A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 15: For What It's Worth

"Bugger it," he whispered, shoving the map into his pocket.

With a quick glance around to make sure the corridor was empty, he sprinted toward the library, his invisibility cloak billowing behind him. The cold air whipped at his face as he ran, his trainers barely making a sound against the stone floor. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a mixture of urgency and frustration.

"This is a terrible idea," he muttered under his breath. But he didn't stop.

Because no matter how many times he told himself it wasn't his problem, some part of him—annoying, persistent, and unyielding—knew it was.

James turned a corner, the library doors coming into view. He could see the faint outline of Anastasia's figure inside, her head bent over a book, completely unaware of the impending danger. Glancing at the map one last time, he saw Filch was nearly there. He had seconds to act.

Inside, Anastasia Gaunt stood near the back of the library, her head bent over a thick, leather-bound book. The soft glow of her wand illuminated the pages, her focus entirely on her research. She had no idea what was coming.

"Hang on, Ana," James whispered under his breath, his words barely audible over his own ragged breathing.

He didn't slow his pace, and his momentum carried him straight into her. His hand darted out, throwing the invisibility cloak over both of them, but the force of his movement knocked them backwards. Anastasia's back slammed against the bookshelf with a dull thud, dislodging several heavy tomes that fell to the floor in a loud clatter.

The noise reverberated through the quiet library, and James's stomach dropped. His hand instinctively clapped over Anastasia's mouth to stifle any sound she might make as he pressed closer, pinning her against the shelf to keep them hidden.

"Who's there?" Filch's voice barked, sharp and threatening, as the caretaker stepped into the library. "I know someone's in here! Come out now, or I'll have you strung up by your ankles!"

James's breath hitched, his chest heaving from the sprint. His mind raced, calculating Filch's position as the caretaker's footsteps echoed closer. He inched them back further into the shadows, his body pressing against Anastasia's to avoid brushing against Filch if the man ventured too near.

But James wasn't aware of the storm brewing behind him.

For Anastasia, the world was collapsing in on itself.

The pressure of the bookshelf against her spine, the heat of James's body trapping her in place, the weight of his hand covering her mouth—it all rushed in, dragging her back to a night she had fought so hard to suppress.

The library at the Riddle Estate. Tom's hand pinning her against the shelves, his voice a sickly sweet whisper in her ear.

"You're mine, Anastasia," Tom had said, his lips brushing against her skin as his hand covered her mouth to muffle her protests. She had frozen, unable to breathe as his other hand pressed against her throat, tilting her head back just enough for him to loom over her completely. The sensation of suffocation, of utter helplessness, had left her trembling and paralyzed.

The sound of James's breath, heavy and hot against her neck, mirrored the way Tom had panted against her as he whispered dark promises.

The fall of the books, the sharp crack as they hit the ground—it wasn't just books anymore. It was the crackling of Tom's wand as he cast the Cruciatus Curse, her body writhing under the unbearable pain as his cold, mocking laughter echoed in her ears.

Her chest heaved, her breaths shallow and fast as the memories overwhelmed her. She couldn't separate past from present. James's presence, his touch, became indistinguishable from Tom's, and her shaking grew worse with every second.