The Stranger
by somekindofwildgirl
Summary: When five suicides are revealed to be murders, the Minister creates a task force bringing together friends and foes. Ancient magic demands the blood of thirteen, but how much time do they truly have left?
Warning: This is rated Mature.
Chapter 1
Padma Patil would not survive the night. She was oblivious to this fact, the telephone pressed to her ear as she juggled her pumpkin juice and fettuccine alfredo. It was obvious that she was talking to her boyfriend. Padma always wore a certain smile when they were together. The boyfriend was some half-blood loser that didn't deserve her.
For the past month, the stranger had been watching her, following her, obsessing over her. He knew her schedule, her rituals, things that he was certain her twin didn't even know. Her bright brown eyes, the silkiness of her hair, the coconut scented shampoo that she used, these things haunted his every waking moment. Slowly, his longing for her turned into a need. The stranger craved for Padma to see him, after spending all this time unnoticed. Who else knew her better than him? The stranger would make her his, the last thing she would see before she departed the world of the living.
It felt like an eternity before she retired for bed. Once the bedroom light flickered on, the stranger pulled on his latex gloves. His palms were damp, making it more difficult to get the gloves on. He wished he could do without the blasted things, but he could not afford to get caught. Not now.
After his first kill, the stranger had been paranoid for weeks. Each time he had passed an officer or an Auror, he swore they could see the blood on his hands. He avoided his friends, his family, and work until he had used up all his sick time. But once the third week passed, the stranger knew that he had gotten away with the murder – an ugly word for such an intimate act – the first of nine. He had long ago mastered the art of killing, his movements now precise and confident. Now, there were only four to go.
The stranger moved out of the shadows and entered the house through the basement window. He had tested it out a week ago and knew that the lock was broken. He waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and made his way up the familiar path to Padma's bedroom. Avoiding the creaky third step, the sound of the shower greeted his ears. The bedroom door was wide open and he smiled at her false sense of security. The stranger took off his cloak, folded it neatly, and set it on top of the dresser. He sat on her bed, pushed up his sleeves, and waited.
The water stopped, the shower curtain was pulled to the side and he waited for the bathroom door to open. His hands were now sweating, the gloves clinging to his skin, his heart pounding in his chest. There was always the possibility for things to go wrong. There was always the chance he could get caught. The anticipation was the best part. The door swung open and Padma stepped into the room wearing only a towel. She walked towards the dresser – his cloak went unnoticed – and she turned to head back into the bathroom.
He cleared his throat and grinned when she jumped. Her face paled, her brown eyes widened with fear, and her gaze rested on his gloves. Even though he was an intruder in her home, she still put on a polite smile. All the women went into denial first, pretending that they had simply invited him over. It was pathetic.
"What are you doing here? I thought -"
The stranger stood up and slowly took a step towards her. Padma took a step back, then another. He matched her steps and they continued this dance until her back hit the wall. She smelled delicious, of coconut and fear. Goosebumps erupted down her arms and oh, how he had missed her. Padma swallowed audibly, looking around her for an escape route. She started pleading with him, nattering about something that he could care less about before he punched her.
He caught her before Padma hit the floor and dragged her back into the damp bathroom.
The stranger had work to do.