*****Chapter Two:
In the Arms of a Stranger*****
Yes, I fell through the wall, through it! And not because the brick had been demolished in the explosion - dear God, I've been caught in an explosion? - but because the wall wasn't really there!
Either that or I had been knocked silly from the blast, which wasn't all that inconceivable at the moment. In fact, my mind was still so whirling in shock and surprise that I didn't even notice where I was, much less that I had fallen through the brick wall, until a good minute had passed. Then the ringing in my ears subsided and my thoughts came to a whirling stop - and the burning sensation in my arm became full blown.
"She's coming out of it!" I heard a voice roar above me somewhere, and discovered that I was on my back. My arm was still burning - burning, sizzling, and aching like a son of a bitch. As my mind resurfaced from shock, my body immediately convulsed and curled up in a protective ball around the hurt limb.
Or at least, tried to curl up. Once again I was in for a surprise - apparently I had been blasted through the wall and into the arms of some unlucky fellow. Dimly I became aware of a body behind mine, my head cradled against a rather solid chest, someone's leg beneath my back. After that first awareness, my hearing came flooding back to me along with a horrible pounding in my head.
"Who is she?" I heard a voice say above me. "And what happened? Did you feel that tremor?"
"Dumbledore's guest, if I'm not mistaken," a deep tenor rumbled from the chest behind my head. A hand reached into my jacket, brushing lightly against my breast as it grabbed the letter and took it out. "Yes, says so right here. . . well, she made it through just in time, didn't she?"
"Focus, Sirius," the other voice said. "That rumble, it wasn't natural - somethings going on in the King's Cross."
"Get some people on it, then. I have this little miss to look after. Go on, Remus, we'll be fine."
There was a snort from somewhere above followed by a wry "I'm sure." Then footsteps clomping away.
I opened my eyes woozily, still unsure that I was conscious and not having a clue as to what was going on. "Miss Jones?" That rich tenor asked again.
Finally I made my eyes focus and discovered a tendril of curly red hair in my eyes. A rough, masculine hand that was definitely not my own brushed it aside, and I was left to look upon probably one of the most gorgeous faces I had ever seen.
He was a man, definitely a man, and definitely an incredibly good looking man. Longish black hair swept around an angular face made of high cheek bones and a prominent chin - and my gaze was met by the most captivating pair of black eyes I had ever seen. At least, for a moment I thought they were black, then he moved his head slightly and I realized that they were really a deep, deep blue. A small, bemused smile tugged on his generous lips.
I continued to stare at my fantasy, still dazed and entirely disbelieving. Of course I hadn't been caught in an explosion and sent through a brick wall that apparently hadn't been solid in the first place - no, I was simply dreaming, and this was a very good dream.
"As much as I love looking at you," that wonderful tenor rumbled, "I think we should get you up before more people come over."
I blinked. "Huh?"
His smile widened, but he moved out from under me, still supporting me by my shoulders. "Here, let me help you-" he began to lift me to my feet.
I let out a gasp of pain as my arm spasmed. The sharp agony brought me back to myself, and with a string of curses I shot unsteadily to my feet, clutching my arm to my chest. There didn't seem to be any blood, but then again I was too scared to look at it - maybe it was broken.
The man put a steadying arm around me and began leading me away to some unknown destination, and it was then that I decided to look around. Sure enough I was on a train platform, just like the ones outside except the express that sat on the tracks was an older version, complete with smoke stack and coal cart. People dressed in funny robes and cloaks were scrambling in every which way, several rushing aboard the train while others loaded heavy trunks and bags into the cargo holds. Shrieks and hoots came from every direction, and as I stared with wide eyed wonder I saw cages filled with owls, rats, frogs, cats, and several other small creatures.
"What the. . . where. . . ?" I muttered, unsure of what I was trying to say. This was all too confusing for me, where the hell was I?
Then I saw the gold letters painted on the side of the train. "Hogwarts' Express?" I read aloud, and frowned. It didn't take a genious to figure out that I had finally reached platform 9 3/4.
The man was leading me towards one of the rear cars, and I heard him chuckle softly. "It's leaving soon, we should hurry," he said in what I suppose he thought was a soothing voice. "Once we're on board we'll take a look at that arm."
As though on cue, the offended limb let out an extra painful throb. I gritted my teeth. How could any of this be happening? I thought the officer had said there was no platform 9 3/4, I thought this had all been some sick joke! And the explosion?
Of course! Why hadn't it occurred to me sooner? King's Cross had been attacked by those terrorists I had read about in the morning paper, and I had probably gotten a concussion and was hilucinating this whole thing. Yes, that was it - ha, obviously this was a dream. A group of kids in cloaks hurried past, one of them carrying quite a large owl in a cage, and I couldn't keep in the giggle that bubbled up my throat. My gorgeous guide gave me a worried look out of those mysterious blue eyes.
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly as he handed me aboard the train at the last car.
I muffled another giggle. "Fine, thanks," I said, feeling quite tipsy, then I barely cut off a groan as my arm complained. God, how could anything hurt so much? I had broken bones before, but this was a different kind of pain, somehow. . . fuller, deeper, on a different level.
The car which we were in was empty, and I sat down in relief, having started to feel dizzy again. The red cushioned seats were surprisingly comfortable, and as I nestled backwards my savior came to sit next to me. I looked over at him with dreamy eyes and once again took in that wonderful face.
"You're quite beautiful," I said on impulse. Usually I wouldn't have, usually I tended to avoid making moves on people, since I tended to have a commitment problem. But this was a dream, right? So I should be able to say and do as I want.
He laughed at this, a nice laugh too. Very sexy. "Why thank you, but I doubt I'm as beautiful as you, Miss Jones."
"Please, call me Evelyn," I muttered drunkenly. "Or better yet, Eevee - I like the name Eevee."
"Then you must call me Sirius," Mr. Hot and Sexy responded. "Now if you don't mind, Eevee, I'd like to take a look at that arm."
"Help yourself," I murmured with a smile, but that grin melted from my face as my arm hurt again. No, it burned. It was burning, God that hurt like all hell-
"Ah!" I gasped as Sirius gently but forcefully took the limb. It was now protesting angrily, and it almost felt like the skin was. . . moving. Shifting. God it hurt. I could feel tears in my eyes as my savior carefully rolled up my sleeve and stretched out my arm.
Paused.
I closed my eyes for a moment, scared to look, but then I forced them open. I had to know - had to know - what was going on with my body. Even if it was a dream, it didn't seem to be working like one. Pain wasn't supposed to be in dreams, was it?
And this was definitely pain.
So I pried open my eyes wide and looked down determinedly - and gasped. What appeared to be black streaks were winding up my arm in a haphazard course, crisscrossing each other and splotching together. I had never seen anything like it. Apparently neither had Sirius.
"Once we reach Hogwarts, we'll have Dumbledore look at this," he murmured, then those midnight eyes met mine. "Don't worry, we'll fix you up."
I smiled at him through the pain and snatched my arm back when he let go. "Thanks," I managed. For a long moment I couldn't talk through the burning throb, then the pain receded as it had earlier and the tension slowly left my body. I breathed.
In and out.
Sirius was looking out a window, though he still sat disturbingly close to me. Now that the action of the past fifteen minutes had dispersed, I felt my body experiencing the final rush of energy before it would go back to normal. Sexual energy.
I glanced at Sirius then quickly away, aware that there was a tall, deadly attractive man next to me, and that at the moment I could feel every movement in his body. His warmth seemed to burn through my clothing. Despite myself and my usually high morals, I really wanted to kiss him.
It was just a dream, right?
"Uh, Sirius?" I asked uncertainly, never having consciously kissed anyone in a dream before. Why did I feel so nervous?
He turned to look at me, his chiseled features having adopted a slightly closed look. Obviously he had been thinking.
"I-I, uh, well. . . ."
Those eyes continued to bore into mine, making me feel flushed and excited, yet horribly nervous at the same time. My body was definitely making a comeback after its years of dormancy.
"Hm?" He murmured, his own voice going strangely deep as he stared at me.
"Oh hell," I said, and grabbed his head, turned it, and set my lips against his.
This was more like it - talk about taking control of your dream. For a moment he was still in surprise as I kissed him, albeit clumsily, I wasn't that skilled. Then he shifted and his hand went behind my head, burying itself in my hair as he opened his mouth. Opened my mouth.
Sensation.
He was soft, warm, and wet. Scalding, really, but God the man could kiss! Not that I was any expert, but the dive and withdrawl of his tongue made my nerves hum, and my stomach clenched. My breath came short. It was amazing, sexual, wonderful, powerful. . . his tongue drove deeper, and suddenly I found myself partially on his lap, my legs over his and his chest pushing against mine. I was sweating, buzzing with the right kind of energy, my stomach knotted and the place between my legs throbbing softly.
It was a kiss to remember, a kiss that I had never experienced the like of.
So how could I dream of it?
The thought shook me awake, brought me back to my senses, the subtle ache in my arm and the roughness of a body against mine. And the realization that this. Was. Not. A. Dream.
I gasped, breaking away from the kiss and panting for breath, and I stared into those dark eyes. They were hooded now, burning with a passion I knew I could match if I wanted to, but at the moment I didn't. I was kissing a man I had just met fifteen minutes ago.
God, I had turned into a slut!
"This isn't a dream, is it?" I asked uncertainly, making it more of a statement. My voice was slightly breathless, to say the least.
"No, it's not," he murmured back huskily, "though if you want it to be. . ." he made a dive for my mouth.
I dodged, pulling back and falling off his lap when he released me. "Oh my God," I said in shock. "Oh my God, I just kissed you!"
"I'm not complaining," he said, and licked his lips. He made a motion as though he was going to grab me, but I had already moved across the seats and settled at the wall opposite him.
"Yeah, but I just met you!" I pointed out.
"Once again, I'm not complaining."
"Well, you should be, taking advantage of me like that when I was in that state."
"Me taking advantage? Hey, you're the one that kissed me, remember?"
I glared at him, my lips still tingling from his. I made to lick them in order to make the sensations go away, but realized what that would look like and stopped myself.
"Well I thought it was a dream," I declared.
"Obviously," he muttered, and ran a large hand through his black hair. I watched him do it, my body wishing to be all over him even as my mind held me in check, and it was then that I frowned.
"Wait, so if this isn't a dream. . . oh my God," I repeated.
"What does that mean, exactly?" Sirius asked. "You keep saying it."
"Oh my God, I almost got blown up!" For a moment I almost panicked again. "Then that would mean that the station was real, and all those kids in the funny clothes. . . and the owls. . . oh my God, the owl!" It was all starting to come together now, starting to make some strange sense. "Then that would mean that I'm going to Hogwarts!"
Sirius was staring at me, his expression openly saying that he believed I was mad. I stared back at him, not really seeing him. "Then who the hell is Albus Dumbledore?" I muttered.
"You don't know Dumbledore?" Sirius said incredulously, then winced. "Well, I guess you wouldn't, being a Muggle and all. . . I still don't understand how the gate let you through, with you being nonmagical-"
"Woah woah woah, what?" I demanded. "Muggle? Is that some strange English diss for American?" Believe me, I had heard a lot of them since my arrival in Europe.
"I thought you were American from your accent," Sirius said. "What part of the states are you from?"
"Mississippi, actually but I- wait, you didn't answer my question. What's a Muggle?"
"A Muggle is a nonmagical person," came a new voice, and I looked up to see another man standing in the doorway. This one was almost as tall as Sirius and probably close to the same age, though he seemed older due to premature wrinkles and the slight impression of weariness in his expression. His eyes were a kindly, puppy dog brown color, and his hair light brown shot with gray - it was thick and feathered out slightly to hang around his ears.
"Who are you?" I asked incredulously.
"Remus Lupin," he introduced himself, and offered a large if blunt hand. I shook it, enjoying how warm and dry it seemed, and was relieved that at least now I had someone else to focus on other than Sirius and his drop-dead-gorgeous looks.
"I'm Evelyn Jones, call me Eevee," I said easily, though inside my nerves were in termoil. Now that I had realized this wasn't a dream, I was having trouble grasping reality. Muggles - nonmagic people? A wall that disappeared? A man that pointed a stick at things and they blew up? It was all too bizar.
And the owl this morning, it was all connected, and now I was on a train apparently headed to some magical school where I would meet Albus Dumbledore. Despite my earlier panic, I thought now I was taking this rather well - I could have stood up and started screaming and running around, and it wouldn't have been uncalled for as far as I was concerned.
"Okay," I said slowly. "So I'm a Muggle, meaning I can't do magic. Then why. . . why am I here?" I still didn't want to think too closely on just "where" here was.
Remus and Sirius shared a glance. "We're. . . ah. . . not sure," Sirius answered, and shifted uncomfortably. "Dumbledore told us to come get you and escort you back to the school, but that's about it."
I blinked. "Oh," I murmured, then spent a great deal of time staring at the floor. Why hadn't the explosion just killed me and put me out of my misery? Now I had this whole new reality to deal with, with robes and sticks and owls and. . . and me kissing some guy!
'Wait, maybe the blast sent me into another dimension,' I thought sporatically. 'I've read Stephan King, I can handle that, right?' Eyeing my two new companions, I sincerely hoped so.
Suddenly the whole shock of the day hit me a second time, and this round it wrenched a yawn from me. My arm was beginning to ache worse. I had a funny feeling it would break into another attack soon, and despite myself, my energy was drained. I looked at the two men, who had been staring at me curiously, and shifted.
"I think I'm going to. . . uh. . . take a nap," I mumbled. Immediately Remus leapt up and took down a pillow and blankets from one of the overhead apartments. I watched in surprise as he handed them to me, gave me a warm smile, then turned away abruptly.
"Sirius, old friend," he said, "I think it's time we find that god- son of yours and see just what he's up to."
Sirius jumped from his seat, obviously only too anxious to get away from me. "Brilliant idea," he agreed, and took the time to nod to me before he dodged out the door. "Sweet dreams."
The door shut behind them.
I sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rumble of tracks and sway of the cart, then carefully laid down on my makeshift bed. After all the action, all I really wanted to do was sleep, and maybe I would wake up in my hotel room.
Fat chance, something inside me whispered, but I had already closed my eyes. The gentle sway of the cart lulled me into light slumber.
Yes, I fell through the wall, through it! And not because the brick had been demolished in the explosion - dear God, I've been caught in an explosion? - but because the wall wasn't really there!
Either that or I had been knocked silly from the blast, which wasn't all that inconceivable at the moment. In fact, my mind was still so whirling in shock and surprise that I didn't even notice where I was, much less that I had fallen through the brick wall, until a good minute had passed. Then the ringing in my ears subsided and my thoughts came to a whirling stop - and the burning sensation in my arm became full blown.
"She's coming out of it!" I heard a voice roar above me somewhere, and discovered that I was on my back. My arm was still burning - burning, sizzling, and aching like a son of a bitch. As my mind resurfaced from shock, my body immediately convulsed and curled up in a protective ball around the hurt limb.
Or at least, tried to curl up. Once again I was in for a surprise - apparently I had been blasted through the wall and into the arms of some unlucky fellow. Dimly I became aware of a body behind mine, my head cradled against a rather solid chest, someone's leg beneath my back. After that first awareness, my hearing came flooding back to me along with a horrible pounding in my head.
"Who is she?" I heard a voice say above me. "And what happened? Did you feel that tremor?"
"Dumbledore's guest, if I'm not mistaken," a deep tenor rumbled from the chest behind my head. A hand reached into my jacket, brushing lightly against my breast as it grabbed the letter and took it out. "Yes, says so right here. . . well, she made it through just in time, didn't she?"
"Focus, Sirius," the other voice said. "That rumble, it wasn't natural - somethings going on in the King's Cross."
"Get some people on it, then. I have this little miss to look after. Go on, Remus, we'll be fine."
There was a snort from somewhere above followed by a wry "I'm sure." Then footsteps clomping away.
I opened my eyes woozily, still unsure that I was conscious and not having a clue as to what was going on. "Miss Jones?" That rich tenor asked again.
Finally I made my eyes focus and discovered a tendril of curly red hair in my eyes. A rough, masculine hand that was definitely not my own brushed it aside, and I was left to look upon probably one of the most gorgeous faces I had ever seen.
He was a man, definitely a man, and definitely an incredibly good looking man. Longish black hair swept around an angular face made of high cheek bones and a prominent chin - and my gaze was met by the most captivating pair of black eyes I had ever seen. At least, for a moment I thought they were black, then he moved his head slightly and I realized that they were really a deep, deep blue. A small, bemused smile tugged on his generous lips.
I continued to stare at my fantasy, still dazed and entirely disbelieving. Of course I hadn't been caught in an explosion and sent through a brick wall that apparently hadn't been solid in the first place - no, I was simply dreaming, and this was a very good dream.
"As much as I love looking at you," that wonderful tenor rumbled, "I think we should get you up before more people come over."
I blinked. "Huh?"
His smile widened, but he moved out from under me, still supporting me by my shoulders. "Here, let me help you-" he began to lift me to my feet.
I let out a gasp of pain as my arm spasmed. The sharp agony brought me back to myself, and with a string of curses I shot unsteadily to my feet, clutching my arm to my chest. There didn't seem to be any blood, but then again I was too scared to look at it - maybe it was broken.
The man put a steadying arm around me and began leading me away to some unknown destination, and it was then that I decided to look around. Sure enough I was on a train platform, just like the ones outside except the express that sat on the tracks was an older version, complete with smoke stack and coal cart. People dressed in funny robes and cloaks were scrambling in every which way, several rushing aboard the train while others loaded heavy trunks and bags into the cargo holds. Shrieks and hoots came from every direction, and as I stared with wide eyed wonder I saw cages filled with owls, rats, frogs, cats, and several other small creatures.
"What the. . . where. . . ?" I muttered, unsure of what I was trying to say. This was all too confusing for me, where the hell was I?
Then I saw the gold letters painted on the side of the train. "Hogwarts' Express?" I read aloud, and frowned. It didn't take a genious to figure out that I had finally reached platform 9 3/4.
The man was leading me towards one of the rear cars, and I heard him chuckle softly. "It's leaving soon, we should hurry," he said in what I suppose he thought was a soothing voice. "Once we're on board we'll take a look at that arm."
As though on cue, the offended limb let out an extra painful throb. I gritted my teeth. How could any of this be happening? I thought the officer had said there was no platform 9 3/4, I thought this had all been some sick joke! And the explosion?
Of course! Why hadn't it occurred to me sooner? King's Cross had been attacked by those terrorists I had read about in the morning paper, and I had probably gotten a concussion and was hilucinating this whole thing. Yes, that was it - ha, obviously this was a dream. A group of kids in cloaks hurried past, one of them carrying quite a large owl in a cage, and I couldn't keep in the giggle that bubbled up my throat. My gorgeous guide gave me a worried look out of those mysterious blue eyes.
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly as he handed me aboard the train at the last car.
I muffled another giggle. "Fine, thanks," I said, feeling quite tipsy, then I barely cut off a groan as my arm complained. God, how could anything hurt so much? I had broken bones before, but this was a different kind of pain, somehow. . . fuller, deeper, on a different level.
The car which we were in was empty, and I sat down in relief, having started to feel dizzy again. The red cushioned seats were surprisingly comfortable, and as I nestled backwards my savior came to sit next to me. I looked over at him with dreamy eyes and once again took in that wonderful face.
"You're quite beautiful," I said on impulse. Usually I wouldn't have, usually I tended to avoid making moves on people, since I tended to have a commitment problem. But this was a dream, right? So I should be able to say and do as I want.
He laughed at this, a nice laugh too. Very sexy. "Why thank you, but I doubt I'm as beautiful as you, Miss Jones."
"Please, call me Evelyn," I muttered drunkenly. "Or better yet, Eevee - I like the name Eevee."
"Then you must call me Sirius," Mr. Hot and Sexy responded. "Now if you don't mind, Eevee, I'd like to take a look at that arm."
"Help yourself," I murmured with a smile, but that grin melted from my face as my arm hurt again. No, it burned. It was burning, God that hurt like all hell-
"Ah!" I gasped as Sirius gently but forcefully took the limb. It was now protesting angrily, and it almost felt like the skin was. . . moving. Shifting. God it hurt. I could feel tears in my eyes as my savior carefully rolled up my sleeve and stretched out my arm.
Paused.
I closed my eyes for a moment, scared to look, but then I forced them open. I had to know - had to know - what was going on with my body. Even if it was a dream, it didn't seem to be working like one. Pain wasn't supposed to be in dreams, was it?
And this was definitely pain.
So I pried open my eyes wide and looked down determinedly - and gasped. What appeared to be black streaks were winding up my arm in a haphazard course, crisscrossing each other and splotching together. I had never seen anything like it. Apparently neither had Sirius.
"Once we reach Hogwarts, we'll have Dumbledore look at this," he murmured, then those midnight eyes met mine. "Don't worry, we'll fix you up."
I smiled at him through the pain and snatched my arm back when he let go. "Thanks," I managed. For a long moment I couldn't talk through the burning throb, then the pain receded as it had earlier and the tension slowly left my body. I breathed.
In and out.
Sirius was looking out a window, though he still sat disturbingly close to me. Now that the action of the past fifteen minutes had dispersed, I felt my body experiencing the final rush of energy before it would go back to normal. Sexual energy.
I glanced at Sirius then quickly away, aware that there was a tall, deadly attractive man next to me, and that at the moment I could feel every movement in his body. His warmth seemed to burn through my clothing. Despite myself and my usually high morals, I really wanted to kiss him.
It was just a dream, right?
"Uh, Sirius?" I asked uncertainly, never having consciously kissed anyone in a dream before. Why did I feel so nervous?
He turned to look at me, his chiseled features having adopted a slightly closed look. Obviously he had been thinking.
"I-I, uh, well. . . ."
Those eyes continued to bore into mine, making me feel flushed and excited, yet horribly nervous at the same time. My body was definitely making a comeback after its years of dormancy.
"Hm?" He murmured, his own voice going strangely deep as he stared at me.
"Oh hell," I said, and grabbed his head, turned it, and set my lips against his.
This was more like it - talk about taking control of your dream. For a moment he was still in surprise as I kissed him, albeit clumsily, I wasn't that skilled. Then he shifted and his hand went behind my head, burying itself in my hair as he opened his mouth. Opened my mouth.
Sensation.
He was soft, warm, and wet. Scalding, really, but God the man could kiss! Not that I was any expert, but the dive and withdrawl of his tongue made my nerves hum, and my stomach clenched. My breath came short. It was amazing, sexual, wonderful, powerful. . . his tongue drove deeper, and suddenly I found myself partially on his lap, my legs over his and his chest pushing against mine. I was sweating, buzzing with the right kind of energy, my stomach knotted and the place between my legs throbbing softly.
It was a kiss to remember, a kiss that I had never experienced the like of.
So how could I dream of it?
The thought shook me awake, brought me back to my senses, the subtle ache in my arm and the roughness of a body against mine. And the realization that this. Was. Not. A. Dream.
I gasped, breaking away from the kiss and panting for breath, and I stared into those dark eyes. They were hooded now, burning with a passion I knew I could match if I wanted to, but at the moment I didn't. I was kissing a man I had just met fifteen minutes ago.
God, I had turned into a slut!
"This isn't a dream, is it?" I asked uncertainly, making it more of a statement. My voice was slightly breathless, to say the least.
"No, it's not," he murmured back huskily, "though if you want it to be. . ." he made a dive for my mouth.
I dodged, pulling back and falling off his lap when he released me. "Oh my God," I said in shock. "Oh my God, I just kissed you!"
"I'm not complaining," he said, and licked his lips. He made a motion as though he was going to grab me, but I had already moved across the seats and settled at the wall opposite him.
"Yeah, but I just met you!" I pointed out.
"Once again, I'm not complaining."
"Well, you should be, taking advantage of me like that when I was in that state."
"Me taking advantage? Hey, you're the one that kissed me, remember?"
I glared at him, my lips still tingling from his. I made to lick them in order to make the sensations go away, but realized what that would look like and stopped myself.
"Well I thought it was a dream," I declared.
"Obviously," he muttered, and ran a large hand through his black hair. I watched him do it, my body wishing to be all over him even as my mind held me in check, and it was then that I frowned.
"Wait, so if this isn't a dream. . . oh my God," I repeated.
"What does that mean, exactly?" Sirius asked. "You keep saying it."
"Oh my God, I almost got blown up!" For a moment I almost panicked again. "Then that would mean that the station was real, and all those kids in the funny clothes. . . and the owls. . . oh my God, the owl!" It was all starting to come together now, starting to make some strange sense. "Then that would mean that I'm going to Hogwarts!"
Sirius was staring at me, his expression openly saying that he believed I was mad. I stared back at him, not really seeing him. "Then who the hell is Albus Dumbledore?" I muttered.
"You don't know Dumbledore?" Sirius said incredulously, then winced. "Well, I guess you wouldn't, being a Muggle and all. . . I still don't understand how the gate let you through, with you being nonmagical-"
"Woah woah woah, what?" I demanded. "Muggle? Is that some strange English diss for American?" Believe me, I had heard a lot of them since my arrival in Europe.
"I thought you were American from your accent," Sirius said. "What part of the states are you from?"
"Mississippi, actually but I- wait, you didn't answer my question. What's a Muggle?"
"A Muggle is a nonmagical person," came a new voice, and I looked up to see another man standing in the doorway. This one was almost as tall as Sirius and probably close to the same age, though he seemed older due to premature wrinkles and the slight impression of weariness in his expression. His eyes were a kindly, puppy dog brown color, and his hair light brown shot with gray - it was thick and feathered out slightly to hang around his ears.
"Who are you?" I asked incredulously.
"Remus Lupin," he introduced himself, and offered a large if blunt hand. I shook it, enjoying how warm and dry it seemed, and was relieved that at least now I had someone else to focus on other than Sirius and his drop-dead-gorgeous looks.
"I'm Evelyn Jones, call me Eevee," I said easily, though inside my nerves were in termoil. Now that I had realized this wasn't a dream, I was having trouble grasping reality. Muggles - nonmagic people? A wall that disappeared? A man that pointed a stick at things and they blew up? It was all too bizar.
And the owl this morning, it was all connected, and now I was on a train apparently headed to some magical school where I would meet Albus Dumbledore. Despite my earlier panic, I thought now I was taking this rather well - I could have stood up and started screaming and running around, and it wouldn't have been uncalled for as far as I was concerned.
"Okay," I said slowly. "So I'm a Muggle, meaning I can't do magic. Then why. . . why am I here?" I still didn't want to think too closely on just "where" here was.
Remus and Sirius shared a glance. "We're. . . ah. . . not sure," Sirius answered, and shifted uncomfortably. "Dumbledore told us to come get you and escort you back to the school, but that's about it."
I blinked. "Oh," I murmured, then spent a great deal of time staring at the floor. Why hadn't the explosion just killed me and put me out of my misery? Now I had this whole new reality to deal with, with robes and sticks and owls and. . . and me kissing some guy!
'Wait, maybe the blast sent me into another dimension,' I thought sporatically. 'I've read Stephan King, I can handle that, right?' Eyeing my two new companions, I sincerely hoped so.
Suddenly the whole shock of the day hit me a second time, and this round it wrenched a yawn from me. My arm was beginning to ache worse. I had a funny feeling it would break into another attack soon, and despite myself, my energy was drained. I looked at the two men, who had been staring at me curiously, and shifted.
"I think I'm going to. . . uh. . . take a nap," I mumbled. Immediately Remus leapt up and took down a pillow and blankets from one of the overhead apartments. I watched in surprise as he handed them to me, gave me a warm smile, then turned away abruptly.
"Sirius, old friend," he said, "I think it's time we find that god- son of yours and see just what he's up to."
Sirius jumped from his seat, obviously only too anxious to get away from me. "Brilliant idea," he agreed, and took the time to nod to me before he dodged out the door. "Sweet dreams."
The door shut behind them.
I sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rumble of tracks and sway of the cart, then carefully laid down on my makeshift bed. After all the action, all I really wanted to do was sleep, and maybe I would wake up in my hotel room.
Fat chance, something inside me whispered, but I had already closed my eyes. The gentle sway of the cart lulled me into light slumber.