Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

Varro

Sighing contentedly, Henry Mulciber stretches and reclines fully back in the lounge chair on a small, private balcony on the second floor of his family's estate. He's fully dressed but decidedly dressed down. All the buttons of his white linen shirt unbuttoned, he's parted it so that his chest is fully exposed, so that he can properly feel the rays of the late summer sun. In one hand, he holds a glass of iced pumpkin juice carefully balanced against the arm of the lounge chair. With his eyes closed, he smiles at the sensation of the cold glass against his fingertips. In his other hand, a pair of oversized, black aviator sunglasses, open and pinched delicately between his thumb and pointer finger as he twirls them through the air slowly, idly. Humming a made up tune to himself, he allows his thoughts to wander as he drifts in and out of a light slumber.

That's when the doors to the balcony slide open behind him. Eyes still shut, he nods by way of acknowledgment as he listens to the shuffle of footsteps around him, to the sound of Barty slipping down into the chair beside him. 

"Mail time?"

"That's right, Henry. Shall I read them to you the way you like?"

"Mmm."

"Alright let's see here then. First, one from your father -"

"- Open, posthaste."

"My Sweetest Henry ..." 

Pausing at that, Barty snorts with stifled laughter.

Eyes still shut, shades stilling in his hand mid spin, Mulciber frowns, "What?"

"Sometimes I really do have to wonder; does he even know you?"

"Of course he does. That's precisely why I'm his sweetest Henry."

Another amused laugh, one which earns a rare smile from Henry, though it quickly disappears as his face returns to its usual serious expression, "... Continue."

"... Just our daily letter to express to you how much we miss you, both your mother and I. Your mother, presently out shopping for a new magic carpet, insists that I ask the usual question ..."

At this, Mulciber shakes his head lazily from side to side, his words now perfectly matching the ones Barty's reading aloud: "... Are you eating enough, darling boy?"

Eyes fluttering open, he tips his head towards Barty, the two of them smiling at each other once more. Then, leaning forward and setting his drink down on the small glass table between them, Henry gestures impatiently for Barty to continue.

"... Perhaps next time, you'll find a way to join us here for a holiday. Though I know you're so admirably dedicated to our noble cause, and I commend you - as always - for your tremendous work ethic, your unstoppable determination, your laudable ambition -"

"- Highlights, Barty. Distil it. He'll go on like this for literal pages."

Nodding, Barty begins to silently skim the letter. Sure enough, skipping the rest of the first page, he flips to the next, skimming that one quickly. Finally, clearing his throat, he shifts forward in his seat, "Here ... here he goes on for a bit mentioning an exclusive appointment at Bleshing & Sons -"

Eyes flashing back open, Henry quickly sits up in his seat, "Elaborate!"

"Um - right - just that he mentions that he's got a special invitation to a bespoke suit fitting in early October; asks if you would you like to attend with him -"

"- Obviously!"

Bleshing & Sons, makers of the most coveted men's suits. Mr. Bleshing, less a tailor and more visionary in his ability to dress all the most fashionable men of the wizarding world.