Only a few days later on a quiet Sunday afternoon, Quyen Crowley tiptoed out of her bedroom and sneaked towards the floo hearth. The normally gloomy girl's eyes sparkled with energy as even her cheeks had a tint of flush in excitement. Her usual thick sausage like curls have neatly been tamed back into a more manageable ponytail.
The manor is empty for the afternoon as her parents had left for a Sunday tête-à-tête to be held at the Rowle home. Many families had been invited as the Rowle family were seeking a marriage partner for the disagreeable, but still unwed Euphemia, and a potential marriage partner for Thorfinn. However, despite the fact that many families would attend the tête-à-tête very few would consider betrothing their children to the Rowle family and those that would, would not be accepted by the Rowle family without a large bridal price or dowry. And a result, the Rowle family were being forced to lower their standards. They'd even accept a less than pure bloodline in exchange for a vast dowry and bridal price.
In lieu of such a terrible event, Quyen had long ago planned to fake an illness to avoid the social travesty. And it worked too as her parents departed without so much a worry and left her in the care of her nanny house-elf's care, Golsee.
Quyen made a face at recalling the Rowle family. They were notoriously vindictive with a rather cruel streak. Her parents hoped to match her with one of the Rowle boys, but she had no interest whatsoever. The Rowle men tend to be cruel and Quyen knew that she would be treated worse than a house elf. No, she most certainly would not agree to such a match.
More so Quyen exactly who the Rowle's were secretly supporting. She did not understand why her parents were attempting such a match with how tense things were. But if she was perfectly honest with herself, she knew why. Her parents were covering their behinds just in case the Dark Lord rose to power. Whichever way the dice fell, they would be safe from both sides.
Quyen had almost successfully made it to the floo hearth when a loud pop is heard. A wrinkled, thin old house elf with large watery eyes says, "Little Quyen, the master, and mistress are gone! What is Little Quyen doing out of bed?!" The female house elf called, Golsee panicked.
Quyen lips twitch in annoyance at the antics of her house elf nanny. "I am visiting a friend," Quyen mumbled. "I will be back within two hours."
Golsee shakes and rubs her hands anxiously together. "Golsee cannot allow it, little Quyen. What if master and mistress return early?!"
"I shan't be gone very long, Golsee," Quyen firmly said. "This is an order."
Golsee tugs on her ears and says, "Golsee only worry for little Quyen. Golsee not want little Quyen in trouble. Golsee not want to see little Quyen locked away. No, no, Golsee cannot bear it!"
Quyen lips tremble with apprehension and fear. When she was younger, she used to cry, when she was left all alone. Her mother especially did not like it and would lock her in a room until she behaved. Her mother used to say to her then, "If you wish to act like a foul, little beast than like a beast, ye shall be caged!" It had been years since the last time she had been locked in, but still, Quyen would shake with unease at the threat.
Clenching her skirt, Quyen glanced down at her nanny house elf. The old thing had been the only one to give her any sort of affection. The only one to tuck her into bed and kiss her goodnight. The one who held her when she wet the bed from nightmares and hid the mess from her mother. Golsee had been the only one that had always been there for her.
Quyen's eyes soften as she quietly says, "I promise, I will be back within two hours, Golsee. If I am not back, then you have my permission to grab me from wherever I am located at and bring me back."
Golsee ceased to tug on her ears in frustration leaving her ears bright red. "But what if little Quyen is hurt?" Golsee protested.
"I am flooing directly to my friend's house," Quyen argued. "I shall be perfectly safe from harm."
"Golsee no like this little Quyen," Golsee unhappily muttered. "But Golsee will do as little Quyen says."
Quyen nods at her house elf, before cheerfully walking over to the fireplace. Taking a bit of the sparkly powder, Quyen tosses the floo powder into the flames. "Mrs. Pettigrew's Place." The flames roar as they turn green and she steps into them vanishing away.
The Pettigrew home had been cleaned from top to bottom and sparkled. The air is scented with the sweet scent of food and that of fresh lemon-like scent. The figure of Pettigrew can be seen pacing back and forth on the round rug in the living room. Glancing at the time, Peter Pettigrew idly wonders, if his girlfriend is not coming? What if something went wrong? What if she had changed her mind in the end?
While Pettigrew is stuck in an endless loop of worries, the fireplace roars with green flames as the lovely figure of his girlfriend emerge from the hearth. Pettigrew rushes forward and takes his girlfriend by the hands. "You're here," Pettigrew reverently whispered.
Quyen flushed and shyly murmurs, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Come," Pettigrew gently tugged her along. "My mum's in the kitchen."
Quyen pales a bit, but firmly clutches her boyfriend's hand. The two of them head down the hallway to a small kitchen that had a round kitchen table with room for four. The table was groaning under the weight of food with delicious smelling desserts and pies sitting on kitchen counter racks to cool, before consumption.
A mousy looking woman with mousy brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes whirled around causing her apron strings to fly. A warm smile appeared on Mrs. Pettigrew as Quyen began to introduce herself, "Greetings Mrs. Pettigrew, I am Quyen C-."
Quyen let out a surprised, "oof," at suddenly begin hugged. Pettigrew flushes a bit in mortification as his mother sweeps up his girlfriend into her arms. "Welcome dear," Mrs. Pettigrew happily said as Quyen found her face in an ample bosom. "My son has told me so much about you that I feel as though I know you already."
Pulling back, Mrs. Pettigrew gets a good luck at his son's sweetheart. A tad scrawny with pale skin and glorious, thick dark curls. A bit somber and wary of others the way most pureblood children are, but a good girl at heart. Mrs. Pettigrew lets out a sound in satisfaction pleased at her son's choice.
"Have a seat, my dear," Mrs. Pettigrew happily said as she led her potential future daughter-in-law to sit down.
Still somewhat shocked at being so abruptly hugged, Quyen finds herself seated next to her boyfriend and his mother. Quyen clears her throat and says, "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Pettigrew. Your home is very lovely."
"That is very kind of you to say, my dear," Mrs. Pettigrew said. "Now eat up, I've made plenty of food."
Quyen dutifully serves herself as Pettigrew flashed his girlfriend an apologetic smile. His mother could be a tad overenthusiastic at times. It was part of her nurturing Hufflepuff nature.
While Quyen and Pettigrew begin to eat, Mrs. Pettigrew carefully studies the pair. Though the girl was shy, she had bright shiny eyes full of love every time she looked at her son. And her son returned the same equally infatuated gaze.
Feeling much more confident about their being a couple, Mrs. Pettigrew carefully says, "My dear, I was wondering if your parents are in opposition to the two of you courting. If not, I would be most happy to oblige by the courtship rules. I am a Rowle by birth and only became a Pettigrew upon marrying my now deceased husband."
Quyen both perked up and frowned at those words. She could have never imaged that her dear sweet Peter could ever be related to such fiends. But at the same time, her parents could not protest the match as her Peter was in fact a Rowle through his mother's side.
Quyen carefully finally answers, "My parents are not aware of our relationship yet, but I wish to marry Peter. I would be thrilled if you, Mrs. Pettigrew would send my parents a request for an official courtship."
Mrs. Pettigrew sighed a bit at that. "I'm afraid not, my dear," Mrs. Pettigrew regretfully declared. "My husband was a muggleborn wizard and I was disowned for marrying him."
Quyen's face wilts but Pettigrew firmly takes her hand. "Then we'll elope," Pettigrew matter-of-factly proclaimed. "Once we're old enough, we'll get married."
Quyen slowly raises her head with eyes full of hope. "You would do that for me?" Quyen whispered.
"Yes," Pettigrew audaciously declared. "I'd do anything for you, Queyen."
Quyen glances down at her plate for a second before looking up at Mrs. Pettigrew. "If you don't mind our eloping, I'd happily become your daughter-in-law, Mrs. Pettigrew."
Mrs. Pettigrew ruefully grins and says, "I'll not mind, there's plenty of room in our home even if it is a tad tiny, though I do not want to hear any more of this nonsense about the two of you eloping until your seventh year. I'd very much like for both of you to graduate from Hogwarts."
"Yes, mum," Pettigrew obediently said as he and Quyen returned to eating but they continued to hold hands the entire time.
Mrs. Pettigrew shook her head and cheerfully dug into her own plate. No matter what came, she was confident enough that the two of them would brave the storms that would come. She could only hope for the best for them. And that is all a mother can do at times.