Chapter Five
The following morning, a man she didn’t recognize greeted Pansy as she came down the stairs. Elena and Charlie were there, seated together in the sitting room. Pansy hadn’t quite dressed for the day, so seeing the man she snogged so heavily the night before whilst in her night jumper and jammies wasn’t exactly the ideal way to start her day.
“Ah, Ms Pansy Parkinson I presume. I’m-”
Pansy held up a hand to the stranger, uninterested in a word he had to say until she was properly dressed. She turned full circle and walked calmly back up the stairs to change, the worn in floor creaking in protest at every third step or so.
Upstairs, Pansy threw on a fresh jumper and jeans, slipping on a flat pair of white trainers to her feet. She longed for the use of her wand. Her hair was amiss, and her back ached from the lumps in the mattress. And what she wouldn’t do for a beauty charm or two. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and powdered her nose, pinching her cheeks to add a bit of color to her otherwise pale face. Though unsatisfied with the reflection in the mirror, she scampered back down the stairs all the same.
She was once again greeted by the stranger, this time presenting his hand in a gentlemanly bow. She side-eyed Charlie, hoping he was taking notes.
“Ms Parkinson, my name is Edgar Marsch.”
“And?” Pansy sat down on one of the cushions next to Charlie, who gave her a wink. He leant forward to whisper in her ear.
“He’s the lawyer to discuss your uncle’s wishes.” Pansy gave a light jolt from the tickling of Charlie’s breath. He was closer than he needed to be, not to mention it was public news, so sneaking a closeup to brush her neck with his lips was just a tease. She playfully shoved his face back with her hand, her eyes flicking up to the lawyer in front of her.
He was a short man and appeared to have dipped into far too many of Elena’s apple tarts. His suit was seemingly a size too small, his coat buttons stretching their last breath, seeming to pop off at any moment. Pansy held up a protective hand.
“Mr Mars, I-”
“Marsch, Ms Parkinson.” He interrupted in a rush. Sweat had formed on his brow, and he removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket. Pansy ducked just in case the tug of the fabric caused the final blow to immense.
“Yes, I don’t particularly care . If you are here to discuss my late uncle’s will,” Pansy paused, infusing her words with her signature venum. “Then why for heaven’s sake has it taken you a full two weeks to show up here?” Her voice elevated as her words progressed, but it didn’t phase her. She knew her coming here would be a process to work out the details of her uncle’s will, but she never anticipated it would take half a month to merely start the process altogether.
“Well, you see I-”
“No.” Pansy held up a hand for the second time, cutting the man off again. The sweat was really coming in now, and Elena leaned over the glass top coffee table to offer a second handkerchief. “Your excuses on the matter are irrelevant in which case unimportant. Whatever your original settlement with my uncle was, we will need to re-negotiate it based on your tardiness alone. Now, have a seat so we can get started.”
She peered over to see Charlie and Elena stunned, staring at her with two sets of wide eyes. Pansy rolled hers, they clearly underestimated her keen sense of business savvy, which to be fair she never had to express until now. Despite the lack of emotions in the Parkinson Estate, there was never a shortage of elite lectures on how to properly talk yourself into more money, nor was there ever a night in which Pansy didn’t hear her father shouting without actually shouting, manipulating people to do his bidding. Her father wasn’t a lot of things, but he was one cutthroat businessman.
Pansy crossed her legs, motioning for the man to start. He began his focus on Elena, the impact of his words making it difficult for even Pansy to hold her flame as the last wishes of Perseus Parkinson were laid out openly in front of them. He’d left her their home, the cottage in which they currently sat, the four of them cramped and huddled. Speckles of dust made Pansy’s nose twitch, no doubt from the stacks of books and cluttered shelves. There were no mention of children, and Pansy couldn’t help but wonder why they had chosen not to expand their family.
The fat man, Mr Marsch, turned his perspiring and clammy face in her direction, causing her nose to scrunch and her brow to furrow. It really was difficult to stay focused when the only running this man had ever came in contact with was the very sweat that dripped from his nose.
“To my niece, Ms Pansy Joelle Parkinson-”
The man was once again interrupted mid sentence, but this time Pansy was not the one to be blamed. Instead, Charlie had burst into a booming laugh, one that rose from his chest. Pansy hadn’t the slightest idea what had gotten over him, but found the sound to be infectious just the same. That is, until, she discovered the reason for the outburst.
“Pansy Joelle?”
Surely Charlie hadn’t the audacity to insult her name.
“Excuse me?”
“Apologies, PJ . I daresay the interruption won’t happen again.”
Pansy fumed where she sat, her nostrils flaring at the hideous appellation. She could feel the twitch in her eye as she slapped him hard on the chest.
“ This , we will continue later.”
“Whatever you say, PJ .”
“Stop it!” Pansy let out a frustrated noise somewhere between a growl and a moan. She flicked her eyes back to Mr Marsch, who she was certain would have waddled away if he could. “You were saying?”
The man cleared his throat, dabbing at his forehead. He held up the papers to continue reading:
“To my niece, Pansy Joelle Parkinson, I leave you the deed to the grounds surrounding the cottage. This, of course, includes the orchards and all the apples within the property lines. I hope you fall in love with them as I had, and I pray you get along with your Aunt Elena and the boys over at the sanctuary. Should you ever need anything Charlie and the gang will surely be there for you as they had always been for me. I love you my darling girl. I’ve thought about you every day until my last. But since your father’s decision, I’d ventured to Romania to respect his wishes. I’ve always cherished our time together. I am grieved I couldn’t be there to show you the grounds myself for the first time.”
At some point during the fat man’s reading, Charlie had snaked his arms around Pansy’s shoulders, holding her as she wept. It wasn’t ideal, her vulnerability on full display in front of not one but three people, but there she was. Not only was Pansy a notoriously ugly crier, she was the loudest - just another reason she preferred the privacy during such situations.
Unfortunately for Pansy, it was too late for her now; she couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment it all started! She had gotten lost in the fact her uncle entrusted her with not only his lands and livelihood, but almost everything he held dear. She let out this loud and snotty sniffle, followed by an almost unnatural sequence of weeps, too committed in her crying to stop now. Her eyes were already swollen, and she hid them behind her jumper just as Charlie gave her a squeeze. If she looked and sounded as ridiculous as she felt, he never pointed it out to her. He was just there - those comforting strong freckled arms enveloping her while she leant back on his chest. Between her uncontrollable sobs, she could have sworn she could hear his heartbeat, if only for a moment.
It was unfortunate she hadn’t considered staying in Romania longer than what was necessary, although the part about her father’s betrayal troubled her. She had always known her uncle to be an honest man at best, so surely he wouldn’t lie about something so significant. Wills are last testaments, final chances to release the deepest of regrets or behaviours. And yet, there it was clear as day. Her uncle didn’t abandon her, he was forced out. Unfortunately, the whole damned thing made too much sense.
Elena had poured some tea, filling an equal amount into the four matching cups on the tray. Pansy had wiped at her eyes, calming her sniffles and fairly certain she ruined the sleeves of her jumper, but reached for one of the small porcelain cups just the same. She ignored the chip at the base and took a sip in an attempt to calm her nerves.
“To my dearest friend, Charles Septemus Weasley-”
Mr Marsch was once again interrupted by the addressed party. It wasn’t entirely Pansy’s intention this time, but the horrifying revelation to Charlie’s surname caused her to choke on the hot liquid she had just consumed.
Pansy typically prided herself on the mannerisms she possessed as a lady, however they were lost on her for a third time that day. Despite her best efforts, she spat her tea from her mouth, sending sprayed droplets of earl grey into numerous directions in front of her. Mr Marcsh, already finding the irritation from the countless interruptions, soon found himself drowned under not only a layer of his own perspiration, but now had the added layer of Pansy’s resurfaced tea.
He sat across her, eyes shut and mouth agape, clearly from surprise. Elena had once again pulled another handkerchief from somewhere out of the air. Pansy was certain she kept extras for this man’s glands alone, and presented it to him. He grabbed it with haste, dabbing at his face as though it would actually make a difference all whilst clearing his throat - again.
During this time Charlie had sat back, watching Pansy’s reaction with a quizzical look in his eye. She could feel him there - his eyes on her - but she couldn’t look back at him. Moments rushed to the forefront of her mind, moments such as realization to the fact he’d never look at her the same way again once he’d seen her for who she was; for what she had done. It was ages ago now, some five years, but the shock of it never truly dissolved. She had teased his brother, his sister, and tried to out his family’s own personal hero. Shit.
Unable to sit any longer, Pansy rose abruptly. Charlie reached for her, Elena gripped her apron, and Mr Marsch almost toppled over in his chair from surprise. It was a miracle he hadn’t, otherwise the old wizard would have taken up the entirety of their afternoon to scoop him up from the floor, and Pansy had to get out of there.
She fled, not waiting to hear the remaining contents of the will. She no longer needed to. Or at least she so gathered. She ran out through the kitchen, swinging open the lower half of the dutch door. Pansy just ran. Around the house, down the steps, and towards the orchard where she could be alone. It was all too much. She could hear Elena calling to her, but couldn’t find the strength in her legs to turn back. She just kept running.
What should have been thoughts of her uncle’s words and the new responsibilities he bestowed on her turned out to be images of Charlie instead. And she hated him for it. She’d never truly understood how to open up about her feelings, perhaps that's why she constantly found herself fleeing from them. Charlie was no different. Weasley’s don’t mesh well with Parkinsons if Hogwarts and the war had anything to say about it. No, she hid out amongst the trees until he would leave.
It would have been a solid plan had she not felt sick over the loss of one of the Princess P trees nearby. The apples had fallen and she thought back to her second day on these blasted grounds - the day Charlie tossed her the apple after her namesake - like he knew her. Damn him.
“Come on, Uncle Perseus. What is your secret?”
She perched herself beneath the barren tree on the ground amongst the few withered apple blossoms, trying her damnedest to focus on her uncle’s magical presence. The air was chilly, and she tucked her legs under her jumper, tears forming in her eyes. If she couldn’t keep her uncle’s legacy alive, what good was her presence there. She needed to think of something.
🍎 🍎 🍎
Later that day, after she was sure the fat wizard with the name and title she couldn’t remember had gone, she made her way back up toward the cottage. Once inside, her focus made its way to the small unopened letter on the table addressed to her. The script was all too familiar, and it caused a snarl to erupt from her throat - it was from her father. She opened the letter, reading his request - no, his demand - on her immediate arrival to return home. Her presence was required for an upcoming gala they were hosting for the London elites. She rolled her eyes, tossing the letter back onto the table. If she were to make the gala and follow her father’s demands, she would have to leave for London the following day. Her father never was one to respect her time. She would worry about that later.
She hadn’t been able to come up with a single solution to the problem in the magical side of the orchard, and she was fairly certain she was falling for Charlie. She hated Romania. Maybe it was time for her to make her way back home.
Elena was upstairs in her room, rummaging through told papers. She turned when the hall made herself known and rushed to Pansy, giving her a rather large - and uncomfortable - squeeze. Pansy stiffened.
“Pansy are you alright! You ran off so suddenly! I wanted to come after you but, Mr Marsch said he needed me to stay as posing witness and I panicked. All this magic stuff still frightens me. I don’t want to mess things up for you. Damn that fat man!”
Pansy let out a rather unladylike snort. That was the first time she had heard Elena curse and furthermore insult someone. She was oddly proud, nodding her head in approval.
“It’s fine, I’m fine. I just-” she pulled back enough to look at her better. “I just felt like I was unworthy to be there.” She swallowed back the ugly sob she knew was coming.
“Oh, Pansy. You are most deserving of this place.” She embraced Pansy again, and this time she relaxed into the hold. She imagined this is what it would have been like to grow up with an aunt at all - hugs, support, sharing a distaste for sweaty old fat wizards. “I do hope you consider your uncle’s will. I know I’m not much in comparison to what you are used to but, I want us to be a family.”
“I blamed you, you know.” Pansy said mostly to herself. Elena furrowed her brow and sat back. Her kind face was still just as sweet, and she gave Pansy’s forearms a light squeeze.
“I suppose this has to do with him leaving you, yes?” Pansy’s eyes were blinking excessively, the pain of the memory all too familiar. Her chin was quivering as she nodded a response to Elena, fearful had she used words, she would actually cry. “It must have been so hard for a child. But know it hurt your Uncle Perseus so much to know he couldn’t even say goodbye.”
“Then what happened? The will said my father had something to do with him leaving. But that wasn’t what I was told.”
“Have you read anymore of your uncle’s journal?” Pansy thought it was an odd question considering she asked one of her own, but she shook her head. She hadn’t read much of it since the following day she received it and it rested in her room inside the satchel for days. “I think the answers to what you are looking for are within those pages.”
Pansy’s expression was that of utter confusion. Elena sounded more magical than she could have ever realized. Dumbledork would have been proud in her cryptic tellings. Elena gave another comforting squeeze before releasing Pansy altogether.
“Thank you, Aunt Elena. I really appreciate you taking me in while we get everything settled with the will and estate.”She turned without another word, feeling the warmth of Elena’s smile behind her.
Upstairs, Pansy rummaged through her things in order to look for the satchel. It was partially hidden under the shadow of the bed frame, spilled open on the floor. She scooped it up and sat on the side of the bed, ignoring the scream in the springs in protest. Her uncle’s journal was filled with memories of the two of them at first, the pages she had read when she first obtained the book. But as the pages went on, they began more minimal and direct, almost as though he was building up a presentation over writing down his thoughts.
True to his fashion, she heard a muffled yet familiar tone on her stairs, a mumbling Charlie walking up and knocking on her door. Pansy froze, hoping by her staying quiet he would just go away. The mattress, unfortunately, gave away her position, and Charlie took it upon himself to enter without permission.
“Hey. Elena said you were up here”
“Where else would I be?” Pansy returned her attention to the journal in her hands, trying to decipher what these formal passages meant. Nothing made sense, worse still, neither did the blank page she eventually flipped to. “Ugh great. There is absolutely nothing here.”
Pansy felt the bed sag and squeal beside her as Charlie sat down next to her - again without permission. He was trying to read over her shoulder. “What’s got you so frustrated, Princess?”
“First Elena with her enigmatic messages, now my uncle and his stupid ambiguous journal. I’m clearly missing something.”
Charlie shifted beside her, and she drug her eyes up cautiously to meet his. He was studying her as hard as she was studying the journal and she swallowed under his scrutiny. “ What?”
“So, you ran out earlier today because of the journal?”
“Listen, Weasel-con, I’m just trying to figure out why my uncle left. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.” She hadn’t realized the jab at his surname even happened until she found herself staring down as blankly as the page in front of her. Charlie was silent beside her.
“Okay.” He said finally, standing up. “I’ll leave you to it.”
She could hear the sound of the stairs under his steps, the heavy stomps he made in his boots. But something caught her eye. The page, though seemingly still as blank as it always was, shimmered along the edges, Pansy’s fingers sticking slightly to the paper. When she reached for her wand to reveal the possible hidden words, her shoulders sagged in frustration. Pansy still couldn’t use her wand, but… “ Charlie, wait!”
She jolted down the stairs after Charlie. He was about to walk out the door when she called his name. He was standing in the door frame facing her by the time she had caught up to him.
“Can I help you, Parkinson ?”
It was the first time he’d called her by her surname and it stung more than she thought it would, or perhaps more than it should at all. She swallowed, her eyes directed to the floor as she tugged hard on her earlobe.
“I need your help, Charlie.” He crossed his arms in both mockery and amusement.
“Do you now?”
“Yes. I can’t do this without magic.”
“Ah, there it is. So it isn’t me you need. Just my wand.” Pansy tried to ignore the way he emphasized wand , but she rolled her eyes.
“In my uncle’s journal. I think I found it. Or part of it? I found something .” She hated how desperate she sounded to him, but if anyone could help her recover whatever it was she was recovering, it was Charlie.
“Fine, but only because Perseus would have wanted me to.” Pansy was surprised when Charlie started back up the stairs without further convincing. She was ready to throw down on her knees and he spared her the humiliation, or perhaps he was just a genuinely caring person. She shoved it down, rushing back to her room.
Charlie was already seated on the bed, she heard that halfway up, journal in hand and presenting his wand to the page. He peered up when she pushed through the door.
“Nothing is happening.” He lowered his wand, handing her the journal.
“Well, you’re clearly doing it wrong .” She tried to reach for his wand but he held it out of her reach. Pansy pouted, stretching her arm in an attempt to snag if from his hand. “Charles Weasley! Give me your wand!”
Charlie purposely laid down on his back, the screeching and screaming of the bed drowning out any further curses of his name. He was laughing as the mattress sagged, rolling a flailing limbed Pansy to the center of the bed, or more specifically on top of one Charlie Weasley. He was still holding the wand up, his long arms flexing to where Pansy’s weren’t tall enough to grab as she made numerous failed attempts to flip and roll off of him and the bed altogether. Nothing was working, and she eventually just laid there, her cheek pressed against his chest, mouth smushed half opened. She really did hate this man.
“You didn’t say please.” Pansy let out an unladylike growl, shoving her weight up with both palms pressed firmly on his chest. She caught his eyes through her fallen hair, the black locks sticking out in numerous directions from where the static took hold.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You choose now of all times to have manners?”
Charlie was laughing, taking his free hand to Pansy’s hair in an attempt to smooth it down before cupping the back of her head. He met her halfway, their lips brushing and Pansy once again collapsing against Charlie’s chest.
She wanted to pull away - she should pull away - but the man was relentless, and the feel of his arms securely around her back and rubbing circles through the jumper was just more satisfying than not having him do that. That is, until, she felt the hardened wood of what she desired most, her eyes flashing open in surprise. She smirked against his mouth, wrapping her fingers slowly around and yanked his wand from his hand.
“HA!”
Pansy, for a third time, scrambled to get up and off of Charlie. Though proving as equally difficult, she was able to swish Charlie’s wand to cast a cushioning spell to the otherwise insufferable mattress, allowing it to fall flat as it should on the bed frame. She stood abruptly, fanning her hair and smoothing her clothes and ran to the journal as Charlie slowly sat up to her right, a laugh still present on his lips.
“Well played.”
“Shh. I’m thinking.” She interrupted, focusing his wand on the blank page. Like Charlie, however, the revealing spell didn’t work. She dropped her shoulders and the journal. “Damn!”
“Told you.”
Running her hands through her hair, she growled and moaned and quite literally stomped her foot on the floor. This caused the journal’s page to turn on its own, the vibrations underneath shifting the page to fall back to the previous entry. Pansy paused, reading the passage to herself.
“Oh.. I’m such a dunce! ” Pansy scooped up the journal again with a newfound high, touching the wand to the page.
“You’re no head girl, but there’s no reason to-”
“Occulta Revelare” Pansy interrupted, allowing the wand to loosely move in her hand. She painted the air with the curve of her wrist, an intricate outline of the castle from her dreams. Lavender smoke snaked from the tip of the wand, a noble steed dorned in ribbons materializing under a thin outline of glittered haze. Charlie sat back in amusement as Pansy sat on her heels, smiling a smile only familiar to her youth as distant echoed sound of the pony galloped its way toward the empty page on the journal. Once the steed collided with the shimmer of the hidden text, the page came alive, revealing not one countless pages of scripture.
Charlie slid off the bed and scooted next to Pansy, the two of them peering down at the journal together in awe.
“What… was that?” He asked, taking his wand back into his possession. Pansy let out an airy laugh beside him, resting her head on his shoulder with a sigh.
“He remembered.” She could feel the joys of that spell coming back to her, the many times her uncle and her shared secrets of castles and mystical worlds. Her eyes were far from dry, a layer of glistening tears threatening to fall. She was smiling though, and she felt the weight of Charlie against her head.
“I’m hoping you aren’t planning on leaving me too much in the dark seeing how it was my wand that made the spell possible.” She playfully slapped his chest and he released a smirk.
“You’re always such a git, Charlie.” She raised her head, lifting the journal to her lap. “It was his spell, well, our spell. What good was a rescue without secrets carried on a noble steed?”
“And now, we see what those secrets are, yeah?” He nudged his head towards the journal and the two dived in, reading the pages aloud.
“Princess -
If you are reading this, then you truly never stopped being my little princess. Despite the many obstacles to keep us apart, you have always been my little girl, our love growing with the miles and years between us. I hope you aren’t too terribly angry with me. My leaving was not on my own accord, but now that I am gone you deserve to know that I had intended on taking you with me. Threat of war and dark lords rumoured London, and I had means to get you away from all of that. It was your father, my own brother, who vetoed my proposition to help, claiming your status would more than keep you out of harm’s way…..”
Pansy read on, her eyes growing heavier with the weight of tears with every word. Charlie held her shoulders, keeping her from collapsing as she read the many paragraphs of her uncle’s writing. He covered everything, from before the first wizarding war to her time at Hogwarts, he was never farther than she thought he was, even going so far as to aiding Charlie with his trip back for the battle her seventh year.
The two of them sat in silence, on the floor of the attic room, surrounded by what her uncle described in his letter as a room fit for a princess - it explained the decor or castles on the wall, and the balcony at the opposing side. When they came towards the end of the letter, her Uncle Perseus revealed incantations and formulas, movement calculations for wands and an emphasis on one similar topic - his apples.
“Charlie! We found it!” Pansy squealed in newfound delight, facing Charlie and entwining her fingers into his. She stood up, egging him to follow and began to head toward the door. He stood behind her with both feet firmly on the ground, the distance caused a tug on her arm, pulling her attention back to his face. “Come on! We can finally save the orchard!”
“You really want me to go with you?” Pansy wasn’t sure where this was coming from but she nodded her head, one side curling up in an awkward comforting smile.
“Of course I do. I need you.”
“You need my wand you mean.” Pansy’s shoulders sagged, her fingers still entangled with his and they hung between them. Charlie reached into the pocket of his jeans with his other hand, removing a parchment and handing it to Pansy. She raised an eyebrow.
“What’s this?” She dropped his hand, but only to open and read the contents of the letter. The Romanian’s International Statute of Secrecy seal marked the bottom of the page, and the contents above it reflected the release of Pansy’s trace and the permit to have full access to her wand without interruption. “How long have you had this?”
“Mr Marsch had it ready for you, but you ran off before he could present it.”
“So, you’re telling me I could have been using my wand all day? ” Pansy pinched the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t sure who she was more angry at. Charlie for not telling her when she practically begged for his help with the journal - his quick turnaround made sense now - or herself for running from her feelings. Again. “You know what? We don’t have time for this. Let’s just go to the orchard.” She took his hand again.
“You still want me to come?”
Pansy wasn’t entirely sure what had come over her, but she squeezed the redhead's hand in hers.
“I told you.” She took a step closer, placing a gentle kiss upon his cheek. “I need you.