Do you know what’s rather adorable though? On that plane Mark can’t even stand hunched over without his hair brushing the ceiling, while Martin in full army doctor posture still has all the headroom in the world.
Young Mycroft Holmes, with barely an established spot on the government food chain but quite obvious brilliance, is issued to the Ministry of Magic to help rebuild the Wizarding World after its devastating war with Lord Voldemort. He ends up overseeing the training of the new aurors, appearing to be the only person cool, commanding, and somehow convincing enough to handle the sudden influx of perky young people- or not so young people- who feel their one jinx to the back of a Death Eater enough to carry them through a career as an auror.
~
Harry Potter, for his part, is somewhat appalled that this Mr. Holmes bloke seems to feel he’s barely making the cuts to become an auror. (“Mr. Potter is one of a surprising many who seem to think that legitimate N. E. W. T. scores are no longer of any concern to the auror department. He also displays a certain stubborn incompetence with potions and has a somewhat disquieting dependence on the spell “Expelliarmus””, I mean… what the hell is that supposed to mean, Hermione?) It’s almost as though the man doesn’t care who he is, or, impossibly, Doesn’t. Know.
More importantly though, is the fact that Harry is definitely not intrigued by it, much less /into it/. Definitely, assuredly not. He’s not even that attractive… only… I mean at most…… totally gorgeous.
Harry’s been summoned to his supervisor’s office, which would be stressful in any situation- but Harry’s supervisor is /Mycroft Holmes/.
Mycroft Holmes with his suit and his smirk and his legs, Mycroft Holmes in his office with his posture and his business voice and his great big empty desk…
And not to mention this could be the meeting where Mycroft finally kicks him out of the auror program. As shocking a statement as that may be to every other wizard Harry has ever met- /besides Mycroft/.
He’s heard the stories- the reasoning, the Other-Opportunities-Available… oh God, what if he gets a pout? Harry would probably skip out of his office- and then what? Harry’d never really contemplated not getting to become an auror- he was /the Chosen One/ he’d /killed Voldemort/ and yet here he was, worrying he was about to be cut from the auror program by Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft Holmes with his suit and his legs and his smirk and his voice and his desk- STOP.
Has Sebcroft gone all Snow White yet? Like Moran is hired/ordered to kill Mycroft. But he can’t. They run away together.
“Molly. Molly,” he sighs, hands clasped to hers, their fingers intertwined. “You’ll love him, you’ll absolutely adore him, I’m sure of it.”
Her mouth is pinched and her forehead is all scrunched up, so he leans forward to smooth it out with a kiss.
“You’re not convinced now,” he murmurs, “but you will be once you spend some time with him. He’s got a mind like a steel trap and you’re both such ruthlessly efficient players that I’m sure you’ll get along like a house. on. fire.”
“Jim,” she says, voice tight. “Jim, just look at yourself.”
He just smiles.
“Jim, you’re in a prison cell!” she moans, in a half-whisper of dismay.
Indeed he is. Molly is standing on the other side, holding his hands through the bars in the door.
“Just a little, itty-bitty minor inconvenience,” he says.
“Little-!” Molly snaps her mouth shut, and glares at him.
“The only time I’m going to spend with this man,” she says, looking away out of both frustration and the embarrassment of the memory of being in his office, “is when he threatens me to testify against you right after I leave the cells to go back up to the Ministry!”
“And will you?” Jim looks at her innocently.
“Of course not!” Molly hisses. “I am saying nothing. Nothing!”
He smiles at her, a bit proprietary and proud.
“My little spitfire,” he says.
She snatches her hands away, shoots him a brief but biting look, then almost nearly immediately deflates.
“There must be something we can still do,” she says.
“Of course there is.”
“Well, then, what?” she demands, eyes fixed on the little window at the end of the hall. “Perhaps when they hang you – a trap door. I know someone, a tight-lipped carpenter. He’d help, for a price. We could cart you away somewhere. And a potion, to make you seem dead, though you’ll only be sleeping. Administering it will be tricky, because any sign of magic and Mycroft Holmes will be all over it.”
Jim expression turns a bit dreamy and he opens his mouth to say something – and, though Molly hasn’t been looking, she immediately shoots him a look that says don’t.
“There’s a ledger in the back of your storeroom, inside the bag of onions,” he says.
“What?”
“Oh yes, I’ve kept record of all the magic we’ve stolen.”
“We’ve?! You! You’ve stolen!”
“It doesn’t look like a ledger, of course, but that’s only because you’ve got to get the key. I’ll draw you a map, but it’s a bit tricky. Tricky, but not as tricky as you. I’m sure with this in hand, Mycroft Holmes will be willing to negotiate.”
Molly stares, eyes wide, and brimming with tentative hope.
The she slaps him. Hard.
“OW- why?”
“You couldn’t have told me this earlier?” she whispers, absolutely seething.
“I was trying to avoid having you blamed as an accomplice!” Jim mumbles, holding his cheek.
I’ve been thinking about Mycroft Holmes’s clothes. I mean, haven’t we all, but I’ve been thinking in a sort of meta way.
I’ve been independently researching menswear as I come into my own androgynous/non-binary/transmasc identity. And I’ve discovered some things about the way Mycroft dresses.
First, sleeve garters. These came into use in the latter half of the 18th century, which make them a perfect throwback for a show that likes to reference Victoriana. In context, though, someone of Mycroft’s station would never have worn them. Sleeve garters were meant for men who wore ready made shirts, men who couldn’t afford to have their shirts tailored to fit. Garters allowed them to adjust the length of their sleeves and prevent their cuffs getting dirty. Men who had the money to tailor their shirts, as Mycroft obviously does, would not have worn them. Sleeve garters would have been a marker of lower–not higher–station.
In modern day, sleeve garters are mostly worn by people who want to seem “old timey,” which may fit Mycroft’s more traditional sensibilities, except that this old timeyness tends more towards shtick than traditionalism. Sleeve garters today are worn as part of casino dealers’ uniform or by barber shop quartets and banjo players. This doesn’t seem to be a group that Mycroft would want to be associated with.
So that makes me think it’s a Victoriana affectation. Since sleeve length is less of an issue now, men don’t wear sleeve garters anymore, and Mycroft can wear them without that “lower class” signal of 150 years ago. It appeals to tradition, emotional security, while also providing a sense of physical security, a presence there on his arms.
Second, tie bars. Tie bars are something I have more experience with. I wear ties two or three times a week and have a couple of tie bars. A tie bar or clip is different from a tie pin or tack in that a tie bar doesn’t actually pierce the fabric of the tie, which can damage it. Instead, it clips the tie in place, holding it to the placket of the shirt, usually between the third and fourth shirt buttons.
The rule with tie bars is never to wear them with a waistcoast. It’s a bit “belt and braces,” if you understand my meaning. The function of your tie bar is to keep your necktie out of your Wheetabix, so if you already have your tie tucked into a waistcoat, that job is done. If you’re wearing it purely for aesthetics, well, you’re sort of gilding the lily, aren’t you?
That’s not to say Mycroft isn’t a peacock, because just look at him, but the thing is, he doesn’t always wear tie bars. Looking back, I’m noticing them more in series 4. It’s also worth noting that a tie bar shouldn’t ever be longer than the width of the tie, either, and just look at whatever’s going on in that gif above. Based on the style and placement, I have to assume the intention is to be big and bold, so it’s likely an intentional choice for the bar to be wider than the tie, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that it’s there at all. Wearing the two together, the tie bar and the waistcoat, is gauche, and Mycroft may be a peacock, but he is not gauche.
Which brings us back to a sense of physical security. In series 4, Mycroft begins–or at least more frequently–to wear a tie bar with his waistcoat, signaling a need to feel more physically secure in his clothing. This giant tie bar was what he chose to wear to Sherrinford. This is armor. This is him preparing for battle.
We’d already seen his ever present umbrella become a weapon, and with these small signals in his clothing, these small additions of accessories, we see his armor.
Or maybe I’m overthinking things.
¯_(ツ)_/¯
It’s really interesting! Thank for sharing Paula 🙂
As far as I’m concerned you can never over think Mycroft and his clothing choices. Fanfics often refer to his clothing as his “armor” and I think you just pointed out how very true this is.
problematicjustbecause 