finds out, I am blaming you," she added with a little hmph.

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"Alright, chicken," Zenobia said and let out a laugh that ended in a snort. She then pouted as her cousin reached for the final lemon candy of the bunch. "I wanted the last one!"

  

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