"Artists create what they know. How can you make anything if you never leave this glass box prison you call a home?" - Mattie to Pansy after five days without a cigarette.

He left her alone for a few hours, allowing time to settle into her room. It was huge. And strangely empty. The bed seemed brand new. Unpolished wood canopy, no drapes, and a firm mattress that still had plastic covering over it. A fresh set of sheets and a thick down comforter sat folded up at the foot of the bed.

The walls were a deep green but she could see the outline where frames once hung against the wall. Where furniture once sat for years. A double wide balcony door was open, allowing fresh air into the room. The hardwood floors matched the dark polish on those doors. A single rocking chair sat in the corner and nothing else.

No wardrobe or dresser. Just a big, open space.

She dropped her bag by the bed and dragged the rocker out onto the balcony, her room on the top floor. Longbottom Keep came by its name honestly. A five story tower that looked every bit like the corner of a castle, dusty black stone and arched windows. A giant rectangle that grew into the sky.

Much like the man who brought her here. It wasn't that he was so tall, but his presence when he stood next to her made Pansy feel like she was in danger. It wasn't the same as her seriously tall bodyguards—and their looming.

Neville didn't loom. He towered.

As soon as he left her side, she breathed a sigh of relief and she hadn't the faintest clue why.

Pansy sat in the rocker all afternoon, staring out into the wooded area that surrounded the property. It gave her comfort, those trees, swaying in the summer breeze, and reminded her of her own home. She even spotted an apricot tree down below with ripe pieces of fruit.

Maybe she could make jam.

Jam gave her comfort. She knew what to do with jam. How much sugar to use with which fruit. How long to let it boil. What it was supposed to look like before she took it off the heat.

Stella was oddly silent, giving her a moment of peace she desperately needed. It might have been the cat, poor animal, that kept them both docile and still all afternoon. Or it might have been Pansy's mockery of Stella's accent, but she thought not. Pansy got the feeling that the spirit in her head didn't much care for what others thought.

Even the host she inhabited.

Just when she thought to ask Stella if she was alright Pansy heard a rather loud thump outside of the bedroom door. Her heart sped up as her throat grew thick. There were no bodyguards here to protect her. No Mattie to drive her crazy. No Wayne to give her warmth and comfort. No Gerry to make her feel like there was nowhere safer.

But that was the plan. No one would consider looking for her here and she had to trust that. Lay low for a bit and hope the whole situation would blow over.

Pansy made her way to the door and opened it, holding on to that hope. She found Neville shoving a large dresser down the hall towards her room. It was bigger than large. It was huge. Five rows of drawers and a middle section where a built-in shelf sat behind a clear glass door.

"Need help?" she offered upon seeing the sweat on his brow. Why didn't he just use his wand?

"Goddesses, yes," he panted. "Got this thing for a steal but only because it's Magic Resistant. My neighbor's. Barnaby Blighfler, his granddad charmed it so his ex wife would stop levitating his trousers through the window in the middle of the night. Poor guy passed last week. Barny just about gave up on the thing when he realized it wasn't just the contents that couldn't be levitated, but the whole damn dresser."

She grabbed onto the side closest to her and pulled with all her might. "Hell! That's heavy!"

"You'd think the charm would lift with his passing, wouldn't you? But Barny said his granddad was stubborn."

"It happens," Pansy pulled when Neville pushed. The dresser barely moved. "How on earth did you get this thing up 4 flights of stairs?"

He sighed and paused, leaning against his side of the dresser. "I was fine until the last set. Honestly. Bit winded now though."

"Take a break," she suggested, mirroring his position. "Do you pray to the Goddesses?"

He wiped at his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. "Probably not as often as I should. My gran taught me to, but my Uncle Algie is Catholic. They're often at odds with one another so I grew up ignoring them best I could. Can't stand another holiday dinner full of Goddesses vs Saints."

"They don't like being ignored," she smirked. The Goddesses, not his gran and uncle.

He grinned back at her, understanding exactly who she meant. "Probably why I'm possessed. Punishment for improper worship."

"Ah what else are they there for, but to be blamed for the plights of mortals?" Pansy laughed when he did, their conversation easy despite their earlier tension.

"Alright, I'm almost there with this damn thing, might as well get it done now." Then his cheeks turned red. "I meant… darn thing. I apologize."

She stepped aside to let him work, a forgiving feeling unfolding as he apologized for his poor language. Earlier, his lewd suggestion upset her for certain. But mostly it had been the frustration of the situation, the intruder in her home and the unwanted package he left her, having to leave her home for the unknown.

Now, Neville seemed to be walking on eggshells around her, afraid of crossing a line. He could have been behaving much, much worse she realized. They could be at each other's throats, throwing insults and bullying one another. Instead, she rather liked this respectful side of a man who was predisposed to hate her.

Shove by shove, he got the massive dresser down the hall and into her room. She helped… a little bit. "Where do you want it?"

A shrug. "I'm just a guest, put it where you want it. You didn't get it just for me, right?"

He didn't argue, putting it against the wall directly across from the bed. "You need a dresser."

"What if I'm only here for a few days?"

He blew out a breath and wiped his forehead again. "Then you'll have a dresser for a few days. Dinner? I'm starving, I was thinking of getting some curry."

"Take away?" she asked, surprised. She always cooked. "Sure. I'll treat."

"Great!" he seemed genuinely happy. "Let's go."

"Uh, I'm supposed to be laying low remember?"

He rolled his eyes. "Will you please shut up?"

She waited before responding, instinct saying he wasn't speaking to her, but rather the ghost in his head. She recognized that particular vein of frustration. Gus was probably driving him crazy. "I assume you aren't talking to me like that," she mocked glared.

"Gus," he pointed to his head. Then made a spinning motion with his head, indicating he was crazy. Did he have this much personality in school?

"Stella's been a bit quiet, I'm a little worried honestly," she admitted, and they both waited to see if it would invoke a response. "Quite worrrrried," she reiterated.

Neville suppressed a grin.

"Usually," Pansy continued, giving a bit of attitude. "I can't get her to shut up."

Poor kitten, Stella whispered softly in her mind. I can't stop thinking about him.

"Oh, she's-"

"Upset about the cat?" Neville guessed, pointing to his head again. But his smile faded and his face took on a hard edge as he thought about the events leading them to both be there, together. "Look, Harry is on the fast track to Head Auror and I'm between jobs right now. I'd like nothing more than to make sure no one else can hurt you or anyone else in Harry's name."

Pansy's breath caught unexpectedly, and not because Stella said, Ha! I told you so.

He left to get food without another word, and Pansy only panicked for four and a half minutes at the idea of being totally alone. No guards, no friends, no heroes, just herself. She only came out of the anxiety attack when Stella started humming, making her realize she was wrong. She wasn't alone.

Stella could defend them, like she did against the intruder.

"But I can't live with a ghost in my head for the rest of my life," Pansy said softly.

It spurred her to explore the rest of the house, heading downstairs and poking around, though she didn't go through any doors that were closed. It wasn't just her room that seemed to be missing furniture. Longbottom Keep implied this was a family home. Clearly, that family had moved out. She wondered who and why. Admittedly, she didn't know anything about the Longbottom's, other than they were Pureblood.

And that didn't mean anything these days.

She tried to find a picture or portrait of the family, but the wood paneled walls were completely bare, except on the main floor, towards the front, on the wall across from the front door was a giant round clock made of metal. Sleek, bright aluminum. Too modern to go with the wood paneling.

The longer she looked at the intricate metal work, the more detail she noticed.

She liked it. A lot.

She came around another corner and recognized the Floo room. An eight foot tall, black stone fireplace and a shelf for Floo powder and assorted herbs that needed attention in a desperate manner. And a blonde witch who was holding an empty wine bottle. A big wine bottle.

The witch took one look at her and pouted, her rich brown eyes filling with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh…"

"You're living here aren't you?" she wailed, breaking down into drunken sobs. Literally, she clumsily fell back on her bottom, legs splaying out and wine bottle in the air. "I knew he left me for someone else, I'm such an id-id-idiot!"

Pansy recognized her as Hannah Abbott—they went to school together. But she hadn't a clue about what she spoke of. And worse, she seemed truly distressed, likely made worse by the alcohol Hannah obviously consumed. Wine never helped. Pansy made sure to steer clear of alcohol at all times, because she knew the effects it had on her and her emotions.

Approaching slowly, Pansy carefully extracted the wine bottle from Hannah's death grip. "There there, uhm, do you know where you are?"

A gasping hiccup. "Are you serious right now?"

"Help me out here, Hannah," Pansy said, deliberately using her name to keep her attention. "I haven't seen you since… since…"

"The-final-ba-ba-battle," Hannah sobbed, snot running down her pretty face. "When you said I sh-should get out of the way when that b-bi-big statue of Alfin the Medic almost fell on me-me-meee!"

Pansy wanted to be annoyed, but Hannah's sorrow seemed pure. Heartbroken. Pansy knew that feeling well and when she experienced it, she had no one to lean on.

Poor thing, Stella whispered in the same tone she spoke of the brutalized cat earlier. Pansy agreed. Hannah seemed every bit like puppy left out in the rain. Is our guy the one who broke her heart?

Oh, maybe it was Neville. After all, Pansy spotted Hannah running through the front door the first time she came to Longbottom Keep. And now she thought Pansy was living here? Neville left her for Pansy? What a mess.

"Hannah," Pansy said softly, coming down on her haunches beside the crying witch. She carefully used her arm sleeve to wipe at Hannah's face. "I'm not seeing Neville, we are not together."

"I… really?" she hiccuped, quieting down.

"Come on, let's get you some water," Pansy suggested, helping them both up. She had a bad moment when she realized she didn't know where the kitchen was but Hannah seemed to know, so Pansy kept up with her.

"I was fine until Susan left," Hannah explained, slurring a bit. "We spent all day together and she really made me feel better but as soon as she left for class—I can't deal with being alone."

And that Pansy knew all too well.

Hannah continued her drunken rant as she collapsed into a breakfast nook Pansy hadn't noticed, hiccuping every other word. Pansy listened while she searched for a cup, finding some small juice glasses in the cupboard by the sink. A deep sink with 6 different faucets. She tested the first one and found clear ice cubes. The second one turned out to be water.

She also grabbed a towel from the dish rack and set both it and the glass down in front of Hannah. Who asked, "Have you ever been-" Hic! "-dumped?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Pansy slid into the seat across from Hannah and settled in for a conversation she couldn't predict with any certainty. Maybe the girl just needed a distraction though. "Hugh Higgly-Hughes."

"Of the Hughes Family?" Hannah asked, suddenly quite interested.

"You've met them, they all do that," Pansy rolled her eyes. "'Of the Hughes family'," she mocked with a high pitched, stringy voice.

"Yes! God, just because they have more money than half the world combined doesn't mean they can act so entitled," Hannah stuck her tongue out. "My cuz dated a Higgly-Hugh."

Pansy found herself smiling the smile of a young girl in love, remembering what she thought had been her first serious relationship. "Hugh didn't act arrogant at first, though. He was charming. It was candlelit dinners and strolls through the park and staying up all night just talking."

"Ohhh," Hannah leaned forward on her elbows, enraptured by Pansy's story. "I love that. Nevvy and I used to do that kind of stuff."

Her words came with a fresh pout, remembering what she lost. It was too much for the pretty witch. Her brown eyes crossed as her head came forward, banging into the small table with a loud thump!

"Oof," Pansy sat back as Hannah started snoring. Loudly. Breakups were hard. And she couldn't help but wonder why Neville would break up with Hannah. The woman was stunning. Like drop dead gorgeous beautiful. And she seemed sweet between the bouts of sobbing.

Deciding to help out, Pansy stood and managed to get a shoulder under Hannah, who groaned. "Come along, honey," she cooed sweetly, ignoring how Stella-like she sounded. "Let's go lay down for a bit."

Together they stumbled out of the kitchen and up the first stair way, the second, third, and fourth, until Pansy got them to the room Neville set up for her. Except Pansy forgot the bed wasn't made yet. Another "Oof," and Pansy set Hannah down in the rocker. Good thing the witch was so slight.

Humming, she stripped off the plastic and got to making up the bed with the fresh set of sheets. They smelled of something sweet, maybe jasmine. A feminine scent she didn't expect from a single 24 year old guy.

He did it for you, baby doll.

"Oh?" she unfolded the comforter and turned it down. Well, Hannah would get to enjoy the clean sheets this time. Pansy helped her to the bed where Hannah collapsed face down for a final time. "I wish someone had done that for me."

What do you mean by that?

Pansy left Hannah alone, gently shutting the door on loud snores. "How did you react after your first love ended?"

It never did. I met Gus when I was 17.

"Where at?" Pansy asked, intrigued and also ready to get more information on the spirit currently possessing her.

New York City, New York. Christmas time. I went north with daddy for a business trip, he worked in textiles. Took me shopping at the department stores, dinner at the plaza, then ice skating at the park and there was Gus. Watching me the whole time. We ran away together the next day.

"Love at first sight?" she smiled, despite herself. She didn't believe in such a thing. Attraction could be quick. Interest in an instant. It didn't take much to spark a fire between two people in the right situations. A certain look or the perfect smile. But love? Not even the lovesick fool in Pansy's head could convince her such a thing existed for everyone.

Don't be so cynical, you're too young, honey.

"Not cynical, just realistic," she insisted, feeling the need to defend herself. She leaned against the closed door and rubbed her temples. "You call me young but I don't know how old you are."

Why, I never. Didn't you know it's rude to ask a woman's age?

"Didn't you know it's rude to possess someone and force them to act against their will?" Pansy countered.

Hmmpph.

"That's what I thought," Pansy smirked, feeling triumphant. She made her way back downstairs and waited patiently at the breakfast nook, deciding not to snoop around any more in case she ran into another one of Neville's exes. Or anymore Mallards.

She waited until Neville came home, who arrived with a large brown sack when he did. She could smell the spicy pepper smell of curry and a rather strong hint of lime.

He smiled at the sight of her but asked, "This is weird for you too, right?"

Yes, she felt way out of her comfort zone, at a total loss on what to expect. And… "It's about to get weirder."