Chapter One: Esmeralda One

"Oh, she's so cute!" Yvonne cooed, pinching Esmeralda Potter's cheeks. "What a lovely little girl!"

"Yes, yes," said Aunt Petunia, short and impatient.

They were in the suburban kitchen of Number Four, Privet Drive. Esmeralda was standing in front of Aunt Petunia's best friend, Yvonne, face deadpan and miserable as her cheeks were pinched. Around her all of Aunt Petunia's tea and bridge club afternoon housewife members were littered about the kitchen table. Esmeralda had been paraded out for her usual brief display for the women's benefit, the only little girl in the house, and if there was one thing she hated about all of Aunt Petunia's female friends coming over it was this.

She supposed everyone told her she was pretty, in a sense. Yes, she was dressed in tatty grey second-hand feminine clothes, sort of like an old spinster librarian, but the Dursleys pretended she was just rough with her things and not a burden on the family that they refused to buy anything worthwhile for. And she was nice looking - a pale, heart shaped face with high cheekbones, long shiny black hair, almond shaped bright green eyes, the lightning bolt scar on her forehead from the car crash that had killed her parents when she was a baby covered by a blunt 1960's fringe.

"All right, Esmeralda, you can go," said Aunt Petunia without looking at her, and Esmeralda was for once happy to escape with blessed relief to her cupboard. She had carefully closed the kitchen door behind her and was halfway to the closet underneath the staircase, her assigned bedroom despite the fact that there were extra actual bedrooms in the spacious house -

When she heard speaking come from behind her in the kitchen she had just come from, speaking that gave her pause.

"Have you been feeling better lately, Petunia?" Yvonne's voice. "You did say you've been… troubled."

Aunt Petunia sighed, and she did sound dissatisfied and even disturbed when she spoke next. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been feeling so bored and restless… being inside this house all the time."

"You don't like the house?"

"No, it's a wonderful house! And I'm happy here! But sometimes I feel so empty I wish I could just leave. Not leave Vernon, or the home, but just… see what else is out there in the world for a little while. Vernon doesn't understand. He goes to his company firm director job every day, and he talks with people, and he sees things.

"It's… different for women."

"Only for women like us." A sorrowful sigh from someone else at the kitchen table. "Women who do it the right way. I feel it, too."

A heavy pause.

"I haven't told Vernon," said Aunt Petunia at last, her tone oddly… flat. "I don't know why. I haven't told him for reasons I can't even explain to myself. I just… haven't."

"No. It's not something to talk about with husbands," the other speaker agreed, warm and sympathetic. Another silence.

Esmeralda realized that she felt - incredibly - rather sorry for her Aunt Petunia. She had never seen her aunt in such a sympathetic light before. Granted, Aunt Petunia would still greet this with an acidic barb to her face. The Dursleys still didn't like Esmeralda for mostly unexplained reasons. But…

Esmeralda knew what was wrong, perhaps seeing the things that her aunt simply refused to see, and she knew why her aunt hadn't told her uncle how she was feeling.

Aunt Petunia didn't like being a housewife.

It made sense. Aunt Petunia was a sharp, intelligent, strong-minded woman just as surely as her family was traditionalist. She felt restless being confined to childrearing, housewife tea and bridge club meetings, and household chores. And she refused to tell her husband… because Uncle Vernon didn't want to be married to a career-woman. He was not that kind of a man.

It was an entire shift in paradigm, in worldview for Esmeralda. She promised herself she would never fall victim to that. In that moment, she swore rather hard and vicious to herself that even if she had to remain single, she would never do it "the right way." She would be a rebel, an independent, a career-woman, a woman outside the home.

She lifted her chin, rather proud of her decision.

Then more speaking came from the kitchen behind her, and she hurriedly straightened.

"I have an idea, Cheerfuls," said one woman wryly in the heavy silence. There were a few chuckles. "Let's go have a bath."

"... Come again?" said Aunt Petunia, deadpan and skeptical, and Esmeralda had to choke back a snort as she physically imagined her aunt's eyebrows rising over her steaming cup of tea.

"There's a lovely little bath-house in Surrey city that we could visit. It has Asian influences, but it's a wonderful place. The workers prepare a luxurious, hot, soaking bath and a face mask, some lotions, for customers. The customers get the full treatment, and they just get to soak in their separate tubs and talk to one another. The workers are all female, and they cater mostly to fellow women. It sounds odd, but it's really actually quite relaxing."

"A good place to detox," said Yvonne with bright interest, hopeful.

"Exactly! And we can all afford it, right?"

She had said the magic words in the climbing neighborhood of Little Whinging.

"All right," said Aunt Petunia tentatively, sounding interested. "Let's do it." And with squeaks of chairs and a round of excited chatter, Esmeralda heard them stand.

She hurriedly put her back up against the cupboard door, hands behind her back and sullen. Aunt Petunia would not want her friends to see that Esmeralda slept in a cupboard. Sure enough, when they all tramped out into the entryway, Aunt Petunia looked subtly relieved to see Esmeralda standing there and the cupboard door closed.

Then: "Dear," said one of Aunt Petunia's friends affectionately, "would you like to come?"

It took Esmeralda, who was never allowed anywhere extra and fun, a few seconds of looking around to realize the woman was talking to her. She blinked. "... Me?"

"Are we sure that's a good idea?" Aunt Petunia interrupted, frowning, skeptical. "She can be troublesome."

This was not quite the truth.

"Oh, come, Petunia. It's a girl's day out, after all." The woman smiled and winked at Esmeralda; a wide, delighted, hopeful smile at the idea of being allowed somewhere fun was slowly filling Esmeralda's face.

Aunt Petunia saw that face - and became expressionless. It was hard to read what she was thinking. At last, she said, "All right. It's a Saturday afternoon, and Dudley is out with Vernon. She can come."

Esmeralda resisted the urge to physically jump upward in excitement, forcibly tamping herself down. This was even better than being allowed home alone, or to wander Surrey! With a ducked head and a smile, she followed the women obediently out the door, across the green lawn beside the flower beds, towards the shiny cars parked around the driveway in the sunlight.

"Remember, dear, girl's days out are for fun," said the same woman warmly, walking beside Esmeralda. "Us girls have to stick together."

Esmeralda smirked. "I will remember that," she said with equal warmth.

And she would remember about girl's days out and women sticking together - just as surely as she would remember that she wanted to be independent, and not a housewife.

They drove up to a place in the city decorated like a spa, Seaborne Dreams, the sign complete with fanciful pink and blue bubbles. "Well, it's cute…" said Aunt Petunia tentatively in the car beside Esmeralda as they parked, as if wondering about this little venture.

They all got slowly out of their cars and, some of the women chatting, headed in a big group through the doors. The inside was surprisingly dark, cool, and dim. A woman at a little podium up at the front was standing waiting for them, just as if they were in a restaurant. She smiled and said, "How many? You pay up at the front here, and then go back behind me to the baths."

They paid and went through another pair of doors behind the podium, into a huge, long, echoing room, dark and cool, filled with women in tubs being attended to by female workers. The female customers chatted to one another from their separate tubs, lit by flickering candlelight and oddly glowing tubs.

Workers immediately came forward and led each member of the group to a separate bath. There was a little partition the customers could stand behind, get undressed, and wrap themselves in a long towel. Then they came out and watched their bath be prepared, an oddly relaxing, mesmerizing, graceful series of movements on the part of the female worker.

Esmeralda watched her own helper, a quietly smiling blonde woman, work the bath. She stood wrapped in her towel, shivering. She realized after a time that this place was dark and cool on purpose - dark to promote relaxation, cool to make the hot bath all that much more enjoyable.

First, she was given a steaming, warm cup of cooling mint and rose tea while she waited, loose leaf and wonderful. Then her bath was set to.

The hot water was poured into a traditional roll-top bath with a luxurious purple bath rug. Pink salt crystals were littered in the bottom of the bath to dissolve. Then a green tea bath bomb was added to the water, filling the crystalline bath with a softly glowing green color in the cool darkness, the pink salts dissolving almost instantly.

A relaxing nighttime blend of essential oils scent was then added in drops to the water, which by this point smelled absolutely divine.

Heart shaped candles were littered around the bath and softly lit, glowing against the green crystalline water. Dried rose petals were littered onto the surface of the green bath. A little copper incense burner was lit with incense nearby, its range just wide enough to encompass Esmeralda's bath in its warm scent. Finally, a hot stone was added for her feet, to relax them and keep them warm - this would be especially lovely after a hard day's work standing on one's feet, she thought, glancing at the grown women around her.

Finally, the woman turned to her. "You get in, and smooth back your hair," she said softly, still smiling gently. "I'm going to put a clay face mask on for the skin of your face, and after you get out of the tub and take off the mask, I have some gentle, scented face and body lotions for when you're finished with soaking."

Tentatively, Esmeralda got into the tub, draping the long towel over the head of the tub behind her, noticing a sponge placed nearby for her convenience. "For washing off any dead skin," the worker said helpfully.

Esmeralda looked down, and realized the clever green tea bath bomb had done its work - her body was completely obscured from view behind the glowing green in the darkness.

The woman sitting beside her tub was very gentle, feminine, and attendant as Esmeralda soaked and used the sponge, as the clay face mask was put on her face and she was allowed to lounge back in the tub. This made her oddly emotional - she was taking soft deep breaths, tensing and relaxing, and she realized she was near tears.

She couldn't remember ever feeling so well taken care of before. Her family certainly never treated her with this kind of gentle, pampering, luxurious femininity.

At last, she relaxed and looked around idly, beginning to enjoy herself as she lounged in the tub with the face mask, her long wet dark hair arching back behind her head. "Do you know," she mused, a little smile of amusement curling her lips, "I think I really enjoy this."

"Good. I am glad," said the worker beside her softly, smiling.

The next lesson: Esmeralda enjoyed femininity, luxury, and pampering. And she had come to associate good things with water, cool glowing colors, and dark dimness. This added textures to the other things she had learned about herself today: about being an independent woman and a certain amount of pride, and about girl's days out and women sticking together.

Warm and smiling wryly, half a smirk, Esmeralda had already begun to change.

Beside her a ways away, Aunt Petunia also seemed to be enjoying herself, lounging back smirking smugly. "This is very nice," she declared. "Every woman deserves this at the end of a long day." Her previous doubts had been blown away.

Some of her workers and fellow friends chuckled, and Aunt Petunia smiled.

The workers began talking and giggling to each other over the baths. Despite their giggly female grouping instinct, they gave off a very calm, sensible, serene atmosphere. Some of her friends were talking warmly, but Aunt Petunia was watching the workers and the hall layout, looking genuinely impressed.

When they had all gotten out, taken off their face masks, and put their scented lotions on behind the partitions before getting dressed again, Esmeralda felt wonderful. She felt pampered and warm and nice-smelling, her skin newly and wonderfully smooth and soft.

She was dressed like a poor old spinster librarian again, her Aunt Petunia neat in a flowery house-dress and quiet jewelry. Their baths were being drained and the dream was over, with the fragrant lotions and scents remaining to gently ease the transition and leave a pleasant lingering effect.

As they were leaving the hall, they all stopped in their tracks.

A woman who silently screamed big, old money had just breezed in with two attendants walking carefully behind her. She was wearing the gold and pearl chains, the big coats, the heavy makeup, the entire package. Even the way she carried herself was rather snobbish and elegant, her gold highlighted hair piled behind her head.

"Yes, wonderful as usual," she said idly, looking over her pre-prepared bath - which must have cost an extra fee - and she walked forward to use the partition. She passed by them without looking, and they carefully looked away and left the hall.

Immediately, out of earshot through the doors, the climbing housewives began hissing and giggling among themselves. Esmeralda skeptically found it all rather silly.

Aunt Petunia was more dignified. "This," she said, smirking with satisfaction and pride, lifting her chin at the place's association with herself, "is clearly a high class, high end kind of place." Seaborne Dreams was by now very high up in her mental hierarchy.

But something that was about to happen in the outside hall with the podium, sunlight streaming dimly through the blinded frontal windows - something very different in nature - would end up being just as important.

"I don't care how good you people are supposed to be -!"

"Ma'am, please -"

SLAM!

Esmeralda, Aunt Petunia, and their group looked around in surprise. A slightly unhinged ratty woman - showing the huge variety of clientele that visited here - was yelling at a worker out in the front hall. She had just swept an array of pamphlets off a side table and scattered them and their now-broken holder all over the floor.

"I am not paying for that travesty of service!" she snapped, eyes bulging, and she stormed out the double doors into the sunlight.

"Ma'am - ma'am, please don't go -" The worker the woman had been yelling at was near tears.

"Well, I never!" said one housewife, rather shocked -

But Aunt Petunia had strode forward calmly with steely eyes. She bent down, and quietly began helping the teary woman get everything in perfect working order again. Aunt Petunia was above all things bent on neatness, cleanliness, grace, and perfection. She had pristine composure and dignity.

Esmeralda couldn't help but admire her aunt for a moment.

"Some people wouldn't be happy if you hung them with a new rope," Aunt Petunia told the female worker calmly, with a single sneer of contempt toward the doors. "Don't you worry about it, it's a wonderful place and you did the best you could."

"Thank you," the woman sighed in relief; they stood as everything on the table was as it had once been. "You know." The woman smiled gratefully at Aunt Petunia. "You would make for an excellent worker here yourself. You have just the right kind of mentality and calm."

Cheerful and with a playful curl of her shoulder, she strode off.

Esmeralda's aunt's defense of Seaborne Dreams had had an unexpected result. Aunt Petunia paused in the aftermath, with an expression on her face that surprised Esmeralda - wide-eyed, surprised herself, half smiling, almost flattered.

She looked as if an idea had just come to her that she had never considered before.

On the drive home, it was just the two of them alone - Esmeralda and Aunt Petunia, Aunt Petunia in the driver's seat and Esmeralda beside her. They sat in silence for a time, not sure how to articulate this strange, wonderful experience that had just happened between them.

At last, Esmeralda risked breaking the silence. "That was a really nice place," she said seriously, looking carefully with concern over at her Aunt Petunia.

Aunt Petunia… smiled, to Esmeralda's eternal surprise, looking out over the drive ahead of her as if it held all of her daydreams and visions. "Yes," she admitted warmly. "Yes, it was." She sounded thoughtful, musing.

Then, the ultimate risk from Esmeralda: "... Can we… start doing pampering, girly things like that together? Sort of spa and bath activities?"

Before, the idea of asking to do anything with Aunt Petunia would have been anathema to Esmeralda. But today, her aunt had been… different. And the experience had been so enjoyable…

Aunt Petunia paused - and then agreed. "Yes," she decided. "Yes, we can. It would be nice, to have another girl to do things like that with, and to teach such things to."

"You really liked Seaborne Dreams, didn't you?" Esmeralda realized in surprise.

"Actually…" Aunt Petunia still gazed unseeingly out at the drive ahead of her. "It's got me thinking…"

But about what, she would not say. Aunt Petunia seemed to be thinking hard about Seaborne Dreams in a way she never had about anything before. So used to her aunt being one boring way, not even Esmeralda could suppose just what her Aunt Petunia would be giving such thought to.

But unbeknownst to Esmeralda, she was about to find out.

Author's Note: Major credit goes to - of all things - the ASMR channel WhispersRed and her video "Preparing You A Bath." Inspiration sometimes comes from the unlikeliest of places. Thank you, Emma!