The Heiress

I blacked out while I was being dragged through the air, and some light coming from somewhere was what wakened me. The light streaked bright and hot across my face, and it was that bloody heat that took away the welcome numbness and replaced it with about a billion sharp pains.

There were a few things that became clear pretty fast: I was alive, because death couldn't possibly hurt so much, and I was indoors, since I couldn't smell the sharp, night air or the aroma of rotting things in the alley. Plus, from the position my body was in, I was sitting up. Well, "sitting up" was maybe a stretch: I was draped like a dirty nightshirt over a hard, low-backed chair with my arms half dragging to the ground and my head hanging over the edge. My head pounded, and it seemed a really bad idea to open my eyes, but I did it anyway and spent a few minutes trying to focus.

Awareness returned slowly and got stronger along with the ache that started all over and ended nowhere. With my eyes open, my brain started working again, and I could remember everything that had happened - the bloke in grey, that hideous expression on Warren's face as he died, the punching and kicking in the alleyway ...

Remembering hurt - it hurt a lot - so I gave it up for a while and just sat there and thought.

"Hey, he's moving! His hand's twitching - look!"

It wasn't the same excited voice that wanted to have more fun with me out in the alleyway. This one sounded young and scared, and I could almost see him wriggling like an overfed flobberworm. I wet my cracked and bleeding lips, bracing for another blow when a new voice cut through the haze of pain.

"Good. Get everyone in here and make sure the door is Imperturbed. The bosses said they don't want any interruptions."

"All right, but why's he not on a bed? That doesn't look too comfortable ..."

"Just get going. They'll want to know he's coming 'round."

A door opened and closed. I heard footsteps approaching me and they stopped short. Something nudged the chair I was draped over, nearly sending me to the floor. I opened my eyes again and decided I needed to at least try to look lively even if I felt anything but. It wasn't easy: It hurt like all hell to move even a little bit. One side of my face was raw and oozing and my chest was on fire from the pounding my ribs had taken. I couldn't really tell if there were any broken - it didn't feel like I had a whole one left. My eyes slammed shut and I tried not to moan.

A strong hand grasped my shoulder and pulled me up. A groan of pain hissed from my lips before I could do anything about it. There was a pause, and the hand went slower until I was sitting up and slumped back against the chair. That was even worse. The cuts on my back reopened under the strain and I could feel the back of my shirt become damp as sweat mixed in with blood coming from re-opened wounds.

I forced my eyes open again and saw the bloke who was handling me. He was on the taller side and a bit thin for the arse-kicking I'd gotten. He was dressed in the purple cloak of the Double-S Club staff, but it was undone, and I could see a regular jumper and Muggle pants beneath it.

He didn't wear a mask and he looked older and more stern than I would've expected for that place. He had a touch of grey and gingery hair going thin. He was squinting as if he couldn't quite see me very clearly and didn't want to be arsed with an eyesight charm. If I didn't know better, I would've thought it was Percy scowling at me and yanking me about by my jumper, but I did know better. The bloke stared at me for awhile, muttered something under his breath and then shoved a glass into my hand.

"Drink," he commanded. "It'll chipper you up a little."

I shook my head. That hurt, too. The bloke made a disgusted sound and took a swill from the glass himself.

"Look, it's just Firewhisky. It'll help you go out of your head enough so that you don't feel much of anything."

He got a new glass and poured from the bottle. I didn't shake my head when he held it out to me again, but my expression was enough. He growled out something dirty and used his wand to set the glass out of sight.

"Sir, we don't really like violence here," he said slowly. "We don't know what you were about, but seeing as you're a V.I.P., when we found you outside, we brought you in here. You're hurt bad, you know. What happened?"

I just curled my lips into a smirk. Like that ponce couldn't tell me what had happened out there. He'd probably been the one doing the kicking. He just looked at me a moment and with a shrug, stalked to the other side of the room.

The pain was a relentlessly throbbing ache, but my eyes were clearing out. I saw that I was in some sort of room with soft lights, a bit of furniture and something that looked like glitter swirling in the air. I saw a low, long bed at one end that had red satin sheets on it and a couple of patterns that didn't look like they'd gotten there naturally. I reckoned then that I was back in the Double-S Club in one of those "private" V.I.P. rooms - one that hadn't been empty long by the look of the sheets.

Just then, as the door swung open again. A crowd of people entered, all of them in purple robes except for a bloke at the front. He walked ahead of the rest, squinted at me, and then grinned. If I could've cursed without having to breathe, I would have. I'd never liked seeing Castor Greengrass even when I'd been related to him, and I definitely was not overjoyed to see him now.

"Well, well, nice of you to join us, Weaselbee. You look like absolute shite." He looked at the ginger bloke who was still scowling at me. "Well, Jonas? What's it all about?"

At the name, I took a better look at the man at my side. So this was the one who supposedly had all the answers, including possibly the name of that source from the Ministry in the Quibbler.

"We found him outside in the dirt, Mr. Greengrass," said Jonas. "He'd been worked over pretty good, but we didn't see anyone around him."

Castor looked at me again and laughed deep in his throat. "So what was the problem? The rubbish is supposed to be left outside."

Jonas frowned and searched the crowd behind Greengrass. I reckoned he found who he was looking for, because his mouth turned down even more.

"I don't understand. Daniel said this one wanted a word with me about something, and that if I didn't treat him right, you'd give me the sack."

A bunch of necks swiveled toward another tallish bloke with a spotty face and greasy hair falling in his eyes. He looked properly terrified and hunched his shoulders. He hadn't looked so tall when he'd been serving me at the bar.

"I-I, Garrett ... Garrett brought him up to the bar and told me to take care of him!" His voice was higher and more trembly than it had been when he'd worn the mask. I recognised him as the one who'd spoken first when I came around. "He said he was a V.I.P.!"

The faces turned toward another figure, this one a bit shorter and stockier than the rest with bristly hair and a wide, red nose. He gave Daniel a harsh look before giving Castor his best arse-kissing smile.

"I was on the door tonight, Mr. Greengrass. He had your family password. I know that you don't give that out to just anyone, and I didn't recognise him ... he wouldn't've gotten past me if he didn't have that password, sir. If you're saying he stole it -"

"I'm saying shut up, all of you." Castor sneered nastily at the "help" and swaggered toward me, his arms crossed. He took in my battered face and scraped arms and legs and laughed that ugly laugh again.

"I don't suppose you'd recognise him now, Garrett, the way his face looks, but it's no good for you if you don't know one of the heroes of the wizarding world when you see one." He said that last part as if he were talking through a mouthful of phlegm.

I hadn't known Castor when he'd been at Hogwarts - he'd only been a second year when I was a seventh year. I'd known enough, though, over the short time I'd been married to Daphne. Castor was a spoiled prat, the only son, and pampered to all hell. He got whatever he wanted and did whatever he pleased with his family's blessing. But for all that, he was a worshipful idiot. He'd been half in love with Draco Malfoy, had followed him around like a Kneazle going after ice mice, but Malfoy had never paid him much mind. Daphne had told me once that when Draco had been killed, Castor had taken it harder than Draco's own parents had.

After Malfoy's death, either out of loyalty to his memory or just because he was a stone nutter, Castor had transformed himself in Draco's image. A hair-colouring charm had changed his naturally dark hair to a colour that looked like rancid piss, and he wore it slicked back the way Draco had back at Hogwarts. His face was too round and heavy to pull off the ferretish look Malfoy had, but he made up for it with the permanent smirk he had etched on his face. He wore the same sort of poncey clothes Malfoy had taken to wearing on holidays - filmy shirts and tight trousers. The pair Castor wore now were of a black leather that fit so closely that it basically kissed his arse. I'm sure he thought they showed how fit and manly he was, but all it showed me was the reason he and that cow he married probably hadn't had any sprogs yet.

"So you remembered the family password, eh, Weaslebee? Good to know you got something out of being married to my sister." He eyed me with open disgust. "I never did understand what Daffy ever saw in you."

I gave a glance down at his ridiculous pants. "Bloody likely more than what your wife sees in you, Cassy."

He didn't understand at first, and then he did and he went so red he looked almost purple. It was about that time that I started to get a little more sensation in my arms and legs, and it didn't take long for me to wish that I hadn't. I felt something poking me in the leg and I realised it was my wand. It was a surprise to me that they'd let me stay armed; even they'd missed it going over me or figured I was so far gone that I wouldn't be able to defend myself. I wasn't sure that they were wrong about that.

Greengrass kept glaring at me as if he wanted to knock me in the head, but he turned away abruptly and staggered off as quickly as he could in those dumb trousers.

"The password'll be changed. Anyone who tries to use it from now on, keep them waiting and Firecall me to doublecheck," he snapped out. "That's all for tonight. Take this blood-traitor filth back to the garbage where you found him."

I wheezed into a laugh, and Castor turned to look at me again. "Right. So they could finish what they started? Why not just do it here, Cassy - it's not as if this place is clean, anyway."

Castor's eyebrows went up. "You think we did this to you, Weaslebee? Think again," he snarled. "You wouldn't still be talking if we did." He smoothed a hand over his awful hair and grimaced. "Though, you know, it's not all bad seeing you. I probably should thank you, actually. We always thought Daffy would do something naff with her life like open up some sort of shop or go off to America or even marry a-a Muggle-born."

He shuddered, and I thought he might faint. Then again, it could've been those trousers cutting off his circulation.

"But three years of marriage to a grimy little blood traitor straightened her up," he said with a nasty leer. "Did you know Zabini has proposed? It's a relief to know my future nieces and nephews will be descended from proper Purebloods and not penniless gingers who needed to be put out of their misery a long time ago." He gestured at the man closest to me. "Get him out of here."

Rough hands grabbed my shoulders and hauled me up. I could've used a bit of Firewhisky then, but no one was offering.

"Just drop him where we found him, Mr. Greengrass?"

"No. Take him over to the Muggle side. Find the nearest gutter and just leave him there. It'll be just like a homecoming, eh, Weaslebee? Considering that's what you and your useless family crawled out of."

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. It was a biting pain that burst in my ears with my heartbeat and sent a blinding white light flashing into my eyes even after I'd squeezed them shut. Greengrass's ugly little laugh came at me again, but it vanished in a hurry when a slow, tight voice cut through the air.

"Put him down."

The hands holding me up immediately fell away, and I dropped back in the chair with a thud that sent the pain thrumming though me again. I didn't want to do it, but I forced my eyes to open to see who had come in. My vision was a little blurry, but I could tell the bloke was pretty tall, maybe even about my height, thin-faced and wrapped up in black robes. No one else so much as breathed, except for Castor, who looked like he wanted to tell the bloke to naff off.

"I don't want him in here dripping his traitor blood all over," Greengrass whined. "I feel poor just looking at him!"

"You're just going to let Weasley walk out of here? After what's happened tonight?"

The mention of my name made me want to focus harder, but the person was standing in the doorway, half in shadow. Plus, from where I was sitting, Castor was partly blocking the view while he puffed himself out in the bloke's direction.

"Weaslebee was married to my bint of an older sister for a little while. He remembered my family password and the bell-ends you hired for the door didn't recognise him. Someone saved us the trouble of having to kick his arse and now we're putting him back where we found him. What's so hard to understand?"

"You're an idiot, Cas," the voice said coldly. "Or did you forget about the bloke we had to peel off our floor?"

"Are you mad?" Grengrass hissed, half turning toward me. "He's related to Potter! Do you want what happened tonight getting to the bloody Wizengamot?"

"I think Weasley already knows more than a bit about what happened. Or at least, he knew the poor bugger," said the other man. "We've finished going through him and we found this."

In the semi-darkness, I could see the bloke holding up something that glinted in his hand. It took some time to get through the haze I was in to concentrate, but I did recognise it; it was a Gringotts staff badge. It was something the wizarding staff had to wear to get access to certain parts of the bank.

Any thoughts or hopes I'd had that it really hadn't been Warren I'd seen died away then. Losing or even misplacing a badge meant an automatic sacking, and there wasn't any way Warren would've gone anywhere without his.

"A Galleon," Castor said with a shrug. "So?"

"You've seen a Galleon this big?" I could see the bloke shaking his head. "It's something they give the non-goblins who have jobs at Gringotts. Isn't that where Weasley works?"

I could see the muscles of Castor's face moving as he put it all together, and it wasn't until he slowly wheeled toward me that I could get a clear look at who was at the door.

"You're saying Weasley's the one who killed him?"

"I'm saying he likely knew him. Stand aside."

Theodore Nott stepped fully into the room then, his long robes sweeping the floor. Everyone except me and Greengrass took a few steps back and lowered their heads. Even the big bloke Jonas, who looked like he could snap his fingers and break Nott in half, looked pale and sickly as he kept his eyes on the floor.

"Strange coincidence both of them here tonight and one ending up dead," Nott said, looking me over.

"The wrong one, come to that," Greengrass growled. "Well, Weaslebee, what was it about? Were you two arse bandits together and he wouldn't let you take your turn?"

"Quiet, Castor." Nott spoke softly but Greengrass' head jerked back as if he'd been slapped. Nott didn't take his eyes off me. "Well, Weasley? Did you know him? Warren Hartfield, according to this."

I shrugged with the shoulder that hurt the least. "Gringotts is a big place."

Nott smiled. It was like looking into a snake's mouth right before its jaws came up over your head.

"Not so big for wizards. You knew him; I don't have any doubt about that." He gave me a long glance from top to toe and back again. "Maybe you'd like to tell me what you two were doing here tonight. We like a good crowd, but we don't need the business enough to open up to blood traitors and bank tellers."

I ground my teeth. Castor Greengrass was a snivelling idiot, but I'd already known that. Nott, on the other hand, was something else again.

Theodore Nott had always been a tough one to figure out, even back at Hogwarts. His decrepit old bastard of a father had been a notorious Death Eater, but Theo Nott had never taken the Dark Mark, always staying just on the fringes of Voldemort's followers. He'd been nowhere to be seen in the final battle and the whispers were that his father had sent him to hide out at Durmstrang.

Old Nott had been killed in the last battle and "dear Theo" had come back to take charge of his father's gold and estates. He kept a low profile, from what I'd heard, and he didn't particularly do anything. He was just the rich son of an ex-Death Eater going about his life. That he owned part of the Double-S Club was a bit odd, in fact. Seemed somewhat flashy for his taste, and he didn't exactly seem like a silent partner. Nott commanded respect, obviously amongst his minions - more than Greengrass did.

I wondered at the apparent animosity between them. As far as his nose had been up Malfoy's arse, it was strange that Greengrass would dislike the one person Draco had genuinely respected, if not feared. But maybe that was the problem; maybe poor Cassy resented being in business with the one person his precious ickle Drakiekins actually treated like a human being.

"We could put you back where you were," said Nott when I didn't say anything. "We'd make sure whoever did this came back to finish the work. Or you could make it easier on yourself. Personally, I don't think you have the bollocks to kill in cold blood, Weasley."

I looked into that thin, rabbitty face and grinned until it hurt, which didn't take long. "You don't know me that well then, Nott." I wondered if he knew I still had my wand.

"This is a waste of time." Castor got between us again. "Weaslebee's got nothing to do with -"

"Begging your pardons, Mr. Nott, Mr. Greengrass ..."

It was the spotty git, Daniel, speaking. When Nott and Greengrass turned to him, he looked as if he really wanted to change places with the wall, but I think the words burst out of him before he could stop himself.

"Shut up!" snapped Greengrass at the cowering sot. "This doesn't have anything to do with you -"

"Quiet, Castor," said Nott in that same low tone that seemed to take a few years off Greengrass' life. He held Greengrass's gaze as he murmured: "What is it, Dan?"

"Well, I ... I'm not sure, but I don't think those two were together. Here, I mean." He gave a fake, nervous smile with the corner of his mouth. "I mean, Garrett brought that one over to me personally. The other one - the dead one - came up by himself. Plus, that one" - he pointed to me -"Said he wanted information. Sounded a little dodgy to me and I would've thrown him out straight off, but I thought he was a V.I.P., and -"

"- What sort of information?" Nott cut in smoothly, giving the bloke a small, encouraging nod. Dan gave another smile - bigger and faker this time.

"Said he needed to find someone who'd been in Azkaban. He said he had the prisoner number, but needed a name." He inhaled noisily. "I told him I didn't have that sort of information, but maybe Jonas did. He said that was fine and that he needed to go to the men's and he'd be right back. I didn't see him again until Jonas and I found him in the back, ground into the dirt, all bloodied up and moaning."

Nott took that all in with another of those little nods. "And you never saw Weasley and the dead bloke talk? Sit together? Anything?"

"No sir, Mr. Nott. Nothing like that."

"And that other one ... our dead friend ... was he looking for anyone?"

"No, sir, Mr. Nott. He just ..." The bloke broke off there and looked away. "H-he never asked me anything and I never saw him and that one talk or anything."

I frowned. The bloke was leaving the bit about the drink Warren had ordered out of it, and I was curious as to why. For anyone else it might've been a small detail, but that was what had gotten Daniel's eye on Warren in the first place. Without Nott and Greengrass knowing that, they wouldn't have any reason to believe that Daniel hadn't been paying close attention and might've missed me and Warren giving each other coded messages on the bottom of our mugs or something like that.

"All right. Thank you, Dan." Nott gave me his attention once more. "Looking for someone who's been in Azkaban, Weasley? Upgrading your class of company? Or maybe you wanted some news of those friends of yours that've been in there for the last decade? I wouldn't worry too much. I'm sure the Dementors are taking good care of them. Maybe if they're lucky, they've gotten a snog or two."

There were a few titters, but Castor shifted around uncomfortably. I knew why; Daphne had told me that she'd had a grandfather who'd been put in Azkaban on some flimsy charge and he'd gotten the Dementor's Kiss for some unspecified reason. Nott looked at Castor as if he knew exactly what he was thinking and he smirked. Castor glared at him with pure hate and whirled back round to the young bloke Daniel.

"Did Weasley say why he was looking for this Azkaban bloke?"

"No, sir, Mr. Greengrass. I guessed he was going to talk about all that with Jonas, but then he disappeared, just as I said."

Castor whipped back to me. "So, Weaslebee, who is it you're looking for that you'd think would come here? We're not a pub for murderous pillocks, you know."

The stupidity of that little statement was lost on Greengrass, but not on Nott, who looked at him in disbelief and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter who he was looking for, if he was looking for anyone at all," said Nott. "It might've just been a put-on. I'm starting to wonder if you did kill him, Weasley. What was it really? Did he catch you dipping in the till and you thought you could bribe him but he told you to piss off? So you followed him here and decided this was the perfect place to take him off, since no one would ever think to find you here?"

Nott grinned a little. "Not a half-bad dodge, Weasley, as far as that goes. Too bad someone decided to knock you around. You might've gotten away with it."

Castor stood for awhile with his mouth open, trying to make sense of it all. "You really think that's what happened? Are you daft? Weasley wouldn't've gotten far enough to lure him anywhere. The goblins would've strung him up by his thumbs right off if they thought he was stealing gold."

"It doesn't matter what I think," said Nott with a shrug. "It's as good an idea as any. Let the Ministry sort it out. Even they get it right sometimes. I've got a man there - I'll Firecall him and he'll be right down -"

"The Ministry? Now I know you're barking!" Greengrass bellowed. "You turn in Harry Potter's bleeding brother-in-law for murder without proof and you're the one who'll get his arse fried by the Wizengamot!"

"No, I don't think so," said Nott faintly. "Weasley's not welcome in the Ministry ever since that little mishap back when he was an Auror. Of all people, you should remember that, Cas."

Greengrass's cheeks tinted pink and he gave me a dark glare that might have worried me if he had been another type of wizard - or at least wearing different trousers. "Well, he's still Harry Potter's brother-in-law, anyway," he grumbled. "That still will count for something."

"We'll see. Maybe he did kill the bloke, maybe he didn't. But we'll be in the clear and the Ministry might give us a bit of a break besides, since we turned in a suspected murderer in the name of wizarding cooperation."

"Right, because this looks so cooperative," I gritted, gesturing to my face. Nott's eyes narrowed and he looked around at his minions.

"You found him all done-in like this? You didn't lay a finger, no wandwork, nothing?"

"No sir, Mr. Nott," answered Jonas. "He was in the back nearly dead when Dan and I went out. I swear it on my wand."

"Then that's easy to explain," said Nott with a sly smile. "This Hartfield had friends there with him. They saw what happened and got out of there, but hung about to see if the killer would show himself. Weasley comes around, and they put it all together and go to it. They likely thought you were dead and decided to pop off before they could be discovered. Sounds about right to me. Cas?"

"Whatever." Greengrass's voice was sullen and he folded his arms. "Do what you want. You always do anyway."

"Bloody hell, Castor!" said Nott, sounding exasperated. "Don't you get it? This is a bloody gift! It'll get the Ministry off our backs for good!"

"But if he didn't kill the bloke -"

"Who cares? All that matters is that we didn't do it and we give up Weasley as a suspicious sort. He knew the bloke, and just happened to be hanging about when he got dead! That can't be just a coincidence, yeah? We might even get Orders of Merlin for this."

It was the most excited I think I'd ever seen Nott. Obviously, I wasn't keen on sharing his enthusiasm. Of course I hadn't killed Warren, and that'd be easy to prove, but it wouldn't matter. I thought about the bloke in grey mentioning that the next time Ministry officials laid their hands on me, there'd be another little "accident" on the order of what had happened so long ago in Cardiff. If Greengrass and Nott turned me in, without Harry around, I'd be swallowed up in some dark hole somewhere, or worse, until my family got the news - if they ever did. And Hermione ... who knew what would happen to Hermione. She wouldn't be able to stay in that parlour forever.

"I'll get in touch with my man at the Ministry now," said Nott. "And Weasley can be kept nice and comfortable by the lads."

The 'lads' didn't look as if they were in a hospitable mood. I caught Dan's eye, and he hurriedly looked elsewhere, wiping his trembling hands on his cloak. I kept looking at him and even though he was turned away from me, he twisted and twitched in a way that let me know he knew I was watching him. I couldn't make out why he was so bloody nervous, but then Nott's heavy hand on my hurt shoulder cut into my thoughts.

"Don't worry, Weasley. You'll probably squirm out of this one. Potter'll see to it. If you even spend a night in Azkaban I'll be surprised - unless you really are pilfering from Gringotts, that is. Anyway, I know the Ministry'll be glad to hear what you have to say about all this."

I glowered up at him, determined not to show him how much his hand was hurting me. "Sure they will, Nott. Especially when I get to the part where I mention that you all suspected Warren of being a Ministry spy."

Nott snatched his hand away as if my shoulder had burned him. Nearby, I heard an almost choking whimper, and I figured that to be Daniel. Nott's eyes flicked that way but he continued to look down on me. Greengrass laughed harshly and shook his head.

"Shite, you were right, Weaslebee did know him! He -"

Nott just threw a sharp look over his shoulder and Castor quieted down. "Why would we have thought he was a spy?" he asked me.

"Well, your bloke Daniel over there left out the part where Warren ordered something he shouldn't've and got him suspicious. He was having him watched."

"Really." Nott's eyes went up and over my head, but not in Daniel's direction. "Is that true, Jonas?"

There was a slight pause before the big man spoke. "Not that I know, sir. Dan only told me a V.I.P. wanted a word. He never mentioned anything about anyone else. I would've remembered."

Nott gave me raised eyebrows and I gave them right back to him.

"It wasn't him he asked. He talked to a girl. Blonde bit of fluff, called her Gabriela, I think. Said there was a list of drinks and some weren't approved by the Ministry when you tried to be legitimate. Warren ordered one of them and Daniel said since no one but Ministry officials knew the names of the bad drinks, he must be a spy from there."

Nott blinked. If he'd been another sort, he would've been chewing his lip. Very slowly he turned around and finally looked at Daniel, who was visibly shaking.

"Well, Dan?"

"I ... I ..." Dan swallowed again and again, but didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "Mr. Nott, I ..."

Nott cut him off with a wave. "How do you know any of this, Weasley?"

"I heard every word. Warren was standing right next to me. I heard what he ordered and Daniel told me what it was all about. Goyle and Cranberry? You couldn't come up with something better than that?"

Nott's eyes narrowed to slits. Daniel tried to blubber something out but Nott did the thing with his hand again and it died down with just some snivelling here and there. Castor just messed up his stupid hair and paced around trying to look serious. After a few seconds, he gave it up.

"So what? So the bloke ordered a Nix Drink," said Greengrass. "And? That's what we pay these tossers for, to spot those who don't belong."

"-And throw them out on their arses," said Nott coldly. "Which wasn't done with that bloke and wasn't done with Weasley." His eyes got dark and dangerous. "And now that bloody idiot" - he rounded on the cowering Daniel - "has just handed our arses to Weasley on a bloody plate!"

His wand was out in moments, pointing straight at Daniel's head. "Crucio!"

The spell hit him full blast and the scream that came out of that thin body was bloodcurdling. He quaked under the force of it and when it was done he flopped to the floor, his limbs shaking and a line of blood snaking from his mouth.

Castor's face was deathly pale and the others were frozen with horror. Nott watched Daniel writhe for a minute and then he beckoned a couple of blokes to the spot.

"Get him out of here. Give him a pain potion when he comes to, but Obliviate him beforehand. When he comes to, tell him he's sacked."

The two bent to it and carried Daniel out bloody and quivering. Greengrass contained himself until they were gone, then he went mad, nearly launching himself into Nott's stomach.

"Have you lost your bloody mind? An Unforgivable here?" he exploded. "Don't see what Dan did that was so wrong -"

"Of course you don't, because you're an imbecile," Nott said, brushing Castor aside. "We have no leverage on Weasley now. If the bloke ordered a Nix Drink, then Weasley could just tell the Ministry the same story - that we tried to take out one of theirs because we thought we'd been infiltrated. Doesn't matter that we didn't know anything about it. Who do you reckon the Wizengamot would believe?"

"He's got no proof."

"Well, then we're about even, aren't we? He doesn't have proof we went after this bloke because we thought he was a spy, and we don't have any proof Weasley had anything to do with killing him," said Nott. "Bloody hell this has turned into a fucking mess. Jonas," he said to the big man still standing behind my chair. "You're sure you didn't see Weasley near this dead bloke at all?"

"No, Mr. Nott. The dead man was in yellow and I did notice him when I was at the bar before I took my break. He was sitting with someone. That one was in a darker cloak, but shorter and thinner. A regular, that bloke was."

"How d'you know that?" I grunted. "Masks on and all ..."

Nott chuckled dryly. "We're not morons here, Weasley. At least, most of us aren't." He gave Greengrass a pointed look. "All the staff have X-Ray Charms in their masks. If Garrett was a bit less of an idiot or a bit older, he would've been able to tell who you were before you ever stepped foot in the door."

"What if I was wearing a glamour?"

"We can see through those, too. Easily."

"Polyjuice?"

There was a second of silence and Nott shook his head slowly. "A dose only lasts an hour. A person would have to leave pretty quickly once it wore off and there's no way they'd be able to see all they'd want to see here in just an hour. Besides, all the ingredients for Polyjuice are regulated by the Ministry now. You of all people should know that."

I did, but I just wanted to make sure he did. Nott Accioed a chair and sat opposite me, resting his chin in his hands. He studied me with those empty eyes for a long moment. I suppose that was to intimidate me, but I was in too much pain for it to really take effect.

"Look, Weasley. I don't particularly like you but I don't hate you. Frankly, I don't give a toss about you one way or the other. As I see it, though, we can help each other out, you and I."

If it didn't hurt so much, I would've laughed. "Yeah? You want to help out the person you a second ago wanted to have dragged out of here by the Ministry?"

"Well, I'm a businessman. When one option doesn't work, I have no issues going to another. I can get you that information you're after about the bloke in Azkaban," he said. "As I said, I've a man in the Ministry. Pretty influential. He can tell me anything I want to know. You pass along that prisoner number to me and he'll have a name for me in minutes."

"What's in it for you?"

"You tell us what your friend was doing here," said Nott smoothly. "That's all we really want to know. Why he's dead is his business."

I made as if to think it over, then slowly shook my head. "Can't help you. I can get what I need from Harry."

I got the snake smile from Nott again. "If that were true, you would've gone to Potter straight off and not faffed around here. Come on, Weasley, don't you want to find who really killed your friend?"

"I already know who did. And your great security staff let him get away." It hurt to realise how true that was, but I had to shake it away. "But I'll tell you what I will give you ... some advice."

Nott leaned slightly closer. "I'm listening."

"That bloke in grey who was with Warren. He might be a good customer but he's no friend of this place. He had a right nice set up. Warren probably had never been here before. The bloke sent him up to get the drinks, probably told him what to order, knowing that Warren wouldn't know anything about Nix Drinks or whatever you call them. But the bloke in grey knew about them and knew you'd immediately suspect something. Warren was in the men's bog for awhile. I saw him there. Probably while he was inside, the bloke in grey did something to his drink. Warren kept talking about how it tasted off. Then the other bloke goes back to the bar to get something else and that's when the poison took hold and he slid out. He kills Warren right out in the open and legs it, and here you are with a poisoned, dead bloke who at least some of your people thought was a Ministry spy. The Ministry's probably outside right now with cursebreakers working on your wards and a nice cosy place in Azkaban where you can get in a good snog or two with the Dementors."

A long, silent look passed between Nott and Greengrass as it all sunk in. I took the time to get my breath. It hurt to talk so much but I knew I had to keep the both of them off balance to avoid either being sent to the Ministry or getting a taste of what Daniel had gotten. Either option would finish me.

Nott raised his head and nodded at Jonas. "What's that bloke look like under his mask? The one that Weasley's talking about that you said had been mouthing it with this Hartfield bloke?"

"Older bloke - 60s maybe, with white hair. Not much of it. He's come in before, you know, and he always has the current passwords."

"How many times has he been in?"

"Quite a few times, Mr. Nott. A regular, as I said. Always orders a Dolohov Cocktail. I don't remember him ever coming in with the dead bloke before tonight. He usually was with another chap - not as young as the dead one but not too old, either. Mid-40s, I'd say, on the tall side and something odd going on with his hair."

I held my breath. That was the very description of Gregory Whetwistle. So I'd been right; this was where he met up with his 'friends' to plan the play against Hermione. I cursed silently, knowing that likely the bloke in grey wouldn't be back now. He'd had his last hurrah in killing Warren here. Maybe that had always been the plan now that Whetwistle was dead. The bloke, whoever he was, had been good. He'd set Warren and the Double-S Club up at the same time, maybe hoping to get both out of the way of them in one go.

I saw Nott brooding over it, coming about to the same conclusion I had. "You might be right, Weasley. Maybe we were set up to take the fall, but it won't work." Nott stood and squared his shoulders. "That bloke was too clever by half."

He looked at Jonas. "Bring in you-know-who."

Jonas zipped out and for a brief, terrifying moment, I thought Nott meant Voldemort. But then again, Death Eaters and the like never called him that - he was always Lord Voldemort or the Dark Lord and that garbage. But my curiosity was high, and it got higher when Jonas came back with someone floating behind him. This someone was short and heavily built with black robes edged in purple. His head lolled to the side and I could see from his white, waxy face that he wasn't sleeping - he was dead. But that's all I could tell. I glared at Nott.

"Who the bloody hell is this?"

"A very good customer. Thelonius Thicknesse," said Nott, passing a respectful glance over the body. "I think you remember his great-uncle who was our esteemed Minister of Magic back when things were being run nicely in the wizarding world."

I didn't want to think about how nicely things had been run when Pius Thicknesse was "minister." His great-nephew had the same jutting brow and long, dark hair. He had something else, too, when I took a closer look - a large shard of glass sticking out of his forehead. It made him look rather ridiculous, but the others were gazing down at him as solemnly as if their buggering Dark Lord had died - again.

"I'm sure he was a good bloke," I said sarcastically. "What happened to him?"

"The same as happened to your little friend, Weasley," said Nott. "He was sitting at the table next to him. Caught him right in the head."

I looked at the thing sticking out of his forehead. There was a trickle of blood snaking down the side of his face, but the piece of glass didn't look long enough to have gone into his brain or anything and I didn't see any other wounds on him. Above me, Nott grunted softly and shook his head.

"Smart bit of business, that. If it's true what you say about that bloke in the grey robes, maybe your friend suspected something might be up, so the bloke poisoned the glass and not the drink itself."

I nearly choked. "The glass?"

"You don't think we let a man go toes-up in here and not look into it, do you?" asked Nott incredulously. "You could tell just looking at him that your friend had been poisoned. We went over the drinks just to see if there was anything we could find. There wasn't - it was all the glass. Hexed it with something quick and dirty. When it broke and cut your friend, the poison got into his bloodstream. Took him off rather painfully, it looks like. And poor Thelonius got hit by one of the shards."

I reeled, and not just because my chest was hurting. The glass! The bloke in grey had done it to the glass! I thought about Warren complaining that his drink tasting queer and I'd just assumed the drink had been tampered with. But the glass ... it had broke and Warren had been cursing over it, and then those awful sounds ... the pieces of broken glass digging into his palm -

I had a fleeting, awful thought - when Daniel had gone on with that Mudblood business at the bar, my wandless magic had flared up and I'd made my mug explode. I'd been thinking murder under that table ... could I have done it? Made the glass cork off that way and killed Warren and this Thelonius bloke? A shiver ran through my body but I pushed it away. That couldn't be it. I remembered how, when everything was happening, the bloke in grey had slid out. And he'd seemed in an awful hurry to refresh his drink before that. Likely he'd put a timing charm on the glass to break and wanted to be out of the way of it so he didn't end up like Thelonius. I also considered that Nott's hotheadedness had served him poorly. If Daniel were still around, he'd be able to tell him that a glass had exploded while I was at the bar, and Nott might have been able to stretch that into something.

"I am going to get my man from the Ministry down here after all," said Nott, glancing at the door. "I want Jonas to give him a description of the grey bloke. That's a person I want to have a talk with. A nice, long talk." He showed me the scaly grin once more. "And I'm sure he'll want a word with you, too, Weasley. Maybe all of us'll get Orders of Merlin tonight, yeah?" He laughed silently for a second. "Come on, Castor. You, too, Jonas."

They trooped out, leaving me with the two incredible minds that had carried poor Daniel out. Neither of them looked at me much and they watched the door, shifting from one foot to another like fifth years waiting for Double Potions to end.

I had to get out of that room before Nott's Ministry "friend" got there, but I knew those two weren't about to step aside to let me go to the men's or anything like that. I took measure of the place and there was no joy; the only way in was through the door. Apparition was a death sentence; even if Nott didn't have anti-Apparition wards in place, which I was sure he did, Apparating in the state I was in would splinch me permanently if not kill me outright. I swallowed hard, trying to moisten my dry throat, but that didn't do much good. My eyes fell on the bottle of Firewhiskey and I thought about asking one of the blokes for a taste - a condemned man should get a last wish, after all. The swill I'd sucked down earlier had left a sour aftertaste in my mouth. Bloody Pureblood Pilsner. If that was supposed to be how Purebloods tasted, no wonder we were dying out. And it had looked so ...

I sat up a bit straighter as something came to mind. The blokes might not just let me go out to the men's, but what if I didn't give them a choice ... It was rather disgusting, what I had in mind, but I couldn't see any other way out of the thing, and for all I knew, Nott had already alerted the whole Ministry. I thought about that Pureblood Pilsner and how dark and murky it had looked, and I imagined all the awful things that could have been in it and where it might have come from and what it was I might've actually been drinking. I made the pictures vivid in my mind and didn't spare a detail, and soon my stomach was rolling dangerously. It would've been brilliant if I'd had one of the twins' Puking Pastilles, but as I got more and more into my mind, I could feel the change coming. Maybe one of the blokes could sense it, too, because he turned just as my mind became saturated with the nasty images and I bent my head and threw up violently.

"Shite!" They jumped back, looking revolted. "What in the name of Salazar -"

I looked up weakly, wiping my mouth. "It's this room. The smell or something ... it's turning my stomach -" I started to retch again and they took more steps back.

The other man grimaced and shook his head. "Doesn't surprise me. That bony toerag never cleans up after she finishes back here." He exhaled loudly when I continued to retch. "There must be another room open. Let's take him to one of those, yeah?"

"I guess," said the other one doubtfully. I knew then that he was the smarter of the two. "But shouldn't we check with Mr. Nott or Mr. Greengrass -"

He cursed savagely when another wave hit me, and the smell intensified. "All right, never mind that. It's not as if they wouldn't find us, if we move him." He inclined his head to his friend. "Come on."

They walked out laughing, as if it was a great joke to leave me in a room stinking of vomit. But they'd be laughing on the other side soon, I knew. I suppose they figured I was too injured and defenseless to make a break for it. When I heard them head down the hall, I wiped my mouth quickly and took a swill from the Firewhiskey bottle to get the disgusting taste out of my mouth. Then I drew out the Invisibilty Cloak where it was still curled up under my outer cloak, twirled it around me and was out the door in seconds. I saw the two blokes entering a room at the far end of the hall and I moved as swiftly as I could the other way, biting my lip against the twinges of pain I felt. I was only grateful that my legs hadn't been broken, but they weren't in great nick and I knew I'd really feel it later.

I moved out into the main area of the club. It was still a mess; there were tables overturned, and I felt another wave of nausea hit me when I saw that Warren was still where he'd fallen, his face turning black now. I heard shouts from behind me and I knew that the two geniuses had returned and found me gone. I quickened my steps and hoped they hadn't warded the entrance. They hadn't. I was out in the open air and back in the same alleyway I'd been pummeled in about two seconds ahead of the two prats who'd been left to "guard" me.

I held my breath and pressed up against the brick wall as they raced up and down, their wands lit. They paused in the alleyway and the wandlight swept over me. I was pretty sure I was covered up by the cloak though I was afraid maybe a shoe was peeking out or something. When they withdrew and it was all dark again, I breathed a silent sigh of relief. They stood there looking around and scratching their heads as if they expected me to pop up from the ground.

"Bloody hell, how'd he get out?"

"How should I know? I knew we should've gone to Mr. Nott! We're done for - you saw what happened to Dan!"

"Oh, stuff it. The stupid bloke must have Apparated somehow, and that means he's a dead man. It saves us the trouble of having to dump him with the other blokes."

"What are you talking about? Mr. Nott wanted him to talk to that Ministry duffer -"

"Are you daft? It was a bloody code; Mr. Nott's Ministry bloke is an Unspeakable he uses sometimes when there's a problem here. Remember that one bloke that kept knocking around the girls and they found him later with his bits cut off and stuffed in his mouth? Well, Mr. Nott held that bloke aside to have a talk with his Ministry friend, too. Guess Weasley saved Mr. Nott the trouble of having to pay this bloke to take care of another 'problem.'"

They talked a bit more and decided the best course of action was to hex each other and wait to be found outdoors so that they could say they'd given chase after me but an army of Harry Potters had come out of the rubbish bins and overpowered them or something. Real smart blokes, those, if they thought Nott was going to buy that.

I waited until they'd taken each other out with mutual body-binding hexes and I stepped around them, moving with forced swiftness to the Muggle area. They were right - I couldn't Apparate and I didn't have a Portkey, either. Walking all the way was out of the question, so there was only one way to get back to the Gainsvert that I could see, and I went to it. I wandered for what seemed like an eternity until I finally found an Underground station.

~*~

Once I got on the tube, I thought I could make it back to the Gainsvert with no problems. I was wrong. A long time before I reached Knightsbridge, the stabbing pains in my side started again and my legs barely worked. It was torture getting out of the station and walking the few blocks to the inn - I was pretty much crawling toward the end. I could've kissed the ground when I finally got there, but that would have meant having to stop, and if I did, there was no telling if I could get started again.

I crept around to the side door and the whole business was torture. By the time I clawed my way down the little ladder, I was wishing I could die. I stumbled through the curtain expecting to see Charlotte there keeping watch over Hermione. No such luck. Hermione herself was sitting up in her nightdress reading a book, occasionally stopping to glance at one of the clocks.

"What the hell are you doing awake?"

She swung eagerly around at my voice, but whatever she was going to say died on her lips when she got a good look at me.

"Oh my god, Ron, what happened?" She grabbed my arm and steered me to where I could slide down on my sofa. "Ron?"

"Why're you up? You were sound asleep when I left."

"Yes, but I heard a noise that awakened me, and when you weren't here, I was worried," she said, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Charlotte was here, and she told me you'd gone out in a great rush and said it was important. I thought you might be with Harry so I wanted to wait up. Where did you go? Who did this to you?"

"Never mind all that." I swallowed hard. "I'm all right. Just need a lie-down for a bit."

"A lie-down isn't going to help this! You need a Healer - we should floo straight to St. Mungo's!"

"Are you mad? They'd have both of us Stupefied before we got a foot in the door and in a cell before you could blink."

She hesitated. "But, Ron ..."

"Blimey, Hermione, no. Just let me rest up a little. I'll be fine."

The words came out hard. She stared at me for a few seconds, and walking backwards so she didn't have to take her eyes off me, she tapped her wand on a table. Almost instantly, Charlotte popped in, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

"Is there something wrong, Ms. Granger?"

"I need towels and a basin," Hermione said in a tense voice. "Also, pain potion, a salve for bruises and cuts, and Skele-Gro, if that's available."

That woke Charlotte up. "Yes, we have all that, Ms. Granger, but why -" She caught a glance over Hermione's shoulder at me in a bloodied heap on the couch and gasped. "Oh, Merlin! Mr. Weasley, what happened?"

"Hurry, please." Hermione's voice was brusque, but heavy with fear. "There might be internal bleeding. The sooner I know the extent of his injuries, the better. We can't risk going to St. Mungo's."

I saw Charlotte give a quick nod and Apparate away. Hermione came over to me and unlaced my shoes, then lifted my feet onto the cushions. Her face had the same determined look to it whenever she was trying to puzzle out something tough like an ancient spell or hex, but I could see her lips trembling.

"You shouldn't be up. I can do this -"

"Don't talk," she said shortly. Her hands went to the ruddy cloak I'd worn in the Double-S Club and she loosened it and slid it off. She got me out of the wreck of my shirt without doing too much damage, and I looked at her in surprise.

"Those must've been some field medicine lessons Pomfrey taught."

She shook her head quickly. "I've had practical experience. When you were injured in the last battle ... I helped until you could be taken off the field."

"You did?"

She gave me a slanting glance. "It was in my book, you know ..."

Right. The book. I decided right then that maybe it was a good idea to take her advice and button it. She reached out for something on a nearby table and I heard a muted dribbling sound before something was pressed into my hand.

"Drink this, it's a bit of the mulled wine left over from earlier. It might help take the edge off the pain."

I took a shaky sip, and then another, hoping to prove her theory. It didn't work any better than it might've worked with the Firewhisky that I'd been offered up by Nott's man. But it was all right, because Charlotte was back then with jars and bottles. Hermione picked them up and looked them over one by one while Charlotte bundled off to the loo and returned with a bowl of steaming water and an armful of towels.

Hermione thanked her briefly and told her she'd let her know if anything more was needed. She took the cup from my hand and mixed in something green and glowing from a flask, holding my head up while I drank it down. The effects were pretty fast and very welcome; I could at least breathe now without feeling as if I were being knifed in the side on each inhale. While I was rediscovering that small miracle, Hermione brought the rest of it over and set it up on a nearby table.

She gently made me lie back on the couch, making sure my head was propped up and I wasn't lying at an odd angle. She aimed her wand at me and murmured Diffindo, watching keenly as my undershirt ripped neatly in two. She eased it off me and I heard her breath catch as she stared down at me. I was afraid to look, but I had to. There were welts along my side that were turning a deep purple. There were spots where the skin was bruised and torn and still oozing blood. Hermione pressed above the ribs, searching for breaks, and even that gentle pressure made me tighten up. When she got done, we both felt better. There were no sharp edges sticking out, so that meant I wasn't quite ready yet for a body cast spell or a casket.

There was splashing when she dipped a towel into the basin and I hissed in shock when it hit my skin. The water was hot and bit deep, but it was soothing, too. She wiped my face clean and touched the cuts and purpling bruises with a salve that smelled like turnips. I just lay there rather uselessly with my eyes closed and let her rub my shoulders, my arms and then my chest, grimacing whenever she hit a soft spot. I was dozing when I felt her fingers at my waist, undoing my belt and then the buttons of my trousers.

"Hermione, what are you -"

"Ron, I have to see the extent of the damage here, too." She pulled down my zipper and used her wand to lift me just enough so that she could slide my trousers down over my hips. When I felt her hands tugging at my shorts, I put a hand up and she huffed angrily at me.

"Honestly, Ron, modesty really isn't necessary. I do know what you look like naked. It's not as if I haven't seen ... it before."

"Not after the rest of me has been stomped to pieces, you haven't."

It was an effort to talk and she wouldn't stop stripping me bare, and it still hurt too much to move around much and so there wasn't a bloody thing I could do except let her get on with it. Soon everything I'd worn was in a pile on the floor. She prodded and poked around, and I was too gone to be embarrassed ... or much of anything else.

"There aren't any broken bones, it seems," she said. "It looks worse than it is, though I imagine you feel like hell."

I mumbled something that even I couldn't quite understand, so I tried again, and it came out even more garbled. She rested a hand on my forehead and took a short pause from what she was doing. I heard another bottle being uncorked and she made me drink something buttery that made me feel instantly cooler, though, being bare-arsed like I was, that wasn't hard. She kept her hand on my forehead for a few minutes, then slid it off and worked her fingers rhythmically through my hair and over my scalp.

"Ron ... what went on? Do you remember? Where did you go? How did any of this take place? Did you see your attackers?"

"It was dark," I muttered. "Didn't see anything except stars." I made an effort to open my eyes. They only made it part of the way. "He's dead."

I saw her face whiten. "W-who's dead?"

"Warren Hartfield." I saw her puzzling over the name, trying to work out where she'd heard it before. "Bloke at Gringotts. He's the one who told you about Whetwistle's vault ..."

"Dead?" she breathed, eyes wide with recognition. "How ...? When...?"

"Tonight. I saw it ... he was in on it with Whetwistle and another bloke. In on the vault business, at least." I felt sleep trying to claw its way into my brain and I tried to beat it back. "He ... it was him that hurt you at Harry's. Slashed you in the arm. Whetwistle hired him to do it ... scare you ... into marrying. Don't know who the other bloke was. The other bloke ... killed Warren ... poison ... So stupid... trusted him ... thought he was ... my friend ..."

She was still pale, and there was horrified understanding in her face for a fleeting moment and then it was smoothed over by that same resolve I'd seen and heard when she'd talked to Charlotte.

"Ron, it's all right. Please don't try to talk anymore." I felt her lips press against my forehead in a gentle kiss. "Let the potion do its work and try to relax. I'm nearly done."

I heard the sloshing sounds of water and I closed my eyes again. Her fingers were little feathers brushing the muck and blood and pain away in a lather of hot, soapy water being massaged in with a touch that was almost a caress. It was brilliant, just brilliant. So good, actually, that I fell asleep at the best part, and missed her wrapping me in nothing but a sheet and putting extra pillows under my head. It had been 18 years since the last time I'd been near death and lying drugged and helpless on my birthday. I suppose I'd been due.