Chapter Two
She practically tripped over her own feet, still reeling from the struggle she had with the bed and fuming at the self inflicted fire of hatred she had for Elena. She mumbled to herself, just ready to blast the muggle woman with everything she had, going over the same lines repeatedly until her feet planted firmly onto the second floor. Pansy could hear the soft whimpers of the older woman, and krept towards the door adjacent to the stairs. Peering in, Elena was there on her knees beside the bed, an old worn journal sprawled out at her feet, the pages etched with splattered inked script.
She wasn’t entirely sure why she just stood there in the doorway, watching Elena weep on the floor, but she did know the fire she held on the way down had diminished, her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms and tugged on her ear. Pansy was fairly certain her bottom lip would be chapped in the morning due to her chewing it so hard.
During the slight shift of Pansy’s weight, the floor beneath her creaked, exposing her position to Elena who looked up. The woman’s eyes had tinged pink in color, and glossed under the low lighting she kept from the lamp on her bedside table. She quickly wiped away her tears with her sleeve and shuffled off the floor.
“Oh, Pansy, forgive me.” She bent back down and scooped the journal from the floor, closing it and tucking it under her chest, hugging it close. “I did not see you.”
Normally Pansy would have scoffed, her hatred for the woman who stole her uncle away being stronger than her empathy, however, in that moment Pansy couldn’t find the words to retort. Instead, she only shrugged her shoulders.
“Do you want some tea?” Elena was already approaching the doorway before her sentence completed, Pansy side stepping out of the way with a nod. She followed Elena to the kitchen.
Both women sat in silence for what felt like ages to Pansy. She cupped her hands around the warm porcelain of her tea while Elena fidgeted with the journal in her hand. Pansy tried to fight it, but it had piqued her interest, and ignoring it wasn’t working anymore.
“What is that bloody thing you keep clutching?”
Elena smiled. It was one of those smiles people gave when receiving a compliment for a job well done. Or when it was their gift’s turn to be unwrapped.
“It was Pers’, your uncle.”
Pansy scoffed in both relief that her curiosity was sated, but also at the pointless clarification Elena chose to provide. Obviously Pers, or Perseus, was her uncle. Elena placed the journal flat on the table and slid it over toward Pansy, causing her to raise an eyebrow.
“You look so much like him you know. It is uncanny.”
“So I’ve been told.” Pansy clearly had her fire back, something about the way Elena was always so nice, so accommodating. It set Pansy off. But despite Pansy’s efforts, Elena gave her another one of her smiles and looked her in the eyes.
“He would have wanted you to have it of course. I had meant to give it to you in the morning.”
Pansy nodded, picking up the journal. She should have said thank you, but she didn’t have it in her. Instead, she took a sip of her tea and stood to leave.
“I’m heading back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As Pansy made her way to the door, she heard a slight hum from behind her, causing her to turn her attention back to Elena, who was still seated at the table.
“Goodnight, Pansy. I truly am happy you are here.”
Pansy’s mouth pursed, a pout playing on her lips but she only bobbed her head, clutching the journal as she slowly turned back toward the hall and up the stairs. The bed no longer seemed to be a problem after that. Sure it still screamed and screeched, but Pansy didn’t toss and turn like she had initially anticipated. Instead, she fell fast asleep to the words of her late uncle, a faint smile on her lips.
🍎 🍎 🍎
The following day, Pansy found herself engrossed in her uncle’s journal, sitting atop one of the short and uneven stone fence walls of the cobbled steps. Though the weather proved chilly overall, the sun was bright and provided the perfect amount of light for reading. She sat with her legs crossed and bent at the knees, her feet folded beneath her, the journal in one hand and a crispy apple in the other. Pansy, being the considerable lady she was, couldn’t help but take excessively large bites into the fruit, causing juice to trickle down her chin. She slurped before biting down again, clenching it in her mouth as she turned the page. The apple remained held wedged in her teeth. Her mother would have been proud.
“Reading anything good?” Charlie had appeared in front of her, carrying an empty crate. Pansy side eyed him, flicking her focus down to her nose at the apple clenched in her teeth. She bit down hard, causing the apple to split away and drop into her now free hand. There was a long dramatic pause between them, the only sound being that of the crispy crunch from Pany’s mouthful of apple. Charlie smirked when she finally swallowed.
“Nothing I do concerns you, Charlie.” She didn’t look up from the pages she was reading, instead scooting herself so her back was mostly to him. “You’d do well to remember that.”
“This coming from such a high bred lady of class.” Pansy snorted. At least he realized his place.
“Is there a reason you’re still here, Charles ?” Pansy still didn’t look up from the journal in her lap, but his shadow loomed over her shoulder, spilling onto her page. She shrugged, turning to face him, a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
“I just find it funny is all.” He adjusted the crate in his arms, Pansy not missing the bare skin of his chest. She involuntarily shivered and in that moment she wasn’t entirely sure if it was due to the fact he didn’t have on a shirt in this weather, or if it was due to the fact he didn’t have on a shirt in this weather. She grunted in response.
“And what, pray tell, is so funny exactly?” She had closed the journal at this point, leaning forward and presenting a not so sweet grin.
“Well, just yesterday you couldn’t stay away from me.” He flashed a smile and Pansy could have sworn his teeth sparkled under the sun. This caused another disapproving grunt.
“You have an entirely different memory of yesterday than I do, Charlie.” She uncrossed her legs, sliding them over the side of the stone fence where she perched. “I was merely removing you from my site completely. Yet, here you are!” Her arms were presented up above her head.
Charlie released a deep laugh, one that emerged from his very manly chest. Pansy clearly didn’t take notice to the way his freckled and fair complexion looked under the afternoon sun. Or the way the breeze caught his hair. And she most certainly didn’t notice the way his arse looked in the jeans he wore as he began to walk away, shaking his head to her comment. She closed her mouth.
“Look, I just figured you’d want a proper tour of the place, seeing how you only saw it from the ground.” He was still laughing, and it took everything in her not to chuck the half eaten apple in her hand at the back of his head. It pained her to admit he was right though, and she released a loud and whiny groan. Hopping down, she closed the journal and tucked it away into a small satchel she had resting beside her. She did want to see the grounds fully and as much as she would rather it not be with the freckled barbarian, she flung the satchel over her shoulder and she followed him anyway.
Charlie smirked when she appeared at his side, one eyebrow raised and his bloody hair shining. Pansy envied that natural glimmer he had over her own locks, her sleek black appearing dull in comparison. She blamed the lack of magic in her life and ruled out the idea of Charlie's hair just being better . Because that would be impossible.
“Your uncle spoke of you often.” Charlie said, setting the basket down at his feet. He placed his now free hands on his hips, meeting her eyes.
"I am a great topic for conversation." Pansy was flippant with her tone as she tossed her hair back, not realizing her comment would be considered vain to most. Charlie simply smiled wider, his eyes watching her with intrigue.
“You’re an interesting person.” He flashed her a wink. Pansy rolled her eyes, trying to measure up to the man. She had always considered herself tall, but Charlie towered over her, his rugged bare chest meeting her at eye level.
“And you’re a git . So happy we can be better acquainted.” She stepped forward so her back was to him, peering out at the rows of colored trees. It was still beautiful. “I wasn’t aware tour guides spoke about those they were guiding.”
“But you’re such a great topic of conversation.” Pansy jerked her head back over her shoulder just as Charlie walked passed her. He tugged his wand from gods knows where - the lack of options as to where he could have stashed it being minimal at best.
“If you plan on mocking me, Charlie, I will leave.” She crossed her arms. The wedged boots she wore didn’t offer her the sturdy stance she had hoped for. She was beginning to hate this orchard, despite its beauty.
“Oh come on, Pansy, like you can’t take a bit of teasing.” Pansy actually couldn’t handle teasing unless she was the one doing it. He offered his hand to her when she wobbled for the fourth time since standing there, and she reluctantly took his hand, though not without making it known how much she didn’t want to. He pulled her until she was standing in front of him, his hand now touching her back between her shoulders for support. It was soothing, the feel of his fingers through her jumper. Innocent and strong. A hint of a smile twitched at the corner of her lips.
“What sort of things did my uncle say about me?” Charlie smiled, though Pansy was convinced he was always smiling. It suited him.
“He mentioned quite a few things over the years. Although I think my favorite was you demanding he build you a castle.” Pansy released a heartfelt laugh, one where tears formed in her eyes at the memory.
“He told you that?”
“I’d like to hear you tell it.” Pansy quirked an eyebrow to her counterpart, studying him through slightly narrowed eyes. Charlie’s smile widened. “If anyone doubts your relation to Perseus, make that face. They will immediately take it back.”
Pansy laughed in spite of herself. It was true, she had acquired her uncle’s many animated expressions. And she valued every one.
“You really want to hear about a bossy little girl demanding a castle?”
“I would. As long as you don’t mind me picking some of these apples as you do.” He plucked an apple from the tree and tossed it Pansy’s way.
“Alright.” She rolled the apple in her hands. She was sure Charlie was messing with her, but it was one of her favorite memories with her uncle. “He would call me his little princess. And he would come stand outside my bedroom balcony with his broom and save me from the tallest tower - or my parents’ home - and whisk me away to Diagon for ice cream. I always told him I wanted a castle of my own. One where I didn’t have to be rescued from anyone, and we could live happily ever after. Together, he and I.” Pansy hadn’t noticed the tear fall, but she felt her eyes burn. She cleared her throat, peering down at the apple in her hand. She rubbed it against her chest to shine it, then took a quick bite.
“Oh! What kind of apple is this?” She peered down at the apple again, the inside being a shade of lavender hued. She jerked her head to Charlie.
“Oh, that one is the Princess P. One of your uncle’s own creations. I found it fitting to the story.”
Pansy felt everything and nothing all at once. She wasn’t able to cry or smile or do anything. She could only stand there, holding the hybrid apple in her hand and stare blankly at Charlie with her mouth open.
“You okay there, princess?” Her eyes fluttered to life, peering over at the man she barely knew, rightfully despised, and truly didn’t understand. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, but a part of her didn’t hate the way it sounded when he called her princess.
“I’m fine. Naturally.” She straightened her back, wiggling out of his reach. She clutched the apple with one hand as if her life depended on it and tugged her earlobe with the other. “So my uncle made his own apples?”
Charlie nodded before returning to filling his crate.
“Sure did. He has a few hybrids out here but-” he stopped short, flicking his eyes to Pansy before pursing his lips. She could see the hesitation in his gaze and she couldn’t let it go.
“But?” Pansy egged him on. Charlie stopped his picking and stood in front of her, his arms crossed across his chest.
“His hybrids aren’t growing anymore.”
“What are you talking about, you just picked one off and gave it to me. It tasted fine. More than fine in fact.” Pansy was talking with her hands, more specifically with the Princess P apple she was holding.
“Pansy, a lot more goes into these hybrids than taste. I’ve been monitoring them for awhile, all of them, and there hasn’t been new blossoms since your uncle got sick.”
Pansy was an intelligent girl, one who scored high in her classes in Hogwarts, and excelled in her apprenticeship at her father’s firm, but whatever Charlie was saying to her was not making a lick of sense. And despite her major efforts in not sounding stupid, the only word to leave her lips was. “Huh?”
To Charlie’s credit, he didn’t laugh though Pansy was certain he wanted to.
“Your uncle used complex spells over his orchard, Pansy, some being of his own creation. He was brilliant that way. Not to mention thorough. He kept those spells close to him at all times, so obtaining them is bloody impossible now that he’s gone. Those hybrids will never last without the revision of those wards.”
Pansy quirked an eyebrow again to Charlie, taking in everything she had just heard. Of course her uncle was thorough, he was a Parkinson! It was in their nature to leave no detail untouched. She bounced the apple in her hand, truly studying the way the lavender interior never bruised or turned. The sweet aroma of the surrounding trees wafted by her, almost as if giving her a sign. She scoffed, throwing the apple to the ground in frustration and began to storm off. This wasn’t some cheesy romance where the answer to everything was right there in front of her - she purposely did not peer over her shoulder to see if Charlie was watching her leave. Luckily, he didn’t call after her either.
Her mind was reeling as she tried to piece together everything presented to her since she arrived in this bloody country. Tidbits of facts and memories colliding with a broken timeline fast forwarded. If her uncle truly had spells to be found, Pansy would find them.