Hermione
The silence is deafening, as we make our way through the buzzing crime scene and back out to the other side again.
"We're this way," he tells me and placing his hand on the small of my back, guides me through the police tape and down the darkened road. The brightness of the spotlights fade the farther we get from the perimeter, and this time the shadows on the ground are causing me to double-take in apprehension. As if at any moment, something could pop out of the dark and swallow me.
Except, of course, for the detective walking beside me, with his fingers stretched across my spine.
Potter must hit the automatic locks button on the keys because the car lights flash in the dark, a moment before Potter steps in front of me, opening the door and giving me room to enter.
"Thank you," I say quietly, feeling the tension rising between us.
"You're welcome," he replies in the same tone, before shutting the door with a quiet thunk.
The driver's side door opens, and the car rocks when he uses the hand railing to manoeuvre his bulk into the 4X4. It's not bulk so much as well-honed muscle. He holds himself like only big men do. In constant control of their surroundings.
The radio is on quietly in the background, but I don't make it any longer than it takes him to put the car in reverse before the oppressive silence eats at my control.
"Thank you for taking me home, but it really wasn't necessary. The car was parked halfway there. It's probably like a hundred and fifty metres down the road."
He looks at me, irritation warring with amusement on his face.
"Speaking of home, what's a girl like you doing living in an area like this?"
I bristle at his comment, defense of my community and irritation with his assumptions warring for my immediate attention. It probably wouldn't bother me so badly, if I weren't so depleted.
"First off, you know nothing about me. So, the 'girl like you' presumption, totally uncalled for. I may be small, and I may like pink, but that doesn't mean I'm too gentrified to live on this side of Black Lake. For all you know, I could be running a criminal empire out of my spare bedroom. Second of all, I work in this community. I volunteer in this community; it's only right I live in this community. It's a good neighbourhood, with good people. If you're so jaded you let the bad cloud the good, then I feel sorry for you."
He pulls in front of my building, without me ever telling him where to go, and throws the vehicle into park. He gives me an appraising look, his eyebrow raised in curiosity, and I roll my eyes at his examination.
"I didn't mean to offend," he tells me, and I get the feeling he's evaluating me again, his opinion adjusting with every jerk of my head.
If only there was a way to tell if I've passed his test.
"It's been a pleasure, Detective Potter." I lie, reaching for my car door, but, of course, the annoying man follows me out onto the street.
"I'll walk you up," he declares, his eyes meeting mine for a moment. They're so green, it's almost unnerving. Not hazel. Not green mixed with blue. But bright and stark, like the eyes of a panther. He settles himself behind me, his hand on the small of my back again. I ignore the shiver that runs down my extremities, chalking it up to shock and exhaustion, and not the feel of him crowding close to my skin. I glance over my shoulder, as he reaches for the building's door, and notice his eyes flicking everywhere. Head on a swivel, his gaze takes in everything, cataloging it away for when he might need it.
I pause in the lobby and point my finger up towards the ceiling. Hoping he'll take the hint and say his goodbyes, but he stands there with a bland expression, evidently content to continue our stare-off until the sun rises over the horizon.
I huff in exasperation, pulling my keys from my bag and head towards the lift. Wordlessly, he follows me in.
The air is stale in the tiny metal box. The building is ancient. As the lift slowly crawls up the floors, the light illuminating the rising numbers is the only indication we're moving at all.
I hike my bag higher up my shoulder, catching a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the lift, and the colour drains from my face as I see the extent of the night's activities clear on my body. I'm a mess, from head to toe. Outside, and in. Tears well in my eyes, even though I've managed to avoid letting my emotions take over so far tonight.
When the doors open on my floor, like a protective shadow, or an annoying stalker, Potter immediately steps forward with his hand on my back again, offering me silent support. I hate to admit that it helps.
The warmth of his hand soaks into my skin, and I find myself leaning back into his touch as we walk towards my flat.
"This is me," I mumble quietly when we reach my door.
He takes the keys from my hands, and the move is so unexpected, I don't put up a fight until after the deed is done.
"I'll check the interior. You stay here," he orders, leaving me alone in my doorway.
I hesitate a moment, two, before my brain finally catches up with what's happening.
"Excuse me," I snark, pushing my way into my home and slamming the door behind me. On second thought, I grab the door before it makes contact with the wood, and push it wide open again.
"Don't you think you should ask before you shove your way into a woman's house? For all I know, you're some psycho rapist masquerading as a cop. Get the hell out of my flat, Potter."
He glances at me, but doesn't stop his slow walk around my flat. He peeks into every room, his eyes scanning the corners, before pulling the door back the way he found it and then moving onto the next.
"The way you see it, tonight was a bunch of coincidences. From where I'm looking, a prominent doctor was manipulated into walking home in the dark alone, and then shot at in a failed execution plot."
I drop my stuff to the floor, my hands crossed firmly in front of my chest. I cringe at the crusty feel of my forearms, and think about pulling away, but that would ruin the pissed off vibe I'm trying to convey.
"You don't actually believe that bullshite, do you?"
He has the grace to hide a small smile before the bland expression falls back into place.
"No, I don't. You were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. A brilliant woman made a bad decision and is covered in blood as a consolation prize. That being said, anything is possible, and imagine the ribbing I'd take tomorrow if I dropped you off at home and a ninja assassin jumps out and kills you after I leave. I'd lose my Employee Of The Month parking spot, and I need it for my bad back."
I bite my upper lip, to keep my scowl in place.
"I needed to check your flat, and if I'd have asked you outright, you'd have told me no. Or would you have said yes, if I'd asked politely?"
I seethe at that, letting his words sink into my brain.
"No," I huff out, acknowledging the truth in the matter. I have to fight not to stop my foot. "I wouldn't have." If Neville had taken me home, I don't think I'd have put up much of a fight. But, something about this man rubs me the wrong way, and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
"I can take care of myself," I tell him, lifting my chin in defiance. He watches me for a moment, before the hidden smile is back.
He takes his wallet from his pocket, and I get a glimpse of the badge clipped to the front of it. He pulls out a card, placing it on my counter. His face searches my kitchen, before finding a pen and scribbling something on the back of the card.
"Call me, if you need anything. If you think of anything. If you simply want to talk. My mobile is on the back. Don't be surprised if Neville and Ron call you and ask you to come to the precinct. We'll need to go over your statement again. But right now, you need rest. And a shower."
I jerk my head in little bobs in agreement, all anger draining out of me.
Potter closes the distance between us, stopping when he's right in front of me. I tilt my head back to look at him, then tilt it back some more before I can look him in the eye. His hand lifts halfway to my face, before dropping to his side again.
"You're a brave woman Dr. Granger. But there's a fine line between brave, and stupid. Remember that, please, for next time."
Before I can open my mouth with some scathing reply, he's out the door, shutting it behind him.