The Storyteller

Pansy finished the last of the notations on the parchments she had been going over. She loved her new job. It was her responsibility to read through new books and edit the grammar, spelling, format, sometimes the storyline if the writer had missed even the smallest detail.

She had developed good friendships with the authors she worked with and her job allowed her to read the greatest novels before they were printed. She had many signed copies at home that she had been given as gifts from the writers.

This latest author she was dealing with had chosen to write under a pseudonym and was known only as ‘The Storyteller’. While she had yet to read his published books, she was riveted by the one she was assigned. Whoever ‘The Storyteller’ was, the story was phenomenal in it’s visions.

The author wove together a story of love, between two men. A story of denial, and then acceptance and then pride. This made it either a gay man or a woman in Pansy’s eyes. Straight men rarely understood that type of love.

The letters they traded back and forth were very friendly. When the final stage of the process were near, she made appointments to meet with the authors directly, to finish details before sending their finished manuscripts to the publisher. She never sent off a project without the final word from the writer, it was after all, their work.

She had just received a letter from the writer giving her the location to apparate to so they could meet. She gathered up the parchments and closed her office up, she wouldn’t be returning after the meeting. She would stay in a guest room for the weekend.

Taking the note in her hand, her bag shouldered, she focused on the location the letter indicated and apparated. She appeared in the clearing under a large tree. The cool air flew through her hair and she looked around until she saw the house.

It was a cozy little cottage on the edge of a wooded clearing. Very rustic and lived in but well cared for and maintained. She soon found out why. There was a house elf outside looking at her and house elves were very meticulous in the care of their families homes. She smiled and approached the small creature.

“Hello, you is the book witch?” Pansy could tell from the eyes and the high pitch voice it was a girl.

“Yes, I am. I’m expected I believe?” She said.

“Yes, master is waiting.” She followed the elf into the house. A wizard wrote the book, she thought. She entered and was guided to a seat. “Master will be here in a moment, please sit. Would miss like a drink?”

“No thank you. I’ll be fine.” She pulled the parchments from her bag and set them on the coffee table in front of her. She had a few things to go over but for the most part the book was ready.

“Hello.” She looked up and to her shock recognized the face.

“Ron Weasley?” She said smiling.

“Yes.” He asked. “Did you find the cottage alright?”

“Yes I did, thank you.” He stepped forward and Pansy noticed he was using his wand, which had an extended length of magic from it’s tip, to guide himself across the room. He was blind.

“I’m sorry Ron I didn’t realize…..”

“It’s alright,” he said smiling, “not many people know.” He reached out and touched a nearby chair, easing into it. “I would have let you know earlier but I’ve lived a quiet life here.”

“I understand.” She said, “Is my staying here causing a break in routine?”

“No, don’t worry about that. The house elf is very efficient.”

“Well I must say I’m a bit surprised this was written by you.” She admitted.

“Why do you say that?” He said, taking the glass the house elf brought to him.

“Well normally gay stories are written by either gay men or women,” she grinned, “unless you have changed in even more ways Ron?” She teased.

He chuckled. “No I’m not gay. The story was inspired by an old friend. He was hiding the way the characters are, but his mother didn’t want him to come out, saying that he’d be ridiculed and attacked. She wanted him to hide and envisioned a horrible life if everyone knew. That didn’t happen but in my story I told what it might have been like for two men to go through that kind of trouble.”

“And the physical scenes? How did you come up with those?” She asked, very curious.

“I asked him what was done and just romanced it up a bit, thinking of how I would be with a woman in an intimate situation. When he read it, he said it was very close to the actual thing.”

“Remarkable,” she said, “you are a gifted writer. Why not use your own name?” she asked.

“Then I would lose my privacy. Besides I dread thinking that I could end up like Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Pansy laughed. “Well you aren’t claiming feats of daring that someone else had done. You are just telling stories.”

“So was he.” Ron said joining her laughter. “So you enjoyed the story?”

“Yes, I did although the ending made me cry. Why did he have to die?”

“People die Pansy, life isn’t guaranteed. Beside I gave them a wonderful love to enjoy.”

“Yes, you did,” she said, “but it still made me cry.”

“I thought it might make some people cry.” He admitted. “But I couldn’t write it any differently. It had to end the way it did.”

“I will never understand writers, but if you say so.” She said.

“I’ll have Leeloo show you to the guest room.” The elf popped in and took her bag. She followed the little bouncing elf down the hall to a room, nicely decorated but with no personal touches.

“Dinner will be ready in one hour Miss.” Pansy looked to the side and saw a bathroom.

“Thank you.” She said, turning to pull out some clothes when the elf left. She had unpacked her personal items and took her overnight bag to the bathroom. When she emerged she froze and nearly swallowed her own heart.

There was a lion in her room. Standing by the door was a huge lion, strong and robust with a glorious full mane and he was looking right at her. She slowly reached behind her and pulled her wand from her pocket, then aimed it at the animal and let out a blood curdling scream.

The lion jumped but stayed where it was. The door was filled with Ron before she was done screaming. “What’s the matter?” He said into the room, bracing himself in the frame.

“There’s a lion in my room!” She screamed.

Ron let out a breathe. “That’s just Zeus.” He reached out a hand and the lion backed up until his silken mane touched Ron’s fingers. “This is my familiar.”

“You have a lion for a familiar?” She said still not dropping her wand.

“Yes, Zeus here was just checking out who came into his home. He’s very smart and knew you weren’t a threat. He was just curious.” Ro explained.

“Well, now that he has satisfied his curiosity can you tell him to leave?” She said finally dropping her wand.

Ron eased the lions head toward the door and gave his mane an affectionate ruffle. “You scared her mate, go on give her a minute alone.”

“Thank you.” She said breathing in relief when the animal was gone. “He scared me when he crept in here.”

“Don’t mind him, he’s a big pussy.” Ron said laughing then turned and left.

“Hey Ron?” She said before he left.

“Yes?” He said turning slightly.

“Why don’t any of these rooms have carpet?” She asked. “My feet will freeze in the morning.” She said.

He chuckled. “The echoes on the floor let me know if a room is open or closed. Normally they all stay open when it’s just me, but when I have guests it comes in handy.”

“I thought you just had a thing about hating to clean carpets.” She giggled.

“Well I do, that’s another reason why I have a house elf. Normally I can clean myself with the help of my wand. But she likes to take charge of the cleaning.”

“I thought as much.” She said.

“Dinner will be ready soon, we can talk about the parchments then.” He said turning again. “Oh and wearing socks to bed will help with the cold floors.”

“Alright.” She called as he moved down the hall. She grabbed a set of jeans and a v neck tee then moved to the bathroom. “He has a lion,” she muttered to herself, “what a Gryffindor.”