I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from JK Rowling's fantastic books or films, I'm just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so.
A/N: To be honest I'm not entirely sure where this story came from, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Dx
Hermione looked at herself in the mirror as she smoothed down her dress. She was really pleased with it as it was flattering and quite fashionable without being overly provocative. That was definitely important this evening because she didn't want Michael to get the wrong idea and think she was throwing herself at him. She continued to look in the mirror as she put on her earrings and clasped the matching necklace around her throat. She really liked Michael and was excited to be going out with him on a real date, but she was anxious not to come across as being too needy.
Her success rate with men wasn't great, she thought ruefully as she moved to the wardrobe to retrieve her shoes and jacket. A few kisses with Viktor Krum in the fourth year of school, which had been lovely at the time but a bit lacking in retrospect; a year of unbridled passion, at least on her side, with Ron, which had fizzled out when she realised that he definitely wasn't as into her as she was him; six weeks with Jarrod, who worked on the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, with whom she had struck up a relationship a few months after joining the Ministry of Magic and who had turned out to be as interesting as drying paint; a rotten toad called Stefan, who she had wasted two years of her life on, had actually thought she was in love with, and was seriously considering getting engaged to until she discovered he was cheating on her with not one but two other women; and several single dates since with various losers she had been set up with by her ever-despairing friends. Hermione had no idea why she hadn't yet met her ideal man but she refused to accept Ron and Harry's assertion that she was setting her sights too high and needed to be a bit more realistic.
If nothing else, Michael proved that she was right to set her sights high. He was handsome, incredibly so, with long dark hair that curled magnificently in a way hers could never manage, usually over white linen shirts that showed off the colour to perfection. He had such dark eyes they were almost black, although they always held a twinkle that made her heart beat faster, an almost perfect olive-skinned face with high chiselled cheekbones and a prominent nose and chin, but not too prominent, and as if that weren't enough he had the sort of muscles to make her feel like a weak damsel in distress. When he smiled, which was a lot, Hermione could feel her heart melting and something inside her that had never really considered marriage and children before sprang to life. Yes, Michael had definitely got her biological clock ticking, and she didn't want to ruin the chance of something more than just one dinner by appearing too eager.
She thought back to earlier in the day when she had met up for coffee with one of her best friends, Ron. She was aware that Ron didn't like Michael, although Ron had never liked any of her boyfriends, treating her in the same way he had treated his sister Ginny at school before she had finally settled down with Hermione's other best friend, Harry. She remembered Ron had been worried about the amount of time Michael spent following her around. She had laughed, not taking it at all seriously; after all, she rather liked the idea of Michael wanting to be near her. It was incredibly flattering, especially from someone that gorgeous.
'Well, I think it's just plain creepy. Every time you look round he's following you. Doesn't he have any work to do? And where does he work, anyway?' Ron asked mulishly.
He looked around in distaste as he saw the man he was talking about lurking a few tables away. He was apparently reading a book while drinking his coffee but Ron was sure that was just a cover. Really he was watching Hermione, like he always did.
'I think he just likes to remind me he's around in case I forget,' Hermione said mildly. She was smiling amusedly.
'Like you could ever forget,' Ron retorted. 'He's a bloody stalker, Hermione. You need to watch out for him. He could be dangerous.'
'You just don't know him,' Hermione assured Ron. 'He's fine, honestly. Anyway we're going out on a proper date tonight.' Ron looked like he was about to say something but Hermione stopped him. 'Look, I'm flattered that you're worried about me but you can't hate all my boyfriends, Ronald. Michael's interesting, polite, good-looking and I enjoy being with him. That's more than I can say about the last few men you and Harry have tried to fix me up with. Perhaps you should get to know him and then you'll realise he's not as bad as you think.'
'How am I supposed to get the chance to get know him? He does a disappearing act every time I join the two of you. Surely it can't be a coincidence that he has to leave every time?'
'He works in the Department of Mysteries,' Hermione explained. 'You know they're always having to dash off places and do stuff at odd times.'
'Well, that's reason enough for you not to go out with him in the first place,' Ron said, a cold shiver running down his spine as he remembered the Department of Mysteries. 'Those people who work in there are all extremely strange . . . and I don't just mean eccentric.'
'Well, Michael's not like them. Honestly he isn't. I think he's just a bit shy with people he doesn't know very well, which is probably why he has to disappear off when you and Harry barrel over all set to give him some big interrogation.'
'And just how did you meet him again?' Ron asked suspiciously.
Hermione sighed. 'He was at that seminar I attended a little while ago. We got talking then, and afterwards we bumped into each other and so went for coffee. It went from there, really.'
'I just don't like him following you around all the time,' Ron grumbled.
'There's honestly nothing to worry about,' Hermione said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it as she gave a smile.
She looked over and saw Michael staring at her and dropped Ron's hand, not wanting the man to get the wrong impression about her and Ron.
Ron sighed. 'Well, if you say he's okay, Hermione, then he must be okay.' He looked at his watch. 'Sorry, got to dash. Got a lead on a case and I think we're going in this afternoon.' He stood up and Hermione joined him. 'I'll see you later in the week and you can tell me how the date went with Mr Creepy.' He bent to kiss Hermione's cheek.
'Don't call him that,' Hermione rebuked.
Ron rolled his eyes as he walked away from the table backwards. He waved.
'See you later. Take care.'
'Good luck,' Hermione called as she waved goodbye to Ron.
She looked back towards the table where Michael had been sitting. He was no longer there.
It was possible, Hermione supposed as she pinned a brooch onto her jacket, that you could consider Michael a bit creepy if you didn't know him. He did have a habit of popping up unexpectedly wherever she was, and although he had made it clear he liked her he had steadfastly refused to get to know any of her friends at all. But Hermione knew that part of it was shyness.
Like many of the people working in the mysterious department Michael called home when he was at work, he was not particularly good at interacting with others. Hermione wasn't sure why this was when he was so incredibly handsome, but he definitely had a nervous disposition and wasn't comfortable unless he was with people he knew well. Hermione felt she should be grateful that Michael had made an exception for her, but then there was a very special reason why they had got to know each other.
Hermione hadn't told Ron or Harry very much about the seminar where she had met Michael, mainly because she knew they wouldn't be interested. But they probably would be interested in knowing how she had met him. Even thinking back to it now Hermione was amazed that she had been so calm and rational, and was even gladder she been at the seminar. If she hadn't Michael would probably be dead and there would be no date tonight with a hopeful chance of more to come.
She had been circling the room talking to various people, as everyone seemed to be, staying within drooling distance of but not actually talking to an incredibly handsome dark-haired man who she now knew as Michael. She had been standing in the group next to his when Michael collapsed. Panic ensued and, as was often the case in these situations, everyone was running around like headless chickens without actually doing anything useful.
Hermione had immediately dropped to her knees to examine the prone man and discovered he had stopped breathing. Completely forgetting about magic for the time being and silently thanking her parents for sending her on a St John's Ambulance course during the summer holidays when she was thirteen, Hermione set to work checking that his passageways were cleared, and then, to the amazement of the whole room, she gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She attracted quite a crowd of onlookers as she alternately pounded his chest and blew into his mouth, but she finally managed to get him breathing again, to a round of applause from the audience, and then put him into the recovery position and sat with him until the Healers arrived from St Mungo's hospital.
She fretted about the handsome man after he was taken away, worried that she had been too late to stop brain damage or that something else might have gone wrong, until someone — she still wasn't sure who — suggested she go to the hospital to check on him. Sitting at his bedside, Hermione harboured a little fantasy that the gorgeous man would wake up and, although it was impossible in reality, realise that she had saved his life and would be grateful enough to whisk her away for romance, marriage and lots of lovely curly-haired children.
In fact that was what had almost happened, Hermione thought. When Michael came round the Healer-in-charge told him what Hermione had done to save him. She remembered his fantastic smile and his whispered thanks as he gripped her hand, bringing it to his lips time and again. She left him shortly after, as he needed to rest, but promised to return the following day. When Michael left the hospital and returned to work he came to find her and invited her for coffee, and their relationship had gone from there. She was aware that even now he was still grateful to her for what she had done for him, but she was really hoping that by this time he looked on her as more than just his saviour.
Hermione smiled happily as she and Michael walked down the street. She'd had a brilliant evening and was fairly certain she was falling big-time for the gorgeous man who was holding her hand as they walked. Their date had been everything she had hoped for and more, and she was loath for the evening to end.
For a moment she considered inviting him back to her place for coffee, but even as she thought about it, she could hear Ron and Harry screaming at her for being stupid and opening herself up to Merlin only knew what once he knew her address. Although Hermione didn't believe Michael was a stalker she had always been careful and knew that arousing as he was, she would still need to know him considerably better before inviting him into her home, especially alone.
'I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place for coffee,' Michael said, his voice as gorgeous as the rest of him.
Hermione bit her lip. Really, she should turn down his offer. If she wasn't willing to allow him into her house then surely she shouldn't be going to his either. But he was gorgeous, and she didn't really want the evening to come to an end.
'That's all right, I understand you're a tad nervous. After all, you don't really know me all that well,' Michael said, sounding a little disappointed when she didn't immediately answer him. 'I just wanted to spend more time with you, Hermione. I'm not ready for our date to end just yet.'
'Perhaps we could go for a walk instead?' Hermione suggested, indicating the park that stretched out in front of them. 'I don't really want any coffee at this time of night.'
Michael chuckled and pulled Hermione towards him, wrapping his arms around her. 'I didn't really intend to have coffee,' he admitted as he bent to kiss her.
Hermione's heart fluttered at his words and at his kiss, which was tender and soft.
'You are so beautiful, Hermione. I can't stop looking at you. You must think I'm some sort of stalker,' Michael said smilingly once the kissing ended for a short while. They started walking through the park, once again holding hands.
'No, it's kind of exciting to have someone that interested in you,' Hermione admitted.
'Oh, and I'm definitely interested in you,' Michael said, and he kissed her again.
The kissing continued for quite some time and it took Hermione even longer to notice she was getting cold. She shivered.
'Are you sure I can't tempt you into that coffee?' Michael asked.
Hermione shook her head. 'You've already told me there's no coffee, remember?'
'Ah, caught out by my own words,' Michael lamented smilingly. Then he continued seductively, 'What about if I offered you cocoa instead . . . and a nice warm bed?'
Hermione smiled. 'It sounds lovely, Michael, it really does. But I think I should be getting back now. I've got a long day tomorrow and a meeting with the Goblin Liaison Office that I'm really not looking forward to.'
'Lucky you,' Michael said, sounding sympathetic. He squeezed her tightly. 'So I'll have to make our next date at the weekend when you don't have to get up for work. Then you'll have no reason to turn me down and we won't have to worry about getting up.' He leant close to kiss Hermione's neck then whispered in her ear, 'I really want to make love to you, Hermione.'
Hermione's heart leapt and started beating faster as a strange swirly feeling raced inside her stomach. For a moment a vision of the curly-haired children ran through her brain, she and Michael walking along holding hands behind them.
'I'm really flattered but I need to go,' she said apologetically.
'That's all right, I can wait,' Michael said with a smile. 'It'll be even sweeter then.'
He leant forward and kissed her again, and Hermione thought she would stop breathing. Finally he released her.
'I'll see you tomorrow,' he said with a smile as he stepped back, giving Hermione enough space to Apparate.
'I look forward to it,' Hermione admitted, her own smile almost splitting her face apart.
The last thing she saw before she Disapparated was Michael blowing her a kiss.
Hermione sighed happily and stretched. She had just had the most magnificent sex and was feeling extremely contented. Michael wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into one of his marvellous kisses.
'That was really fantastic,' he told her sincerely.
Hermione nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.
'I was beginning to think I was never going to get you into bed,' Michael said almost chidingly. 'So many times I've offered and every time you turned me down flat. It was beginning to get disheartening.'
'I was just being careful and getting to know you better,' Hermione explained. 'I'm not really a one-night-stand sort of girl.'
'I didn't intend to make it one night,' Michael said as he kissed her shoulder. 'Just the first of many blissful nights.'
'You know what I mean,' Hermione said.
She sighed. Michael did absolutely amazing things with his mouth.
'I was worried that you didn't really like me,' he said a little while later. 'A gorgeous woman like you can have anyone, so I know I've got a lot of competition.'
Hermione held Michael's face as she kissed him, gazing into his beautiful dark eyes between lip touches.
'You are absolutely gorgeous, Michael. You must know that.'
He chuckled deprecatingly. 'I got lucky. My family is Italian and they're all smoking hot. I'm not the handsome one by any stretch of the imagination, my elder brother Raphael is a million times better-looking than me, but I've done okay. I think the hair helps.'
'I love your hair,' Hermione admitted as she ran her hands through his lustrous locks. 'I wish I could get mine to curl like that, but alas, it prefers the bird's nest look. I don't think I want to meet your brother, though. I'm not sure my ovaries could cope with the experience. I have enough problem just looking at you.'
Michael gripped her possessively. 'I'm definitely not introducing you to my brother. You're mine. I'm not having him steal you away from me.'
'I don't think that's very likely,' Hermione told him as she kissed him again. 'You are more than enough for me.'
'I'm glad to hear you say that because I was just thinking about making love again,' Michael suggested lasciviously.
'Mmmm, yes please,' Hermione replied, hoping she didn't sound as eager as she felt or that would just be embarrassing.
Hermione had no idea what time it was. Time seemed to be an abstract concept here in Michael's bedroom. The curtains at the windows were thick and dark, letting in no light, and the same candles were burning that had accompanied their lovemaking all night. She was feeling pleasantly sated and rather knackered. Michael had an Italian stallion libido, that was for sure.
She had never had sex so much, certainly not in one night, nor had it been as energetic, and as it was the weekend and she didn't have to get up for work she had quite a large expectation of more still to come. She wasn't sure whether Michael would want to spend the entire weekend with her or if he would want to spend it all in bed, but she was certainly up for the challenge if he did. He really was a magnificent lover and she was happy to be his muse.
'Are you awake?' Michael's soft voice sounded sleepy.
'Yes.'
Before she could say anything else Hermione found herself pulled into a hug, Michael's mouth finding hers as it had done so many times that night.
'I've no idea what the time is but I suppose we should think about food,' he said, taking a break from the kissing.
'If you want,' Hermione said easily, happy to do whatever he wanted.
'Well, we could get up, I suppose,' Michael said, but he didn't sound overly enthusiastic.
'You don't sound too eager,' Hermione replied. 'Do you want to go back to sleep instead?'
Michael shook his head and grinned wickedly. 'No, what I really want is to build up a bit more of an appetite.'
'So what were you thinking of?' Hermione asked gently.
'It must have been several hours since we last made love,' he pointed out. 'I think we ought to do it again.'
'Why, do you think we're going to forget how to do it?' Hermione asked cheekily, her own grin wide.
Michael laughed. 'I just think we need as much practice as we can get.' He kissed her again, then continued, 'I'm hoping you haven't got anything planned this weekend and I can convince you to stay with me. Selfish, I know, but I really don't want to let you go. The idea of spending the whole weekend with you is an extremely pleasurable one, Hermione.'
'Hmmm. Well, as luck would have it my diary happens to be completely empty this weekend,' Hermione said.
'Apart from spending the weekend making love with me, you mean,' Michael answered, his voice soft and sensual.
'Is that all we're going to do?' Hermione asked. She didn't sound too disappointed at the prospect.
'Well, I suppose we could consider going out somewhere . . . eventually.' Michael rolled Hermione over so she was lying underneath him and his Romanesque nose brushed against hers for a moment. 'More lovemaking first, though, and then we'll consider getting up and going to get some breakfast . . . or lunch . . . or whatever.'
'That sounds perfect to me,' Hermione admitted as she pulled his head down for another kiss.
They actually made it out of the house, although it was fairly late in the afternoon by the time they eventually emerged into the outside world, a rather long and interesting shower having taken quite some time once they finally managed to leave the bed. They wandered to a local market that Michael knew and chose food from several of the many delicious-smelling stalls before wandering hand in hand through the rest of the market browsing among knick-knacks and curios. Michael bought Hermione a necklace, a beautifully delicate enamelled rose, that was clearly very old and with which she fell in love the moment she saw it.
On the way home they stopped at a pub for a few drinks. They sat in the pub garden at a white plastic table with a large umbrella, overlooking the river which Hermione assumed was the Thames. She realised that she didn't actually have a clue where she was as Michael had Apparated her directly into his home after they left the restaurant on Friday evening and she hadn't recognised the names of any of the places they had visited this afternoon. She assumed they were still in the London area rather than anywhere else in the country purely because of the southern accents that were prevalent everywhere they had been.
'Where are we?' she asked lazily.
Hermione relaxed back in her chair as she watched a magnificent pair of pure white swans swimming down the river. A trio of ugly little grey cygnets followed close behind their parents, all eager to get to their nest before the sun went down. It was going to be a close-run thing. The smallest of the cygnets kept getting left behind and made little squawking noises of distress, which made the rest slow down. The picturesque sunset was almost gone and thick bands of dark blue sky were stealing over the pinks and oranges that had been there only a few minutes earlier.
'Is it important?' Michael returned the question with a question.
He was holding her hand, stroking it gently as he sipped at his beer.
Hermione shrugged. 'Not really, I suppose, but I was thinking it was lovely and peaceful here and then I couldn't help wondering where "here" was. It's not somewhere I recognise, so I don't think I've been to the area before.'
'We're near Kingston,' Michael said after a few seconds, as if he had been debating whether or not to tell her. 'Kingston upon Thames. Obviously that's the Thames.' He pointed to the river.
Hermione nodded approvingly. 'I like it. It's not citified like the centre of London. It's much quieter and greener. It's very pleasant.'
Michael smiled as he stroked her hand. 'I'm glad you like it. Hopefully that means you won't be averse to spending more time with me in the future.'
'I'm sure you'll manage to twist my arm,' Hermione replied playfully.
'I wouldn't want to do that, it might hurt,' Michael said seriously. His hand moved further up Hermione's arm, his fingers tracing little spiralling patterns over her skin. 'I don't ever want to hurt you, Hermione.'
'Well I'm glad about that,' Hermione said, trying to lighten the mood which had suddenly taken on a rather heavy tone. 'I didn't mean literally twist my arm, obviously. I was more thinking that you could find a way to persuade me to stay.'
'Oh, I think I know of something,' Michael said. The grin reappeared on his face, all solemnity gone now.
'Really?' Hermione sounded interested. 'And what would that be?'
'Well, if we go back to the house I can show you,' Michael said, his voice salacious.
Hermione drained the last of her wine as Michael finished his pint.
'I can't wait to see what you have in mind,' she told him as they rose to go.
'I think you'll be impressed,' Michael said as he led her out of the garden and down the road. 'In fact, you may never want to leave.'
'It would need to be extremely good for that to happen,' Hermione told him honestly although she kept her voice playful so as not to ruin the mood.
For a moment those little curly-haired children came back into her mind. Perhaps Michael would eventually convince her that she didn't want to leave after all.
'Oh, it will be,' he promised.
Hermione had finally managed to prise open the curtains, desperate to get some natural light. She was completely disorientated now and had no idea whether it was day or night. She didn't even have a clue what day of the week it was, although when she tried to think about it rationally she clung to the belief that she had been here for eleven days. All time was eternal for her now and had almost ceased to have any meaning.
She groaned miserably as she realised that her days of hard work and mendacity had been for nothing. The outsides of the windows were covered with heavy wooden shutters that completely blocked out the light, and the windows themselves were locked. God, anyone would think Michael was a bloody vampire the way he kept everything in darkness all the time.
With a sigh she made her way to the en-suite bathroom, the only place other than the master bedroom that she was allowed to go when Michael was out of the house. She couldn't even judge time by his leaving because she was convinced he wasn't working regular days any longer. Of course, he worked for the Department of Mysteries and no one except the employees themselves knew what went on there or what their working hours were, but Hermione had a feeling he was purposely working at different times in order to keep her confused and off-kilter.
Hermione looked at the vent above the bath, the only access to the outside world in the small bathroom, and wondered whether she could break through it and finally get some fresh air. She knew it would be impossible to do with only her bare hands. She felt stifled, trapped as she was in this dark mausoleum of a house, especially when she was confined to the bedroom. She turned on the taps and filled the bath with water. She had no idea when Michael would be back but it was best to be prepared. She didn't want him getting angry with her again.
Michael liked her to be clean – ready for him, he called it – and to make sure she was, Hermione spent almost as much time in the bathroom as she did in the bedroom. She had long ago given up any thoughts of trying to escape after the one attempt she made ended with Michael punishing her for what he called her wilfulness. That was something she had no desire to live through again. She no longer believed that anyone would be able to help her, because surely Ron and Harry would already have found her if she could be found.
She vaguely remembered something she had seen or read that said that most abductees were usually traced within the first forty-eight hours after they were taken. After that the trail went cold and it became almost impossible, and after a week the person was generally considered by the authorities to be dead.
Although she had no idea how, Michael had managed to make her disappear, and Hermione could only think that he had illegally made his Muggle house Unplottable so no one could find it using magic, if they were even looking out in the Muggle world for her. She couldn't believe that no one suspected him of taking her — her friends definitely would — but somehow he was still free and she was still trapped.
Hermione got into the bath and tried to pretend this was something she wanted to do, a nice relaxing bath to while away the time while she waited for Michael to come home. It didn't work, though. All she could think about was Michael returning, his libido as strong as it had been since that first weekend. She gave a small bitter chuckle as she remembered how impressed she had been with him at the time and how eagerly she had agreed to stay.
Why hadn't she listened to Ron? He had told her what Michael was like but she had refused to believe him. The truth was that she hadn't thought anyone so handsome could be so . . . so unhinged; but surely the hints were there. His refusal to get to know her friends should have been a huge warning. But she had ignored it and all the other signs and now she was stuck in this hell, probably forever.
The idea that she was never going to see daylight again, was never going to see her friends, made her cry as it had so many times before, but as always, she forced herself to stop and after several deep breaths managed to calm herself enough to continue with her ablutions. Michael didn't like it when she cried, just as he didn't like it when she wasn't completely submissive to his wishes, because it ruined his little charade. He liked to think of them as the perfect couple, and Hermione crying put cracks in that façade.
Michael loved her. Hermione knew this because he told her all the time. She told him she loved him in return even though it wasn't true, because she was too scared to do otherwise.
So far he had never seriously hurt her, although he had come close after she tried to escape; she was terrified that if she pushed him too far he would do something terrible to her. Once the escape attempt had failed and she had learned her lesson Hermione had tried hard to be the girlfriend he wanted her to be in the hope that Michael would give her more freedom. Even just a trip to the shops or a walk round the market, an evening at the pub — any of these things would have given her some relief. Just the chance to know whether it was day or night, to see the sky and feel the wind on her face, these were things she dreamed of and prayed for but was never granted.
Michael said he couldn't trust her not to try to escape if he allowed her to leave the house, but Hermione knew he had broken her. If he allowed her outside she would be so grateful to him that she would do anything he wanted; she wouldn't make trouble, wouldn't try to escape this time. But Michael already got whatever he wanted and he didn't need to let her out to get it. Instead, he kept her trapped in the bedroom that held little pleasure for her any longer.
She was his sex toy. He had told her that on the day he imprisoned her, on that awful day when he had stolen her wand and refused to let her leave. At first she thought he was joking, playing up not wanting her to leave him after the wonderful weekend they had just spent together. It started out as fun; she had even joked with him about it. But then he forced her back into bed and told her that she was his sex toy and he could do whatever he wanted with her, and suddenly Hermione knew he wasn't joking. Afterwards he tried to comfort her and set out to explain why he wasn't letting her leave, but it was too late, the damage was done, and nothing he could say would make Hermione want to stay with him.
To be fair to Michael, he wasn't a complete tyrant. He did try to please her. In fact, he spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make her climax. Hermione had taken to faking it so he didn't get angry. The sad thing was that Michael was still a considerate and highly skilled lover, most of the time at least, but Hermione's terror and the deep swathes of depression that consumed her for large stretches of time combined with the disgust she now felt for him made her unable to enjoy the things they did together.
At first she tried to understand Michael's reasoning, but it just didn't make sense to her and she found herself drawing away from him. As time went on the chasm between them widened, although Hermione knew Michael didn't see it that way. Apparently, he didn't see anything wrong with keeping her locked away.
He told her he was doing it because he couldn't bear to see her even talking to anyone else. He mentioned the day she had held Ron's hand as an example, explaining that it had made him so jealous he'd had to stop her from being with other people. Hermione tried to reason with him, tried to make him see that she needed to go to work, and even agreed to live with him at the house if he would let her go.
But Michael was adamant: she was to see no one but him. Having already taken her wand while she was sleeping, he then took her clothes, too, so she couldn't leave. Then he went to work, leaving her alone in the house she couldn't escape from, although she had certainly tried — that was when he confined her to the master bedroom unless he was in the house. Then she had to be wherever he wanted her to be. It was a nightmare, and one that could only get worse.
Michael had talked about them having a baby almost from the first day he had imprisoned her. She remembered the curly-haired children she had seen in her mind so many times before and how much she had liked the idea, but now the thought made her blood run cold as it would mean she was stuck with him forever. But it was going to happen eventually, there was nothing she could do to stop it.
When Hermione first became sexually active she had been horrified to discover that the wizarding world wasn't particularly big on contraception as they were a growing population that needed more witches and wizards. Knowing that she didn't want children until she found 'the one,' and certainly not until she was well established in her career — which meant well into her thirties as far as she was concerned — she had gone on the Muggle pill, determined not to leave such an important thing to chance and a randy wizard.
It was because of the pill that she thought she had been at the house for eleven days. Fortunately, her tablets had been in her toiletry bag, not her luggage, so they hadn't been confiscated, although Hermione was sure they would be if Michael knew what they were. She continued to take them at intervals of what she judged to be once a day, usually waiting until Michael left the house. She had been on day four when she stayed with Michael on Friday night and she had six pills left.
In just over a week she faced the prospect of her period starting if she wasn't rescued by then. The thought that she might still be here when that happened made her feel sick. She didn't believe in God, exactly, but she still said a little prayer to anyone who might be listening to get her released before that happened. She wasn't at all sure how Michael would react to her period, particularly with his incessant desire for sex — although come to think of it, she wasn't sure how she was going to handle it when she had no clothes, and no sanitary supplies even if she had.
Once the period was over there would be no more contraception, and with the amount of time they spent having sex Hermione couldn't believe that it would be too long before she was pregnant. The only thing she could hope for was that once that happened, Michael would begin to let her leave the house, even if it was only to see a Healer.
Hermione looked in the mirror as she dried herself. Surprisingly, she didn't look too bad. Miserable, of course, but that was only to be expected, although Michael liked her to smile when she was with him, something that was sometimes extremely hard to achieve. Having finished with her moisturising, Hermione retrieved her makeup bag and began to slowly and carefully put on her makeup. She had to look her best for Michael, he had made that crystal clear right from the off, and he didn't like it if he felt she hadn't made the effort. She knew it couldn't be too much longer now until he came home, and she needed to be ready and waiting for him when he did.
Hermione was crying again. She couldn't stop herself, however much she knew she should try. Last night Michael had cooked her a special meal to celebrate what he called 'a fortnight of bliss', which had panicked her a little as it didn't tally with what her pills were telling her. He was in a romantic and loving mood, and although she now detested him for what he was doing to her she found herself enjoying the tender cuddling and even the kisses.
The wine she had drunk with dinner had relaxed her a little, which helped, and that in turn had relaxed Michael. She even dared to ask him some questions, trying to put straight in her own mind how he had managed to keep her hidden for so long. Because Michael seemed in such a good mood Hermione took a chance and admitted to him her desire for some fresh air, even just for a few minutes, and amazingly he had granted her request.
Michael left Hermione alone in the dining room and she began to worry that she had gone too far. But a few minutes later he was back and within another few seconds had wrapped her up in his dressing gown. Taking hold of her hand to make it clear that she wasn't to try to escape, he opened the back door and led her outside, allowing her to descend the few stairs into the small garden beyond.
Although it was dark and Hermione could see little but shadows, she could see the stars twinkling above her and was seriously convinced they were the most beautiful things she had ever seen in her life. There was a breeze, too, enough to move her hair, and she found herself crying, her face soaked with tears, and feeling profoundly grateful to Michael for allowing her these few minutes of absolute joy.
He took her to bed once they returned to the house and Hermione tried hard to enjoy what they were doing, still grateful for the brief taste of freedom and hopeful that more would follow if she pleased Michael sufficiently. It was during a lull in their lovemaking that he finally told her, gleefully and with a certain amount of pride, how he had so successfully managed to stage her abduction.
'But I still don't understand why you did this to me. I wanted to be with you, we had a fantastic weekend, so why lock me away?' Hermione asked, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. It was important she remain calm, otherwise it might set Michael off.
Michael thought for a moment, his hand gently stroking Hermione's cheek as he gazed at her lovingly. 'I don't want to share you with anyone else, Hermione,' he told her honestly. 'I love you and I don't want other men ogling you, or worse.'
'But I'm not interested in anyone else,' Hermione protested. 'You're my boyfriend.'
Michael gave her a hard stare. 'But I can't trust you, Hermione. I saw you with that redhead; always hugging him, touching him. And that other one. The one with the dark hair.'
'Ron is the redhead and Harry has the dark hair. The pair of them are my best friends and have been since we were eleven, Michael. There's nothing between us but affection. I tried to introduce you to them but you always had to dash off . . . were always too busy to take the time to get to know them,' Hermione explained, a touch of reproach creeping into her voice. 'My only interest was in you, but I don't like being held captive. It's freaking me out.'
'I have to keep you away from other men,' Michael insisted. 'It's the only way I can be sure you're mine.'
Hermione shook her head. 'But you can't keep me here forever. You'll have to let me go eventually.'
'I don't see why,' Michael retorted. 'I've no need to let you go. We're perfectly happy here like this.'
'I'm not perfectly happy, Michael. How can I be when you keep me locked away? It can't last. My friends that you're so worried about will be looking for me, I can assure you of that, and they won't stop whatever happens; however long it takes. Eventually, they will track me down and they're not going to be very happy with you when they find you. Let me go before they come to get me . . . please. It doesn't have to be the end of us — we can still be a couple. You just need to let me go back to work.'
Michael chuckled as he ran his fingers down Hermione's body. She shivered, unsure whether it was because of his touch or the tone of his voice.
'They're never going to find you, Hermione. Where would they look for you? We're outside the wizarding world and I've used all sorts of illegal magic to ensure they can't find the house, even if they had the faintest idea where to start looking — which I can assure you they don't.'
He bent to kiss Hermione tenderly on the lips, pulling her more comfortably into his arms.
'Actually, I have to thank you, my love, for taking so long to give yourself to me. It annoyed me initially, but then I realised that it was a gift. It gave me the time to plan properly rather than just improvise, and everything fell into place perfectly.'
'Hasn't anyone asked you what happened to me?' Hermione asked in disbelief.
'Why would they? No one I work with even knows that you exist. I no longer work at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione. I left there the day you came to live with me.'
'I didn't come to live with you,' Hermione retorted automatically, then froze as she waited to see what Michael would do. His hand had stopped in its travels and suddenly gripped her hip painfully. When he didn't react further she added, 'And what do you mean, you left? You didn't tell me you were leaving the Department of Mysteries.'
'You didn't need to know,' Michael replied imperiously. 'You only need to be aware of what happens in here, not outside. It's of no importance to you any longer.'
'But you couldn't just leave,' Hermione said. 'They'll track you down at your new job, it's only a matter of time. They keep records, you know, and they'll know where you've gone.'
Michael weighed up the thought in his mind for a moment, then grinned like a shark. 'Unlikely, I would think. I changed all my personnel records so they have fake details, and at the same time I destroyed yours. Even if they manage to work that out they still won't be able to find me because they won't have a clue where I live or where my new job is. The new place has been given false details as well, and they don't match with the ones I left for the Ministry to find so there's no connection.'
'But how could you do that?' Hermione asked, sounding shocked. 'How did you get access—?'
'It's amazing where you're allowed to go in the Ministry when you work for the Department of Mysteries. Nowhere is barred to you, and everyone thinks we're a bunch of freaks so they pretty much leave us alone. It's easy to get into the personnel department after hours and change a few things,' Michael told her.
Hermione could feel the tears, although she tried to stop them knowing they wouldn't help. Michael, realising she was upset, squeezed her tightly, pulling her close to him.
'Don't worry, Hermione. I'll look after you. You'll never have to worry about anything ever again. I love you so much and I only want what's best for you.' He stroked the corners of her eyes, brushing away the few tears that had escaped. 'What we need is to have a baby. That'll take your mind off working and all that stupid stuff like your friends. Everything will be perfect then — you, me and the baby living here so happy and in love.'
Hermione stared at him blankly, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't antagonise him.
'I think it's time we had another try, don't you?' He winked at her as if they were sharing a secret. 'Well . . . don't you?'
Hermione couldn't think of anything she wanted less, but she couldn't think of a way to stop it either because saying no wasn't an option. She gave a wan smile. 'That would be nice,' she whispered.
'Better than nice,' Michael said as he moved on top of her. 'Absolutely perfect!'
Hermione sighed as she remembered what had happened then. It wasn't really so different to every other time they'd had sex, but somehow Michael was even more possessive than before. Maybe it was because she had lost all hope when he told her what lengths he had gone to in his efforts to ensnare her and realised that he had to have been planning it almost from the first time they had gone for coffee.
She had no idea what had made her such an attractive prospect to him, but unfortunately he seemed to know enough about her that he was able to play her perfectly and she had fallen for him hook, line, and sinker. Her despair had grown in the hours since then; she was now even more convinced that she was never going to get away from him.
Finally Michael left her alone again and went to work at his new job that he completely refused to discuss, even though she had tried to get him to open up about it. He told her she didn't need to know. All she needed was to know that he loved her and was looking after her, providing her with everything she required. Hermione was so upset at what she had learned about his perfidy that she was unable to react to this blatant lie.
Once he had gone Hermione got up and had a shower, needing to clean herself, to get the smell of Michael off her body for a short while at least. Then, with depression almost overwhelming her, she went back to bed afterwards, huddled up into a ball as she broke down and wept at the unfairness of the situation she found herself in.
She tried to stop but the tears just kept coming — a never-ending stream that did nothing to stem the pain she was feeling inside. As she cried she moved into another world, her mind retreating from the horror of realising that she was forever trapped, that Harry and Ron would never find her. She was going to have to spend the rest of her life with Michael, having babies, and seeing nothing but the inside of this dark and brooding house.
. . .
She was so far inside herself that she didn't hear the noise.
She was so far inside herself that she didn't hear the low, urgent voices.
She was so far inside herself that she didn't notice when the bedroom door was thrown open and a wizard dressed head to foot in black leather strode into the room, wand held out in front of him as he looked around.
'Nothing in here, sir.' A female voice came through the door. 'It's a dining room. It's empty.'
'The kitchen is empty and the door to the garden is locked, boss,' another voice, this one male, reported, sounding slightly further away.
'I've got her,' the wizard in the bedroom said, his voice husky.
He leant over the bed and gazed at the curled figure of Hermione. She was rocking herself as she cried and he wasn't entirely sure she was sane. At least she was still alive. He gave a large sigh, pulled the sheet off the bed and threw it over the weeping woman, wrapping it around her as he carefully picked her up.
He gazed down at her, his face etched with worry.
'Hermione, can you hear me?'
Hermione ignored the man, still buried so far inside herself that she was completely unaware she was being rescued.
'Don't worry, you're safe now,' the man told her softly as he carried her from the room.
'Is she okay, sir?' the woman, who was dressed in a similar black leather uniform to her boss, asked worriedly.
The man who had been in the kitchen and, like the other two, was wearing leather walked into the bedroom, glanced cursorily around it, then entered the bathroom with his wand held out ahead of him.
'I don't know. She seems to be all right physically but I'm not sure about mentally. I shall take her to St Mungo's and they can give her a thorough examination,' the boss replied.
The man returned from the bathroom carrying Hermione's toiletry bag between finger and thumb. He waved it at his boss.
'I think this is hers, boss. It's got makeup and stuff in it.'
The boss opened his hand to take the bag. 'I'll take that. It might give her some comfort to have her stuff. What about clothes?'
The witch and wizard both shook their heads.
'Nothing so far, but we'll keep looking,' the witch told him. She rolled her eyes. 'Props will be here soon to disable all the spells and take over as if they did all the hard work. You know they'll find them if there's anything to find.'
The boss nodded. 'Good. I'll take Hermione to the hospital, then I'll check in at the office and let them know she's safe so they can spread the word to her family and friends to give them a bit of relief. I'll get Sanderson to come down and help you to see if you can get done before Props arrive. I hate those smug gits. We'll have a short debrief in the morning once we know what's happening both here and with that scumbag Antenucci. With any luck the bastard should be safely locked away in Azkaban by then.'