It was her first vacation since she'd graduated from Hogwarts and she was fully intent on enjoying it. She'd closed the shop temporarily while she was gone and though it hurt her a bit in the vault to give up a week's worth of revenue, she needed the reset and recharge time.

The Isle of Avalon was considered by muggles to be nothing more than marshland; anti-muggle charms had imprinted that perception onto the world long before modern times. It was a charming wizarding island not far from Glastonbury Tor, so wizarding tourists could easily apparate across the bay and enjoy muggle amenities and be back in time for tea.

It was also one of Pansy's favorite places in the world. Her family used to hold a manor on the western side of the island that overlooked the Bristol Channel but that had long been seized by the Ministry for reparations. Last she'd heard, Ministry officials used it as an unofficial vacation house for Wizengamot members. She wanted to be angry about it, but post-war she'd need the family galleons, not a good view.

She'd booked a suite in the inn and spent most every afternoon that week walking along the snowy beaches. Spring was coming, she could feel it in her bones, the cold just wasn't sinking as deep as it had the last few months. March was really her only time to feasibly close the shop; soon enough it'd be Easter and that would kick off the busy season for catering. Despite the fact that she couldn't go into the water, she still loved the sight of it, the smell, the way the wind sliced through her hair and provoked shivers along her skin; she wasn't going to pass up the chance to be here despite the lingering whispers of winter.

Each day she walked far enough to catch a glimpse of Morgan Le Fay's grave but she never approached, the United Kingdom's only dragon sanctuary was on the other side and she'd seen enough dragons in fourth year to satisfy any curiosity she had. Every once and a while the echoes of dragon roars would carry to the village and all the townspeople would pause, look to the sky, and when fire didn't appear carry on. The threat was implied and ever present, but they'd lived with it so long it was a matter of routine to them.

It was part of why despite loving the island so much, Pansy didn't visit often. She never wanted to feel apathetic to danger and violence again; the way her hands shook when the sound carried and everyone froze reminded her that it was supposed to affect her, she was meant to feel it.

On her third night on the island she was nursing an ale at the local pub, having finished a surprisingly excellent fish stew, and was dreaming of a nice relaxing bath in the slightly too shallow tub back in her room, when a truly gorgeous male specimen came stomping in from the street. He was shaking his boots, dislodging the muddy snow at the door and calling out a greeting to the barkeep when their eyes met. She instinctively swiped her tongue across her top lip and smiled flirtatiously before shifting her attention back to her drink.

She wasn't surprised when he dropped into the seat next to her at the bar, casually ordering an ale for himself. "My name is Charlie."

"I didn't ask."

"What's your name?"

"I didn't offer."

He chortled, nodding his thanks for the drink to the server, and twisting to face her directly. "I've seen you walking on the beach the past few days, visiting for long?"

"Just the week, then I'll be heading back to London."

"I could give you a tour of the reserve if you wanted?"

"You're a dragonkeeper," Pansy noted obviously, running her eyes along the dragon tattoos that covered his forearms as well as the long slightly tangled red hair. "Does that line work on most women?"

"Do I look the type to use lines-"

"Yes."

"I am offended."

"No, you're not," she interrupted with a laugh, finishing her drink and pushing it away, dropping several galleons on the bar to cover her bill. She ran her eyes over him, hair to boots, and smiled knowingly. "Ginger wizard with a terrible sense of humor, you're a Weasley."

"Not all redheaded wizards are Weasleys."

"I've yet to meet any that aren't."

"You know my family?" He asked with a more genuine smile, his eyes lighting up as the flirtation faded in the light of connection.

She didn't want that. "I do. I'll even sleep with you despite that.

"Despite knowing my family?"

"Yes, very much despite it."

"So, shall we shag now or later?"

"You should eat, you'll need your energy."

He did not, in fact, need any assistance with his energy. Alternately running from and chasing after dragons was excellent cardio and his stamina reflected. Pansy was feeling loose-limbed and satisfied as she sat cross legged in the middle of the bed, watching him doze lightly next to her. He wasn't her usual type; she'd long assumed she preferred her partners tall and lanky, firm sinew and lean muscles and stylish clothing. There was something warm and inviting about Charlie that called to her in a very surprising way. He was strong, that was true, but he wasn't defined in the chiseled way that graced magazine and romance novel covers. He was sturdily built and firm and he radiated heat in a way that made her flushed and lazy in the cold morning air.

"I think I know who you are now."

"I would hope you'd know who I was several hours ago when we fell into bed, Charles."

"There's knowing you, and knowing you. I knew you then but now I know you."

She turned her head and smiled down at him, not quite stifling a yawn that swelled. "It's too early for word games."

"You're Harry and Ginny's friend, the one who owns the bakery."

"Clever boy," she described, running her fingers through his red beard and tickling him under the chin. "Is this where you ask me not to tell your sister about that Mum tattoo?"

"I'm not embarrassed about any of my tattoos."

She grinned and pointed out, "It's on your bum."

"You think my family hasn't seen my bum?" He asked with a snort, stretching and sitting up, the blanket pooling in his naked lap and no longer hiding his morning salutation.

"Having siblings sounds so weird," she admitted, turning away from the enticing sight of him. "What time do you have to be at work?"

"Around six or so," he glanced over at the bedside clock, "I've got some time."

She nodded and rested her arms on her bent knees, clenching her toes in the warm sheets before sliding down onto her back and gazing up at him. "How much time?"

"More than enough for what you've got in mind, sweet girl."

She thought of those last few lazy mornings very fondly in the coming months as she pushed through rising before the sun to bake that day's offering, pushing through the lonely nights with just a smutty novel and a magically operated boyfriend, pushed through the dinners alone in her flat when the idea of getting a dog kept creeping back up to be considered and disregarded again.

Eventually that feeling of restlessness had settled back under her skin and she found herself indulging in some ideas that had been suggested to her before but she'd never given much credence. Even now, the thought of learning to rely on others, to trust that they would not only be able but also willing to help her, was unsettling.

"I think the idea of hiring someone to help out is a great one, you're working yourself to the bone, Pansy dear," Augusta declared, reaching over and patting her hand in reassurance. Somewhere in the past six months, Pansy had found herself fond of the older woman and her domineering ways. When she had company, Pansy would sit with them for a few minutes before going back to work, but when she came alone she'd dally longer. Neville joined his grandmother every other month and on those days she stayed away, for propriety and for her own sake.

Headmistress McGonagall nodded in agreement, setting down her near empty tea cup with a sharp clink. "I have a graduating student who you might want to interview for the position. Last I heard, she didn't have anything lined up after school but I have caught her in the kitchens with the elves several times and she's fond of using homemade treats to get leniency on her exam scores."

"Slytherin?"

"Hufflepuff."

"Oh, Merlin," Pansy sneered, tossing her hair back and side-eyeing the Headmistress. "How good were the treats?"

"I wouldn't say at your level, but she's young and has much to learn."

Pansy considered it, tilting her head and thinking through the logistics of having another baker in the shop and how much of her time she'd add back into her day if she did. "I'll think about it."

Minerva smiled knowingly. "I'll send her your way after graduation. Do be nice, she's got a good heart."

"You know when people say someone has a good heart it usually means they're dumb as a box of rocks."

She was not the second coming of Hermione Granger, that was for sure, but she wasn't as bad as Pansy predicted. Pansy didn't mind that because the Headmistress was right, the girl had the beginnings of a good baker. She was also muggle-born, so she wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty and as long as she had recipes to refer to, she was more than capable of taking on some of the daily tasks of the shop.

Even better, she wasn't a talker.

They worked companionably in silence most mornings until Cecilia had the regular recipes memorized and could make them without supervision. Pansy shifted the newly freed time to recipe creation and running the front end of the bakery, and ultimately filled that freed time right back up. Laurie officially retired but still stopped in from time to time to harass Louis and embarrass Pansy. She found herself missing the older woman terribly on days like today.

"-he's a slytherin," McGonagall explained, biting into an eclair delicately and gazing at her with steely blue eyes. "He's, as you so eloquently put it, dumb as a box of rocks. He is, however, very charming and well spoken. Perfectly capable of working in a retail shop."

"I'm not running a half-way house for Hogwarts alumni, Headmistress."

The two octogenarians looked around the bakery, pausing on Ginny Weasley and little James Potter gazing rapturously into the display, Harry at their side. At a table near the window Susan Bones was sitting with Cecilia, quietly discussing their mutual House. Augusta suddenly smiled as she caught sight of the tawny haired Wizard that opened the front door and waved at them before joining the Potters near the display.

"Voluntarily," Pansy clarified, scowling at all the wizardkind in her shop that afternoon. "I'm not voluntarily running a half-way house for alumni."

"He's half blood with no career prospects, Pansy," Augusta said sternly. "And you've not hired anyone yet."

She could feel a headache brewing between her eyes, and she squeezed the bridge of her nose tightly. "If I say no, he's going to show up anyways isn't he?"

"Of course," the two ladies replied with a matching smirk.

"You two must have been hell on brooms in school."

"We had our fun," Augusta admitted, finishing her tea and raising her voice, "Neville, do bring a fresh pot of tea over."

"Alright, send him here on Monday, but I make no promises. The register doesn't add and subtract on its own, he'll need some basic math skills."

Neville joined them quietly, setting the hot kettle on a pad on the table and snagging a chair to join them at the small table. He scooted closer, his knee brushing against Pansy's and it was only sheer stubbornness that kept her from flinching away at the unexpected touch. "Good afternoon, Nan, Headmistress, Pansy." He nodded at each in turn, reaching out and politely refreshing each of their cups before pouring his own. "Did you talk to Pansy about Robert?"

"I did, and she's agreed to give him a job."

"A chance. I said I'd give him a chance."

"He's a good kid," Neville paused, catching Pansy's eye over the rim of his cup before he sipped, "for a Slytherin."

"Nice isn't in the description of my house. No wonder he's got no prospects," Pansy snarked, crossing her arms and glaring at the three Gryffindors. "Finish your tea, I've got to start shutting down soon."

She stood and moved back behind the counter, waving Louis back to cleaning his beverage equipment and taking over the Potter order. "Merlin, Pottess, this reminds me of when you were eating for two. You do realize pastries will go bad fairly quickly?" Pansy hefted the heavy box over to the register, pausing when she saw the huge grins on the couple's faces.

Harry leaned in conspiratorially, "We're not planning to announce it until after James' first birthday later this summer but…she is."

Pansy arched an eyebrow, pursing her lips in an almost smile. "Thanks for the warning, I'll stock up on more chocolate."

"Appreciate it, Parkinson. We're not going to have another baby shower, but feel free to gift me as many of those little cakes as you've got."

"I'm not certain the world really needs another Potter," she said snidely, handing their change back to Harry and rolling her eyes. "Please tell me you're not aiming for Weasley level of procreation, Potter."

"No," he laughed, handing the box over to Ginny and waiting until she and James slowly made their way to the Longbottoms before turning back. "We've decided that if this one isn't a girl, we'll try one more time for that, but three is our limit."

"Congratulations," she said sincerely, catching his eyes and actually smiling this time. No teeth, because smiling with teeth was gauche.

"Soooooo, Charlie is coming to town next weekend. Want to come over for dinner?"

Pansy snapped up a mental block in the blink of an eye and emoted the nonchalant apathetic facial expression that she sometimes practiced in the bathroom mirror. "Not particularly. Is there a reason I should care that Charles Weasley is coming to town?"

"Well, since you-"

The way she leaned onto the counter, resting on her elbows, telegraphed danger. "Since I what?"

Unfortunately Harry was inured to danger. "Since you practice Weasley procreation as well, thought you might want to see him."

"A fling does not make a relationship."

"But-"

"Just a really good time," Pansy continued, ignoring his attempt to argue. She tapped her finger on her chin and raised her eyes thoughtfully. "He was really good with his-"

"Stop! Okay, geez, I do not need details."

"I don't need matchmaking, Potter. Not everyone is meant for the picket fence and 2.5 kids schtick."

"He asked about you in his letters," he offered, hands up in surrender. "Just thought you should know."

She scowled, wiping at the counter aggressively with a cleaning rag. "Tell him to stop."

Hours later the building was empty, her employees long gone, and she was almost done tallying up the day's take when there was a soft tap at the door. She sighed at the hangdog brown eyes gazing at her through the window and opened the door with a wave of her wand. "How can I help you, Longbottom?"

"My nan sent me back for her gloves, she left them on the table," he explained, pointing at the table across the room that Augusta had claimed as hers.

Pansy nodded and gestured for him to go on, turning her attention back to the receipts on the counter and the open register next to her. She was slipping back into calculations, fully expecting him to grab the accessories and roll back out the door when she was startled by him speaking again much closer to her.

"Thank you for being kind to my Nan, I know she can be a lot to handle."

"Don't thank me for being kind, I'm just treating her with basic human decency."

"You call it basic, but my experience is that kindness is anything but."

"Then you've been hanging out with the wrong people," she retorted, raising her dark eyes and meeting his. Where her brown eyes were so dark they were almost black, their dimensions only coming from the reflection of light, his were faceted like fire agate, striations of dark and light brown with a hint of enough green that in this light they looked more hazel than brown. "You never finish your food."

He blinked in surprise, defaulting to an affable easy going smile. "I'm sorry?"

"You come here every month at least once a month with your grandmother. You both order something, and you take two bites and you push it away. Is my food not to your liking?"

He kept smiling but she could tell he was clenching his teeth. "It's delicious."

"Then why do you not finish it? Food waste is a serious issue in the world, Longbottom. There are starving children in Africa."

"And do you send your unsold pastries to them?"

"No, I send it to White Chapel, for the homeless."

"Really?"

She was now clenching her teeth, his incredulity bald on his face. "Yes. It's a tax right-off."

"I don't think you do it for the taxes."

"You don't know me."

"I'd like to."

Now she was shocked into silence. "Why?"

"My nan likes you, and she's the best judge of character I know." He shrugged, idly played with the gloves in his hands and betrayed his nerves. "Harry, not so much, he has the tendency to see what he wants to see. Ginny is pretty good, and she trusts you around James and that is hard to fathom because she's very protective. And the Headmistress is proud of you and what you've done. She wouldn't come here if she didn't approve and definitely wouldn't send you some of her favorite students if she didn't trust you."

"You don't have to get to know me because other people chose to do so, their decisions don't have to be yours."

He nodded and shrugged. "It makes me think about it though and make my own decisions."

She pursed her lips, crossing her arms and staring him down across the counter. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing," he denied with a soft smile, stepping back and then again towards the door. "Just wanted to explain, you'll start seeing more of me. I've decided to start joining Nan on Thursdays, she's having a bit more trouble getting around now than she used to."

"I told her she can use my floo," Pansy pointed out, her stoicism ruined by the pang of concern for the older woman.

Neville hesitated before exiting, smiling brightly at her. "I know you did."