Chapter One
The window was cold against her cheek, her face pressed firmly to the glass. She was sure she looked ridiculous to anyone she passed on the street, her cheek squished, her nose breathing condensation around her nostrils and emphasizing her so called puglike features. She didn’t particularly care. A rare feat seeing how Pansy Parkinson cared about her self image more often than not. But here in this moment, as she admired the rustling leaves in the branches overhead, she found herself at odds. Through the steamed over windows, Pansy could catch glimpses of the smeared vibrancy of yellows, reds, and oranges as they danced passed. Glitter streaks of gold floated over the back of her lids, the sensation of heat contrasting with that of the welcomed dip in temperature she felt through the window. She was almost there. She’d never been to her uncle’s orchard before, but somehow felt the shift in the air. Pansy had only wished the circumstances were as colorful as the landscape around her.
The car had pulled off onto a thin gravel drive littered with potholes and overgrown weeds. Though quaint, it didn’t exactly emulate the Parkinson namesake. While not in complete disrepair, the moderately sized home had seen better in its prime - shutters faded and peeled resting beside slightly fogged over windows, cracks about the brick and stone combination walls where the foundation had long since settled. Still, the surrounding grounds shimmered under the early afternoon sun, remnants of the dew on the lush green grass appeared as carpet across the lands, lining the gravel drive as she removed herself from the car, one hand resting on the door. There was flush greenery everywhere, contrasting against the bright colored leaves in the surrounding trees, the cottage perched in the clearing’s center. It was open enough to appear welcoming to outsiders such as Pansy yet felt completely secluded - a countryside hideaway. Pansy hadn’t thought this would be a place she would ever call home for the fall, let alone at all. But when a woman clad in black emerged onto the painted white porch, she knew the contents of the letter she clutched in her coat pocket had been true.
She took a deep breath, her right hand still clinging to the door of the old car, her legs frozen in place at the end of the walkway. Images of her youth flooded her mind, some of her favorite and most fondest of moments from a childhood that seemed a century ago. They all included her uncle. They had said she resembled him; her smile and the sharp arch in her brow when she questioned someone’s motives, the inquisitive flash in her jaded blue eyes and the distinct way she would tug on her earlobe when she grew uncomfortable or had a temper.
Pansy had never met her aunt Elena before, but there she was, standing with a very Romanian - a very muggle - smile across her face. If it hadn’t been for the recent departure of her uncle, Pansy would have been completely content never to have met her at all. Unfortunately, the little girl in her who missed her uncle had somehow talked her into leaving for Romania in the first place.
Pansy had already dealt with the country's sorry excuse for customs. Due to her location, Romania's International Statute of Secrecy deemed her unworthy to use her wand for everyday, “unimportant” spells. So, her wand was marked with a trace not dissimilar to that of an underaged witch or wizard. It was embarrassing - not to mention degrading - to assume Pansy would spend the entirety of her time in Romania in the presence of a muggle woman she knew little of, but on top of that disallowing her the luxury of spending said time with the comfort of magic! It was preposterous.
She attempted a smile, her lips lifted in a slow and blatant uncomfortable expression, and flashed her teeth at the woman. It had taken even longer for her to remove herself from the car completely, finally closing the door behind her as she took a step forward. Her posture swayed, her heels sinking into the damp earth beneath her and she groaned, already agitated at her decision.
“Pansy!” The woman in black called to her in an accent familiar to the locals' tongue, and took steps far too swift towards her to close the distance between them. Before she knew it she was engulfed, the older woman’s arms wrapped tightly around her. Pansy stood a few inches over her, making it twice as awkward. “I’m so happy you decided to come!” She continued, voice muffled against Pansy’s shoulder. Her nose was invaded with the scent of baked goods - more specifically that of cinnamon and nutmeg. She scrunched her face.
“Okay.” Pansy’s syllables were exaggerated and drawn out, her desperately trying to side step out of the woman formally known as her aunt Elena’s arm hold. “This is nice.” Her tone screamed sarcasm and awkwardness and it took everything in her not to tug her earlobe.
Before she knew it, Pansy was whipped back, Elena gripping both of her forearms and smiling again. Pansy had never encountered her close friends to be this excited upon her arrival, so having this stranger who had been married to her uncle be so enthusiastic was certainly out of the ordinary.
“Do come inside! I’m sure you have lots of questions!” Elena folded her fingers into Pansy’s and gave a comforting pat, squeezing her hand once before attempting to lead her into the house.
“Actually? No, I don’t.” Pansy jerked her hand back, side stepping again to avoid another heel to be lost in the dirt and ungracefully made her way towards the house ahead of Elena. She snapped her fingers once to signal the driver who grabbed her bags with haste from the boot of the car.
Inside, the driver had taken Pansy’s bags upstairs to the room instructed by Elena, who had followed. Pansy seized that moment to observe the surroundings. The tapered door led them into a long and meager hall which housed the creaking old staircase, an archway on either side, and another door at the opposing end. Pansy was unimpressed with the unaesthetic appeal. She leant to the right, shifting most of her weight to one side in order to peer into the sitting room. It was equally as disappointing. Her mind wandered, wondering how anyone could be comfortable in such a cluster of knicknacks, thick woolen blankets, and dusty old china. At least the windows allowed light in, although the room would look better under no light at all. She didn’t bother examining the room further, instead taking the two steps through the other archway on the left, leading to the kitchen.
The aged floor creaked beneath her feet as she almost ran into a chair half shoved under a small worn and chipped table. The kitchen was bright and cheery despite the clutter and traffic, a dutch door left open beside a full wall of unpaned windows. To the immediate left of her, a large wood burning stove perched with a kettle atop the iron grate, a small layer of soot and ash littered the floor at its base. There was flour everywhere, and the same scent that invaded Pansy's nostrils before was all the stronger here. There was no mistaking the amount of baking that occurred in this space, remnants of apples and cinnamon sticks left scattered across the limestone countertops. Scrunching her face, she turned her focus back towards the tiny two-chaired table, quickly noticing the mint green colored box resting at the center sealed and closed with a small black bow. She reached for it, but was interrupted by the heavy steps of the driver and quick patterings of Elena just behind.
“Thank you so much for getting her here safely, Martin. Please, I baked you some tarts.” Elena entered the room with a quickness, only jumping slightly as she awkwardly reached around Pansy for the green box, then turned back to the driver. “I made a few extra for Irini as well. Thank you again, my friend.” They embraced, and Pansy once again felt the urge to tug on her earlobe, growing more and more uncomfortable in their presence.
She wasn’t insecure, but when it came to open displays of affection, be it friendly or more, Pansy just didn’t understand the appeal. She often distanced herself from scenes such as these, so she wasn't entirely surprised when her feet carried her back outside. Pansy obviously didn’t know where she was going, but any place was better than where she had just fled, for that she was certain.
Once outside, she removed herself from the porch and fled to the broken cobblestoned path to the right, standing atop the short hill peering down. The scene before her was beautiful. Even she couldn’t deny that. It was almost too perfect, the only thing missing were the angels singing their distant praises.
A vast expanse of lush stout trees stood perfectly planted in neat rows, and she found herself smiling at the sight of it, losing herself over the sprinkling of red, yellow, and green fruits gracing the stems. On the ground, the aisles of rich grass between each row were colored with the fallen fruit, illuminated by the bright afternoon sun and emphasizing the backdrop of the mountains in the distance. Pansy already found herself descending the steep and uneven steps, the breeze carrying the sweet aroma through the air only piqued her interest further.
The moment her final step hit the ground, Elena’s voice carried down from the cottage, calling out her name. Too caught up in her own curiosity, Pansy ignored the woman’s calls without a second thought, stepping further into the orchard.
The trees were taller than she anticipated, her head inclined upward, admiring the view from underneath. She wondered why her uncle would choose to invest his lands into apples, uncertain the outcome would be worth it aside from the pretty view and baked treats. Then again, her uncle had always been far more ambitious than her father. It was part of what Pansy loved most about him.
She walked aimlessly, brushing the few low hanging branches as she passed. Turning a corner, she ran smack into a rather tall - and rather shirtless - man, causing apples to spill onto the ground from his hands. He shrugged unphased, and bent down to collect his fallen fruit.
“Excuse me! Elena didn’t mention having any hired help.” Not that Pansy had given the woman the opportunity to. Pansy stood with her heels half sunken in the mud between two rows of apple trees. Her arms had crossed, and an eyebrow was raised almost completely to her hairline.
The man, now crouched down at Pansy’s feet, flicked his eyes upward and released a booming laugh. Pansy snarled.
“Oh, no no. I’m not anyone’s help.” He ran his fingers through his ridiculously long and wavy hair with one hand, his other cradling the apples like a wee babe. Pansy tried to ignore the flex in his arms. She snarled again.
“So you’re trespassing then?” Pansy chanced a step forward, wobbling again due to the soft earth. She really did need to change her shoes. “I think it would be in your best interest to leave.”
The man smiled again, a faint puff of air visible when he did, the air growing more chilly than Pansy had realized in the short time of wandering from the cottage.
“Actually, I’m more known to this orchard than you. Why don’t you leave?” He rose then, quirking an almost too perfect eyebrow in challenge, a hint of something Pansy couldn’t quite place in his tone. She rolled her eyes.
“I don’t have to explain anything to the likes of you.” She staggered to keep her stance, raising her chin higher and shaking slightly from the cold that settled in.
“Just as I do not have to explain myself to you.” He rested his free hand on his hip, slipping a long finger through a belt loop on his jeans. “Good talking to you though.” He turned his back to her then, disappearing behind another apple tree.
Pansy cleared her throat, growing all the more annoyed with this man’s lack of cooperation. She stomped after him, clearly for no reason other than to pick a fight. For all she knew he truly did belong on the orchard. But his reaction was less than satisfactory nonetheless.
“Hey!” The man didn’t turn around. In fact, Pansy could have sworn he picked up the speed in his steps. She released a groan, but tried to keep the same pace. “Get back here!”
He turned another corner, and Pansy attempted to jog after him. Her heel caught the twig of a fallen branch, however, locking her foot and causing her to lose her balance. Her knees hit first, followed shortly with the palms of both hands, the mud clinging to the fabric of her jeans. Lastly, her chin smacked the ground, and while it had been soft under her steps, she felt the hard collision with a bang.
She grunted, caught between disgust and aggravation, her pride shrinking as the distance grew between her and the redheaded stranger. For the first time that day, Pansy worried what she looked like in the presence of another, hoping he had missed her less-than-graceful descent to the ground. To her horror - and rotten luck - her eyes locked with brightest of blue and the man gave a playful wink before disappearing from view. Pansy released a less than proper growl, tossing a nearby fallen apple at the empty space he had once stood. He was obviously no gentleman, not even offering to help her up.
🍎 🍎 🍎
She couldn’t have been gone long, because the driver of the too old car was only just leaving when Pansy trudged her way back up the path. There was a rip in her pants, a light scrape on her knee, but it was her pride that hurt. She stormed into the cottage, causing a small stout Elena to jump at the sudden slamming of the door.
“Pansy! You gave me a fright! Did you go see the orchards?” Elena was in the kitchen where Pansy could only assume she spent most of her days. Not that Pansy cared, the woman was, after all, irrelevant to her being there.
“You have a man wandering the premises. I would advise you seek someone to remove him from the grounds at once.” Pansy sat down at the table and crossed her ankles, peering over at Elena expectantly. When she only smiled in response, Pansy rolled her eyes. “Tea?”
“Oh!” Elena jumped in realization, her arms shooting up with surprise. She filled and set the kettle back on the stove before taking a seat in the chair across from Pansy. Her eyes went large, concern in her tone. “What man? Did he attack you? You're a mess."
“I didn’t get his name,” she began, ignoring the woman's observation and cleaning the dirt from under her fingernails. “But I scared him off for now.” Pansy wasn’t exaggerating, although if she had scared him off it would have been due to the sheer embarrassment of her fall and nothing more.
Elena appeared to have wanted to speak, but the kettle sang out in a shriek, causing both women in the room to jump. Elena got up to silence it immediately.
“What did this man look like?”
“Rude, red hair, and without a shirt.” Pansy didn’t look up from her busy work to her nails, but her eyes flicked when a steaming cup of tea came into view on the table.
“Oh! You mean Charlie! He’s always been such a great asset to the orchard.”
Pansy took a too large sip in response, the hot tea burning her tongue. “You know this unruly man?”
Laughing, Elena reached a kind hand to rest atop Pansy’s. Had Pansy not been shocked to learn the stranger was allowed on the grounds, she would have slid her hand away.
“He is from the reserve next to the grounds. He comes and asks to help in payment for the apples he takes for his animals. He’s such a nice boy.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. There was nothing nice about that Charlie. It was shocking her uncle would allow such a person onto his lands, then again perhaps she didn’t know her uncle at all. The thought caused her eye to twitch, a tingling burn washed over and she feared to blink. She was surprised at the sudden change in emotions. Elena’s other hand had snaked its way across the table, now cupping Pansy’s into a full comforting hold. Pansy pushed out her bottom lip with a raised chin. She refused to cry in front of this muggle woman.
“I’m tired. I’ll be in my room.”
Pansy may have jerked her hands free albeit too aggressively from the woman at the table, but she didn’t care. She shot upright and climbed the creaking stairs, slamming the door behind her.
Her bedroom, located on the third floor attic and was too small to be an actual room, reflected the same style as the rest of the cottage - much to her own horror. Faded pictures of princesses and castles adorned the wood paneled walls, and it was barely large enough to hold a four post bed and a three drawer dresser. An arched door stood at the opposing wall, facing the back of the cottage. Pansy was surprised the cottage would have a balcony, but who was she to question. She was thankful for the later opportunity to air out the musty old woman smell that currently occupied the air.
She plopped down hard on the bed, grateful for a moment of peace from the insufferable Romanian woman. At the slightest of contact, the bed screamed in protest, squeaking and shrilling like a banshee at any and all movements. Pansy was horrified. The old spring mattress had sagged in the center, trapping her in the most terrifying harrowing pallet from hell. Pansy rivaled the screams in the springs, cursing the fact she couldn’t use her wand to at least shut the blasted thing up with a silencing charm. Not to mention the dire need of a cushioning charm since she counted at least three springs stabbing her in the back. How muggles lived their sorry day to day lives without magic was lost on her, much like her way to escape from the bed. She threw herself backwards, sinking further into the lumpy loud monstrosity and began kicking like the spoiled child she was.
Though most would consider this a less than productive action, Pansy found it to be most satisfying, allowing her frustrations for all things Romania to release from her lips at once. Muggles ruin everything, and more specifically Elena ruined everything. If it wasn't for her, her Uncle Perseus would have stayed in England with Pansy where he belonged. Instead, he had chosen that woman over her, leaving her with no one at home aside from her parents who, rarely gave notice to her existence unless she stepped out of line. But Pansy didn't step out of line. In fact, Pansy was mostly the by-the-book pureblood her parents should have been proud of. Perhaps they were, but they never shared their thoughts on such matters with her. It was all business and investments the moment she finished Hogwarts.
Pansy narrowed her eyes at the ceiling - the way her uncle just stopped showing up without a word all because he chose the muggle life over the happiness of his only niece! It would be inconceivable to anyone at a young age, and the grudge she carried over the years only grew with her ability to toss shade and the hatred she felt for this bed.
This simply would not stand. Surely Elena would have something more of Pansy's standards - or up to code - for her to rest her head on. With a new flare of determination, Pansy managed to wiggle and slide off the side of the bed, wrapping and pulling herself up by gripping one of the posts for support. At least the wood was sturdy enough as she half expected the whole thing to collapse on her altogether.
With a few unstable steps and a quick flip of her hair to smooth it down, Pansy marched back down the rickety narrow staircase to give Elena a piece of her mind.