Chapter Text
Pansy knew that moving back to England was going to be emotional.
That was an understatement.
The last time Pansy had walked on English soil, she was barely seventeen. Barely an adult and already shipped to Romania to secure the Dark Lord's alliance with the wizarding societies of the continent. Mihail Raducanu was a brute. A wizard of fifty years old, agreeing to anything in exchange for the ownership of her teenage body. At least the old creep never raised his wand to her, nor to her daughter.
Silver linings.
Iris was born just a year after the wedding. In the darkness of her life with a man her father's age, Iris had been her beacon of hope. After her birth, Mihail had been less interested in securing an heir. Under Romanian wizarding laws, the firstborn was declared heir, regardless of gender. Once he had secured that, her husband was often gone for months. Pansy didn't know what he was up to. Frankly, she didn't care.
She had spent her time working on her designs, creating prototypes, and clothes she donated to the wives of influential Romanian elites. Mihail would have burst into shame and anger if she had dared sell anything to the wives of his friends .
Thankfully, he was less interested when she was approached by witches from other countries who had seen her designs at galas and dinners. Soon, she had a proper clientele coming from Vienna, Rome, Paris and Amsterdam. Her husband had clearly underestimated her work, allowing her to continue with what he called "a hobby". Over time, she had kept every galleon she made, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Raising her daughter and waiting for the day she would finally be free.
She was patient, she knew how to bid her time and wait for an opportunity to run. The chance came in earlier than she expected. Mihail had been working with the Vampire clans in Romania, hoping to raise an army for a new Dark Lord. One day, the negotiation turned sour, and her husband was killed. Pansy didn't hesitate, didn't wait. Her husband had no other family, no one who would come running for them now that he was gone. That was exactly why he had bought her after all. So as soon as she'd heard the news, she withdrew her daughter's inheritance, and they moved.
First destination in Pansy's mind had been Paris. Most of her clients were either living in Paris or would travel to the city to shop. Plus, she had always dreamed of a Parisian life with good food, cultural life and a thriving social life.
And to be fair, it had been. For a little over a year, Pansy had lived the dream life with her daughter in the City of Light. But soon, she began to feel disillusioned, lost to numbness and emptiness, a missing piece. Anytime someone noticed or commented on her British accent, every time she was asked if she ever went back for holidays in England. Every time someone noticed that Iris, unlike her mother, was starting to speak French like a true French girl .
After a year in Paris, they packed their bags and left.
Now they were there, in London, ready to start a new chapter of their life. Pansy hoped she had made the right choice coming back here. She had a plan to start up her business here, to hopefully make a name for herself on English soil.
"M aman , there is someone at the door!" Iris was running towards her.
"No running on the stairs," she warned her. "I heard the knock, I'll get the door."
Pansy opened to find a boy, not much older than her daughter, with flashy blue hair and a bright smile with a missing tooth.
"Oh, hello," she greeted him. "Are you here alone?"
"Hi! I'm Teddy, I came alone, but I saw you out earlier and you were with a girl, so I thought you were probably nice because she seemed happy and not scared!" The boy was a literal ball of energy.
"Teddy!" came the voice of a man across the street. "I told you to wait!"
Pansy's eyes lifted from the child to whoever was now coming in their direction.
No.
No. Way.
Why the hell was Harry Potter crossing the street?