Who: Pansy Parkinson and Alice Longbottom When: Sunday Morning What: Breakfast and getting to know each other Where: Their bungalow
Six or seven years ago, Pansy would never have prepared her own meal. The Parkinson manner had been staffed with cooks, maids, butlers and a half of dozen other people that Pansy had never seen. But after the war and the fall of her family, Pansy had quickly learned how to fend for herself. When living in that awful flat in Diagon, Pansy had survived on rice and beans for months. After moving to France and taking care of her aunt and Amelie, Pansy had slowly learned how to cook real, delicious meals.
And now here she was on some island, living in a house with George and a woman she hadn't really met, making fresh cream to go with the fruit she'd slice and the bread she had baked the night before. Anyone who knew Pansy from the past wouldn't have believed it, but Pansy was glad she could take care of herself. Not depending on anyone else was refreshing.
Pouring herself a rather large second cup of coffee, Pansy turned when she heard someone coming down the stairs. George had left earlier for work so it could only have been Alice. "Good morning," she said politely.