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Summary
Gods, she was stupid.
And yet so incredibly warm, her body was crawling from the tips of her toes to every nerve ending in her head. Her gums kept filling with saliva; she’d swallow, and seconds later her mouth would be a pool of spit again. She rocked on her heels, inhaling and exhaling as though she’d never known air, itchy in her clothing, squirming in her skin. She could hear Bill and Charlie arguing in front of her, but their words were nothing more than a dull, distant drone.
She was stupid.
Bill had kindly taken her under his wing at Gringotts, and she’d been so eager to prove herself. Charlie had told her not to touch the clutch. He’d been quite direct. She hadn’t listened. She said herself no harm would come from a quick once-over. Eagerly, she’d wanted to show them she wasn’t a girl anymore, wasn’t their little brother’s ex-girlfriend. She was a woman. An esteemed witch. Defined by her own making.
Yet here she was, panting, clawing at her clothes, twitching on Charlie’s weathered, springy bed, while the two men argued over what to do with her.