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>Put your face in your hands.

Hermione sighs wearily. She’d gotten useful information from listening to the events of the last half-day, but nothing ever wrapped up nicely, did it? Ugly 1’s final instructions had already been sent. Now all she could do was hope that they’d be followed.

The red-haired girl pockets her phone, then claps her hands once. The butler brings her a pair of white fluffy house slippers, the only appropriate follow-up to a massage of her feet.

The only question now was what to do. She had a little less than four hours before her appointed time with mother. These intermediate waiting periods between events were irritating. There was such a large gap of time that simply doing nothing seemed incredibly wasteful, yet there wasn’t enough time to comfortably do whatever she liked. She probably had enough to investigate the detective’s office in the mall, but it could take longer than expected if the situation happened to be delicate. She could also simply inform her mother that there was no need for the meeting and take as long as she wished, but some part of her loathed that idea. She was stuck at an impasse.

>What’s the plan? Or perhaps there doesn’t need to be a plan?