The Heiress

I lifted Hermione to her feet and she didn't do much to stop me or to help. Her arms dropped limply to her sides and she sagged against my chest. In order to keep her up I had to hold her tight, and sort of pull her in the opposite way that her head was going. The Mediwitch stopped running when she saw us tangled together.

"I turned my back for a moment and she was gone! She couldn't have gotten past me without Apparating, and she's in no condition for that. How she did it without splinching herself is a wonder!"

I stripped the Invisibility Cloak off Hermione as best I could with one hand and pushed it at Harry, who was standing at the door. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know how Hermione had found the cloak, but I supposed that all things considered, it was a good thing no one else had. I could hear Whetwistle calling out to Hermione before Livesey said something sharp to him that made him shut up.

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and her lips moved, but nothing came out except little gasping noises.

"She needs to be taken back to bed," the Mediwitch said, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "She's certainly not well enough to go gallivanting about the hallways."

Hermione twisted her head round and squirmed free of the woman. "I'm all right. I just ... I was just taken a bit by surprise. I want to ... I want to talk to him."

"I'm standing right here."

"Not you. Him." Hermione pointed a finger toward the door.

The Mediwitch looked fussed but that was nothing compared to how I suppose I looked, because Hermione took a shaky step or two away from me.

"There's nothing to talk about. Not tonight, anyway. You're going back to bed."

"I'm not a child!" Her voice was too weak to carry off the shirty quality she was going for. "If what he's said is true, then I -"

"Then it can wait another few hours. You've been sick for three days. You need rest."

She brought out her best glower and tried a quick move to get by me. "But I want to know wh ... aieee!"

Her voice spiraled into a high-pitched squeak as I scooped her up in my arms.

"Ronald Weasley, put me down this instant!"

The Mediwitch stepped aside and I swept down the hall. Hermione's hands were flapping at my shoulders the way someone would do if they were looking to knock a spider off their curtains. I ignored the blokes who were stationed outside her room, and they turned their heads and started looking at the walls as if they were expecting something to come out of them. Hermione held onto the front of my robes when I swung her around and laid her in the bed.

"Get some sleep or try to, anyway." I pulled the covers up to her chin. "Don't make me have to bind you to the bed."

"A binding charm? You ... you wouldn't!"

"Don't tempt me."

She stared up at me, dish-eyed. "You'd be tempted?"

Hermione still had a handful of my shirt and it seemed to me that our faces were closer together than when I'd first put her on the bed. We both looked down at the same time, and she let me go and turned on her side. She didn't look quite so helpless and small that way, but I kept fussing with her blankets until she put her hand over mine.

"I heard ... I heard everything. His little girl ... someone's hurting her, Ron." Her eyes were shiny and her cheeks wet. "We have to help him. I have to help him."

"What you have to do is get better. We don't even know if any of what this bloke is saying is real."

"Why would someone lie about something like that? It's too horrible!"

"People do mental things for money. If he's telling the truth, then we'll figure out a way to get this sorted."

"But ... he's already figured out something. I just wish I knew why ... why me? ..." she said softly, her eyelids sliding closed.

There were times in the past that I would've given every bone in my body to get Hermione to shut up for half a second. Strange that the one time that I didn't want the conversation to drop, she would fall asleep on me. But I couldn't stay peeved for too long. It had been a long night - morning, now - for her, and she needed her rest.

She snuggled into the blankets and I stood over her, watching her breath dent the pillow.

There were Aurors at the door, stronger wards on the door, and if I knew Harry, Livesey and Whetwistle weren't going to be let out of his sight anytime soon. Hermione was all right. Sleeping, safe and sound. There wasn't anything more that could be done at the moment. I could leave.

I didn't.

~*~

When I walked into the headquarters of the Auror Division two days later, the first bloke I saw waved me in without checking my credentials or even asking my name, which made me a little suspicious. I didn't know anyone at the Division anymore except for Harry and it made me a little angry to think that discipline had become so lax with the "new blood" that had come in. I knew it wasn't any of my business anymore, but I still felt a little protective of it even if it was from afar most of the time.

Over the years, Harry had talked about how run down things had gotten since the Ministry put all its focus on the rebuilding effort and just left everyone else to stew in their own water. I'd always suspected that Harry was exaggerating for my benefit, but my first look inside Headquarters in 10 years had me thinking that Harry had been exaggerating in the other direction.

I had to duck around beams and bits of plaster that were sticking out here and there, and a new crop of trainees were sitting in an open space looking exhausted, sick or both. I supposed it was just as well that Aurors didn't have so much to do since the war had ended, because I thought about my office at Gringotts and how it was a bloody manor compared to Headquarters.

But as bad as it all looked, I knew that if given the chance, I'd trade my smegging nice office and big desk for the grottiest corner. I felt a bit of guilt thinking about work; I'd owled in sick when Harry had fire called and told me to get my arse over there to have "lunch" with him. I reckoned that the only thing that'd be on the menu there was a full accounting on just what was going on with the whole Whetwistle thing, so I'd stopped for a bit of pie, just in case.

Hermione had been released the day before and was resting comfortably at Ginny and Harry's. Harry said that she'd been looking through every book she could get her hands on researching Iunctus curses and had hardly left the little guest room. I knew Harry was worried about her shutting herself away like that, but I was rather relieved that she was tucked off with her nose in a book instead of out and about as a potential target for whoever was after Whetwistle - if such a person really did exist.

I got turned around and a knackered-looking trainee led me to the right place. I could tell by the shadows under her eyes and the foe glass sticking out of her robes that she and her mates were going through Dark Detector field exams. I thought about making that whirring sound Sneakoscopes make when a dark presence is about, just to give her a bit of a laugh. I thought better of it when I realised she had her wand in her hand.

We went down a damp hallway and stopped in a little alcove in front of Harry's office and told me to wait there for a bit. She wandered off then and I took a seat in a chair that was right against the wall.

I wondered if Harry was getting on with the interrogation already. I knew I couldn't be in the interrogation chamber itself. That was fine with me; I'd had enough of the chamber back when they'd strapped me down and poured the Veritaserum in my mouth. Ten years on, my throat still tightened at the memory of it.

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.

"... Let some air in since the windows are stuck. A bit stuffy in here, I think."

It was Harry's voice, and I fancied I could see the glint of his glasses through the crack in the door for a split second. The voices were more distinct now, and I could make out Whetwistle, Livesey, Harry and Urdsmore fairly well now.

When Harry casually mentioned that Whetwistle wasn't going to be brought up on trespassing charges for his stunt in St. Mungo's and said that all he wanted was a "friendly chat" to get everything sorted, I nearly laughed out loud. Harry knew that he was honour-bound not to talk about official investigations, but there was nothing in the rules against friendly "chatting." And if an old mate who'd stopped by for lunch just happened to overhear things while waiting outside his office, well ... it was unfortunate, but it wasn't a crime, now was it?

"Bang on, mate," I murmured, scuttling a little closer. Harry was talking about Veritaserum and its uses, saying that it was clear now that Whetwistle was telling the truth about what was going on - or he thought he was telling the truth.

"What do you mean I think I am? Am I just imagining that my youngest child has gone from a healthy girl to skin and bones?"

"Well, we can't rule out the possibility that you've been hexed somehow, too, to believe that you or your family was being targeted." Harry said. "We have some experts here that could figure out if that's what's going on. It'd be helpful if you agreed to spend some time with them."

"I'll do whatever you say. Now, about Ms. Granger: when will I be able to talk to her? She's been released from that hospital she's been in, hasn't she?"

I didn't like hearing that. Hermione's release hadn't exactly been common knowledge. Then Livesey said something about having come round yesterday with flowers to apologise for the other night and being told that Hermione had been sent home. It was probably the truth, but I wasn't completely convinced that they'd been able to find that out so easily.

Harry didn't seem to be either, because his voice got a little colder when he asked if Whetwistle was willing to meet with some people from the Department of Mysteries that day to undergo some diagnostic spells to see if he'd been affected in some way. Whetwistle agreed to that and then asked about Hermione again. There was a long pause, and then Urdsmore piped up.

"We want to help you and we have some options that we think might work. The first thing we want to do is to get a Healer in to see your daughter. The Muggles won't be able to do anything for her. A Healer might have a better idea of what's wrong with her and if there's any way that she can be helped."

"You'd be able to do that? Even though she's not magical, your doctors might be able to save her?"

There was some more talk that I couldn't really make out, but Whetwistle sounded excited. He stopped talking quickly, though, when Livesey spoke up and said it was a terrible idea.

"Marie isn't in some pauper's ward where she's looked in on every three days. My clients have liquidated almost all their assets to send her to a specialist. She is in Devonshire Hospital under constant supervision. If some new 'doctor' were to unexpectedly turn up, all hell would break loose. We have to assume that the person who has done this has Marie in constant surveillance. After all, it can't be coincidence that Marie's condition worsened as soon as Ms. Granger stepped foot in Britain. Imagine what might happen if this person knew the Ministry was involved!"

Harry argued that a Healer would be able to slip around the Muggles unnoticed, but Livesey didn't budge on that, saying that it was too big a risk to take for something that was uncertain.

"You'll get my clients' hopes up of a wizarding cure for their daughter. What if you can't deliver, Mr. Potter? What then? This miscreant threatening the Whetwistle family has made his terms clear."

Harry sighed and I could almost see him pushing up his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He pointed out that it would be less complicated and quicker than Whetwistle marrying Hermione, even if getting a Muggle divorce was easier than getting a wizarding one.

"We would prefer not to take any chances. My clients have thought very long and hard about their options, and trust me, Mr. Potter. We wish it hadn't come to this. My clients have already had documents drawn up that will dissolve their union. They simply need to sign them, and they will not do so unless and until Ms. Granger agrees to help us."

"Really. Thought of everything did you?" Harry's voice sounded sharp. "Hermione gives the word, and you're all clear, then."

"This is not a fun thing for me, Mr. Potter. When I pledged to marry, I only meant to do it once," said Whetwistle. "I treasure my family. I find it perverse that my father would put a stipulation in his will that would result in my completely breaking up my home life, but he was a miserable bugger, so I shouldn't be all that surprised, really."

"And unlike Marie, Ms. Granger is in no immediate danger," Livesey said. "Obviously it's in this miscreant's best interest that Ms. Granger remain alive, or the access to the Galleons would end with her. Unless, of course, she were to designate an heir of her own. She has no children, true? I had heard something some years ago about her being quite serious with a Quidditch player? A foreigner ... Viktor something -"

Harry rushed to change that subject, which was just as well for everyone involved. He asked Whetwistle if he thought that his problems would end if he married Hermione and got hold of the vault. I wondered what Whetwistle's expression was to make Harry ask him that; Livesey seemed to feel comfortable enough speaking for him.

"Mr. Potter, please understand me; I'm a simple man. I've lived my entire life without my father's money and I'd be content to end my life the same way," said Whetwistle. "I think that if it is possible for one of your people to see Marie without arousing anyone's suspicions and making things worse, we should consider that. But I agree with Owen that the threat is there as long as this man remains free, all of us involved in my father's scheme are in danger. Ms. Granger perhaps most of all."

"We'll make sure Hermione is kept safe, don't you worry," said Harry, and I thought his voice sounded particularly loud just then. "But we want to do right by you, too. We think you and your family should be guarded, just in case."

"Guarded? How do you mean?"

"We'd keep watch on your home day and night, inside and out. We'd put protective charms on your house. That way, no one who isn't supposed to be there won't be."

Whetwistle gave a sort of snort. "That cup that I bought from that elderly wizard allowed me to get past the protection of Ms. Granger's room. Why should I believe you could do any better to safeguard my home?"

I cursed under my breath. Whetwistle did have a point there.

"You can trust me, Mr. Whetwistle. And we're all in this together, you know. For his own reasons, your father decided to try to tie you to Hermione Granger, and Hermione is like a sister to me. I won't let anything happen to her. If I'm to watch over her, it only makes sense to watch over you, too."

"You would?" Whetwistle sounded like he was softening a little, and I strained to hear more, silently cheering Harry on. "Just you, or -?"

"Myself and some others. If it becomes really serious, I'll go to the Minister and ask him to assign a whole contingent of Aurors - not necessarily where you or anyone else could see them."

"No!"

I was more stunned by the voice than the word. It was a woman's voice, a bit hard, but sort of timid, in a way. She meant was she was saying but she was saying it in little more than a whisper.

"Mrs. Whetwistle -"

Oh. So that's who she was.

"- But we haven't said -"

"No. I won't have any of those people in my home around my daughters. I refuse!"

"Katherine, what are you on about? If Mr. Potter and his staff can protect us without my having to dance to my father's tune, then we should think about it. Do you want to divorce me and see me married to someone else? Even if it's just for show?"

"Darling, no, of course not." Her voice was quivering now. "But those Aurors ... they're horrible people. Horrible! They turned me away and called me such foul names ..."

"Katherine," Livesey cut in, "I don't think this is the time or the place to rehash that."

"Rehash what?" Whetwistle sounded completely lost. "Who called you names, sweetheart? Will someone tell me what in heaven's name is going on?"

"I wanted to tell you, but Owen said it was best that I leave it alone." She sounded like she was trying to talk through her nose. From the tone of her voice, I reckoned she had a pretty big one.

"When we got the second note ... I ... I came here. To the Ministry, I mean. I told them about the letters; I even showed them one. I was directed to the Auror Department, and I told them what had gone on -"

"Against my advice, by the way," grumbled Livesey.

"- And when I told one of the Aurors my name, he stared at me for awhile as if he were trying to remember something. Then he went to a drawer and took out a piece of parchment. I knew what it was - it was the death report from ... years ago after those Aurors were convicted for what they did to Eddy and the rest - we have it at home, remember, dear? A copy was in your father's things. Anyway, the Auror realised who I was, and he became so short with me! He snatched the letter from my hand, read it, and said there was nothing they could do. It came through post, you see, and he said since we live as Muggles we must refer these sort of things to the proper Muggle authorities. As I was leaving, I - I heard him say to his companion, 'Oi, that bird's got the same last name as one of those that the lads took care of back then.'" She paused and sniffed loudly. "And the other young man then said, 'Shame they weren't able to wipe out the whole lot of them, wives and families and all!'"

The whole room exploded in voices. Urdsmore was getting out an apology, Harry wanted to know the blokes names and when exactly she'd come down, and Whetwistle was in a state, yelling some bilge about wizards being "the most dangerous creatures alive."

The only ones who I couldn't hear were Livesey and Mrs. Whetwistle, though I thought I could hear someone sobbing.

"I think we are quite done here."

Whetwistle's voice was close to the door. I zipped out of the chair and huddled into a corner just as it was flung open. Whetwistle came out with a blotchy face and the little hair he had left sticking up all over the place.

"Ms. Granger is a grown woman and if I'm to believe my father's papers, a kind one. I will find a way to speak with her and lay my case at her feet. I'm not letting you or anyone else get in my way!"

He turned and stormed down the hallway, muttering to himself. A second later, Livesey appeared with a short woman on his arm, hiding her face in a handkerchief. Harry said something to Urdsmore and he shot out down the hall in the opposite direction.

Harry came to the door, peered at where he knew I'd be, and shook his head.

"That went bloody well."

I just poked my head out, but checked to make sure we were alone. We might not have been but under the circumstances, I reckoned we were going to have to take the chance.

Harry came out and sat in the chair I'd been in and set his chin in his hands.

"What I don't understand," I said after a minute or two, "is why he'd do it at all. Whetwistle Senior, I mean."

"Do what? The curse?"

"Well that, and the marriage part of it. Assuming that he liked Hermione well enough for some reason, why would he even want her to marry a son he couldn't stand?"

"I'm not sure he did," said Harry. "Besides, for all Old Whetwistle knew, Hermione could've been about to get married."

I rolled my eyes at that, but something in those words made me stop cold.

"But she was about to get married - to me. And Gregory Whetwistle already was married when his father popped his cogs. Old Whetwistle could've made the counterspell anything he wanted. Why would he choose marriage when one bloke was already gotten and Hermione was halfway down the aisle?"

Harry thought on that for a minute. "Maybe it was one last way for Old Whetwistle to take the piss; give his son a little bit of hope, and then dash it. If Whetwistle had known that someone would try to force the marriage issue between Hermione and his son, I'd bet a Galleon he would've done something else with that gold."

That made sense, but I couldn't help but think about Old Whetwistle admiring Hermione's "pluck." I wondered if the old duffer had been eyeing her for himself. Maybe he'd figured that since he was about to go toes up, he could "pass" Hermione on to one of his sons.

I was liking this Edward Whetwistle Senior bloke less and less.

"Anyway, it's not like any of it matters now. The hex is there, and we've got to deal with it, as is. There is one thing I'm worried about, though," said Harry. "You heard what they said to Whetwistle's wife. Even though it's been yonks, people around here are still touchy about ... you know. If this drags out, word will get around what I'm about, and I won't exactly be popular around here."

"What were those blokes on about, insulting his wife to her face that way?"

"They probably thought no one would find out. We probably wouldn't have if Whetwistle hadn't tried to take matters into his own hands." Harry glanced down the hallway. "But I'm on the unpopular side here, as far as that goes. The Minister might give me backup later on, but it'll have to be really serious, and I don't want things to get that far. I can't do all this by myself - not even if I had Brock helping me round the clock."

"So what are you saying? We can't just sit on our arses and not do anything."

"No, we can't." Harry was looking over his glasses at me the way McGonagall used to do back when we were Fifth-Years mucking around in Transfiguration class. "This is official business, Ron. I can't have you involved in any of this."

"Right. I know that. I understand."

All of this was spoken completely casually, but at the top of our voices. Harry had warned me to stay out of it and I agreed - but that was only for the benefit of anyone who might be listening. Harry wanted my help, and he was as good as saying it by not saying it. My stomach fluttered the way it used to back when I was an Auror and got assigned to a big case. I wondered just how I could help Harry - unofficially, of course. He seemed to have most things covered for now, but I supposed that if Whetwistle got too out of pocket, Harry would need some backup.

When Harry changed the subject to actually getting something for lunch, I replayed the whole conversation between Harry and the Whetwistle entourage. Physically, Gregory Whetwistle was about as imposing as a pair of dirty socks, but he sounded rather desperate when he'd said he'd get to Hermione one way or another. I knew as well as anyone that desperate people could be dangerous, and Squib or not, I didn't trust Whetwistle any farther than I could kick him across the room with one foot - a broken one, at that. He wasn't going to get anywhere near Hermione as long as I was able to stand up straight and breathe. That was an easy enough thing to do, I reckoned.

I left Harry later that afternoon and went back to work. But after I'd left the office and was going up to my flat, I tripped on the stairs and banged against the railing. It knocked the wind out me for a second, and I stumbled into my flat gasping for air just as Hedwig came barreling in with a scroll from Harry, telling me that Hermione had been attacked right outside his and Ginny's building and was back in St. Mungo's. So much for easy.