Merry Christmas, my loves! Also, might I recommend that you listen to Bjork's 'It's Oh So Quiet' while you read this...
"You sure this is the place?" Sirius held a hand palm up to shield his eyes from the sun.
"Yeah," Harry said resolutely, though he understood why Sirius had his doubts.
The town was... picturesque. Quaint. Not the typical sort of place Sirius would choose to spend his time.
And most certainly not the typical type of place a demon would claim as its home, either.
But Harry was sure it was the right place. He'd seen the postcard Ginny had sent to Ron with his own eyes. The sunset image had definitely been stamped 'Hogsmeade'.
Sirius grunted, scowling as if the roses lining the street had personally offended him, and continued onward down the main road, the old Valiant and the roar of its engine standing out like a sore thumb.
He knew what Sirius was thinking; they were anything but subtle. Two newcomers in a small town like this, dressed as they were in a loud vehicle that could be heard from across the valley would hardly go unnoticed. The gossip amongst the locals would surely revolve around them.
They would have no element of surprise.
It would know they were coming.
Although Horace Slughorn had said to come back 'in a few days', Hermione elected to return to the pharmacy after only two.
She was rapidly becoming desperate. It had been almost a week, and his 'maybe' remained to be the best offer she'd managed to find.
She wanted the job so badly, she could taste it. Work at the pharmacy would be far more enjoyable than cleaning, far more interesting than selling clothing. There she had the prospect of learning, about both ailments and their treatments, and maybe she wouldn't feel quite so far from home there.
The pharmacy was a stones throw away from Luna's flat, too, situated conveniently in the heart of the town. Though it was small, it seemed to make a decent trade being the only merchant of prescription drugs outside of the town's local hospital.
After a failed attempt at pulling on the door, Hermione pushed her way through into the aged building. It had that distinct smell of disinfectant one associated with a hospital.
She didn't immediately see Horace past all the rows of shelving, but she soon heard a loud, distinct cough that she assumed must've belonged to him. She headed toward the sound, soon spotting him leaning on the front counter frowning down at what she could only assume was a prescription.
"Good morning, sir," she chimed as brightly as she could muster after clearing her throat to announce her presence. "I just wished to follow up on the job that we spoke about the other day?"
He glanced up from the prescription blankly, peering over his glasses briefly before recognition crossed his features. "Ah. Yes. Right. Hermione, was it?"
"Yes. Hermione Granger."
"Ah," the old man sounded, moving the script he was working on aside and straightening. "I'm afraid I don't have anything for you."
With just those few short words, the hope she'd been desperately clinging onto shrivelled up in a matter of seconds, a sizeable lump quickly forming in her throat.
"That's fine!" She burst out through gritted teeth, forcing herself to smile, though her voice came out far more shrill than it usually would. "I understand."
"I'm truly very sorry. Should you need any help with-"
"No, no! I'm fine! Completely fine!" She insisted, wanting very much to get out of there before she cried on him. "I'll just-" she gestured with her thumb back in the direction of the door, "-I'll just have to keep looking. Thank you for your time, and thank you for trying."
"Of course, my dear. And should you ever need any band-aids, or painkillers, or anything prescription, remember that our prices are far lower than up the hill."
She forced herself to nod, blinking rapidly to keep her budding tears at bay.
"Yes. Right. Well. I'm going to go now," she said stiffly. "Thanks again."
She retreated out of the pharmacy before he could say anything else, and released a long, dejected sigh into the passing gust of wind.
Well, fuck.
Harry let himself fall backward onto the springy mattress, his body bouncing higher from the impact than he'd initially anticipated. As he settled and the groaning of the rusty springs beneath him quietened, he sighed.
The hotel room they'd been given was small, and smelled strongly of dust. He wasn't a detective, but he would've gambled his life savings that no-one had stayed in the room for quite some time. The room and its decor - much like the hotel owners themselves - were aged. The heavy floral print of the small sofa and the printed carpet were taken straight from the seventies and gave Harry the strange sensation of being back in time.
The feeling didn't do much to improve his mood.
He lay in silence and closed his eyes, watching the slow patterns that passed by in his eyelids. While he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep - not with how anxious he was about Ginny - he took the time to try to at least rest his body. The soft sound of the birds singing their morning songs was audible through the thin hotel walls, and although he registered that they sounded beautiful, they sounded oddly sad at the same time. Though, he supposed it was probably just his own mood tainting his interpretation.
Soft footsteps gradually growing louder distracted Harry from his resting. He forced his eyes open and glanced over just as the door was opened from the outside.
"No, no, that's quite alright," Sirius was saying to a smaller figure standing outside, "I'm sure we can find our own way."
"Well, if you insist." The old woman's voice carried into the hotel room clearly. "Now, if you need any more blankets, or if you'd like access to the recreation room up by reception, let us know. Joe is normally around all day, and you can call this number at any time."
"That's very kind of you." Sirius' attempt of being polite to the old hotel owner brought out a soft snort from Harry's throat.
"And if you come up to the main reception area after seven tomorrow, we'll fix you up a nice spot of breakfast."
"There's no need, really-"
"I absolutely insist! You just must try Joe's porridge; he makes the best bowl in all of Hogsmeade."
"Well... I suppose when you put it like that..."
"We even squeeze our own orange juice. We can make you pancakes, or toast, or bacon and eggs, too, just be sure to let us know what you would like in advance."
"Thank you, Doris, that's much too kind of you, but I really must get going. After the long trip, I can hear the shower calling me."
"Oh of course, dear," the old woman said apologetically. "Don't let me hold you up. And if you need any help finding somewhere for dinner-"
"Thanks again!" Sirius interrupted with a wave before he quickly closed the door to the room, drowning out whatever it was the old woman was about to suggest. As soon as the door was safely closed, his shoulders slumped, and his forced smile vanished.
Harry laughed at Sirius' dramatic eye roll.
"Hey, they probably haven't had new guests in months," Harry commented from where he lay, his eyes following Sirius as he removed his hat and dumped his things on the other bed in the small room. "Let her dote if it makes her happy."
"She'll draw more attention to us," grumbled Sirius. "God knows we don't need her whole knitting club or church group, or whatever breathing down our necks."
"I think it's a bit late for trying to avoid attention, don't you?"
Sirius' lips tightened, but he didn't disagree. After a shrug, he sifted through his bag to grab a change of clothes and headed toward the bathroom, before he abruptly stopped and turned back to Harry.
"Oh. Before I forget. I snatched this from up in reception while Doris was looking for the second room key. It seems like you might be onto something here, after all," Sirius said as he tucked his free hand into his jacket to pull out a page from a newspaper. He offered it to Harry, who sat up to take it with a groan of someone twice his age.
"Another girl went missing," Harry stated as his eyes darted across the page while his stomach dropped lower with each word of the article he took in.
Sirius hummed in agreement. "A few months ago. A fresh new resident in town, miles away from her family, no one here to miss her. I asked Doris whether there's been any sign of her since the article was published. There hasn't been."
Harry tried not to read too much into the sinking feeling in his gut. For all he know, this girls case was completely different to Ginny. It didn't mean anything.
Correlation did not equal causation.
And this girl didn't have Sirius looking for her.
"We'll start looking tonight," Sirius went on. "The pub we passed on the way in might he a good starting point."
Harry slowly glanced up to Sirius, his expression gradually becoming suspicious. He was all too aware of Sirius' affinity for high strength alcohol.
"Plenty of chatty drunks in towns like these," Sirius shrugged. "Trust me."
He wanted to. And it wasn't as if Harry had another option.
"All right," he grudgingly agreed. "But I'm capping you at six, and we're not driving."
Sirius scoffed.
"Sometimes, you sound just like your mother."
Hermione knew that without a job, she couldn't afford to keep spending the little money she had on coffee. It had been irresponsible of her to spend as much as she already had. And yet, while trudging up the hill with her fatally wounded job prospects, she just hadn't been able to fight the urge to make a return visit to Hogwarts.
At least it was warm in there, and inviting. Unlike all of the other businesses in the town she'd tried her luck with. Besides, she figured that she didn't actually need to order anything. She could just sit and wallow, and bask in the ambiance without coffee. She had her book with her.
And so, Hermione crept in, pushing the door open slowly in an attempt to prevent the bell from alerting anyone of her arrival. She thanked her lucky stars seeing there was once again a line up for orders and passed through toward the line of tables toward the windows without being seen.
She managed to locate a quiet spot by the wider window that allowed her to soak in the warmth of the sun while also being out of sight of the front counter. While she longed to see if the the beautiful barista was there and watch how he worked, she knew that sitting and staring over the top of her book was something that a stalker might do.
She knew she was at a low, but she wasn't at that sort of low.
Or at least, she told herself she wasn't.
Besides, with the mood she was in, she was highly likely to burst into tears at any given moment. She'd prefer he not see that.
She pulled her current book out of her bag - The Picture of Dorian Gray - and wasted no time sinking into it, eager to leave her current predicament behind, just for a little while.
It took her no time at all to lose herself within the pages. It was another thing she'd quickly grown to love about Hogsmeade; without the loud traffic or the crowds and drama of a city, distractions were minimal. The soft sounds of the coffee shop and its patrons were easy to tune out, and with the beautiful scenery, she could be swept away with her books in a way she hadn't been able to in London for years.
It was just what she needed.
She had no awareness of how long she sat there for. She was only interrupted a few times - once when a waitress came around and offered her a bottle of table water and a glass, and a second time when a large lady with a young girl she called 'Hokey' bumped her table as they passed.
Although the angle of the sun told her it couldn't have been much past midday, hours could have passed for all she knew.
It was only upon hearing a soft thunk from directly in front of her that her muscles jolted and she at last put the book down.
She looked up to see sitting before her in the centre of her table, a take away cup, fresh steam swirling out from the spout.
Not that she paid it any attention other than what it took to determine what it was. She was far too distracted by the man behind it who was slowly taking up the place opposite her to care at all for the take away cup between them.
"Over an hour you've been sitting here, and you haven't ordered a thing."
She stared at him in a daze, lips parted ever so slightly. If she'd been able to think, she might've felt self-conscious sitting and gawking as the moment grew longer, extending into awkwardness.
The barista stared back curiously, watching her patiently before his lips eventually quirked into an amused smirk. He leaned forward on the table, his weight tilting it such that her perched bookmark fell to the ground.
Neither of them went to pick it up.
"Mr. Dippet is not fond of loiterers," he stated almost playfully as he held her eyes, his words lower than they'd been previously. He nudged the cup of coffee closer to her with his knuckles.
Seeing the words leave his lips, and seeing that she wasn't imagining him talking to her as she'd been doing ever since she first laid eyes on him was enough to shake her.
"Oh. Oh," she sounded, gripping her book and pulling it toward her in a hurry. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't realise-"
His large hand snapped down on her book, preventing her from lifting it off the table, his skin dangerously close to hers. Even without touching him, she could feel his warmth.
"I'm teasing you." His smile was wider as he eyed the take away cup pointedly. "You don't need to leave. You're a customer now, anyway."
"Oh," she repeated moronically, eyeing how close their hands were. "Oh, no, I couldn't... there's no need... you shouldn't have... I can't accept that."
"Why not?" He asked simply. "It isn't as if I paid for it."
She blinked.
"Did... did you steal this?"
He leaned in closer, his eyes seeming to glisten in the sun. "I won't tell if you won't."
The words, together with his proximity, awakened something in the pit of her stomach. Excited, wild and warm, the sensation rapidly spread through her veins and had her so sorely tempted that she didn't even bother to look around for any other workers who may have been watching before she gave in.
"Well then... thank you," she breathed, trying not to read too much into the rush of exhilaration.
He waited, his crooked smile unwavering as she gripped the take away cup and pulled it towards herself, claiming it as her own.
"May I ask what you're doing over here, all by yourself?" He asked once she'd brought the spout to her lips to test the temperature.
"Just reading. It's a nice place for it." She shrugged, suddenly feeling an onslaught of self-consciousness under his watch at her messy hair and second hand copy of her book.
"That's all?" he asked, almost knowingly.
Hermione parted her lips to speak, but before she could get a word in, he moved suddenly, reaching over to take her glass of water. He took his time bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip, his eyes not leaving hers all the while.
Her attention was drawn to the stray bead of water that lingered on his bottom lip, and she was all too conscious of the saliva pooling underneath her tongue.
Her swallow was loud.
"I..." she began, far too dazed to think of anything but the truth. "Honestly... I'm hiding. From my roommate."
His eyebrows shot up.
"I'm supposed to be job hunting," she explained, bringing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's... it hasn't been going very well."
"Ah," he sounded. "I did wonder whether you'd be staying."
She blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"It isn't very often we get to see new faces here. It's even rarer to see ones that stay."
"Yes, well... I might not be staying, after all. I'll be forced out soon if I can't find anything."
His head turned to the side, not unlike a bird. "You know... I could put a good word in for you here, with Mr. Dippet. If you like."
And just like that, a small spark of hope was resurrected from the ashes left from that morning. "Y-you'd do that? For a stranger?"
His tongue passed over his lip. "I have a good feeling about you."
Her heart skipped, and she subconsciously leaned in closer. "That would be so kind of you. I don't know how I could repay you..."
"You could consider it a favour, if that makes you feel better. You never know; one day, I might need one from you in return."
"That... of course... I mean... yes," she gushed. "If there's ever anything, all you'd need to do is ask."
He smiled pleasantly, and for a split second, Hermione thought there might've been something else along with kindness in the warmth behind his eyes, almost like... satisfaction.
"It's a deal," he said simply, and as fast as the look had appeared, it passed, and Hermione assumed she had imagined it. "Well, I should be heading back. They've probably noticed my absence by now." He rose from where he sat, and went to leave, shooting her another of his smiles that made the muscles of her abdomen tighten.
"Enjoy your coffee, Hermione."
"Wait!" She shot up, stepping in his direction after him. He halted and turned back, eyebrows quirked in curiosity. "I can't begin to thank you enough, I... god, I don't even know your name."
For a moment, as he remained still and resembled a statue, Hermione didn't think he was going to answer her.
But then he stepped closer once more, extending a hand in her direction. "How awfully rude of me. Tom."
She wasn't sure what it was that thrilled her more; finally having a name to call him by, or the prospect of actually touching him.
How many were lucky enough to get to touch the one who was the object of their daydreams?
How many were lucky enough to actually catch their attention?
I have a good feeling about you.
I have a good feeling about you.
Tom.
Tom.
Tom.
He waited patiently, keeping his hand extended as if the amount of time it was taking her to shake his hand was perfectly normal.
But then her brain jump-started, and she reached out, and then-
She touched him, and it was electric.
She gasped aloud at the feeling of his skin on hers, a current sparking to life between them. Time stood still as the odd sensation of her arm weakening passed through her, as if she'd just woken up from a long sleep and hadn't yet regained full control of her muscles.
But if he noticed it or felt anything similar, he didn't mention it. He released her hand, and Hermione didn't know whether to sigh in relief or to protest at the sudden loss.
She cradled her hand to her chest as she met his eyes, finding them alight, amused, watching just as intently as he had done earlier.
He must've heard her gasp. He must've noticed her flushed state, and her wide eyes, and how she cradled her hand as if it'd been wounded. But yet-
"I'll see you around," was all he said before he walked away, as if it had been nothing, as if he hadn't just left her entire world reeling.
It was all she could do to nod and watch as he vanished from sight.
And Hermione was left puzzling over what the hell had happened all the way home.
Luna hummed and swayed along in time with Bjork's 'It's Oh So Quiet' as she arranged the new batch of brochures on the front desk. Crookshanks - who had vehemently approved of his new name - followed her as she moved through the main room of the shelter, his bell ringing loudly with each trot of his paws. She floated her arms through the air as she went, moving them in time with the soft melody of the verse, until the crescendo of the chorus hit.
She span in time with the jazz, dancing through to the back room and moving backward as she sang back to Crookshanks, "you've never been so nuts about a guy, you want to laugh you want to cry, you cross your heart and hope to die-"
Crookshanks followed her through, his golden eyes playful.
"'Til it's over."
As she turned back to watch where she was going, she went back to a hum, swaying her hips gently as she passed the cages of animals waiting to be adopted. She shushed at the animals as she passed, tip-toeing on the stone floor quietly all the while.
She made it halfway down the line of cages before the abrupt silencing of Crookshanks' bell over the music brought her to a halt.
Luna looked back the way she'd come to see the walkway empty.
"Crookshanks?" She called over the music, slowly backtracking to the main room of the shelter, soon spotting him perched on the front desk. "What are you doing back in here? You know we need to start feeding the others."
Crookshanks didn't pay her any mind as she approached him, his golden eyes remaining locked on something in the distance out of the window.
The fur along his spine stood tall on end, all the way from the nape of his neck to the tip of his bushy tail.
"...Crookshanks?" She tried gently, bringing her hand to his back to stroke his fur gently. "Are you feeling all right?"
The cat remained stiff, twitching ever so slightly under her touch. "Has a Wrackspurt got you?" She asked gently, before she finally followed his gaze.
And just like Crookshanks, she immediately froze.
There was a man outside.
Tall, slim, with dark hair and a long, black coat, the man stood across the street in the park, standing oddly close next to an empty wooden bench.
That was, empty, aside from the crow perched on the corner unusually close to the man.
A sudden wave of unease that penetrated to her bones washed over her as she watched, frozen in place, as the man slowly moved, turning to the side and shifting closer to the crow. He bent slightly at the hips, dropping his head to the eye-level of the crow almost as if he were... talking to it. From the new angle, she could just make out his profile, sharp and straight, almost regal.
She made out a soft growl from Crookshanks that sent goose-pimples down her own spine over the music.
And then, almost as if they too had heardit, the man turned in their direction at the very same moment the crow did.
With a sharp intake of air, Luna shot downward, dropping to a squat behind the desk.
He didn't see, he didn't see, he didn't see-
The room around her thrummed and Crookshanks' loud growl was lost in the jazz-
'You blow a fuse,
zing boom!
The devil cuts loose,
zing boom!
So, what's the use,
WOW BAM!
Of falling in love?'
Luna gasped for air as her blood curdled, and the temperature in the shelter plummeted. While she couldn't see, she just knew he was watching, could feel he was watching down to her bones. It was the squeak of styrofoam, metal on metal, nails on a chalkboard-
She squeezed the palms of her hands over her ears as she rocked back and forth, her heart pounding with the jazz, and her skin crawling-
He didn't see, he didn't see, he couldn't have seen.
She remained curled behind the desk long after the song had ended, and the one after that, too. She didn't move until Crookshanks jumped down from the desk, and circled her crouched form, rubbing his tail along her leg as he went. With shaky arms, she scooped him up and cradled him close against her chest as she slowly plucked the courage to poke her head up above the desk.
The man and his crow were gone.
And yet, the cold feeling of being watched did not fade.
