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Warning for Fred Lives!AU, Fairytale!AU, mentions of war, and a slight bit out of character due to the AUs used. Word count is 3,547 words. I hope you all enjoy A New Rumpelstiltskin.
Once upon a time, there was a tiny village, much like any small village in any country. This village was a small bustling hub of commercial capitalism and was home to many merchants and street vendors. I was one of such street vendors. My name is Neville. I have a small food store which made me and my wife, Pansy, money. Enough money that we could live rather comfortably.
But hard times fell on us when a rival store owner who was selling the same fare opened shop across the street. The customers coming to my shop started to slowly dwindle until it was only a handful of regulars that came into the store.
That would have been alright it wasn't for the fact that we had just found out that we were expecting our first child. This put a lot of stress on poor my shoulders and when people have a lot of stress on their shoulder they sometimes do things they regret. But in the end what choice do they really have.
"What are we going to do, Nev?" Pansy asked, pacing back and forth as I flipped the closed sign over for the night. "We're barely making ends meet as it is. We can't afford to lose one of our regulars we won't be able to keep the shop open at all."
"I know, Pansy," I said, wiping down the nearest table with the rag that I had been carrying. "Just let me think up a plan."
I sighed as I worked to clean the shop as Pansy did the dishes. I knew that one option would be to start selling off some of our finer pieces of china. But I also knew that that option wouldn't work. Pansy's grandmother had given them to us as a wedding present and I didn't want to hear how I had made her sell them for the rest of my life. I looked up at the ceiling of the room to our apartment that was overhead. Perhaps if I sold some of the things that my father and mother had saved for me. But that wouldn't work either. Pansy would get on my case for selling our child's inheritance no matter which items I sold.
"I heard a story once," Pansy said, breaking the silence and making me jump.
"A story about what?" I asked, laying the rag on the countertop nearby and walking over to wrap my arms around her waist.
"A story about something that might just help us out of our situation, Nev," she said, grinning up at me. Her dark eyes were alive with a spark of happiness that I hadn't seen since the opening day of our shop.
I shook my head as I could only think of one story that anyone would have heard involving any way out of any situation. I wouldn't take that risk unless it was the only option left.
"We could sell the fine china, and some of my parents' trinkets that they left us," I suggested, hoping that she'd agree and knowing that she probably wouldn't.
"But that is our child's inheritance, Nev," she said, pulling away from and putting her hands on her hips as she turned to face me. "Do you want a newborn child to think that his or her grandparents don't care about them?"
"That wasn't my intention," I said, taking a deep breath and steadying myself for the conversation ahead. "It's just if you are talking about the same story that I think you are, I'd rather exhaust all other options before taking that one."
"And what about what I and your child want, Neville Longbottom?" she asked, her voice sounding as stern as my grandmother's used to. At that moment I understood why the two women seemed to get along well. They both possessed that tone of voice that seemed to broker no arguments.
"But you do know how wrong that story went before everything turned out alright, don't you?" I asked, looking at her. "That is if you and I are thinking about the same story."
"You know what story I'm…."
Before Pansy could finish speaking the bell over the door tinkled as it was opened. We both turned in order to tell the person that we were closed for the night and they could return tomorrow morning. Only the sight that met us was one that stole the very voices from us both. Standing in the open doorway was a man of thin frame and muscular build. His long auburn hair was flowing on an unseen wind. His sparkling hazel eyes reminded me of the eyes of a man I'd met before. But that couldn't be. He had been a long time dead at this point. He certainly wasn't standing in our tiny shop if he wasn't.
Pansy was the first to regain her voice. "We're closed at the moment, sir," she said, looking at me sharply. "If you return tomorrow we can serve up some of the mince pies that you'll ever taste. Homemade right in the shop."
"I heard that you and your family had fallen upon hard times, Neville Longbottom," the man said, turning to me those hazel eyes alight with mischief.
"I don't know who told you that but…."
"What would you say if I told you there was a way to help you out of your rut without having to sell your child's inheritance as your wife keeps saying?" he asked, looking at me quizzically before giggling to himself as if he'd just been told a rather funny joke.
"I'd say that you're talking about things which aren't your concern, sir," I said, feeling my flush with anger. "I'll also tell you the same thing that I told my wife. I'm not going to call upon him unless there are no other options."
"You know deep down inside that your wife is right on this one," the man said, nodding towards Pansy who seemed to perk up at being told she was right. "You won't garner enough money from these trinkets to stay open. I can help you, my friend."
"How do you know that?" I asked, feeling like someone had just set the spark to the fuse that was my anger.
"I know everything," the little man giggled with a voice that sounded so much like…..no. That wasn't possible. He was dead and dead men didn't make appearances offering help.
"Then what will help us stay open?" Pansy asked before I could say anything else on the matter. "We'll do anything."
"Anything?"
"Anything. Right, Neville?"
Her pleading look struck much like she'd reach out and did it with her own bare hand. I could feel the sting of shame that I couldn't keep my own shop open. I looked at Pansy looking at me expectantly. I then cast my over to the impish-looking auburn-haired man and could see him with the look upon his face.
"Anything," I said, feeling like this was the biggest mistake that I was about to make in my entire life.
"Then let's sit down and make a deal," the imp said, turning to one of the tables and snapping up a cup of ale and some food for himself. "I hope you don't mind. I'm famished."
Pansy and I looked at each other we walked over to the table and joined the thin man. Both of us not daring to get any closer than we had to get. Both of us having realized that this man was something otherworldly. Something that could neither be trusted entirely nor believed entirely either. Pansy looked towards me and nodded as though saying that I should be the first person to speak. The impish little man had other ideas.
"Now where do we start?" the man asked, picking up a rather huge turkey leg and chomping right into it.
"You were going to tell us how we could keep our shop open and compete with Mr. Potter across the street," Pansy said, looking towards the window in the direction of the offending Mr. Potter and his shop.
"Ah, yes," he said, looking in the direction of Mr. Potter's shop. "You see I can help you make your mince pies the best mince pies in all of the country. People will come from miles and miles away to eat one of your mince pies, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom."
"But what do you get in return?" I asked, giving him a hard look and getting a giggle in return.
"That is for me to know and you to find out once the agreement has been brokered," the man said, giggling his impish little laugh and slurping down some wine from the goblet. "So, do we have a deal?"
"You want us to make a deal with you without knowing what's at stake for us, is that what I'm hearing?" I asked, standing up in my anger. "I want to know what's at…."
"Deal," Pansy said, shaking the hand that was hanging in the air which caused a maniacal gleam of excitement to shine in imp that looked like Fred Weasley's eyes.
A loud pop followed the snapping of his fingers and nodded towards our storeroom. I glanced at Pansy who was glancing at me. Then I took a tentative step towards the storeroom. When I'd gone in there earlier the room was almost devoid of any food source and the ale dwindling to almost the same measure. What met my eyes when I opened the door now almost knocked the wind out of me.
The dark oak wall was almost blocked from view by all different kinds of meats, cheeses, vegetables, and any other thing that one could think to put in a mince pie. Or for that matter any other kind of pie. The ale which had been dwindling earlier in the even was multiplied by at least five times what it had been. I could feel the panic rising in my throat like bile when one is about to be ill.
I returned to the table where the man was merrily eating away at his turkey leg and drinking away at his ale. I slammed my fist on the table making the plate jump almost a foot in the air and causing the imp to look at me balefully.
"What was that for?" he asked sharply, putting the turkey leg on the plate once it had settled into place again. "Didn't I help you out with your little supply problem?"
"You did," I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "But that doesn't settle the problem of people coming into the shop. That also doesn't settle the matter of what we owe you in return for your help either."
"Word of mouth from a certain helpful sort will bring the customers in," the Fred look-a-like said, giggling. "But as far as what you owe me, I will have to sleep on that and get back to you and your wife."
"When can we expect an answer?" I glanced over at Pansy and could see that this was truly starting to scare her now. She hadn't been scared when she'd agreed to the deal but now she was. It was almost laughable in a way.
"I'll let you know before the end of the month," the man said, finishing off his drink and meal and walking towards the door. "Have a good evening and may fortune smile upon you."
Silence descended over the shop as we held our breath and waited to make sure that the man wouldn't return. When we were quite sure, I gave Pansy a hard look.
"You never make a deal without finding out what's at stake first," I said, walking over and locking the door to keep anyone else with ideas out of the shop. "Now, we don't even know what we owe this man."
"I was only thinking that it would help our shop becoming what it once was," Pansy said, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Neville."
"No." I let out a breath I hadn't realized that I'd been holding. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be speaking to you the way I am. Let's get some sleep and we can discuss this more in the morning, alright, love?"
Pansy nodded and they headed up to their shared flat over the shop. The next morning they did end up talking it over and they came to the agreement that whatever the imp asked for he wouldn't get. The deal in Neville's mind was an ill-made arrangement. Not made properly in the first place and nothing should be garnered from it.
The months marched on after that day with no sign of the imp. We looked out for the man once word of their shop started to spread to countries outside of their own. When people from other places started making this their choice of vacation spots just to come and get a pie, I was pretty sure we in clear when not ten days after the birth of our daughter, Helena, the little imp of a man showed back up.
"You didn't forget about our deal, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom?" the imp-like man asked, walking in much the same way that he had the first time he'd visited. "I see that business has been very good." He tittered out a child-like giggle as he wandered over to Pansy who was holding little Helena.
Helena snuggled closer to her mother as the man approached and started to wail as he gently put a hand on her own.
"She's not used to strangers touching her," Pansy said, moving so that the offending hand slid away from Helena. Anyone who knew us knew that was a bald-faced lie. Helena loved to be held and was a generally nice child. Something about this man scared her more than any other thing ever had.
"I didn't mean to scare your young daughter, Mrs. Longbottom," he said, pulling a funny face at Helena which made her break into peals of laughter. "But I've come to discuss my part of the bargain we'd agreed upon months ago."
"But…."
"But nothing," the man said, pulling out a chair and helping himself to some of the stock with a snap of his fingers. "Upon shaking my hand you basically signed an agreement with me. Now shall we get down to business and discuss my part of the bargain we struck?"
With a jerking motion of his hand, Pansy and I were sitting at the table with him. Helena was sitting in the middle table playing with a grape from the plate of food that the Fred look-a-like was eating from.
"What do you want?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest and glaring at him.
"Why don't we just settle for a trade of goods?" Pansy suggested. "We'll give you all the free pies you can eat. How does that sound?" She put on a huge smile which started to waver when the imp shook his head.
"Not good enough," he said, shaking his head even more. "The amount of strength and magic it took to keep you dwindling stock of supplies neverending…." he shook his head again. "It almost drained me entirely. You're going to have to do better than that, I think."
"Our souls?" Pansy asked, looking at me for help. "That's usually what people like him ask for, isn't it, dear?"
"No," the imp said, looking disgusted with her. "Sell your soul for money. And they wonder why people like me get a bad rap. How about this?" He looked sharply at little Helena and then back at her parents. "We'll make a wager this time. If you can guess my name within three days' time, we can forget about the original deal and part as friends."
"What happens if we can't guess your name?" I asked, watching as Pansy scooped Helena off the table. Her dark eyes were as sharp as that of a hawk having seen what the man was playing at before I did.
"If you can't guess my name on the third day, I take the child as my own," the imp said, getting to his feet after finishing his meal. "Do have a wager on our hands, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom?" He stuck out his hand much the same he had to seal the original deal. The one that Pansy had struck for us.
I shook his hand. "We have ourselves a wager, sir," I said, thinking quickly of names that I could use. He must have seen that I was thinking because he stopped me.
"You can start your guessing tomorrow," he said, opening the door to leave. "I'll be here at the same time as I was tonight and you can start your guessing then. See you tomorrow night, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom."
The next two evenings we threw out every male name that we could think of for him. All of which received a quick nope before he turned and started playing a game with Helena. I could hear him whisper something to her and she giggled some more.
"Frank?" Pansy guessed as our final name of the second evening.
Something funny struck as the Fr sound started to leave Pansy's lips. The little imp of a man's face went ashen at those simple sounds. That must have meant that his name had to have a Fr sound at the beginning.
"What are you smiling at?" Pansy snapped as our 'guest' was getting ready to leave for the evening. "There is nothing to smile about, Nev. We've got one more day to come up with his name or we lose…."
"We can discuss this after our guest has taken his leave of us, Pans," I said, putting a calming hand on her shoulder. "I'm pretty sure you are going to have a smile on your face as well when you hear what I have to say."
"Good evening to you, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, Helena," the imp said, tipping the hat he'd worn this evening as he left the shop.
When I was sure that he was indeed well and truly gone I turned to Pansy and spoke. "When you were saying the name Frank," I said, almost giddy with glee, "upon hearing the Fr sound our 'friend's' face paled."
"So?" Pansy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"So, maybe his name begins with the Fr sound. I was thinking from the moment he stepped foot in our that he looked exactly like…."
"Fred has been dead since the war ended. It's not him."
"But how can you be so sure, Pans? Wouldn't it be wise to at least try and see if the name fits with the being?"
"Alright. But I'm pretty sure that's not his name," she said, picking up Helena and walking towards the stairs to our apartment.
The next night went like the last two nights before it had. With Pansy and I calling out names and the imp saying they were the wrong ones. I, however, had an ace up my sleeve and was ready to pull it out as I saw the time dwindling down until the imp would leave.
"One more guess," I said, seeing him start to get up and head towards Helena. "One more guess and that's all I ask, alright?"
"Alright," he said, turning towards me. "Hit me with your best shot, Mr. Longbottom."
"Fred Weasley," I said, watching as he silently let out a curse. "I figured it was you the moment that you stepped foot into the shop. I just don't know how."
Fred let out a sigh that was feather-soft. "As I was dying from my wounds during the war, I made a deal with a man called Rumpelstiltskin," he told us as we listened to his tale. "He would keep me from dying and all I had to do in return was take his job and make deals with people. I figured it was a good deal. Or as good a deal as I was going to get while being on death's door. So, I took it, and here we are."
"You're not supposed to let them win the game, Freddie," said an impish man with glittering green skin that looked like leather. He was leaning against the wall and with his arms crossed but not in an angry way. He seemed almost amused. "Good help is so hard to find nowadays. You might as well stay here with your friends, lad. You've served your purpose."
The man walked towards the door with all the swagger we'd heard he possessed in stories from around the world. I turned towards where Fred was holding Helena now the question on the tip of my tongue.
"You are trying to tell me that this is…."
"Rumpelstiltskin?" Pansy finished for me.
"In the flesh, dearies," the man said, bowing low. "Consider yourselves lucky to be on the winning side of this gambit."
Without so much as a good evening, the little man was gone and our ordeal was over. Fred joined the staff of our shop and everything went back to normal. But we would never forget our almost new Rumpelstiltskin.
I hope you all enjoyed A New Rumpelstiltskin as much as I enjoyed writing it.