Chapter Six
Once their feet carried them to the magical side of the orchard, Pansy opened the journal to her uncle’s hidden incantations. Charlie had cast a lumos, offering enough light so Pansy could call out and maneuver her wand where needed. It didn’t seem too particularly complicated overall, however, her uncle was cunning, so she wasn’t too terribly surprised to see her hand shake from nerves.
Pansy cleared her throat, standing in the center between the Princess P’s and the Romanian Sunshines, raising her wand. Charlie gave her a reassuring nod, winking once to help ease the tension. It didn’t help of course, his wink resulted in her rolling her eyes out of habit. But, she couldn’t deny the fact his presence was a comforting one, even over her nerves and his flirtatious behaviours.
She focused her attention on the open book in her hand and refocused her wand. With a shaky breath, she attempted the movements first, practicing the motions her uncle had laid out for her. Her nerves were justified, the combination of the movements with the spells proving to be layered with complexity after all. Pansy took a breath, not wanting to fail her uncle now, not when she was this close. After a few more moments of practicing in a studious silence, she felt a little more confident in what she needed to do, turning to Charlie with a nod.
“I think I’m ready.”
“You sure? Autumns almost over, you nearly missed the harvest.”
“Shut up, you git. Just have your wand ready.”
Her wrist moved, the fluent transitions as her wand became an extension of her arm itself, the words of the incantations emerging from her lips. Magic burst through the tip of her willow wand, causing Pansy’s arm to shake at the power behind it. She began to slowly pace the aisles of trees, allowing the spell to engulf the colored leaves and thinning branches. Each tree she passed shone bronze-like in color, the apples glowing a blinding bright yellow. The ground beneath her combat booted feet vibrated lightly, the roots shifting beneath earth. She no longer needed the lumos on Charlie’s wand, the light of the spell overpowering the darkness of the quickening evening sky.
Pansy began to wane, her arm growing tired and stiff. The muscles in her body strained, her voice weakening, the excessive use of such a complex incantation taking its toll. She hadn’t noticed Charlie’s hand on her back, supporting her while she neared the end of the spell. She wanted to smile, but her body was drained, collapsing her arm as the final tree was touched with the magic from her wand. She involuntarily leaned into him for support before her body could slump completely. She was thankful for the strength in his hold.
“Now what?” Pansy looked out at the almost bare trees.
“Now we wait to see if it worked. We should know by tomorrow morning.”
“I suppose I could check it again before I leave tomorrow.”
She was almost asleep when she spoke, feeling her body being lifted as Charlie carried her to the cottage. She was sure Charlie was speaking to her, but she was entirely too drained to pay him any mind, her thoughts drifting off to a castle on a hill, the redhead riding up on a polished silver steed with apple printed bows and cinnamon in its full curly mane. Charlie was riding with an open and exposed chest, no armor comparing to the abs he dorned.
Pansy was reaching out for her knight, feeling the warmth of his skin and the comfort in his arms. That was when she awoke to the sunlight peering in from one of the small windows, the bed, for once, feeling soft beneath her as she blinked open her eyes. She stretched, feeling the softness of Charlie’s chest beside her above the covers. Her smile faded.
“Charlie!” She screamed, tugging the blankets up to her chin, not even noticing she still wore the same jumper and jeans combination from the previous day, and cause Charlie to jump and stumble onto the floor in surprise. Charlie’s arm came into view as he pulled himself from the floor, wiping the sleep from his eyes, a yawn on his lips.
“What the hell woman?”
“What are you doing in my room?” She was still pulling up the blankets to cover herself, though at this point she finally realized it wasn’t necessary.
“You told me to stay!” Charlie removed himself from the floor and cracked his neck from sitting up all night in the bed. Perhaps he did have some gentleman-like qualities after all.
“Oh.” Pansy dragged her hands through her wild mess of hair atop her head, and ignored her reflection in the mirror of the previous night’s makeup smeared on her face. Her eyes went wide, and swiftly jumped up, calling to Charlie as she ran down the stairs in bare feet.. “The trees!”
Elena was outside, repairing the kickstand on her bike. She looked up with a grin when Pansy came bursting through the door.
“Pansy?”
“No time, Aunt Elena! I have to check the hybrids!” She was running down the steps, ignoring the pebbles that stabbed her feet every so often. She could hear Charlie not far behind her, and an Elena behind him.
When they reached the section where the Romanian Sunshines grew, Pansy stopped beside a tree, eyeing it closely and searching the lower branches. Charlie appeared at her side, grinning from ear to ear.
“Look, fresh blossoms! Pansy, it worked!” He lifted her up and spun her, her legs swinging behind her and her arms around his neck.
“What’s happened? What worked?” Charlie released her, allowing Pansy to rush up on her aunt and take her hands.
“We were able to sustain Uncle Perseus’s hybrids.” Elena’s eyes swelled, and she pulled Pansy in. Normally, Pansy wouldn’t be too thrilled on the amount of close intimacy, however, under the circumstances she didn’t think twice about it, instead returning the loving squeeze. When she pulled back, she held her aunt’s hands. “I’ll be able to come back next year to reseal them.”
Elena, much to her credit, held onto the smile she was wearing, though her eyes fell and turned sad. Pansy bit her lip.
“Of course. I saw the owl drop the letter off yesterday. I had meant to tell you, but Mr Marsch had arrived and well, you know the rest. Although, you must know, you will always have a home here, Pansy. And should you ever want to come visit, you’re most welcome.”
A somewhat distraught Charlie appeared between them, his eyes holding something Pansy hadn’t seen in him before. “I should be getting back too. The guys are probably falling apart without me anyway.” He smiled, though the normal humor wasn’t present. Without a second look to Pansy, he then made his way through the orchard and disappeared into the trees.
Despite the celebration and joy she had first felt from their success, Pansy’s heart sank into her stomach. But she didn’t have time to focus on that now. The feeling of Elena tugging on her hand brought her attention back from where Charlie had just been standing.
“Fate will work everything out as it should be.”
There was that mystical cryptic talk from her aunt again. She simply nodded her head and followed the woman back to the cottage. She had packing to do, after all, if she was going to make the gala in time.
🍎 🍎 🍎
She was reluctant in her packing, but reveled in the feel of her wand in her hand, using the extension charm on her suitcase as she neatly stacked her clothes inside. Pansy wasn’t smiling though, and quite frankly she didn’t understand exactly why her lips remained so tightly pursed in a straight line across her face. It was, after all, her own decision to leave this blasted yet beautiful country.
Pansy shrugged the feeling off. She had responsibilities back in London with her parents, the pureblood life she was raised to uphold. The sophisticated and lush and extravagant and regal and boring and unsatisfying life with countless obligatory meetings or galas incumbent upon her. Parkinsons, after all, were the epitome of wealth; the face of so-called neutral pureblood society. Pansy rolled her eyes at the thought. Nothing about her family - or her for that matter - was neutral.
Pansy was beginning to realize - too late, of course - that by being in Romania, her chilly tones and crisp tongue have thawed and softened at the edges, if only a little. Scoffing audibly at no one but her own reflection, perhaps it was less the place and more the man.
She cast a curse at the mattress, the centerpiece of everything she both loved and hated about this room, as she groaned loudly in frustration. Charlie, the redheaded git who quite literally weaseled his way into her heart. She hadn’t the slightest idea her infuriating obstinate organ was capable of such feelings, the effects causing whirlwinds inside her chest. She hated him for that. In fact, she hated him quite a lot for causing such mixed and unfamiliar emotions to arise so frequently at all.
Pansy did not belong in Romania, more specifically Pansy did not belong in this dusty old cottage. Her views on the muggle woman downstairs might have changed, Pansy opening up enough to let her in enough to claim her as her actual aunt. She was, all in all, the counterpart to her most favorite person she’d ever known. But it was obvious, none of these things were relevant enough to cause Pansy any obligations to stay.
There was a clatter at her balcony door. A small and swift collision of pebble to wood that stopped Pansy in her tracks. She shrieked, startled enough to drop her wand to the floor. She chipped a nail in the process.
“Bollucks!”
The sound repeated itself, just as swift and abrupt, and she bent down to scoop up her wand again, presenting it in front of her at the ready. Pansy raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side as she approached the narrow arched door. She hadn’t emerged onto the balancya single time since she had arrived, never finding the point, especially seeing the condition of the rest of the cottage. It would be her luck to step out into the night only to plummet to her death - her luck was funny like that.
“You in there, PJ?”
She dropped her wand again. How she survived this long in the wizarding world was a mystery at this point, but she stared blankly at the door as if it the planks themselves had spoken to her. It was silly to think the door was talking, only one person dared to call her such a hideous nickname.
“Charlie?” Gods she sounded ridiculous, leaning against the chipped painted door with her palms pressed firmly on the wood.
“Open the door, princess.” Charlie’s voice was muffled with the barrier between them, and she finally wrapped her hand around the knob and pulled. She was not prepared for the scene before her.
Charlie was there, standing with his broom in the grass beneath her on the ground. His bare chest practically shimmered under the autumn moon, the number of freckles on his skin rivaling the stars in the sky above. Pansy actually swooned, her knees turning to marmalade as she propped herself against the metal railing of the small balcony just barely large enough for two.
He mounted his broom in a very suave - very Charlie - fashion, one that was overly animated and caused Pansy to laugh. She hid her grin behind her hand, biting the end of her index finger as she watched him ascend towards her.
“I’m here to rescue you, my lady” Charlie flipped his hair back before offering her his hand. Pansy quirked an eyebrow.
“And what, pray tell, are you saving me from?” She leant forward, her one hand firmly gripped to the railing, the other entwining her fingers with his. He lowered himself onto the balcony beside her.
“From yourself.” He pulled her against him, her palms now resting on his chest, her nails brushing his skin. They were a breath away from one another, Pansy losing herself in how wonderful it felt to be in his arms as he snaked them around her waist. She pushed herself up onto her toes, satisfied in the way her combat boots held her steady, Charlie’s hold locking her in place. Their lips collided and the world simply melted away.
Pansy tried to hold back the tears, knowing once they fell the moment would be lost, the silence of a romantic kiss shared replaced with the horrid sounds of her heaving into sobs. Her lips would collapse upon themselves, widening in breadth across her face over a quivering chin. She was, after all, notorious for ruining moments such as these. Charlie, however, didn’t allow it to happen. He kissed her with such fervor it didn’t concede her brain to react that way - or at all for that matter - drawing her in and molding her to him; melting her world to his with a lip locked seal. In that moment, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.
Breathless, he released her lips but held her close, her head coming to rest atop his shoulder. Gods how she loved the feel of his skin against her cheek. She closed her eyes, knowing how much she’d miss this.
“Do you know what I think?” Charlie’s voice came out in a half growl. Pansy shivered against him.
“Hmm?” She didn’t bother opening her eyes, content in her current position. Charlie rested his head against hers.
“I think you want to stay.”
That was a preposterous accusation, not to mention bold to think she would want to choose a partially muggle influenced life over her London luxury. Furthermore, how dare he assume he knew what she wanted at all. A moment passed where neither of them spoke, although her eyes did open as she contemplated his words. Okay, perhaps there was some truth in what he had said, a hint of credible facts in both statement and want, but Pansy knew as well as Charlie she couldn’t stay.
It couldn’t possibly be as simple as unpacking her bags, permitting Charlie to have his way with her on the wailing bed, and living a life with chilly air, crisp apples and hot tempered dragons. Unless it could. But surely it would only be a matter of time before he knew her for what she was. The villain in a tome rather than a princess in a fairytale - hell she’d settle for PJ if it meant he wouldn’t hate her in the end.
“PJ?” Pansy shivered - there is was - the appellation she both despised and desired if only from his lips. She pulled back to gaze into his eyes, the brightest of blue and handsomely contrasted against the pigment of his skin and the color of his hair. He was simply put a beautiful man - rugged and barbaric at times - but beautiful.
“Charlie, there is so much about me you would absolutely hate.”
“Stop it.” He slid his fingers through her short black hair, his words airy and rough all at once. “You belong here. With Elena, with the orchard. With me.” He bent down, brushing his lips on the curve of her neck, nipping lightly at the flesh of her skin. The bloody git was trying to seduce her. It was working.
“Char-” Pansy hummed into the chilly air around them, feeling its effects for the first time as she gently shoved Charlie back. “You incorrigible man! Will you ever act like a gentleman?”
Charlie laughed, it was the unimportant laugh that meant absolutely everything to Pansy and she once again found herself hating the man for doing precisely what she had hoped he would do - whisk her away.
“Why don’t you reform my barbaric ways by staying with me. I won’t let you just leave when you so clearly wish to stay. Is it so horrible here?”
No.
“Charlie, I just can’t alright?” She began to flail her arms, hoping she looked like the frustrated lady she was and not some hippogryph learning to fly. She grunted at the thought. “Ugh, I am not a good person!” She dropped her arms then, crossing them across her chest and shoving her bottom lip out in the most dramatic pout she’d performed yet. Charlie only rubbed her arms, his eyes looking at her in that sweet and trusting way.
“Pansy, I’ve seen you almost every day for a month.” He moved the hair from her face, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. She smiled through sulken lips. “Of course I know that.”
It was a joke, one where he began laughing uncontrollably at her surprised reaction. Pansy had a right mind to throw a wobbly right there, but it wouldn’t have done any good, although she did find she enjoyed pounding her fists at his chest.
“You are absolutely the worst man in Romania!”
“Listen to me!” He dodged one of Pansy’s less than aggressive swings, grabbing both of her wrists easily so he could regain her attention. “Look, I knew a hell of a lot more about you than you knew of me. It doesn't change anything.” She gave up her fight, peering up with a quizzical expression, brow furrowed in thought. Had Charlie not kept both wrists refrained, she would have tugged on both earlobes. She swallowed.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, PJ,” he pulled her to him again and he smelled of sweet and flames, the aroma of apple hinting at his skin. Charlie was quite literally the apple to her tart. She groaned at her own cheesiness - damn that man. His lips were near her ear again. “Princess, I knew who you were. But I adore who you are.”
“Y-you do?” Pansy was beside herself. She’d never imagined she’d find herself in the arms of an ungentlemanly man, let alone a Weasley, but she didn’t mind it so much. She did, however, hate how unprepared she was for Charlie to accept her back.
“Only you would sabotage romantic moment like this.” Charlie had presented his arms to the sides, reminding her of his efforts. She laughed, her eyes burning with the threat of tears.
“You’ll have to get used to that I’m afraid. I tend to muck up most moments it seems.”
Charlie’s face shot back to hers with a newfound expression of triumph. He really was a child.
“Get used to- does that mean you’re staying?” Pansy was most certainly losing her mind.
“Yes.”
He scooped her up into his large and beautifully crafted arms and kissed her before she could react further to anything - or change her mind. Charlie Weasley and Pansy Parkinson were stubborn at best, both incredibly witty with their crisp remarks and retorts, but he melted away the chilled fears of her past, allowing the fire between them to grow and burn. She was thankful for her wand again that day - and for his - as the silencing charm she placed on her bed prohibited any further comments from the muggle woman known as her Aunt Elena. Because Charlie was just as much a barbarian between the sheets as he was out.