Wanna Be Saved

- Three -

Chapter Three
Curses and Crumbles

Bronwyn Weasley was not as nervous as she first anticipated she would be stood upon the doorstep of her grandparents house. Her father by her side, having offered to drop her off on his way to work, she was rather curious as to see just what reception her arrival would bring. Cedrella Weasley had never exactly been someone Bronwyn had been able to impress, yet she could not say her paternal grandmother held any hatred to her. Rather that the older witch was indifferent despite the weight that Bronwyn brought. Being the first girl born in generations was not enough it would appear to bring any real importance to the witch. 

"Arthur, how wonderful please do leave her here with me." Cedrella spoke waving her son away clearly not there to entertain the boy. She might have betrayed her family for her husband and children yet it was still clear in her voice, in the way she stood, and the way she portrayed her emotions that Cedilla Weasley was everything a pureblood woman should be. 

"I'll come get you after work Bronwyn." Her father spoke before leaving hastily down the path the pair had just walked clearly also happy to not be collared into his parents house. 

"Come dear one." Cedrella beckoned Bronwyn and she followed blindly, it was not often she had been to her grandparents house the pair usually travelling to Devon to see them, and thus she was unsure of the layout of the house. But what she was greeted with was nothing short of magnificent and clear that the family had once come from money though that had been lost many years ago when her father was young. 

Cedrella lead the young witch through into her personal sitting room, one of which had been designed based on her mothers own. And directly over to a table of which she had set out a few things for the young witch to see. To learn and most of all to obtain. Things of which would be perfect to introduce as the girl ventured down the path of the traditional wizarding life she had started. She took the seat on the left hand side, leaving one open on the right side of the table for her granddaughter to take. Waving her hand to direct a teapot over to the table and with the ease and expertise only gained over many years poured them both a drink. She watched on as Bronwyn's eyes widened at the items placed before her, the items of which Cedrella knew she would not believe she would be walking away with that evening. Things the younger girl possible could only have imagined in her childhood dreams. 

"Grandmother what is all of this?"

"This my dear, are the belongings of an heiress. A Weasley Heiress. Items of which are yours and have been since the day of your birth." Cedrella spoke watching as the young witch looked at her perplexed, this was possibly more than she could have ever imagined, more than she'd have thought would be what she would gather out of the day spent with her grandmother. "You can touch them, they are yours." Cedrella noticed the hesitation of the young witch and tried to gently nudge her in the correct direction. 

"I don't understand, I thought we had no wealth. Why would you keep this if the money could have been useful?" Bronwyn did not want to seem disrespectful or as if she did not want the gifts she was just generally confused by the whole situation.

"Because Bronwyn they do not belong to me, they belong to you." Cedrella spoke as if it was obvious and noted that the girl was not exactly the fastest to jump to conclusions.

"But I am not an Heiress, surely I can't be. I don't deserve anything this pretty." Bronwyn tried to argue but noted quickly that the older woman would not accept her arguments. Rather moving her eyes back in the direction of the two jewellery boxes laid out on display on the table. The first she clearly recognised. The silver tennis bracelet was dainty but elegant and something she had been dreaming of since her early teen years. It was not big enough to be a statement piece but it was clear it was supposed to be worn with something else. The thing which caught her attention was the ring. A blue gem sat in a heart shape in the middle, her birthstone the aquamarine she noted, surrounded buy etchings on either side. The ring was not overly thin in width but not thick enough where it would be too much on her thin fingers. It was a usual ring and she was unsure what it meant. 

"Ahh yes the ring, I had a feeling you would be confused about that. A custom brought over from Ireland this is a Claddagh ring very important in the traditional world. For it depicts whether a young individual is single or in a committed relationship. You wear the ring on the right hand with the heart facing outwards if you are single, on the left outwards if engaged and on the left with the heart facing inwards upon marriage." Cedrella spoke and Bronwyn wished to follow this tradition, something in her was screaming out to accept the ring and continue the tradition it was clear her grandmother had participated as she noted what appeared to be a similar thickness ring on the woman's left ring finger. 

"It's so pretty."

"Your grandfather and I picked that out upon the day of your birth. At fifteen it along with this bracelet are yours if you want them. The bracelet comes from my own grandmother." And with those words Bronwyn knew she could not refuse this offer. Curse her need to please people. 

Her grandmother would also have a large variety of more books of which she could use to understand more of the area of the society she was so intrigued about. The only difficulty being her inability to physically read them. Finding her difficulty with the moving words becoming worse the more she wished to actually actively read. It had not really been a problem up to this point, Bronwyn never really bothered to read, and all of her favourite children's tales she had heard so many times she had memorised. And therefore, she found herself with an armful of books to take back with her to the house later that evening. 

Bronwyn pondered why she had never been so bothered to spend time with her grandmother, as she felt as though she was really enjoying herself during the hours that passed that afternoon.  Her grandmother had allowed her into the kitchen, something her mother would never allow, and Bronwyn didn't realise just how much fun she could have in the space. She could understand why she had been encouraged to stay away, she was nothing near a competent cook but she supposed that there was always a time to learn. And she was enjoy9ing spending time with her grandmother enjoying the stories the older witch was sharing. Sure many of them were focused around the topic of which had brought Bronwyn knocking upon the door. But that was ideal, as she continued to learn new things about the aspect of the culture that had drawn her in. 

Therefore, when a resounding knock upon the front door came at twenty past five that evening, Bronwyn almost found herself feeling sad at the prospect of her father having arrived to pick her up. She could feel as though the life and enjoyment which had started to return to her was being ebbed away. And the sad, empty Bronwyn she had become was creeping back. That she was losing to herself once again. With the tall ginger locks of her father coming around the corner and into the dining room confirming this, Bronwyn started to let herself be dragged back under. Something of which was enough to bring awareness to the adults around her, noting as a clear sparkle in her eye disappeared. As outside of this place, she was returning to being Bronwyn the bashful, Bronwyn the lax and most important Bronwyn the forgettable. All things that she hated being, but did not know how to escape from. 

"You ready to go Bronwyn?" Her father asked, expecting to have the usually eager Bronwyn waiting to leave like she had done when she was younger. Only to find a not so happy face like he had expected. 

"It's alright dear, you can come back before going back to school and we can send letters if you like. Anything I think you'll like book-wise I'll let you know of." Cedrella spoke and the words were enough to at least make Bronwyn feel a little better. She nodded in response to her father removing herself from the chair she had been sat upon moving to collect the pile of books her grandmother had gifted her to read. Bronwyn knew that her grandmothers words were coming from a place of calm, but her brain tried to scream at her just how little that this would matter, they couldn't afford her new hobby, her new fascination and she would have to source the things that intrigued her from elsewhere. Perhaps upon returning to the school it would be possible for her to venture down the path of intrigue.