Back in the library, the small, midnight black cat that had watched Martin and Draco’s conversation from the top of the nearest bookcase, blended into a shadow, had retreated. She had transformed back into the Lady of the house and was in the tub submerged in water, steam curling in the air around her as she mulled her husband’s words over and over. Her arms were slung over the sides of the white tub and she stewed with anger at the realization of what he had implied with his questions, the knowing of what horror might find her next. if he succeeded. Her talons were back, long and lethal, scraping the enamel off the tub in long threads as she flexed her hands closed then open, considering her next course of action.