She was hiding at the back of a roadside café amongst the bags of trash. She had no idea how he managed to find her here, but somehow, he had. He was in the café, yelling at the waitress, demanding they tell him where she was. They politely told him that they hadn't seen her. It seemed they had dealt with this thing more than once.
She felt sick, hiding here among the food scraps, she felt degraded. She was less than nothing. The pure blood elitists would have a field day with this. Finally, muggle born mudblood sitting amongst the trash where she belonged.
Tears slid down her sweat covered cheeks.
This was not the life she had ever hoped for, for herself.
Hermione woke with a start and checked off the calendar. Another night dreaming of the past, but they were becoming less frequent. She had been at the Inn for 8 weeks and hadn't seen sight nor sound of a single other person other than a glimpse of the other houseguest from her balcony, during which time, she saw him in a hat, polo shirt and shorts. Nothing that gave her any idea of what he looked like. Other than that, he was quiet, apart from when he cooked, sometimes dropping a plate with a crash, or whistling to himself. The only contact she had with anyone from the outside world was the real estate agent. Other than those two, she could be alone in the world and it would be perfectly fine.
That day she had made significant progress in her writing. She had completed up to the end of 6th year and decided that with Dumbledore's death, she needed a break. It was now night-time and her stomach was reminding her that she had worked through lunch and into the evening. She looked outside and saw that it was later than she had thought. The rain was splattering the windows and every now and then, lightning would strike just out on the beach.
She closed her laptop and made her way down to the kitchen, where, as usual, dinner was waiting for her. She read the accompanying note while she ate curried sausages and mashed potato.
Hi hard worker,
Today is a late one, sorry about that. I know you wait for me to leave before you come down so I hope you haven't been starving up there. Today has been a big day, getting ready for the storm to come. I wonder if, in all your distractedness, you had heard about the storm we're due to have tonight. Well, the outside is all taken care of, nothing to worry about there. What age did you get to in your memoirs today? I'm guessing 16 at least. Although, the way you write your notes, you seem like you appreciate perfection, so I'm guessing it takes you a while to get things right. Are you using a computer or an old fashioned typewriter?
As always, I'm around if you want to meet face to face or if you need anything. I'm just a holler away.
From your chef.
Hermione, as always, appreciated the kindness that he offered to her. She knew she didn't deserve it and couldn't repay it. She was adamant that, aside from a random interaction, she would not purposely meet this man face to face. It was just a complication that she didn't need. Every single person was a threat. Every single person who knew who she was and where she was, was one more person closer to him finding out the truth about her whereabouts. If he found her, she was dead. She knew that better than she knew that the sun would rise tomorrow.
She flipped his note over and replied, thanking him for the meal yet again and apologising for not doing anything to help secure the exterior of the property from the storm. She did tell him that she had no idea there was a storm coming and that she would be well prepared. She didn't respond to his comment about her perfectionism. That had been their banter for weeks now. He would tease her, she would occasionally tease him back. If she had been in the correct headspace, she may have caught onto the flirting earlier. She may have even responded in kind. It seemed odd to her though, for a grown man to be flirting with a woman he hadn't met. She figured he could have just been that type of guy. Overly friendly. Something just seemed off though. She enjoyed the banter, but there was a part of her, somewhere deep in the back of her mind telling her that at the end of the day he was still a muggle, still a man, still someone with the potential to cause her harm.
She laid in her 4-poster king size bed, listening to the heavy rain thunder against the window. He wasn't wrong, there had been a storm coming and it was a pretty big one. She tried to close her eyes and sleep, but it was impossible. At about 2 in the morning, she felt the whole house shake, followed by the loudest thunderclap she had heard in her life.
She hadn't expected it and when it happened, she flew out of bed and out the door of her bedroom with her wand tucked in her hair for safety. The lights and power had gone out with the lightning strike and everything was thrown into complete darkness. The only light was coming from the windows when the lightening would strike randomly, setting her on edge.
The setting was like one out of a scary movie, from her scary movie, she half expected him to turn up, but she reminded herself that there was no way he could know where she was. It was the last place Hermione Granger would go and he knew that.
She ventured downstairs to find the candles that were mentioned in his note earlier. She could easily have lit her wand or simply summoned the candles but knowing that she wasn't alone and that floating candles weren't usually something seen by muggles, she thought better of it.
The house was quiet, aside from the thunder claps every few seconds and the flashes of light from outside made it eerie.
She reached the hall that led to the kitchen and turned to see if anyone was coming down the stairs behind her. She couldn't see much in the absolute darkness, so she continued on towards the kitchen.
A flash of lightning from outside lit up the kitchen briefly, showing her the way into the room.
As she hurried towards the place in the kitchen where the draws were, she slammed into something blocking her way, or someone, and fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. She heard a clatter of object fall to the floor, accompanied by a male voice.
"Blimey" he said.
Hermione sat on the floor where she fell as the other occupant of the Inn untangled himself from her and retreated.
"I uh… I'm sorry I was coming down for some candles" she said, as she tried to get up on to her feet. In the darkness, she could see an extended hand in a flash of lightning, so she took it, allowing him to help her get onto her feet.
"The candles were here, but now it seems they're all over the floor" he said, his voice soft. In all the notes, she had imagined his voice to be gruffer, a bit rugged. She was surprised at how the mind creates a perception of a person when you've never seen them before.
"Sorry… here, I'll help you find them" she said, bending to pick up a candle that she could see in a flash of light from outside. She turned to get a look at the other guest, but the flash stopped and his face was thrown into darkness again.
"Its no use, there aren't any matches" he said, a thud indicating that he may have tossed a candle on to the bench. Something about his voice sounded familiar, which scared her almost to the point of running out into the night and away from this situation, but the voice didn't spark any immediate sense of fear and her instincts were telling her he was safe.
She wished that she could just stun him with her wand and summon Milly, have her bring some matches to her room, then rennervate him. But that would be too easy. She couldn't use her magic against a muggle like that.
She leant up against the kitchen bench not sure how to proceed from here. She hadn't come face to face with him in the 8 weeks she had been here and now here they were. A loud clap of thunder made her squeak and she put her hands over her face and closed her eyes as the light flashed into the room. She didn't think to attempt to get a look at the person who had been cooking her food all this time. Thunder made her mind think of the battle, which made her think of all the dead and injured people she had seen and how close she had come to losing everything.
"Come sit in the living room, it won't be as loud in there. It's away from the windows" he said, taking her gently by the arm and leading her to the room adjacent to the kitchen. His skin felt warm against hers, and soft like his voice. She felt like she knew so many little random things about him from his notes, but never thought to wonder about his hands or his voice, so warm and soothing.
She felt the couch in the darkness and sat upon it, bringing a blanket over her body. She then realised that she was wearing only a camisole and short sleep shorts. If the lights came on now, there would be very little left to the imagination.
"So, we finally meet face to face" he said, the sound of his voice indicating he had sat directly across from her on an armchair.
"I wouldn't say that, we cant even see each other, I don't think this counts" she said with a smile. She didn't really know what she was smiling for, he wouldn't see the non-verbal queues in her communication.
He laughed in response. A win, she thought.
"Well, this is better than leaving notes, wouldn't you say?" he asked.
"I suppose it is" she said.
"Why are you so afraid of me seeing you? Was there some freak accident? Are you horribly disfigured?" he asked with a laugh.
"Why on earth would you ask me that? And what if I was?" she asked.
"Well, I know that you're not. The agent told me that you're an attractive young woman in your late 20s. Nothing about horrible disfigurement whatsoever. I would think that it would be the first thing she'd mention" he said.
"Great" she said sarcastically, sighing into the blanket.
"What's great?" he asked.
"Great that you and lady inn keeper have been passing around all my secrets" she said. "I'm here to get away, not to be a spectacle" she said.
"That's not how it is at all. I asked her what the new person was like and she told me. That's all" he said, sounding a little hurt.
"Sorry, I'm just… It's not a good time for me" she said.
"So, tell me. Let me help. I'm a complete stranger to you. Once we leave this place, we'll never see each other again. Your secret stays in the Inn" he said.
She sat quiet for a moment, wondering if she could really open up to this stranger. Tell him everything that led her here. Something about the darkness made her feel safe and his soothing voice, unlike the gruff voice of 'him', made her feel like he was right.
"I came here to escape" she said.
"Escape what, exactly?" he asked.
"Where I am from, my town, I suppose you'd call it, I'm pretty well known. I just… life was crazy, and I needed to get out" she said.
"I don't buy it" he said. "There's more" he added.
"What don't you buy?" she asked.
"No one goes to the lengths that you have gone to, to keep anonymous, stay secluded, never show your face, if you're just getting away. You're not movie star famous as far as I can tell, so spill. Why are you here? Why are you so secretive? Why don't you want anyone to see you?" he asked. She could hear him shuffling around on the armchair. Getting comfortable she supposed. A clap of thunder roared outside but the light that preluded it didn't reach the room. She was grateful for her anonymity.
"I'm running away from… someone" she said.
"Someone who?" he asked.
"An ex" she said.
"You're running away from an ex? Why not just break it off with him?" he asked.
"I did. Only about a hundred times" she said, feeling the urge to let it all out stronger. The pull to tell him, to tell someone was strong. She felt safe here, in the dark with him where she was a nobody, so she continued. "It was a bizarre romance in the beginning. Not one I expected, nor did anyone who knew us. It was all hearts and flowers and amazing… well, there were some great aspects of it…" she continued, listening to him get up off the chair.
"Keep going, I'm getting a bottle of wine" he said. "You drink wine, right?" he asked.
"Sure, ok" she said, waiting for him to return. How on earth he was doing this in complete darkness was beyond her, but he returned moments later and situated a glass into her hand.
She sipped the delicious wine and continued her story.
"Anyway, everything was great, he was amazing. He gave me everything, I didn't have to lift a finger in the beginning. We'd order take out every day, spend lazy Sundays in bed reading or… whatever and things were wonderful" she said, thinking back to when she thought she had it made.
"Life was great, I was on cloud 9. I moved to… another country… to be with him. I got a new job and that's when things started falling apart. He was jealous of my male colleagues, he started demanding I be home at certain times. At first, I thought it was romantic. He wanted to spend all his time with me and wanted me home for when he got home. He had a dangerous job, so would often come home with injuries that I'd have to tend to. I learnt quickly how to help his particular variety of workplace injury but somehow it was never good enough. He wanted me to quit work so I could be there for him, and the way he said it, made me feel like it was the right thing to do" she continued, hesitating, knowing that she hadn't ever told anyone this before.
"What happened next?" he asked.
"The first time he hit me was after I had officially quit my job. He came home and had been drinking fire… ahem… whisky with friends after work. By the time he got home, the meal that I had prepared was cold. He was so angry that I didn't wait for him, that I didn't expect him to be home at a certain time, even though he didn't tell me he was going out, that he went into a rage. I'll spare you the gory details but needless to say, I had a black eye for a few days, and no one was allowed to come around" she said.
"After that, he was so nice. The next day, he made me breakfast in bed, he treated me like a queen. Apologised again and again, kissed my face every time he looked at me and told me, promised me he'd never do it again" she said.
"But he did, didn't he?" he asked.
"It was usually over something trivial. His jealousy was out of control. If we were shopping and my vision happened to glance in the direction of another male, he would fly into a rage when we got home and question me for hours. 'Who was it, how did I know him? How many times did we sleep together?'. He was relentless. When I told him there was no one, he'd hit me. Again and again. Then the same thing. Afterwards, he'd be so nice, so loving. I lived for those days. Those good times. I knew that if I just stuck out the bad times, he'd be lovely again" she said, realising how stupid this all sounded.
"This all sounds so stupid. Like, I should have left the first time, but you have no idea how quick he could turn it all around. Promise me things would get better. He took me away from anyone and everyone who could help me and made me feel like he was everything to me. And he was. I was trapped, no friends, no family… but to me, it was normal. I just had to stop saying certain things, acting a certain way, looking at other people and it was fine" she said.
"This all sounds like a scary movie or something" he said, finally breaking his silence.
"It was. It really was" she said sadly.
"So how did you get out?" he asked.
"I ran away" she said, leaving out the crescendo of the whole story.
"And came here?" he asked.
"Well, basically, yes" she said.
"Why not go to your family?" he asked.
"Well, you remember I said my parents died overseas? I had no one. I was an only child to parents who were both only children. I have no one" she said. "I'm assuming that everyone in his family took his side, wondered why I just disappeared in the middle of the night. We never showed them the truth, never let anyone see the bruises. Obviously they didn't know about the bad times, they saw us together at Christmas and family events and we were the epitome of perfection" she added.
"So they figure, you're the bad guy. The one who took off without explanation?" he asked.
"Exactly" she said.
"When really, you were putting up with his shyte for…?" he hesitated.
"Years. Three years" she said.
"Buggering hell" he said.
"Indeed" she responded, feeling a little lighter from the buzz of the wine.
She heard him get up from the armchair where he had been sitting and felt a dip in the couch beside her.
"Don't worry, I'm not being a creep, I'm just pouring you another glass" he said. She reached for him in the darkness and found his hand, giving him her glass. She received her glass back, now full of the delicious wine and took a long drink from it.
"I've never told anyone any of this. No one knows, not even my best friend" she said.
"Why? Why couldn't you ever tell anyone?" he asked, still sitting beside her and not making a move to get up and return to his spot. She tucked a leg up under herself and turned to the direction of his voice.
"Well, his mother is a very protective person. She is like, mother of the year, she dotes on her children, takes in other children, even though she has a tribe of her own. He has a lot of siblings and not one of them would believe that he would be capable of this. It just wasn't worth the effort trying to convince them that me, an outsider, was in a relationship like that" she said, feeling emotion well up inside of her. If she let go, she would appear weak. She tried her hardest to stuff it all back inside, but, almost as if someone opened a floodgate, it came pouring out with her words.
"I was supposed to be strong. I went through so much in my life as a teenager and I was meant to go on and lead a good life. I had gone through enough. How could I have let myself get into that situation?" she asked, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
The next thing that happened was unexpected. She felt a shift in the couch, followed by warmth, as this stranger beside her pulled her into a hug.
Ordinarily, she would have thrown him off, demanded that he cease this action, refrain from seeing her as the victim, as someone who is weak. But all she could think of in that moment, was how incredible he smelt, how warm he was, with his arms around her, how safe and comforted she felt in that moment. The touch of a man without the underlying fear and horror, it was something she hadn't known that she craved.
Despite the tears on her face and her sobs, she pulled him closer, desperate to have someone to cling to. He was the first person she had seen, spoken to, in weeks. Human contact hadn't felt this… this… safe? This nice? In the longest time.
When she settled down, when her tears stopped and her sobs lessoned, he pulled back and held her face in his hands in the darkness. She tried to see him, to make out his features, the colour of his hair, the shape of his face, but nothing.
"For as long as you are here, I won't let anything happen to you" he said quietly. His face must have been inched form hers, because she felt his minty breath on her lips. She nodded and closed her eyes. It was still pitch black in the house, but his close proximity was almost too much.
She felt his thumb wipe across her cheek, removing the wetness from her last tear. It was all it took for her to lean forward, ever so slightly and place her lips on his.
The spark from there was instantaneous. A jolt of something she didn't understand, shot through her whole body, lighting it on fire. When prompted, she allowed his tongue entrance beyond her lips, setting her soul alight and forcing her to let go of all of her fears and anxieties.
She didn't really even know him, but she soon found herself pulling his sleep shirt off over his head while he did the same to her camisole.
She laid back on the couch and pulled him to her. She was desperate for his touch, for his warmth, for his smell, for his everything.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. She could tell his face was inches from hers.
"Yes, I want to do this" she whispered into the night, completely aware that she didn't even know him, hadn't even seen his face, but she needed this. She needed to be touched by someone who felt safe and part of her thought that the darkness and anonymity make it feel safer.
She felt him retreat and make his way down her body, hooking his fingers into her flimsy sleep shorts before pulling the down her legs. She was thankful that she had shaved them earlier that night in order to feel the silk sheets of her bed rub against them.
He began at her feet, kissing his way up her leg, the underside of her knee, the inside of her thigh, before reaching her apex. She felt his finger trace the slit from top to bottom, briefly making contact with her clit, making her jolt, before sliding down and entering her slowly. She felt his breath on her next, as he pushed her legs apart and licked from her entrance to her clit, making her moan.
His finger inside of her searched for her internal nerve endings, while his mouth licked, sucked and kissed on her clit. She was all pleasure, moaning into the night, reaching down and grabbing his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, harder into her.
Her orgasm built quickly, and she was sent over the edge multiple times before he agonisingly, slowly removed his finger and pulled his mouth off her. He worked his way up her body, trailing kisses as he went. He took time to stop at each nipple, nibbling, licking, sucking until she was squirming underneath him.
She couldn't stand how empty she felt. The loss of his finger inside of her left her wanting more, desperate to feel something more. She pulled his face up towards her and kissed him hard, tasting her juices on his lips and tongue. She wrapped her feet around his hips and pulled him close, feeling him hard against her. She adjusted herself so he could slide in easily and when he did, she cried out to the heavens.
He started slow, but she needed more. She dug her nails into his back and pulled him close with the heels of her bare feet. He increased his pace and she felt like he knew exactly what she wanted.
"This is going to be over quick if you don't slow down" he said into her ear.
"I don't care" she said, moaning into the night when she felt him grind against her clit. "Just like that" she cried out, as she held him tight against her and met him thrust for thrust.
It wasn't long before she was seeing stars, her walls clamping around him while her nails dug into his back and she screamed into oblivion. Her orgasm came hard and fast, incredible, considering this was their first time together. In the past, when she had been with someone new, it was an awkward and uncoordinated mess. This time, with this person, it was incredible. He knew where to touch her, how hard, how fast, how to angle his body just the right way so that he hit that spot inside of her, while grinding her clit on the outside.
She held onto him as he came, his body trembling with his own orgasm as her nails dug into his flesh. He was definitely fit; she now took the time to run her hands over his body as he lay with his body weight on the couch beside her but most of his body on top of her. His back muscles were defined, and his ass was tight. She let her body relax as she stroked his back. She didn't know how long it had been until she fell asleep, but she soon found herself in a dreamless, completely relaxed sleep.
AN- Unbelievable, right? Lucky its fiction ;-)