xx{ hugobweasley }xx
She knew how these things usually went--a bank was the same with different numbers whether across the Atlantic or not, even merfolk had some semblance of money. She had grown even more familiar with it over the years, perhaps even comfortable with the idea.
Then Askaban had came and went, and so began her anxieties. Her little ticks and doubts, her nightly terrors that haunted her, her father the primary cause. Though strangers never failed to crowd around her in her dreams.
So things changed, and she only ventured into the public eye late in the evening, slender shoulders hunched just a little and her posture partially ruined.
But Gringotts itself had not changed by much. She nearly groaned however, at the sight of a shock of red hair padding up behind her--someone else then. She offered no greeting, only kept her eyes trained on the well-dressed goblin as he verified her check.
She glanced out of boredom to the door and her nervousness returned--seemed tonight was just her night, especially as she saw a flash of recognition in their eyes and their footsteps fast towards her. She whirled around to the previous intruder to pretend she was otherwise engaged, saying something ridiculous like, “It’s oddly late to be at the bank.”
Genius.
