Chapter Thirteen

With a great deal of reluctance Hermione returned to her office in the Ministry of Magic the day after her visit to Borgin and Burke, trying all day unsuccessfully to brush off her worries. She didn't normally get concerned when she heard that there was someone out there who might desire to use violence against her to get what they wanted. It was an old story, one she'd heard over and over again since she decided to become Harry Potter's friend her first year at Hogwarts. Usually she was able to tap into her Gryffindor bravado and not be bothered or worried.

Everything about her visit to the Knockturn Alley shop the day before set her on edge. Igor's concern when she told him all that happened didn't help matters. Was there really a vast conspiracy operating out there to discover the whereabouts of the gold ring? It seemed improbable. The ring sat on a dusty shelf for years with no one giving a notice or care of its existence. Why was it suddenly a prize to covet?

After a short time obsessing over the details of the previous day at her desk, Hermione was more successful in moving on to different thoughts. Maybe she was just being overly paranoid. It wouldn't be the first time she'd overthought something in her life. No one had been interested in causing her trouble for years since the war ended. What made her so special that they would suddenly change their minds? She had enough to worry about with her increased workload to dwell on what-ifs and conspiracy theories.

If she stayed in her office for three days straight without taking a single break, she would still have more work to complete. It wasn't uncommon for the parchments and forms to pile up to a seemingly unmanageable degree, but with the absence of so many of her coworkers it felt worse than ever before. She would be glad when all of the afflicted were on the mend and they could return to some sense of normalcy. For the present, however, she was grateful for the opportunity to distract her mind from distressing thoughts she couldn't control.

She fell into an odd sort of routine with Igor in the immediate days following the end of her inspection. While she would certainly not consider them friends of any sort, there was a comfort inside the flat that didn't exist before. Perhaps they were merely growing used to the other. A person could get used to almost anything if exposed to it long enough. Though they would likely never stop with the snide comments and snarky remarks, they were able to have civilized conversations. Once or twice they even laughed and it wasn't even at the expense of the other. Far from perfect or even an ideal living situation, it simply became more familiar.

Which was why she worried that he would not be pleased with how late she remained at the office nearly a week after her trip to Knockturn Alley. Every night since she came rushing in pale as a ghost, he'd made the effort to have a hot dinner on the kitchen table for her to share with him when she returned home. Out of respect for the generosity of the offer, she made certain that she didn't linger too long at her Ministry desk for fear that he would be angry when she got home. It wasn't in her personality to go out of her way to appease the arrogance of a pompous jerk, but she had to admit that life was much easier when he wasn't angry or annoyed.

As she left the employee entrance of the Ministry, Hermione wondered if she was going to have to listen to Igor complain about her being late for dinner. Apparently he was the sort of cook who preferred perfect timing and had sauces that wouldn't set right if she wasn't there right when she was expected. If everything he'd so far prepared hadn't been sinfully delicious, she might have been tempted to be late more often just to frustrate him. Of course she would never put it past him to spit in her food if she annoyed him enough. That was usually incentive enough to run straight home.

For someone who seemed to not want to be around her, he got easily annoyed when she was late. She took a deep breath as she unlocked the front door of their… no, her flat with a spell. Expecting to be immediately struck in the face with a delicious aroma designed to make her mouth water, she was surprised to find no dinner had been prepared at all. Igor stood in the kitchen staring out the window in silence. She nearly groaned. Was he in one of his moods where he couldn't stop thinking about and talking about how wonderful paradise was? She almost wished she'd stayed back at the office.

"I'm sorry I'm late. My supervisor asked me to finish this report…"

"Crookshanks is missing."

It was such a simple sentence, but the way he uttered it managed to steal all of the air out of the room. Whatever excuse she was in the middle of giving to explain why she'd been so late no longer seemed important. What did he mean? Igor turned away from the window to face her. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look quite so upset.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't find him. I looked for him all day. I looked everywhere in the flat, but he's not here."

Sometimes her cat liked to go out on an adventure. The older he got, the less he wanted to, but he hadn't stopped altogether. Hermione nearly laughed. That was why the wizard was so upset? Because an old cat hadn't been home all day?

"I have a terrible feeling something is seriously wrong with him."

His concern was sweet. Immediately after thinking such a charitable thought, Hermione chastised herself. No, she would not think the man was sweet. It was too bizarre. She took a closer look at the kitchen window he'd been staring out. If it had been open all day, there was no reason to believe the cat wouldn't return when he was ready.

"I'm sure he's fine. He likes to explore."

"I don't know how to explain it, but I know something is wrong."

It would've been too easy to laugh in his face and call him ridiculous. If the same scenario had taken place even just a couple of weeks earlier, she probably would've. While she didn't feel worried about her aging feline in the slightest, she understood what it felt like to worry about his safety. She'd spent the entirety of the horcrux hunt fearing every day that Crookshanks somehow got caught up in the violence while he was staying at the Burrow. Finding him living happily in the back garden of one of the Weasleys' Muggle neighbors just a short walk down the road had been the biggest relief of her life. She would never forget how tightly she hugged him to her and cried on his fur.

"We could go look for him if you think that'll help."

Yet again she was surprised by the rapid change in her interactions with the wizard. It was cold and rainy outside, horrible weather to do any sort of searching in. She would've been tempted to tell him to go look himself, but after he'd been so kind to her following her uncomfortable visit to Borgin and Burke, she just couldn't be that rude.

"Yes, thank you. Let's look."

With heavy cloaks on, they braved the terrible weather to look for a smart cat she was all but certain was holed up in some warm, dry corner waiting out the rain. No doubt if they just went about their lives, she'd find him curled up in his basket when they woke up the next morning. But, to prove she was a good sport, she accompanied Igor to the roof of the building to verify he wasn't up there chasing the pigeons. After finding no sign that he'd been anywhere near there, they returned to the ground to search the immediate neighborhood. She didn't think Crookshanks would travel very far with his old, creaky joints.

It was one of those nights when only fools or criminals were out and about. Hermione wasn't surprised that they ran into no one who could tell them whether they'd seen the cat or not. Everyone was safe and warm inside as they should've been. At least an hour of searching passed before even Igor had to admit it was best that they stop for the night. He was even more upset than when they started. Nothing she said to him would calm his worries. She was surprised that he cared that much about her old cat. No one else did.

"I'm sure if we leave the window open tonight he will climb inside while we're asleep."

Igor listened to her assurance, but his heavy sigh proved that he wasn't ready to believe it was true. Once more at the front door of her flat she tried her hardest. Why it mattered so much that he not feel guilty or upset didn't make much sense to her. It wasn't that long ago she would've gleefully shoved his misery in his face. She was changing. They were changing and she wasn't entirely sure that she approved of the changes.

"I'll set out some of his favorite salmon snacks. I swear he could smell those from ten kilometers away."

After unlocking the front door to the flat and pushing the door open, Hermione half-assumed that they would be greeted with an annoyed half-kneazle mewling at them for disturbing his latest nap or for being late with his evening meal. It would be the sort of ending to the search that she would've expected would happen to them. But, unfortunately, one step inside the flat and she knew that that wasn't going to be the outcome.

"Igor…"

One glance into the clearly ransacked lounge of the flat startled her enough that she didn't initially trust her eyes. Standing just behind her and with the benefit of his height, Igor was able to see what happened at the same moment. He was close enough that she could feel his entire body tense.

Someone had been in their flat. The devastation wasn't an accident. Looking just as if they were in the middle of some Hollywood movie, there didn't appear to be a single surface that was untouched. She felt sick to her stomach, ready to vomit all over the pile of rubbish her belongings had been reduced to.

"They were looking for the ring."

There was no question in Hermione's mind that Igor was correct. All of her problems began the day she read the inscription on the back of the ugly jewelry. Why wouldn't the complete wrecking of her home be included in that list? He gently pushed past her to step further inside the home. A quick homenum revelio from the end of his wand proved that whomever was responsible for the mess was no longer inside. It was small comfort.

Of course the wizard ran straight for his bedroom and his extensive potions laboratory. She would've too if she had the presence of mind to move her feet. All she could do was stand in the middle of the lounge with wide, terrified eyes. If someone out there was willing to do that much damage to her home, what would they be willing to do to her if they crossed paths? She began to finally worry about Crookshanks too. Clearly his absence was used as an excuse for the perpetrators to get inside the flat. Was Igor right to worry about her cat? She wasn't sure she wanted to think about all of the possibilities just then.

"My security wards held up. All of the potions and ingredients are still protected. The cartons of glass vials, however…"

Igor sighed though there was a small relief in his voice knowing that his extensive work over the past week hadn't been thoroughly ruined in a fit of violence. Just the galleons that he'd spent alone of her money on his setup should've relieved Hermione too that all seemed all right in his new home business, but she couldn't find anything to be pleased about. Remembering the money that Igor borrowed without permission to begin his scheme was finally what stirred her into action. Almost as if they had a mind of their own, her feet carried her swiftly to her bedroom and to the nightstand where she kept her money.

Nothing was missing. How was that possible? If a person or several entered her home with the intention to steal the gold ring, why wouldn't they also avail themselves of the opportunity provided to stuff a few hundred galleons in their pockets too? Either they were the world's worst burglar or they were trying to send a message.

"Is it all still there?"

So quietly had Igor followed her into the room she didn't know he was there until he spoke. She jumped. Only when he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder did she calm down again.

"Yes, it is. All of it. They didn't steal my money."

"Are there any other valuables that you know of that they might have taken?"

Hermione looked around the mess that had been made of her bedroom. Even the mattress had been cut open. Though she didn't own a lot that would be considered terribly valuable, she did have some items that could easily earn a criminal a few galleons if they wanted to sell them. She opened her wardrobe up fully. One of the doors was already pulled half off its hinges. The small wooden box that she kept tucked away in the back with the few pieces of jewelry she kept of her mother's and grandmother's had been roughly opened and the contents spilled. Everything was accounted for.

"I don't think they took anything."

Even with all of her belongings remaining in her home, it was still a violation. She had never for one second since she signed the paperwork leasing the flat ever felt unsafe. A chill went up her spine. If they were able to get inside her home when the door was locked and warded, how could she be sure they wouldn't do it again when they were sleeping? Igor had the same thought.

"You should pack a bag. It's not safe for us to be here."

Unsure where they would even go, she didn't argue. Just randomly pulled some clothes out of her wardrobe and shoved them into a bag. By the time she made it to the bathroom to pack up her toothbrush, Igor was already in there doing the same with his. As she moved around in a daze, he seemed energized, motivated to get out of there. Selfishly she hadn't even considered how afraid he must've been. He had enemies who would want to hurt him badly if they knew he was alive again.

"Should we tell Pasha or George what happened? I'd hate to think they were just sitting in the same building not knowing they could be in danger."

"No, I don't think it's wise to get them involved. Not yet. They were after my ring. If Pasha and Mr. Weasley don't know where we are at, they won't be any use to someone searching for it."

Something about the way Igor spoke about the motives of the intruder bothered her though she couldn't explain why. He almost seemed as if he knew far more than he was letting on. Was that why he was so worried about Crookshanks? Because he knew they had a reason to be? She had a dozen different questions that she had every intention of asking when they were somewhere she actually felt safe again.

And once again just like a terrible Hollywood movie, they ended up in a seedy Muggle hotel in a different part of the city. Their enemies were magical, no doubt about that. Hiding amongst the Muggles would be safer in the short-term. As she stood in the middle of the horrible room, she almost thought it might be better just to confront the bastards face to face. A swift death of an avada to her chest was preferable to a lingering misery caused by E. coli or whatever one might catch from rats.

"You're not telling me something."

Yet another heavy sigh from Igor that night proved that she was right. He didn't want to meet her eyes nor did he immediately rush to deny it. At least they were at a place where he wasn't outright lying. She supposed that was something.

"The day after you went to Borgin and Burke, I…"

He hesitated, no longer wishing to complete his thought. She was stubborn enough that she wouldn't let him just stop.

"You what, Igor? Tell me."

"I went to the shop myself."

Hermione felt a sinking in her stomach. While he had evidently been far more careful about being seen during his previous trips to Diagon Alley to purchase his clothing, wand, and potions supplies, she got the impression that he didn't do as great a job blending in at the awful shop as he hoped.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I wanted to know more. I didn't like the sound of the threat that arsehole made. I thought if I went there I could find out what he meant."

It all started to make sense. Yes, the problems in her life began when she purchased the gold ring, but more specifically, they started in earnest when he became a part of it. She would need to get far away from the man if she ever wanted any hope of having a normal, safe life again.

"And did you find out anything? Or were you recognized?"

"Both of them were there — Borgin and Burke. I didn't expect that. Burke asked me several questions about my family. And then Borgin wanted to know if I was there to buy a gold ring because I wasn't the first who had asked about one in recent days."

He was careless. Just absolutely reckless and foolish. All of the times he had already made scathing remarks about her own disregard for her own safety and arse since they were forced into each other's lives and that was how he conducted his investigation? It was a wonder the Ministry of Magic wasn't contacted and he wasn't arrested by a team of aurors.

"You're the reason why my flat was destroyed. Someone probably followed you home."

"I suppose that's possible."

A raging well of emotion sprung up inside her. All she wanted to do was pummel him in the face with her fists, kick him in the ribs until he couldn't breathe any longer, and then torture him with the Cruciatus Curse. Never in her entire life had she felt a desire so strongly. He ran his hand through his shoulder-length waves. The gold in his fucking ring caught in the room's only lamplight.

"This is all your fault. You and that horrible, ugly ring. I wish I'd never picked it up. I wish I'd never read the inscription. I wish I'd never met you."

She put her hands on his chest, ignoring how firm it was. With all of her strength, she pushed him, but he hardly moved. Feeling even more helpless and much angrier, she kept on pushing. When he stood his ground, she rolled her hands into fists and began to punch. Startled by the sudden violence, Igor grabbed her hands. It didn't take much effort to get him to stop, just one more reason she loathed him.

"You've ruined everything. I hate you. I wish you'd never…"

The rest of her insult was cut off by the insistent press of his lips against hers.