The Heiress

Usually the first thing I noticed when I get into my office is how much parchment my desk is buried under. Not today. Today, my first sight was a pair of legs. To be more exact, a pair of the most beautiful legs I’d ever seen.

There was a pair of chairs in the far corner that on first glance looked to be empty. But I could see a tuft of bushy hair just visible from the above the chair back.

Warren and I had spent a day and half skulking around "the catacombs," an area of the dungeons that was damp and dusty as arse. We'd nearly been killed by the mold and bilge floating around down there, but we'd stuck to it until we'd found what we were searching for.

I'd ignored the knocking the first dozen times because I knew that Harry wouldn't bother, and at this point, Hermione wouldn't dare. I didn't want to see anyone at all, really, but I knew the knocking would keep on if I didn't do something.

The bloke sitting at the counter was all stomach in a set of purple robes, and his hair reminded me a bit of Hagrid's. He was reading a copy of The Daily Prophet and had the same look on his face I usually did when reading about the newest way the Cannons found to lose.

I'd never seen so much gold in one place. I'd never even wondered what more than eight hundred thousand Galleons would look like in one room, but even if I had imagined it, it wouldn't have even come close to reality.

I remembered the war, sitting up in St. Mungo's waiting for word on friends. When the staff started going on about nonsense, it was a sure sign that they were having trouble spitting out the bad news. Without warning, the room started swimming in front of my eyes.

As we walked to my office, Bill and I discussed his final report. I'd been able to understand it pretty well, but parts of it made me a good bit uncomfortable.

I tried to turn my head toward the voice, but I wasn't able to move anything except my eyes. I'd had brushes with Binding Charms, most of them voluntary and rather fun. I could tell I wasn't about to have one of those experiences

Harry just lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't like this Livesey bloke, that much was clear, and I didn't think I did either, and not just because of the rubbish he'd spouted about Hermione’s book.

I heard the scrape of a chair just beyond the door and then buzzing sounds that I could almost recognise as voices. I was about to find someplace else to sit when the door to the office opened just a crack.

“I knew I could count on you,” Harry said, thumping me on the back as we headed back to St. Mungo’s. “A knight, Ron. Some things never change.”

After so many mornings where Hermione had just taken her coffee without saying much of anything, the sudden transition from silence to … whatever this was, was a little jarring.

She was on the other side of me, sitting down on what looked like a cushion of prickly cones. I looked closer and saw that it was a small bench set on top of a creeping evergreen. The bench was so weatherworn that it almost looked like it was part of the plant

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, and said something soft, trying to smile. I almost ran out of the kitchen, because Whetwistle started twitching right away. His whole body twisted and a strangled half-moan echoed around the whole flat.

There was a worried look in her eyes. She took a step toward me, murmuring something about my looking feverish. When she put her hand on my forehead, something in me fell off some high ledge and smashed to pieces, and I stepped forward, grasping her face between my hands.

In all the sea of white and gold, it was a little hard to find who you were looking for. Sometimes the witches could help you, but I could see their white hats way on the other side. I looked around until I found what I was looking for – a grey willow tree right at the valley’s edge.

After a long while standing together like that, I asked her, soft and gentle as I could, what exactly had happened. I got a shudder as my answer. That, along with her torn clothes cleared up a few things. I just barely held back from asking her if she was sure Whetwistle was toes-up, because if he weren’t, I’d go back and make sure of it

Even before Warren had stopped talking, I started thinking about our options. He hadn’t said that Harry was one of the Aurors down there, so it seemed pretty clear what choice was the best one. I grabbed Hermione’s arm with one hand, my wand with the other ...

My confidence drained a bit as soon as he'd mentioned Hermione's name and my mind wandered when he went on talking about something else. Apparently the MLE was on Hermione's trail, but they hadn't found her yet, apparently, or they wouldn't be in my flat, poking through my things.

I looked helplessly over at McLaggen, who looked torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to pretend none of this was happening. I was with him there - at least on the pretending part. To me, there wasn't anything the least bit funny about the situation. Having to face a bird you'd run out on without a word of warning wasn't exactly how I wanted to spend my evening

I lost my breath. They'd figured out where she was somehow. Of course they would. She was probably in an interrogation chamber right now -or worse. A thought occurred to me that made my stomach roll. That shadow back at Whetwistle's shop ... maybe it wasn't his killer ... maybe it was his friend.

At some point, I dozed off with the newspaper still in my hand, and spent what seemed like hours tossing and turning. I didn't sleep easily. It felt like there was sand in my eyes and I couldn't get comfortable. I thought I heard voices on the edge of my consciousness and then it seemed like a bell was ringing, and not for breakfast, either.

I edged away, the roar of the ocean below filling my ears and the salty air stinging my nose. I turned round and saw the house. It was all dark except for what looked to be a candle or a lantern in an upstairs window.

I stepped out of the shadows and gathered the outer cloak around me, pulling the hood down as far as it would go.

I lunged forward to knock that smirk off his face, but I didn't get very far. The pain that pounded across my head was too sharp and deep.