"I only know how to do two things, okay? Jam and stained glass. Anything else and you're asking for a miracle, buddy." - Pansy, yesterday, to Wayne as he fixed her leaky faucet.

Pansy chickened out. Made a batch of oatmeal and cranberry cookies. Ate three in a row hot off the oven sheet even as her hips groaned in protest. Then decided not to be a giant scaredy-cat and go to the damn potion supply shop. She desperately needed a good night's rest, otherwise she'd be just as distracted and off balance tomorrow as she was today.

More so even.

And while her chosen profession had provided her with a very comfortable financial situation and the ability to have her own schedule, she still had a job to do. She had guards to pay and a house to keep. No money meant no guards meant death. What was she going to do? Defend herself? Ha. Unlikely.

Except she could only get one shoe on as Matt watched from her guard stance at the front door. Mattie Prendergast, the third guard, was the kind of witch that wore torn up jeans and beat up leather boots. Pansy's height, just over 5 foot tall, with wild curly brown hair she kept out of her face with bright ribbons and headbands. Today it was a vibrant blue.

She often twirled her short 6 inch Black Ash wand between her fingers, leaning against the door frame as she watched the yard for movement. For trespassers who could hold a grudge like no one's business.

She was also the most vocal of Pansy's guards. The filter between Mattie's brain and mouth almost nonexistent. "Pathetic," she mumbled, popping a piece of gum into her mouth.

Mattie was currently attempting to quit smoking. It made her short tempered but weirdly Pansy hadn't noticed a huge difference in her attitude...

"I'm not," Pansy insisted, her foot bobbing up and down anxiously, waiting to be shoe'd properly. It shouldn't have been so difficult! "I'm perfectly capable of going shopping."

She was an expert shopper... With mail order.

Mattie blew a bright pink bubble, popped it between perfectly straight and white teeth, and rolled her eyes in Pansy's direction. "You haven't left the house since February 18th. To meet with your accountant."

Disbelief had Pansy stomping her feet, one booted, the other barefoot. "That is such a lie, Matt!"

February was five months in the past, summer currently in full bloom. And, Pansy insisted to herself, she'd most certainly left her home sometime during that period. Right? Surely... "I went to that party," she informed Mattie with confidence. "At Malfoy Manor."

"That was last Christmas Eve," Mattie rolled her eyes again, the action bringing attention to her high, dark cheeks. "But I'm not here to judge, just keep the psycho Brotherhood cray-crays off your front lawn."

Face screwed up, Pansy didn't know exactly what a 'cray-cray' was supposed to be, but she maybe, possibly, sort of, recalled the spiked eggnog at Draco's Christmas party. "Huh… Oh bother!"

Standing up, she kicked off her other boot and bee-lined back into the kitchen. Cookie number four was happening, hips be damned. She called out to Mattie, "I'm only a bit tired. I'll go tomorrow."

"Sure," she heard Mattie call back, voice indifferent. "It's Ger's shift anyways, he always gives into your simpering."

Ugh! "I do not simper!" She whirled around to look at herself in the large mirror that hung over her herb rack. Pansy always had a thing about natural light, the mirrors were simply tools to maximize the effect.

And, much to her misfortune, she found her reflection smiling shyly, silver eyes wide, looking a bit unhinged. Simpering, perhaps… maniacally.

She was officially insane. "I don't," she stated stubbornly, grabbing a cookie with her fingers.

Oh honey, is denial your middle name?

"No, it's Apronia," she told herself. Out loud.

"What's that, boss?" Mattie called, appearing a moment later at the wide doorway that led into the kitchen.

"Nothing, just, going a bit loony lately," Pansy purposely simpered towards Mattie, making sure she saw the sarcasm.

Mattie responded in kind.

"Hey," Pansy wondered. "Have you ever… do you ever…"

"Oh, spit it out why don't you?"

"Do you ever have conversations with yourself?"

Because Pansy did… a lot more lately than ever before. And for some unknown reason, her thoughts had taken to calling her 'honey' and 'darling' and 'sweetheart'. Three endearments she'd never enjoyed before and that most certainly did not apply to her personality in any shape or form.

"Everyone does. No worries though, you're definitely crazy. Don't have to ask twice."

Mattie made it perfectly clear, on several different occasions, that she thought Pansy downright nutso for her reclusiveness. However, Pansy's confinement was completely necessary. The Brotherhood of the Chosen might have been reticent a group in the past, but their numbers were growing every day. Their desire to remain a secret less and less as they gained followers.

"You know, I'm going to give you the rest of these," Pansy gestured to the sugary overload that was the oatmeal and cranberry cookies. "You clearly need something to alleviate your sour mood."

"Whatever, boss." Mattie shrugged, twirled her wand. "I guess one might say your baking has improved over the years, but we both know I'm only here for the jam."

With a cry of sheer frustration, Pansy turned around and snatched up her boots. She needed rest. Mattie needed a smoke. She preferred the former over the latter. If Pansy wanted a less hostile conversation with her bodyguard, she would need a night of sleep.

Not tossing and turning.

Not dreaming of a lover whose face remained unknown to her.

Sleep! She needed sleeeeeep!

"Let's just get this over with."