So we keep on waiting, waiting
Waiting on the world to change
-John Mayer
The box just lay there, taking up space on my counter conspicuously. The kettle steamed and both Scorpius and I ignored it for a minute, still staring at the lone lock of vibrant red hair that shone against the pure whiteness of the box. It looked as if it were illuminated, glowing. It looked like a flicker of a flame, ready to jump out of the box and attack us viciously. It was mesmerizing, yet, at the same time, frightening. I didn't know what to think. It couldn't be…it couldn't be the hair of her. That just wasn't possible. These murders, the victims had nothing to do with my family. I had already decided that.
I finally shook myself out of my trance and robotically made my way over to the kettle, taking it off the stove. Scorpius followed me over to it.
"I'll do it." He placed his hand on my shoulder.
I shook my head, deciding instead to focus on something normal instead of the omen-like substance on my counter. I continued preparing the tea until I heard the loud pounding on the door that announced the arrival of my father.
"Rosie? Rose what's wrong?" His face was flushed and he was yelling at the top of his lungs, looking around my flat frantically.
"Dad." I turned around, leaning on the counter for support and attempting to smile pathetically as Malfoy watched on cautiously. "You might want to get Uncle Harry."
He looked at me confused and then finally noticed the parcel on the counter.
"What's this?"
I blanched, lifting my teacup and taking a sip, just to do something, anything to get my focus away from the unwanted presence on my counter.
He didn't wait for an answer, but strode over to the box with admirable confidence, lifting it cautiously and examining the contents. His face turned from a flushed red to a positively puce colour and immediately he whipped out his wand and with an Expecto Patronum his patronus appeared, silvery and wispy, and left quickly with an urgent message for my uncle. He then began to pace, muttering to himself and hardly seeming to realise that he was still in the presence of others.
It only took my uncle a few minutes to appear at the door of my apartment with a slightly disoriented look on his face. He quickly regained his composure,
"Rose, Malfoy." He nodded in greeting.
My dad's head swiveled around to look at us.
"Malfoy? What the buggering hell are you doing here?" He seemed honestly surprised at Malfoy's presence in my flat which made me realise just how preoccupied he was with the white box and my current distress. He was an auror, trained to notice everything in every room for his own safety. Though perhaps he had not thought that there would be anything dangerous in his own daughter's flat, which he himself had protected with his privacy and safety charms.
"I've been here the whole time, Sir." Malfoy replied.
It was weird to hear Scorpius sound so respectful and calm. He almost never had the ability to keep his observations and opinions to himself whilst at Hogwarts, despite being a thousand different kinds of polite whilst doing so, and I often found myself surprised at his dexterity of being able to silence himself when the opportunity arose. It seemed almost second nature to him, speaking his mind, but he never did so with my father. I found this slightly amusing and wondered vaguely whether if it was because Dad wouldn't appreciate his observations, often so useful in the field, to be used on him.
"What are you doing here, then?" He asked suspiciously.
"You sent me to Mrs. Wimberley's just across the hall, Sir."
At my father's blank face he continued. "The witch who fell off her ladder." He clarified.
"Right." My dad muttered.
"Sorry, what's going on?" My Uncle Harry said, looking vaguely irritated.
My father grabbed him by the elbow and led him over to the offending object that still lay on my counter and the two of them continued to discuss things in hushed voices and Scorpius and I idly sipped our tea and waited to be filled in on the progress. I monitored them avidly: my father's insistent whispers, my uncle's head-shaking frustration as he ran his hand repeatedly through his dark hair. Every once in a while they would glance back at me with a worried look on their face.
I tried to remain as calm as possible which was becoming exceedingly difficult to do as the continuous silence, marred only by the frantic low conversation of my relatives became increasingly more difficult for me to handle. I began to fidget and practically gulped down all of my tea in record time, not even bothering to acknowledge the scalding liquid that was burning my throat. I fidget when I'm nervous or uneasy, it's something that I've always done, and this time was no exception.
"You reckon the Wasps will win the match this Saturday?" Scorpius questioned.
I gave him a look of disbelief and refrained from commenting, instead directing my attention to my uncle who had finally managed to pull himself from the private conversation with my father and address me.
"Okay, Rose. Here's what we're going to do."
He looked at me piercingly, his green eyes bright and vibrant. "So far as we know, this piece of hair means absolutely nothing. It could be the wrong address or something," He winced, knowing his argument sounded weak, "We're not going to panic, we're not going to take drastic measure just yet. First, we're going to send this back to the office and do a few tests on it. We will put a few more protective charms on your flat, and we will wait until the results come back to do anything permanent."
I nodded understanding, knowing full well that we could all be making a mountain out of a mole hill, but my father looked minutely displeased. Knowing him, he'd want a bodyguard on me at all times, a thousand extra safety charms on my flat, and to move in with me whilst this whole thing was going on. All because a box with a lock of hair showed up at my door step.
"We'll just ask you a few questions about the box so that we can write a full report on it."
"Okay." I nodded in agreement as Uncle Harry pulled out a notepad and quill, going into professional auror mode. He looked serious, his face blank, a mask to hide all emotions.
"Where did you find the box?"
"It was on my doorstep when I got home from work."
"Was there any message on the box?" He asked, his voice void of emotion.
"No. I had just assumed the box was for me because it was on my doorstep." I fiddled with my hands, rubbing them together like I was washing them with soap and saw Malfoy studying me from the corner of my eye.
"How could it have gotten there?"
I had to stop and think about it for a moment. I honestly had no idea. I picked my flat for a reason: we have great privacy. We had a screening test in order to become a resident in the building, Bluebell Gateway, and there was no way someone could have gotten past the apparation-proof charms, the gate where every tenant must enter their personal pass code, and Vivienne who sits at the front desk, dressed to the nines in her posh clothes but doing nothing in reality.
I told him of these security measures.
"Who has access to your flat?"
I thought for a moment.
"My parents, of course, my brother, Hugo, my friend Tori and my cousin Albus. The rest just have me buzz them up when they come. I try to keep my pass code to only a close group of people, for obvious reasons. I am certain that each of these people mentioned would never, ever, give away my pass code, for whatever reason."
I realised that I'm starting to sound professional too, more detached. This is no ordinary conversation with my Uncle Harry where we joked about James and his pranks, Albus and his self-esteem issues, or Lily and her fiery temper. This was a conversation between the Head Auror and a Victim.
"Would there have been any way for someone to acquire your pass code without your knowledge?"
"Maybe if they had seen me enter it at the gate when I came in, but I can't think of anyone who has stood close to me when I've entered it. It's one of those things that you would know because they would have to practically be looking over your shoulder to see it. And there are no tones when you press the buttons, so he wouldn't be able to hear the tones and imitate them."
I have obviously heard way too many cases amongst my uncle, my father, and my cousin aurors because I am able to answer their questions so thoroughly. I also have a little auror 101 training myself, because my father thought it would be beneficial to my everyday life.
"No, the only person who knows all the pass codes of all the tenants is the landlord, but he's in America currently. He lives there during the winters…." I trailed off when a sudden thought struck me. "Oh! I had almost forgotten! Our cleaning lady, Gilda, and her daughter, Marie, sometimes have access to my flat, we all love Gilda. She has been working here for years and nothing has ever gone missing, no mysterious incidents or anything. She's really a dear and her daughter Marie is prepping to take over her business and she's as well-liked as her mum. But they don't know the pass codes. They go in the back and Viv lets them in."
At their confused looks, I clarify.
"Viv is the lady at the front desk."
"Ah yes. Vivienne Newbridge." Scorpius chimed in. "She let me up earlier today. Asked for my identification and everything. Very thorough."
I nodded in agreement. No one got through Vivienne Newbridge. Not if she could help it. She was a very talented witch.
My uncle nodded, frowning.
"You landlord's name?"
"Mr. John Browning."
His frown deepened.
"Is there any way we could get in touch with him?"
"Send him an owl." I shrugged.
"Does he usually respond promptly?"
"Oh, yes, always."
"All right, just a few more questions. Would there be any reason for someone to send you a lock of red hair? An inside joke with a friend? Looking for a new hair colour with the help of a stylist? Anything?"
He looked almost desperate at this point, like I would suddenly remember that this whole thing was a farce, something that one of my loony friends would do just for fun. Haha—sent you a lock of my hair! How great is that?
"No, not that I can think of." I answered honestly.
"Okay, Rose. Malfoy here is going to check to make sure all your rooms are clear of suspicious items and your father and I are going to set a few more protection charms on your flat and building, just for a few precautionary safety measures. Keep your pass code safe and make sure that no one is trying to steal it—it would help us all out of you would keep your eye out for any suspicious behaviour, just in case. Sound all right with you?"
I nodded.
"Good. Now why don't you and Scorpius take a tour and let him know if anything is out of place. I don't think the person who delivered this box entered the premises, but it would make all of us feel better if we knew that for certain.
"Okay. C'mon Malfoy."
We both left the kitchen and started to tour throughout the flat, me making sure that none of my things were disturbed, trying to remember if that was exactly how I had left my stacks of laundry, amongst other things. Malfoy didn't seem too worried and I figured he didn't think that any of this was necessary just for a lock of hair. No one said that Weasleys weren't prone to overreacting.
"All good here?" He asked, smiling devilishly as we reached my bedroom.
I surveyed our surroundings and noted to my embarrassment that everything was exactly where I had left it, including the large stack of lingerie in the middle of the floor. I have a weakness for lingerie. It's a bad, bad, weakness. I have way too much of it: pinks, blues, greens, blacks, laces, silks, I had it all. It's quite possibly an addiction.
One great thing about lingerie is that it doesn't have to be just for the guy. It can be for you, too. You feel sexy when wearing it, but nobody else has to know. You can spend a whole day at the office, editing until your eyes go blurry and still know that you're wearing a cute pair of knickers and the matching bra. It's like an inside joke with yourself. If only they knew what you were wearing….
I blushed ferociously and with a flick of my wand, banished all my undergarments into their appropriate drawers.
"Yes." I mumbled in response to his question.
"You sure? Nothing wrong with your drawers? Don't need me to check those?" He winked.
"Scorpius…"
"Only trying to lighten the mood."
He was smirking so belligerently that I continued to blush, even though the offending garments were no longer in sight.
I laughed weakly.
"Obviously that didn't work." He sighed.
"Sorry, I just don't think that anything will help at this point."
I sighed, leading him out of my room and into the hallway.
"Didn't expect it to. It was a long shot. You okay?"
"I think so." I answered hesitantly.
"Really? You're not going to have more of a reaction than that? Most people would be freaking out." He sounded genuinely curious, studying me through his periphery vision, like I had studied him earlier.
"There's still a chance…it might not be hers."
Lena. That was her name. The girl whose hair may or may not be on my counter (was it still on my counter?). Had she known when she woke up that morning it would be her last? Had she thought to herself, "Gosh, today I'll be murdered and my hair will be cut off and end up in a box on someone else's counter"? Probably not. Well, unless she was twisted. She was just as unsuspecting as I was, after all.
I hadn't woken up today and thought "Today I'll find a box on my doorstep with a lock of red hair in it!" after all.
Had he cut it off before or after he killed her? I couldn't help thinking about it. Did she know that he had cut off her hair? The hair she had grown out and styled and cleaned and put up in pony tails. Something that was so completely hers, something he had taken away. I am a girl after all; I know how we can get about our hair.
"Rose…"
He hesitated, not saying any more. But the unsaid was blindingly clear. 'Don't rule out the option that the hair is hers.' It said. Don't be a dumb, oblivious, ignorant fool.
"I'm just going to wait to freak out before I know anything." I defended myself.
"All right," he said uncertainly, looking at me with concern.
"Okay, Rosie." Uncle Harry interrupted us, coming into the sitting room where we had stopped to have our conversation. "We've set some more protective charms around our flat. You should feel very safe."
"Okay, thank you."
I hugged my uncle and father and gave Scorpius a curt nod as they left my flat. The only thing I had a desire to do for the rest of the night was curl up with a book and a bottle of wine. So that's what I did, but it seemed that my mind wouldn't leave the matter at hand. My whole life now depended on the results of a few tests. It was an unsettling feeling, like being back at school again, but to more of an extreme.
So instead, I did what I always do when stressed out and a book can't distract me. I cleaned. I pulled out my wand and spent the remainder of the night cleaning spastically: scrubbing the floors, the counters, sweeping, mopping, and doing everything the muggle way to get my mind off of matters at hand. Then I drank the bottle of wine in bed, feeling exhaustedly content with only a flicker of unease.
But as soon as I closed my eyes, I saw that vibrant, luminous shade of red.
A/N: Sorry, sorry sorry. I apologise. I know that I should have updated sooner but I couldn't help it, really. So here it is now, and as always feel free to let me know what you think!
~wwccd
