Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Four
Romilda
"I'm inclined to drop this off on the way back to the office," Harry said as he cradled the baguette in both hands, holding it tenderly like a new-born baby. "It's still warm. Be a shame to let it start drying out. I don't suppose you know if Madam MacDougal was devoted to Tom Riddle also known as…"
"Know where you're going?" asked Pansy.
"No, I thought," Harry began.
"Not surprised," said Pansy. "That's fine, I'll be happy to take you."
"Do you mind?" Harry asked. "If you've got something to do…"
"Anything I have to do can wait half an hour while we do a bread delivery," said Pansy.
"That's very accommodating of you," Harry said. "Let's see, from here…"
The alley behind the Leaky Cauldron was the nearest convenient apparition point. A short time later Harry and Pansy stood across the stile from the MacDougal cottage, baguette in hand.
"Morag, look who's here!" Pansy called.
Morag came out the front door once more.
"Pansy, what have you done?" Morag asked. A little distress came through in her voice.
"Brought you and Madam a fresh baguette, that's all, I swear," Pansy said.
Harry and Pansy stood there, waiting to be invited inside the property.
"Fine, come on in," sighed Morag. She walked out into the yard, two or three meters from the door.
"Morag, good to see you," Harry said as he approached. He extended his hand. "We were eating lunch and the bread was so good we asked if we could get a whole loaf to take. Everyone needs bread, but, of course, pardon my presumption if you don't."
"We eat bread," Morag confirmed. She motioned with a little head toss. "Come on in, please."
Morag waved a hand at the kitchen table, so Harry and Pansy chose a chair apiece and sat down. Morag pointed her wand at a tea kettle and it started making boiling water sounds. Tea followed, perfectly steeped, although Harry hadn't noticed Morag checking her watch.
"Morag, Pansy was telling me about you being out here, taking care of your mum, and I wanted to come by, offer any help you might need, and share one of these baguettes. We just had a very nice lunch in London and it didn't seem right. So, here it is."
Harry presented the baguette, both hands out in front, arms extended. Morag started to laugh.
"Nice," she said. "Very nice. Everyone needs bread, I suppose, just as you said."
"And that's it, Morag," said Harry. "Thank-you for the tea. It's delicious. We can send up anything you want. More tea. Coffee. We're not pushing."
"I appreciate the concern," said Morag. "Mother spends most of her time in bed. We get up once or twice a day. She still enjoys some fresh air in the morning, so we go outside and sit together."
"She had a stroke?" Harry asked. "Even magical methods…"
"No, witches are human," said Morag. "Sometimes the human body just breaks. Magical or muggle, there's no difference. When the brain is damaged it's damaged. Younger people can work at their rehabilitation and it's possible to come back. At two hundred plus, there isn't a lot left to work with, even with magic."
"I see," said Harry. He took the last little sip of tea in his cup. Looking around the room Harry started to notice how everything gave off an air of efficiency. There was no sign the cottage had ever been wired for electricity. The roof was thatch. Harry looked for spider webs but didn't see any.
"Pansy? Finished?"
"Yes, Harry," Pansy said. "Last chance, Morag. Anything we can send north?"
"A note now and then, as we discussed," Morag said. "Harry, if Pansy didn't make it clear, I'm here as long as Mum needs me. To the end, essentially."
"Whatever you want to do, Morag," Harry said. "No one's judging. Pansy?"
When Pansy hugged Morag this time, Morag hugged back. Something had started thawing the icy reserve.
Harry and Pansy crossed the stile and disapparated. A few minutes later they were back in the London office sharing thoughts about their excursion.
"Anything?" Pansy asked.
"Not that I can think of," said Harry. "Morag has something to do that she obviously wants to do. She's functioning socially, although I couldn't tell if she was having to make an effort. She used magic appropriately for an everyday task. Nothing very complicated but she didn't blow the house up. Let's stay in contact. She can reach out if she wants more than that."
"Why don't you go home for the day?" Harry went on.
"And do what?" Pansy shot back.
"Read the magical financial press and see what you want to do about your investments," Harry replied.
"My investments, such as they are, are in the goblins' hands," said Pansy. "If I took any more interest they would resent me for poking my nose in where it doesn't belong."
"If I go home, then, would you go?" Harry asked.
"Probably not," Pansy replied. "I might try to find someone to go shop with for a couple of hours."
"Why don't you do that?" Harry said, standing up from his chair. "That's enough for one day."
Harry let Pansy out and closed the door, tapping the door handle with his wand to set the lock. The lock wasn't important, but the wards that engaged along with it were.
"Bye, then," Harry said as he took off toward home.
Pansy walked through Diagon Alley toward the Leaky Cauldron. If she was going to find a witch for a little shopping, or another cup of tea, she'd be someplace on Pansy's route. Taking her time, as long as she was out, about, and at loose ends, Pansy lingered in front of windows full of stock, studying the old favorites along with the new items that had shown up after the fighting ended.
The magical world was very traditional and took its time before accepting anything the new. Magical culture revered itself, in truth. Pansy enjoyed studying the school robes on display in Madame Malkin's. She moved along, taking note of the owls, quidditch supplies and equipment, then stopped short at Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop.
The enameled sign on the front of the shop always did a number on Pansy. It showed a glass cup that sat on a little stand, a scoop of orange and a scoop of lemon sherbet garnished with some pineapple chunks. Painted just beneath the cup was the command: ENJOY!
"Just what I need," thought Pansy as she went inside.
One order for a cup's worth with pineapple chunks later, Pansy sat at a marble-topped table, taking her time with little spoonsful of sherbet. Pansy's eyes were closed as she let her treat melt on her tongue, so she didn't see Romilda Vane enter Fortescue's or stop at her table.
"Mmm," she was thinking, until Romilda intervened.
"Pansy Parkinson," said Romilda.
Pansy opened her eyes.
"Romilda? Where did you come from?"
"Not back from the dead," said Romilda.
"Oh," said Pansy before she ran out of words.
"You were under the impression…?" asked Romilda.
"Oh, I guess I was," said Pansy. "What a surprise. Why?"
"Did the rumors start? I don't know," said Romilda. "I've never been dead, I assure you. That I know of, that is."
"Alright, then, ice cream? Tea? Sit down and catch your breath?"
"I'll get it," said Romilda. "May I?"
She put her shopping bag on an empty chair without waiting for Pansy's answer.
Romilda came back from the counter with a cup of vanilla drizzled with chocolate and a glass of water.
"So," said Romilda after she'd taken her seat. "Tell me what you heard."
"You'd disappeared," said Pansy. "Lots of theories why, as you'd expect. I noticed there was never a confirming fact or a secondary source. Not right away, of course. Know what an urban legend is? It's kind of a muggle thing."
"I've heard of it," said Romilda. "I was married off, just as your seventh year collapsed. That was my fifth. Sold, really. My husband had outlived his wife and wanted a bedwarmer and someone to fetch him a brandy when he woke up at night. I was younger than some of his grandchildren."
"Merlin," gasped Pansy. "And now…"
"I'm a widow," said Romilda. "Cast out by my husband's heir. I'm never to darken the creepy door of their creepy castle in their creepy valley ever again. As you can see, I'm devastated."
"Merlin," Pansy said again. "Guess I just said that."
"You did," said Romilda. "What about you? You didn't marry Draco Malfoy, it appears."
Romilda looked at Pansy's hands, which were bereft of rings.
"We came to our senses," said Pansy. "Thank Merlin we'd waited and didn't get overly physical too soon. No half-growns at my place or his asking when they'll see Mum or Dad again."
Romilda laughed.
"Same here," she said. "His late lordship had big ideas but lacked equipment sufficient to implement them."
Pansy struggled to keep the volume of her laughter down. They were in an ice cream parlor, not some rowdy late-night wizard's dive.
"Sounds bad," said Pansy.
"It does, and it was," said Romilda. "My father and I are, I think, permanently estranged. My mother made a pro forma request to me to do it for the family and make the best of it. Needless to say, I don't find myself pining for the comfort of her arms and bosom."
"And now you're back," said Pansy. "Welcome home."
Something about the welcome penetrated Romilda's cynical armor and her eyes started looking well-watered. She dropped her head and focused on her ice cream.
"What are you doing for housing?" Pansy asked. "Oh, wait, if that was inappropriate…"
"Not at all," said Romilda. "I am dipping into some funds the late husband transferred to me when he was alive. Without going into it in more detail than necessary, I took my mother's advice and made the best of it. Merlin knows they weren't going to be keeping an eye on me. I'm in a muggle hotel just off the Oxford High Street. I ducked into Diagon Alley for a few necessities they don't stock over there. Otherwise I prefer to limit my time around our kind. My late stepson's circle, you know."
Pansy didn't like the direction Romilda's side of the conversation seemed to be headed. She was limiting her time with magicals. Her husband and his son were both recently deceased. The stepson's circle—what? Took umbrage? Was trying to trace her?
Pansy took a spoonful of both flavors and put it in her mouth. She was trying to sort through everything Romilda had told her. Even as she worried the facts she knew it was a fool's errand, because Romilda spoke volumes at the same time she was editing all that she said.
"Do you need help?" Pansy asked, lowering her head and muttering into the table top. "Disappear?"
"Not just yet," said Romilda, giving Pansy a half-smile. "Is that your line of work?"
She sounded genuinely interested.
"No," said Pansy. "It's just, with the fighting, some people did find obscure places…One hears."
"Ummm…" Romilda said, voice back at a conversational level, "This is so good. I'd forgotten the therapeutic value of Fortescue's ice cream.
Romilda leaned into the table a little and looked straight at Pansy.
"I'm so glad I came in here this afternoon, Pansy. Could an owl find you these days?"
She began getting ready to leave, gathered the handles on her shopping bag and pushed her chair back. Pansy took a good look at Romilda's widow's weeds, then nodded.
"Good," said Romilda as she stood. She stepped around the table and leaned down.
Pansy half-stood, touching her cheek to Romilda's, then her school-days acquaintance was gone.