[port phillip] don't panic. [tag; hefin]

It was stifling.

Madeline was very aware of how English she was the moment the humidity smacked her around the ears. It was hot. It was very hot. She'd never experienced heat like this before, never mind in December. She'd left a frosty Paris far behind her. Her street was covered in a light dusting of snow, the people that hurried by were draped in layers as the weak sunlight glinted off the icicles. But here? Here, she'd already seen three women in bikinis.

Once or twice, she had to stop herself from gawping. Everyone here was beautiful, she'd noticed. Madeline's pale skin was close to burning, despite her sticking exclusively to the shaded parts of the road she was traipsing. She'd managed to apparate quite close to the manor house as she carefully cradled the pale blue box, the lid stamped with the bakery's logo.

She'd managed to cast a special charm to keep the cakes as cold as possible and she carried them like precious cargo. They were the reason she'd travelled half way across the world. If she managed to woo the man in charge, it would be one heck of a lucrative deal. Her boss was making her go in person and she didn't even know the name of the man she was supposed to be meeting with.

It wasn't important. What was important was that he liked what she had to offer. She'd made lots of different little treats. Despite her assuming the antipodeans' tastes would be different from hers, she'd made a handful of pretty little macarons. Pastel blues and purples, filled with chocolate and raspberry ganache. Miniature Victoria sponge cakes and chocolate slices. Teeny little cherry tarts. Cute little Swiss rolls, dusted in icing sugar. She'd made a whole lot in an effort to cover everyone's tastes. She assumed the team would be meeting her at this house up ahead.

She was already sweating. Madeline had put her long blonde curls up in a high ponytail but her forehead was shining. Her long legs were on show in a cute pair of shorts that she hadn't worn in years. Why? Because Paris never got that hot. Her freckles were on show across her slender shoulders and bridge of her nose, despite applying copious amounts of powder to disguise them. She knew now why everyone here was gorgeous; make up would just slide right off.

She stopped suddenly.

Her cream coloured heels slid a little as she forced herself to take all in. This place was huge. Giant. Colossal. Massive. Maddie was a tall girl but she felt about the same size as a hobbit as she sized up the place. With trepidation, she walked down the long driveway, cursing her idea to wear heels instead of sandals with every step. The sun was high in the sky now, the warm breeze doing nothing to cool her down.

She was thankful the place was coastal. Had she been forced to go into the city, she might have died. Despite the sweltering heat, everything looked green and lush. Trying to calm her nerves, she reached out and pressed the doorbell. The sound was loud and echoing and almost instantly, it was opened and she was greeted by a woman half her size who seemed disinterested in her arrival.

"Hi!" Maddie said with a broad smile, her cut glass accent at odds with the languid tones of her Australian counterparts. "I'm Madeline Fletcher. I have a meeting set up with -- " she stumbled. With whom? No one had said. "With the master of the house," she tacked on brightly with a megawatt smile. Good save.

The maid stood back and Madeline entered. She let out a sigh of relief. The cool air against her damp skin felt glorious as she looked around the grand hallway and her eyes boggled. The staircase was vast as it split at the top, the paintings were too far away to make out but she liked the colours. She offered the woman another chipper smile. "I'll go and fetch Mr. Howell." With that, she left and Maddie stayed rooted in the spot.

Her smile faded quickly. She did. She…she said that surname. Oh Hell no. She had not just travelled ten thousand miles to end up in the home of her one-time crush. The door closed behind her and it made her jump. She was trapped. Oh dear. She hoped he didn't remember any of them weird things she did to keep tabs on him when she was sixteen years old. He absolutely did not need to know about that time that she'd hidden in a suit of armour and watched him walk down the corridor. Not at all.



@Hefin Howell

Today was hot. Normally, Hefin wouldn’t be bothered by the heat, however that day he actually had work to do, and therefore would have liked a cooler weather at least for a few hours.

Following their unexpected try-outs for one of the main chaser positions, at the managers’ advice, Hefin had given everyone from the team time off until after New Year’s. But before the new season would start and therefore their practice sessions would becoming a living Hell (especially in that weather, which was going to become even hotter, as one would presume), the management decided to throw a New Year’s party for the team. However, because the young captain felt bad to have everyone work even more, he took it upon himself to organise the event. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t organised parties before and, of course, since Hefin kept a close eye on everyone’s diets, he had to make sure nobody would go overboard. Meaning, the sweets and fats would be very, but very limited.

With that thought in mind, the part Australian figured that if there weren’t going to be too many sweets at the event, the ones that were going to be served simply had to be the very best. He had requested his butler to give him a list of confectioners his mother used for her annoying yet ridiculously fancy tea parties, and eventually approached a famous one in Paris for the order. The time for the tasting meeting was almost there, and Hefin still hadn’t managed to finish the entire workload he had planned. He still had to pick out a venue and truthfully, that was indeed harder than he had first assumed. Normally, all the parties he threw took place at his manor, but this was an official event, consequently Hefin couldn’t take the easy way out, as much as he would have liked doing so.

A knock on the office door could soon be heard, and one of the maids stepped in, to announce him that the confectioner he’s been waiting for has arrived. Hefin got up from behind the desk, which caused the maid to gasp in surprise, for he was actually wearing proper clothes for once. Kind of; he had a pair of white swimming trunks, matched with a pale blue shirt, which was more unbuttoned than buttoned. However, that didn’t stop the maid for complimenting her young master for willingly dressing up, causing Hefin quite the amusement. After she finished arranging his hair, Hefin and the maid made their way downstairs, where they parted ways, as the quidditch player told her to prepare some fresh and very cold grapefruit lemonade. He wasn’t keen on sweets at all, quite the opposite actually, so Hef guessed he would need something cold and both sour and bitter after the tasting. Or even during it, for that matter.

The maids however had done a good job with placing his meeting at the pool; he’d definitely need to taste those raw calories in a place with a lot of air so he wouldn’t die out of guilt for breaking all of his rules regarding his diet. “G’day, Ace. Sorry to make you wait.” Hefin said quite cheerfully, his voice echoing as he stepped outside. The person he was meeting with seemed to be quite the lovely young thing, which was surprising, as he wouldn’t have thought it would be a ‘she’ in the first place. As he drew closer, Hefin suddenly recognised the young lady – it was his former house mate, nobody else than Madeline Fletcher herself. He stopped, a bit startled by the coincidence.

“Who would have guessed we’d meet this way again, Maddie?” He let out a soft laughter, a bit more cynical than intended, as his diplomatic business smile turned into a cheeky smirk. Did Hefin remember her? Of course he did. Actually, how could have he forgotten her in the first place? In the end, all the love notes he had ever received had been signed, only hers had been anonymous, and yet so promiscuous they were pretty hard to forget. Hefin was pretty sure that he still had them around somewhere in one of his former schoolbooks. The fact that someone so licentious ended up making sweets was quite hilarious and yet, somehow, it was also fairly suitable for Madeline.

Running a hand through his hair, Hefin straightened his back as he continued approaching Madeline. “So, what do you have for me today, possum? I mean, aside from your very sexy legs.”

Time ticked by and Madeline felt as though she was being lead to the gallows. This place was gorgeous. Truly. It was an oasis with the large pool and hanging vines and ivy. It was very…Hefin, she thought. She didn't dare move. She held herself so stiffly, her calf muscles began to ache. Her mouth had gone dry and she was wholly unprepared for this. It felt like running into an ex-partner but she was wearing flip-flops and tracksuit bottoms; a living nightmare.

He was practically shirtless and as if on cue, her ovaries exploded.

Her jaw dropped and she felt embarrassed. She was a strong, independent, successful woman and  here she was, gawping. If she'd thought Hefin was handsome in school, he'd definitely done some growing up since he graduated. Her honey coloured eyes traced over his shoulders, broader than she remembered. He seemed taller, taller than her anyway. She resolutely refused to let her eyes look at his chest. This was a professional meeting and she was a professional woman.

Nope. Don't do it. Too late.

Her head jerked upwards as he spoke and she forced a bright, slightly maniacal smile, in response. The cool air of the pool area was nice but she felt like she was burning up completely. Thank goodness there were no mirrors because she must have looked a right state. She was hot, sweaty and uncomfortable and she was being knocked for six by the arrival of a past paramour. The sixteen year old version of herself was doing cartwheels at the realisation that she was at Hefin's private abode but as of right now, she was dying inside as she remembered the things she'd said to him so many years ago.

She was placated momentarily by the shock on his face. For a second, they were on a level playing field. There would be no way they'd ever cross paths again. He'd literally gone back to the other side of the world. He looked similar but not the same. He'd aged well. He had that desirable beachy, weather-beaten surfer type of nonchalance that would make any hot blooded female keel over. Swiftly, her toes curled in her shoes as she fixed another smile on her plump lips. Possum. He'd called her possum. He could have called her a trash monster and she still would have said thank you.

"Hello, Hefin. Sorry, Mr. Howell." The comment about her legs went without a reply but she turned bright pink, blushing all the way up to her hairline. Her legs were her best feature. She would have normally worn a rather modestly cut dress, knee length with some sheer tights but it was just too hot to dress professionally. She cleared her throat, partly to distract him but to mostly crack the simmering sexual tension that was totally one-sided.

Madeline let Hefin come to her as she held out the box of cakes. "I've got a selection of macarons; strawberry, orange blossom and rose, all in the team's colours, of course," she explained as she removed the lid, uttering a silent prayer of thanks that they'd retained the crisp shell. "Mini bakewell tarts, they're cherry," she added, in case his stint in Britain had worn off. "Little eclairs, summer fruit tartlets, ganache covered brownie bites and dainty Victoria sponges," she announced proudly.

"I've also got some savoury options. Here." With that, she pressed the sweet box into Hefin's hands before unwrapping the other. "There are gruyere puffy pastry twists," she said, pointing to a delicately golden pastry. "Bitesize tomato and onion quiches, crackers, smoked salmon and cream cheese pinwheels and super cute vegetable pizza bites. All of which are gluten free," she said with a smile. She'd made these healthier but she was absolutely not going to use sweetener in her cakes. What a travesty.

Madeline was very aware of how close he was and she chewed on her lower lip as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other anxiously. "I'm here to get your opinions," she stressed. It was clear it wasn't a casual visit but she was trying so hard to keep things professional. How many time had she said that now? Three? Four? "I'm here to do whatever you want me to. With in reason. Referring to the cakes," she blurted out before she winced.

Mr. Howell.

There was something very satisfying in having no-one else than Madeline Fletcher address him in such a way. Hefin never really realised his difference in status compared to others during his time at Hogwarts, however, since graduation, it had been quite different. Somehow, his status always came up, and while he didn’t mind it, it would be a lie to say that it pleased Hefin as well. It was just something he would have liked ignored a lot of the time, particularly when with former mates from school. Therefore, under normal circumstances, Hef would have simply brushed it off, saying that there should not be any formalities between former mates.

Nonetheless, it felt ridiculously pleasing to have Madeline there call him by the appellative, the title of respect only making Hef realise how much he will enjoy teasing with his former Hufflepuff mate during their entire business meeting. In addition to that, the fact that Maddie there was so easy to read made it all even more amusing than it already was; her awkward smile, the fact that her entire face turned into a new shade of red, and added up with her nervously clearing her throat simply added to Hefin’s delight and desire to torment the young witch even further. If only his looks managed to get her in such a state, he looked forward to see how his personality would contribute to her uneasiness.

As soon as he reached her, Madeline was quick to reveal her confusingly loquacious self, suddenly holding out a box of cakes. In all honesty, Hefin didn’t understand anything of what she’s said; he was never a sweets person, so his knowledge regarding that specific area was almost equal to zero unless one would take into consideration the amount of calories which every cake contained, only the thought itself making Hef internally shriek. While he didn’t understand sweets, Hef definitely caught her slightly sarcastic remark, an explanation which, while needed truly, was made to pick on his Australian side. That ticked him off, not enjoying the tiny verbal sharpness at all.

Madeline then handed him the box of sweets, while opening another one. There were honestly so many things in there, and she was talking so fast, about all things that he did not know, it ended up confusing him more than anything else. And the fact that he himself was actually holding a box of sweets was slightly sickening, in more than one way. Lack of fondness of sweets aside, he wasn’t really paying Madeline for him to hold the things that she was supposed to. Holding the box in one hand, Hef pressed his free hand’s fingers against his right temples, mentally thanking Merlin in every language he knew the moment Maddie finally put an end to her exasperating speech. He did catch something regarding a thing being gluten-free, but aside from that, Madeline there might as well have talked in Archaic Egyptian.

Hefin took a deep breath as she stopped talking, placing the box which she previously pushed in his direction on a table nearby, and only a few steps away from the place where Madeline settled herself. Turning around in her direction, Hef gracefully leaned against the table, before running both his hands through his hair. “Maddie dearest – “ He started, his voice being as sultry as usual, yet also a bit sharp, Hefin being openly bothered by the verbal waterfall which attacked him moments ago. “ – this is a business meeting.” Hefin clapped his hands, his gaze raising in her direction. “Meaning, I will take a seat, and you will present each and every cake one by one, with the utmost detail. Ingredients and their expiration dates, possible allergies that can be caused by each cake, and of course the amount of proteins, fats, and carbohydrates each cake has. After I do the tasting, I will give you my opinion regarding each and every one, and all possible changes I shall desire.”

His language was much more elegant and business oriented than before, as, for Hefin, this was a serious issue. In the end, he didn’t want to poison his team at a New Year’s party with an overdose of fats. His attention was caught by one of the maids, as she suddenly Apparated, just to leave a golden tray with two crystal glasses, filled with freshly made and icy cold grapefruit lemonade, along with some silver plates and some tea spoons, before disappearing into thin air a few seconds later. Hefin elegantly picked up one of the glasses, and held it out in Madeline’s direction, for her to take and drink. “Drink this, and let’s start again. Properly. I’ll ignore everything that just happened and not mention it to your boss.” He winked in her direction, straightening his back as soon as Madeline took the glass.

He took a deep breath and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, fully aware that this will add even more pressure on Madeline acting in a professional way. However, as long as she didn’t give him stuff to hold again, things would go well. Running his hand through his hair in a rather dazzling manner, also to distract Maddie with his good looks, Hefin elegantly took a seat at the table, crossing his legs as he leaned against the back of his chair. His left elbow was placed on the chair’s armrest, while the other hand’s fingers gently tapped the table. “So, what was that first one again? C’mon, sunshine.”

They didn't have history, she needed to remember that. They weren't close. They'd never been close. This wasn't a meeting with an ex-boyfriend. In the grand scheme of things, Madeline and Hefin didn't know each other that well or…at all, really. Since graduation, he'd been on the fringes of her subconscious. She didn't follow Quidditch and she absolutely didn't think she was obsessed with him like she used to be. In fact, as he spoke and sat down in his grand and sprawling mansion, a feeling of uneasiness settled over her suddenly.

Business meeting he'd said and she found herself nodding along. A little confused, Maddie didn't think she'd been unprofessional towards him and she frowned at his tone. She'd been asked to come here, bring a few samples and get an opinion. Had she known it was his opinion, she might have faked her own death rather than attend.

"I don't -- I can't --" The tall blonde stammered, her eyes wide as Hefin fired off a million things he wanted her to do. In that moment, she felt herself physically start to shrink as he spoke. At the time they'd known one another, Maddie had been a shrinking violet of sorts. Moving to Paris had been good for her. No one there knew about her cripplingly low self esteem and  her constant need to second guess herself. But he did. And he was using it against her.

She boggled at him as she held the boxes of cakes close to her chest. Despite the heat in the room, Madeline shivered as the sweat cooled and dripped down her back. There was a distinct chill in the air and it was coming from him. Expiration dates? Fat quantities? She began to panic. She could tell him how to make them, she knew what went into them but she was a home baker; she didn't worry about calories per serving or portion. Her grown up persona dissipated almost instantly, leaving behind the shy and clumsy sixteen year old she thought she'd never meet again. Her head began to hurt.

Madeline looked at the floor, feeling utterly broken. Hot fat tears of embarrassment and humiliation stung at the corners of her eyes and blurred her vision. She knew he was enjoying this but what sort of sick freak enjoyed pulling a person apart? She felt about three inches tall, bowed underneath the weight of Hefin's legacy. She hadn't spoken in a few minutes and all she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears, a sharp contrast between the gentle lapping of the pool close to her.

Had she been here by herself, she would have quit but this wasn't about her. It was about her team back in Paris. Her colleagues, her dinky kitchen, the killing they could make if the Quidditch players liked her cakes. Struggling her breathe, Madeline's cheeks turned a very different shade of red as those voices came trickling back. The same voices that belonged to the naysayers, those who doubted her ability to bake or her strength to move to another country by herself. All of her doubters looked like Hefin. They sounded like him, too, as though he was a manifestation of all of her insecurities, dressed up as a six foot tall dreamboat.

This felt like blackmail and she obeyed his request as he told her to take the glass but she didn't drink it, despite her mouth being uncomfortably dry. Hefin didn't need to be like this. She'd also met too many people like him to be this discouraged and she wanted nothing more than to be back at home than spend one second longer with this monster. He was a monster. She looked up swiftly at his face out of habit. She didn't know how she could be so blindsided. He was not a nice man. The version of him she knew was miles different from the one she saw now, the arrogant man who seemed to get off on making her feel so insignificant and tiny.

He was making her work for his business and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her stomach churned, feeling sick as it twisted itself into knots. You're better than this she told herself, offering him a weak but polite smile at his request that she continue. Off came his shirt and surprisingly, her gaze didn't drop an inch. Madeline was about to harpoon her reputation and tank the whole thing but everyone would get over it eventually.

"Thank you for the offer, Hefin," Madeline told him politely, her accent wildly different from his much more easy going tone. She stepped forward and placed the untouched glass back down on his table, as well as the boxes of cakes and walked back to the edge of the pool. "But you know what?" She asked him with another smile, riled up by righteous indignation. Men like Hefin were the same sort of men who didn't want women to get the vote, or equal pay or to take control of their own lives. He was rude and chauvinistic and any woman who went anywhere near him needed a good kick in the uterus.

"I quit," she said brightly, smiling genuinely this time. Technically she couldn't quit because he hadn't employed her but still. "Yeah," she agreed with herself as she nodded, her ponytail swinging. "I'm sure you could find another bakery who might be more to your liking because I don't think I am. You've made that perfectly clear by your absolutely awful manner," she blurted out with wide eyes.

She felt free and she took a deep breath, hands on her hips. She looked years younger, light and airy as she looked around the pool area. She'd gone too far now, she might as well carry on; it was shit or bust. "I'm going to be just fine without you," she told Hefin, looking at him properly this time, her eyes flicking down to his chest briefly. It was such a shame. If he wasn't such a raging caveman, he'd make someone very lucky some day.

"Thanks for your time," Madeline commented, trying really hard to keep the sarcasm and bitterness out of her tone. "I'm sure you're going to try and get me fired and that's fine," she added, nodding at the boxes of cakes. "The address is printed inside the lid if you want to write a complaint. Make it out to Monsieur Devereaux, he's my boss," she added helpfully. "And if you think I'm going to spend one more second in your company on a scale of maybe to absolutely," she began, spinning around to face him, her honey eyes wild. "Absolutely fucking not." With that, she turned back around and went to march back out of the door, only to catch the corner of Hefin's discarded shirt, slip and then fall face first into the pool.

Twmffat.

Rare were the moments when Hefin actually thought in his actual native tongue, for that meant that he was severely irritated, and far beyond the point of the situation having a possibility of repairing itself. Madeline Fletcher was acting like a spoiled brat, and only because, in the end, she had been asked to act with a decent amount of professionalism, just a bit above the minimum. And not only that, but she was putting off quite the superior façade, as if she actually owned the business and wasn’t only just the help.

He liked fierce and independent women, and Madeline was far away from that. She was whiny, didn’t know how to behave herself around people, around him, and, furthermore, she lacked knowledge of the key factor of any successful business – the customer was always right. Being part of a very successful business as well, and as one of its heirs and not as part of the actual service, Hefin was highly aware of that himself, reason as of why he had never contradicted a person who was in the wrong in the Walker shops, even if he was highly aware of their ignorance. But, alas, that wasn’t the situation here.

Truthfully, it seemed that Madeline wasn’t even aware that he was a client, and one with an order of such importance and magnitude that it required someone to do a presentation at his house. He sighed, repeating once more the Welsh saying in his mind as she went on with her pathetic monologue, stating that she will be fine without him. Hefin, while until that point didn’t make any gestures whatsoever, arched an eyebrow, perplexed by her remark. Her following ones were equally outrageous, Hefin not knowing whether to be annoyed or amused by her delusions.

Was she under the impression that they were close enough for her to even think such annotations, and furthermore, also voice them? If anyone heard her talk right now, they would think she was his former fiancée, who was dumped at the altar or something equally dismaying. She was a far cry from Callista, Parvati, Morwen, Quinn, and literally any of the other women (and men) he’s been involved with. Suddenly, Hefin found himself even more grateful to his teen self for not getting involved with Madeline, despite her frantic advances towards him.

He leaned back in his chair, his legs slightly stretching as he made himself more comfortable. Hefin allowed her to finish her number, not even listening anymore and simply feeling sorry for the owner of the business, for having made the awful mistake of hiring such irresponsible help. She was poor in thinking, and that fact was only emphasised by how Madeline just went on and on and on, not even knowing when to stop. She lacked elegance, grace, aside from a proper functioning brain. For, in the end, she was having this supposed ‘personality crisis’ just to cover up her lack of proper knowledge regarding her own products, in addition to throwing any business protocol out the window.

Hefin picked up his lemonade from the table and took a sip, and as he finished his drink, he shrugged his shoulders, his hair gently swaying as he placed the goblet back on the table. “You’re right.” He sighed, a sarcastic smirk appearing on his face, as he turned his gaze towards her. Having sworn at her in Welsh in his mind, his own accent went back to his native one rather than his Australian one. It happened instinctively, yet it still surfaced the level of his annoyance over her lack of touch with reality. “I should’ve gone with Honeydukes.”

If Heather herself had to deal with Madeline there, Hefin could very much understand why his mother used Honeydukes as the main provider for her tea gatherings. He made the mistake of thinking a Parisian would be of equal quality, because it seemed that Britain’s lowest were now working in the French capital. A trend which hopefully won’t last, for it really gave foreigners a bad impression of the British. He wasn’t British anymore himself, so technically, Madeline was putting a very bad performance in front of a foreigner right now. Merlin will most likely cry himself to sleep tonight, over Madeline’s awful acting performance.

She went on, wording her last remark as if he was actually eager to spend time in her presence. This girl was so delusional, Hefin genuinely wondered if her working in Paris wasn’t just a cover-up for her post-escaping the St. Mungo’s psychiatric Ward. British aurors were probably on the look-out for her, really. Hefin had wanted to comment that he actually had standards when it came to women, but his intention had been interrupted by a rather loud splash.

Wow. It seemed that karma did hit. Karma hit Madeline Fletcher straight into his pool. If karma were a woman, Hefin would give it the kiss of her life right now. The quidditch player started laughing, the hilarity of the situation winning over his former house mate’s lack of basic social skills. He got up from the chair and looked in the pool, still laughing. He paused as Madeline wasn’t coming out. A drama queen to the end, eh? “C’mon, Madeline. Don’t be this childish.” Hefin rolled his eyes, later on nodding in disapproval as the witch kept on playing her game and not coming out of the water.

However, the timing was getting kind of ridiculous, and eventually Hefin thought he did not want Madeline Fletcher to die there out of her own foolishness, and ruin his pool for him. The former Hufflepuff sighed as he took off his shirt, and dived into the pool himself. He didn’t know whether or not she was faking it, but Hefin took Madeline out of the pool, and placed her on the pavement. Instinctively, as he learned from his first-aid classes from both surfing and quidditch, he checked if she was breathing. “Ugh.” He let out, displeased that the situation was unpromising, deciding to be the even better person and give her mouth-to-mouth, just in case she wasn’t completely faking it.

Their lips touched – much to his annoyance still – and Hefin did his best to get Madeline either wake up, or stop pretending as he gave her the basic first aid. “Wake up, Fletcher.” He said, irritated, not sure anymore if this was an act or not. Still, maybe out of his Hufflepuff naïveté rather than anything else, he didn’t want her to die there, and it seemed that giving her mouth-to-mouth wasn’t enough. The quidditch player decided that she should have enough air, so her ‘not waking up’ needed something with a bit more impact to change. He took a deep breath, and making sure not to use all of his force, Hefin gave Madeline a slap on her left cheek, with the hope that the shock would properly wake her up.

Everything went black.

Madeline toppled over and she must have bumped her head, either on the pool edge or the floor. On something, anyway. It was surprisingly peaceful. The blackness was dark, darker than anything she'd ever felt before. It was very quiet in the water but she felt lifted, supported, suspended, almost. Floating.

She flopped against the side of the pool when removed, eyes closed and unresponsive. Her hair was wet, the curls slackening with the added moisture as her previously professional appearance disintegrated. Her skin was pale and worryingly so as she laid out flat, her long legs bent at an uncomfortable angle. Her shoes were still in the pool, merrily bobbing along in the waves that her body had made as it was unceremoniously dumped into it. It must have been a struggle for Hefin to haul her out of the pool. Maddie was a slight girl at the best of times but she must have felt like a dead weight.

The kiss of life had no effect as her head lolled backwards, her hands sliding off her stomach and the backs of her wrists resting on the wet pool tiles. How long she was out for, she didn't know. Seconds? Minutes? Longer?

Suddenly, she jerked awake. Madeline turned her head and coughed up a lung-full of the pool water, eyes wide and gasping for breath as she began to panic. Her throat ached as she continued to cough, the colour rushing back to her face swiftly as her heart kick-started and painfully so. On the left side of her forehead, there was a rather large lump developing, the skin around it already turning a nasty shade of purple. She struggled her breath, panting, each and every inhale wracking her chest as she coughed up some more water.

Her limbs felt like lead, heavy and shaking as everything kicked into gear. The once peaceful silence had shattered and she could hear the water of the pool sloshing, the birds outside and the laboured breathing of one Hefin Howell. Her eyesight was woozy and her head was spinning as she fought against it, squinting at him. He was wet. And he was shirtless. Oh. It was a dream! How mad. She hadn't had a wet and shirtless Hefin Howell pop into her subconscious since sixth year.

In spite of herself, Madeline began to shake as she suddenly felt cold. Her summer clothes were soaked through and rapidly starting to cool as her teeth started to chatter. "Where am I?" The tall blonde managed to croak out, lifting a shaking hand to gingerly touch her throbbing forehead and instantly wished that she hadn't. "Ow," she gasped, wincing visibly as the pain hit her like a gunshot. With difficulty, she stared at Hefin. It was a tough job, considering there seemed to be two of him.

Coughing again, Madeline wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she scooted backwards and away from him with difficulty. It was not a dignified escape. Everything hurt, she realised quickly. She remembered quitting. And his sardonic bastard grin. And him belittling her and mocking her and making her feel tiny. She remembered him attacking her character, despite the fact that it was her bakery that he'd insulted. Then she remembered slipping.

Recognition dawned on her face and she looked horrified. Squeaking in surprise, both of Madeline's hands went to her throat as a patch of redness appeared on her cheek. "Did you slap me?" She accused Hefin with wild eyes, still shivering as her body frantically tried to keep up with her jumbled mass of emotions. Had she…drowned? Oh shit. Had he tried to mouth-to-mouth her? Against her will, she felt the vomit rise in her throat as she clapped a hand over her mouth and tried to resist. Her body was just in shock, that had to be the reason.

"I want to go home," she told Hefin in a very small, unsure voice. With difficulty, she swallowed hard and placed her head in her hands. Her body felt heavy and the desire to sleep felt delicious. She really wanted to nap and she was fighting to keep her eyes open. Everything was hitting her at once; his callousness, the loss of a potentially lucrative deal for the bakery and the fact that she'd been inches from death. She'd spent every minute since graduation trying to become someone she wanted to be; beautiful, successful, smart, capable and yet here she was, almost comatose on the floor of the pool house of the man who'd inadvertently broke her heart years previously.

She woke up. Madeline Fletcher hadn’t died at his house. He needn’t have to move. The manor was saved.

With those thoughts in mind, Hefin took a deep breath, obviously relieved. He’s lived in this manor for only about two years, the last thing he was planning was to move, especially when the new quidditch season would be starting soon. To think all of this distress had been caused by a child (for he couldn’t categorise Fletcher there as an adult) who couldn’t do her job well, and felt offended when someone (in a position of superiority even, as a prospective employer) pointed out her lack of knowledge in the area. He shifted in his position, pushing his wet hair out of his face, as he ran a hand through it.

Was she backing away from him? The nerve of this girl. Hefin rolled his eyes, realising that Fletcher was possibly even worse than any actual person he’s met in his entire life. She felt so entitled and so precious, when she was, in fact, neither. He didn’t hate such people; he didn’t have time to hate them. For him, such presumptuous individuals were simply just inexistent. “Thank you for saving my life, Mr. Howell, and for not letting me drown.” Hefin commented sharply before getting up, and headed towards the table, to pick up his drink, which refilled itself while he’d been away. He took a generous sip, later on clearing his throat at the girl’s following words.

Awh, baby wanted to go home? Of course she wanted to go home, Fletcher wasn’t enough of a proper functioning adult to be outside of her house. It was a waste of her nice adult features, for his own sixteen year old sister was much more mature than her. Hefin sighed, and turned around to face her once more, his left eyebrow gently arching. “Well, I’m definitely not insisting you remain here, obviously. I have more meetings and business to deal with, to I can’t be bothered with you anymore. You’re an adult – “ The former Hufflepuff particularly emphasised on that specific word. “ – you can Apparate yourself to the closest port-key.”

The quidditch player shrugged, wanting for this entire situation to be finally over. He had to schedule a meeting with Honeydukes, and solve the issue of dietetic sweets that his party obviously need to have. And in addition to that, he had to meet a fashion designer later on, to give her instruction for @Quinn Regan‘s birthday (and more) present. Hefin definitely did not want someone as ungrateful as Fletcher around more than needed. She wasn’t dead (thanks to him), she could leave on her own. Hefin elegantly took another sip out of his glass, and eyeing Madeline quite coldly, waited for her to get up and leave. 

Madeline flinched as though she'd been slapped as the acid-coated obviously slipped from his lips. She was stunned. It was like finding out that Father Christmas wasn't real after all. It was like the wheels had fallen off and she'd come back down to Earth with a rather vicious bump. She boggled at Hefin as though he'd been cast into a new light and he had. In Hogwarts, she'd thought he'd been a bit of a cocky man but now, cockiness had transferred to arrogance and it made her feel sick to her stomach.

"Obviously," the tall blonde repeated, her voice sounding coarse as it burned from all the coughing and the expulsion of the chlorinated water. Shakily, she got to her feet, swaying as she staggered. Maddie had never felt unwanted before in her entire laugh. Her childhood was nice, she had friends, boyfriends and warm company. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes at Hefin's throwaway comments. He was so casually cruel, it must be one of his hidden talents. Well, that and being a complete and utter wanker.

To be honest, she wasn't sure she had the strength to apparate anywhere at the moment. She figured she could maybe make it back to the beach and sit down for a little while or, at the very least, make it out of his sprawling mansion.

Madeline felt crushed. She'd let everyone at the bakery down. This could have been a major coup. The bakery could have made it to the big leagues and enjoyed success but as she looked at him, really looked at him, she realised that she'd rather be at the bottom than have him give her a hand to the top. She was out of her league. She shouldn't have come here. She'd been living in a world where her Parisian rose tinted glasses had her walking on sunshine and Hefin Howell had been her personal little black rain cloud.

With whatever dignity she had left, Madeline managed to pick up her soaking wet file that contained what would have been an impressive sales pitch. "Good luck," she told him though she didn't mean it. Her long bare legs strode to the pool house door before she turned to face him. With her hand on the door handle, she turned to face Hefin. "Hooroo," she told him in a very convincing Australian accent before giving him a mock salute and slamming the door behind her.