Molly twirled about the tiny square kitchen, waving her wand here and there every few seconds whenevr a new idea popped up on the task list she was keeping inside her head. The low, jazzy drawl of Celestina Warbeck's voice filled the cottage, prompting her to sing along under her breath while she sashayed around the rollaway table where blocks of cheese and pineapples lay.
It occurred to her then that she ought to begin assembling the cheese and pineapple starters before her guests arrived. In between the break in song verses, she confidently intoned a time sensitive cutting spell, leaving one of the knives to continuously slice through the cheese while another ripped out the pineapples cores and chopped the circular fruit wedges up into tiny bits. Satisfied with the progress the knives were making on their own after several seconds, she tucked her wand into the haphazardly assembled knot of hair at the top of her head.
As another verse in the song picked up, Molly resumed singing to herself and then spun around, the front of her white, strawberry printed apron fanning out in front of her. She never had the privilege of playing hostess before. It was a slightly intimidating yet delightful role to fill all at once.
Intimidating in the sort of way that her friends might not enjoy themselves or her ideas for their weekend together (then she'd never hear the end of it, especially from Silvy and Rose). Delightful in the sense that she could make her own decisions on what to serve (for tonight's supper: sausage rolls, pineapple and cheese wedges, mini salad's, and biting apple cider), who to invite (Rose, Mary, Silvy, and Dina), and how they'd spend their time (afternoon picnic in the garden, quiet evening in with cocktails, then venturing down to the shore for shell collecting in the morning followed by a day trip to the local seaside town and pier). Knowing there was a plan and an order to all things carried her forward in the preparations. It enabled her to suppress the lingering doubts that sprouted up in the back of her mind, telling her that she couldn't do it all.
Molly tapped one of the flat, pearly shells from one of her aunt's homemade wind chimes on her way to the flour coated counter space where her puff pastry dough folded over and under itself from a previous kneading charm she cast on it. It was a rather complex bit of magic, requiring personal intervention every few kneads to chill the dough so as to not overwork it. But so far it seemed to be working well. She waved her hand over the top of the dough and muttered, "Finite."
She took up the old greystone rolling pin, and began smoothing it out. Molly held her breath as she worked the dough thin and long across the counter. Her mother's words rang through her ears while she worked.
Watch for cracks and tears. Don't handle the dough too much.
Sausage rolls were a main staple for dinner parties at the Prewett household for as long as Molly could remember. And from the minute she could stand on a chair without falling off, she had helped her mother make them. At first she was trusted with delicately dropping the sausages in the center of the pastry dough and as she progressed with her dexterity, her mother allowed her to shape the rolls alongside her. Now she had finally graduated to making the dough from scratch and assembling them all on her own. Just like her mother once did. And just like that, the thought of her mother brought back another reminder.
Now that you can use magic, doesn't mean you ought to for every household chore. Nothing can surpass the trusty work a good pastry cutter can do.
After several moments of rolling out the dough, it finally reached desired thickness and width. Molly exhaled and smiled to herself. Now all she required was the pastry cutter before piecing everything together. Glancing down at the drawers before her, Molly rifled through the closest two.
Amidst the half rusted utensils and the dusty drawer bottoms, she saw a spider scurrying to the back corner of one of the drawers, prompting her to yelp and jump back. Another indication that Aunt Tessie rather didn't care for keeping up with the domestic duties at Shell Cottage (the first being the overrun garden Molly had to weed upon her arrival). Recovering from the shock of discovering she wasn't the only living thing in the house, Molly peered back in the drawer, suddenly happening upon a cardboard sleeve with a picture of a pastry cutter on it.
Molly chuckled to herself as she unsheathed the device and was greeted with a shining metal circular blade and a gleaming wooden handle. She mumbled out loud, "I suppose a pastry cutter wouldn't do you much good on the road, would it Aunt Tessie?"
Aunt Tessie was a magical archeologist, a born adventurer, who couldn't stand to remain in one place for too long. Unless, of course, there was something ancient and potentially dangerous to dig up and study. But in order to meet the terms of her inheritance and continue pursuing her career, she'd been forced to make two concessions. The first was to marry, and the second was to return to England at least once a year. So Tessie married Orlo Cadmus, her anthropological professor, and together they returned to the country every Christmas. Shell Cottage was merely their landing point more so than their actual home. But this gave way for Molly's family to use the cottage however and whenever they liked.
Molly started cutting the dough into strips, centering the sausage on top before rolling and pinching the ends together in that familiar way her mother showed her many times. Before she had half a dozen assembled, the fireplace roared to life, and green flames shot out from the hearth in a blinding light.
She tensed, whipping her wand out from her hair and pointing it in front of her defensively. Once the dust cleared, she saw the long, feathery, sunflower mane of Silvia Marshfellow being flipped back as she stood and shook the soot from it.
"Silvy!" Molly exhaled sharply, lowering her wand. "Godric's Galleon! I nearly hexed you!"
Dusting off her broad shoulders, Silvy pouted and cocked her head to one side while reminding her lightly, "Well you said to Floo in or Apparate at half four and I've done just that with…" She paused to check her gleaming gold watch before finishing with, "...ten minutes to spare."
"I'm fairly certain I said Floo-ing in wasn't an option," Molly felt that flash of annoyance flaring up inside her chest. Silvy tended to have selective hearing when it suited her.
"Oh well what good that would've done me?" She quipped, lugging her overstuffed suitcase deeper into the room. "You know I've failed my Apparition test twice already."
"Oh," Her cheeks flushed rosy at this revelation. "I suppose I thought…"
"...that I would've passed the second go around?" Silvy's mouth curved into a sardonic grin.
Molly nodded and then cast a swift glance at the ornate birdhouse shaped clock hanging on the wall. "Is it really almost half four?" She felt her stomach flip flop, and her eyes widened, "I haven't assembled the starters yet, the salads need done, the cider still needs chilling, and I haven't dusted off the table or cha..."
"It's fine," Silvy interjected, half limping through the room under the weight of her case, "I can help. Upstairs with this then?"
"Oh uhm...yes, you and Dina can have the rooms on the second floor," Molly indicated with a jerk of her head towards the rickety, wooden staircase that twisted through the center of the cottage. "One of you will have to bunk with Rose or Mary though!" She called out before turning back to finish assembling the sausage rolls.
As if on cue, a sudden popping noise came from the adjoining sitting room, and Rose Jorkins appeared in all her lithe splendor, dark hair cropped closely to her head and flattened with dramatic spikes curling in front of her ears. Her royal blue trousers, clung to her slim figure, white blouse hanging open just enough to reveal several delicate, gold chains hanging round her neck.
"Did someone say, bunking?" She remarked in her generally monotone voice, grey eyes sharply flickering between Silvy, who was struggling with her case towards the staircase, and then to Molly, who was swiftly working in the kitchen.
"Yeah, we'll force that onto Dina and Mary," Silvy decided with a conspiratorial grin in between huffing and groaning as she slowly made her way up the stairs.
"Helga's Heart Silvy, you really need to learn the art of packing with magic," Rose shouldered her dark brown leather satchel as though it weighed nothing, watching her friend make her way upstairs. Leaning towards the doorway, she suggested, "I'll toss my stuff in with you, Molls?"
"Sure," Molly replied, depositing the completed sausage rolls in the metal basket that would go over the fire. As she moved to hang it from the hook in the fire, she could hear Silvy and Rose bickering lightly as they made their way upstairs.
"Who says you get to stay on the third floor?" Silvy argued, her voice drifting off as she managed to make up around the first bend in the stairs.
"Our lovely hostess, that's who. Take it up with her, Silky Marshmallow." Rose taunted in a way that always got Silvy wound up.
"Don't call me that! Thorny Jorkins!" Silvy snapped before a loud pop suggested that Rose Disapparated from the stairs, likely to the bedroom on the third floor.
Molly shook her head while she made a stronger fire in the hearth. The pair of them had always had a combustible dynamic at Hogwarts. They were strong personalities, with a distinct liking for different things, meaning anytime they were alone together, they were either at one another's throats or they sat in stony silence. Perhaps a handful of times they actually agreed upon something, but it was generally at the pleading of their three other friends. Molly supposed it was lucky they opted for sleeping apart from one another just now. She didn't really fancy having to answer questions to an Auror about a potential murder that might've taken place this weekend. At least Dina and Mary would help bring a level of agreeability and calmness to the situation, neither one caring deeply about where they'd be sleeping.
As Molly stared at the bright flames licking the metal basket full sausage rolls, she also knew Dina and Mary would follow her original instructions of Apparating to the cottage. At least, she hoped that was the case and she wouldn't have a disaster on her hands with the sausage rolls scattering about the kitchen floor.
Just then the front door to the cottage creaked open and the melodious voice that belonged to Dina Podmore rang out, "Hellllooo!"
"In here Dina!" Molly whirled around, wiping her hands on the front of her apron before eyeing the cheese squares and pineapple bits that needed placed on the wooden, cocktail skewers. She darted about in search of those, successfully finding them in one of the tall cupboards near the sink.
The floorboards creaked a bit under Dina's sturdy heels that thumped slowly as she made her way from the sitting room to the kitchen doorway. She deposited her brightly colored woven satchel beside her feet before leaning against the interior wall. Molly caught her eyes scanning both rooms with interest before she lightly touched a pink conch shell hanging from another homemade chime.
Folding her arms in front of her chest, she cocked her head to one side and peered into the kitchen. She decided warmly, "This is nice Molls. Thanks for having me."
"Sure." She glanced up momentarily from sticking the cheese and pineapple on wooden skewers.
Dina was about her height, but her massive bushy curls that framed her heart shaped face gave the impression that she was slightly taller than Molly. That, and she almost always wore thick heels or platform shoes, elevating herself. Not that she needed it from the way she carried herself. Her dark brown eyes were warm and inviting, but also full of fire for the right cause.
"Nice skirt," Molly commented, noticing the long, flowing red and brown paisley printed skirt that swayed with Dina as she pushed off the wall and moved deeper into the kitchen.
"Thanks," She smoothed down the front of her simple black cropped top that showed off the flat planes of her dark stomach before her palms rested on top of the rollaway table.
Molly smiled back as she stood there, still taking everything in. After a few moments, she decided to ask, "How's WERC?"
And just like that, Dina's face lit up, "Brilliant! We're organizing a peaceful flight demonstration with The Harpies at their next match. Going to fly banners throughout the stands. Can't give you any more details than that, I'm afraid." Her expression became more apologetic before shifting once again to excitement, "But you ought to come and see for yourself! Should be good!"
Molly continued sliding cheese and pineapples onto the mini wooden skewers, and nodding, "Yeah I'll have to see…"
Dina then remarked rather coyly, "Course you'll likely have to come up with some excuse to tell your Mum."
"Yeah…" Molly drew out the word longer than was necessary.
She was wondering how long it would take for Dina to notice that the Prewett name had suddenly dropped off of WERC's Benefactor list. And she now braced herself for the inevitable question that was to follow.
"Your Mum say why she stopped contributing funds?"
Letting out a heavy sigh, Molly stopped with the starters and peered up at her friend from across the table. Selecting her words carefully, she explained, "I think she thinks WERC's becoming too progressive for her taste. And that the organization moves too quickly to respond to every little political blunder."
Dipping her head to one side, Dina remarked swiftly, "I think we have to be progressive. And act fast. Jenkins agrees with our methods." There was a passion that ignited the edges of her words as she brought the Minister of Magic into it.
"And she's losing popular opinion each time she does," Molly added with a similar fire.
Pointing a finger at the table, Dina went on, "Radical change isn't something that necessarily needs to be popular, Molly. But it does need to be done. Muggle Borns are being attacked at alarming rates. And women, particularly minority women, who should be included in those numbers are not! Haven't you stopped to consider why?!"
"I'm not saying that…" Molly began with a sympathetic edge to her tone, only to be interrupted by the sudden appearance of Silvy and Rose.
Rose sauntered over to her side of the rollaway table, bumping hips with her, "Are you two bickering over politics? Ooh what's this cheese?" She reached for a nearby cube.
"Ah, ah...skewers, if you please!" Molly smacked Rose on the hand, prompting her face to scrunch up. "Here, you and Silvy can start assembling these while Dina gets settled. I need to start on the salads."
"You and Mary can fight over top bunk, Dina Beana," Silvy chimed in before reaching for a mini skewer and stabbing a pineapple and cheese wedge on it.
Rolling her head back and sighed, Dina bemoaned, "Will you stop with that name already? We're not eleven anymore."
Silvy grinned until her long nose wrinkled, lifting her shoulders as she said, "Old habits die hard, I suppose."
"So, who else is coming?" Rose popped a square bit of cheese in her mouth, earning a sharp look from Molly.
"Just Mary," Molly answered plainly while she went about washing up the veggies at the sink.
Silvy balked, her lips turning downward into a frown. "That's it?!"
Rose plopped a pineapple in her mouth, questioning with a similar expression of befuddlement, "Why the hell are we skewering cheese and pineapples if it's just us?"
"I did say it was a girls weekend when I sent the owls," Molly informed them plainly, waving her wand about to summon several bowls from a high cupboard. "And you're skewering them because we're eating in the garden and it's all about the presentation," She upturned her hands in a graceful motion as she said this last bit.
"Listen to her," Rose jeered, taking another pineapple from the pile and shoving it on a stick with a piece of cheese. "Sounds like something from a Wisteria Radcliffe column."
Molly felt her cheeks flush at the insinuation that she was like that well manicured homemaker, whose cheery smile looked as though it was magically stuck on her face. She was featured in Witch Weekly and was currently a figure at the center of much controversy in feminist circles.
She untied the back of her apron, took it off overhead, and tossed it so it smacked Rose in the face.
"Ow!"
Silvy began laughing in between chewing cheese bites, "Molly's got more edge to her than Radcliffe!"
Smirking rather triumphantly, Molly grabbed a plate and deposited it on the rollaway table, gesturing for them to use this for the starters. It was then she pulled Rose in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek; a conciliatory gesture.
"Stop sulking and keep skewering!" She shoved her in the shoulder before jerking her wand in a swift upward motion towards the enchanted record player in the corner.
The arm with the needle fell and Celestina Warbeck's voice sprang back to life. The record must have finished without her realizing during all the fanfare of her friends arrivals.
"Oh no, not this!" Rose bemoaned tilting back her head dramatically. "Where's Dina? I need to talk to a proper femininst here."
Molly rolled her eyes at this, reaching for Silvy's hands as they spun about in the kitchen for several rotations.
"Just because we aren't burning our brassieres in front of the Wedding Registrar's Office doesn't mean we aren't feminists!" Silvy cried out, her long blonde hair streaking across her face before she tossed it back again.
"Yes, we can still like men and good brassieres and want equality for women!" Molly argued.
Dina's sultry voice suddenly joined in their remarks as she swayed her hips in tune with the music, "It's all in the freedom to choose, Rose." Her hand landed on Rose's shoulder, the other one on her hip as she struck a dramatic pose.
Rose arched a brow at her and went on carelessly tossing the stuck cheese and pineapple on the plate in front of her. "A luxury not all of us have."
Sensing the mood was about to shift, Silvy exclaimed suddenly, "Let's invite some boys over!"
"No! No!" Molly seized her by the shoulders, studying her gleeful expression with solemn tilt of her head. "I told my mother we would not be..."
"But your mother's not here, is she?" Dina quipped, her dark eyes dancing with delight at the prospect of concocting an illicit plan. She plucked a piece of cheese from the pile and put it in her mouth.
"Truuue…." Silvy inclined her head at Molly, smirking. Molly began shaking her head when Silvy called out, "And we don't plan on telling her anything about it. Do we girls?"
"Nope, not a thing," Dina assured smoothly.
Rose huffed, "I might. Just because you all are being so stupid about it."
Silvy shrugged out of Molly's grasp and flittered over to her, "Oh come on Rose! I'm sure we could find someone for your crabbed arse!"
Rose's lips twitched and she retorted, "Fat chance."
"You know Rose, you could always invite some of your teammates?" Dina suggested with a half smile.
Molly immediately felt her stomach tighten at this new idea, "Oh gods no! Quidditch players are the last thing we..."
"You know Dina," Rose's eyes gleamed as they found Molly's anxious ones, "I think that's a rather marvelous idea. I'll go fetch Athos."
Molly rushed forward to block her friend from going upstairs to where her owl rested on its perch. "No, Rose I…girls!" She shrieked whenever both Dina and Silvy stood in front of Molly, each placing a hand on one of her shoulders. "My mother will kill me if she…"
Dina pointed out swiftly, "If, she does indeed find out, yes she will. But all of us have just swore not to tell her." She gestured to Dina and herself with a circular swish of her wrist.
"So really," Silvy added in a similarly knowing tone, "we only have to worry about you saying something."
Both of them appraised her with the same sort of crooked half smiles and mischievous glints in their eyes. She supposed there was no way she could persuade her friends to abandon this mad plan.
"Come on, Molls," Silvy urged, bouncing up and down. "This could be our last chance...all of us together...let's go out into the world with a smashing party!"
She had to admit, coming up with a counter argument to Silvy's point was difficult. In spite of the nervousness she felt about getting caught, there was something exciting about the prospect of doing something new; something that would never be expected of her. Something that would be a secret among them. Forever theirs.
Letting out a deep sigh, she relented, "If anything is broken or stolen or the cottage burned down…"
Silvy clapped her hands together and giggled, "We'll say we tied you to a chair and left you no choice!" She threw her arms around Molly and Dina.
"What's going on in here?"
The question signaled the arrival of Mary MacKenzie. There was a bewildered expression crossing her round face, her light blue eyes shining curiously beneath her long, dark fringe.
"Mary, come on! You need to start a letter to Reg pronto!" Silvy grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her towards the stairs.
Before she could even exchange a hello to the others, she stuttered, "Wha-what? Why?"
Silvy exclaimed, "We're inviting the lads!"
"Ooh wicked!" They heard her return as two sets of feet bounded upstairs.
Molly hurried towards the bottom of the staircase, calling up to them, "I don't have enough food or drink for all these people!"
Silvy returned from the second floor landing, "We'll tell them to bring their own! We are providing the location after all!"
"You mean I am!" Molly rejoined a bit sullenly. Then it occurred to her to explain, "And don't tell them it's a weekend long thing! I want them gone by midnight!"
"Yes, Mama Molly!" She heard three sets of voice from above chorus down before Rose, Silvy, and Mary descended into three distinct sets of giggles.
Turning on the spot to face Dina, who was clearly bemused by the situation, "Have I said that I hate all of you lately?"
"No. But I suppose we were due," She answered with a light peal of laughter blossoming among her words.
Rolling her eyes and scoffing, Molly grabbed Dina's arm and steered her back into the kitchen. "Come on, let's work on chilling that cider. I'll need some of it to face tonight."