Witch and the hothead 18
Paul
In the days following the council meeting, I hadn't been in contact with anyone. I stayed home, listened to music, watched documentaries, and ate. Since I've been on my own for so long, I'd say I'm a decent cook—and I enjoy it. Not surprising, I guess, considering how much I love food. In this house, if I wanted to eat, I had to make it myself.
Sam came by yesterday and tried to pull an alpha move, ordering me to go out on patrol. Before he could finish the command, I just shut the door in his face—and damn, it felt good. What a fucking idiot.
In the beginning, Sam and I actually got along. Since I was the first wolf to phase after him, we spent a lot of time together. But ever since he met Emily, it's like he's an entirely different person. I get that he worships the ground she walks on, but I've seen and heard how his wolf views their relationship—and honestly, it's fucking creepy.
His wolf thrives on Emily being meek and submissive. She never questions Sam's decisions or speaks her mind; she just… exists. And it drives me insane.
My wolf is like a reflection of me—only less emotional and more instinct-driven. But even he despises Emily. He thinks she's a weak imprint, and the same goes for Sam's wolf. In a pack, there's supposed to be a balance of power, and a deep respect for the females. The alpha female should carry as much authority as the male. My wolf sees Sam's wolf as weak for not helping and supporting Emily to grow stronger, fiercer. That lack of balance and strength irritates him to no end.
The most ironic thing about all of this is that, despite me keeping my distance, Sam somehow believes I like Emily—that I see her as a sister. It's laughable, honestly. That couldn't be further from the truth. I tolerate her because I have to, and because showing my true feelings wouldn't do me any favours.
The few times I've gone to pack dinners at Sam's house, I've just nodded my thanks and forced down her bland food, keeping it polite. Yes, I can be polite—when I want to or need to. But that's exactly why I often skip those dinners.
What bothers me most about Sam is how he thinks he knows everything. He's convinced I'm "broken" because I lost my chance at college, as if that's the sole reason for my temperamental nature. If he ever took the time to actually get to know me—or just fucking ask—he'd see how wrong he is.
Losing my mom at nine years old would break anyone. Being left to fend for myself ever since would break anyone. Everyone on the rez knows what happened, including Sam. Yet somehow, he's decided that my mom's death made me stronger. Fucking idiot.
Sure, losing my future when I phased was just another nail in the coffin, but let's be real—I'd rather have my mom here and be stuck in this place than not have her and get to go to college.
Shaking my head, I groan as I push myself off the sofa. It's still early, and my stomach is growling loud enough to echo. After I eat, I'm heading over to the witch's house. Maybe today I'll finally catch a glimpse of her.
These past few days, she and the soap-smelling wizard seem to have stayed inside. Her magical shield blocks most of the sound coming from within the house, all I can hear is a faint murmur of their voices, which bothers me more than I'd like to admit. Still, her nightmares seem to have eased since the storm, and that's a relief. Her screams had no trouble breaking through her shield, and just remembering the blood-curdling sound makes me shiver.
I inhale a bowl of cereal and milk along with six toasted cheese sandwiches before grabbing a pair of jeans instead of my usual shorts. Glancing down at my t-shirt, I shrug—it'll have to do. I grab a plastic bag and slip on my worn Timberlands and head out.
That's another thing that pisses me off about the wolf thing. As a kid, I was fascinated by fashion. Watching MTV growing up, with Tupac and Biggie, got me especially into streetwear and sneakers. A good pair of kicks and a great outfit can take you far. But now? I'm doomed to go barefoot most of the time, wearing cut-off jeans and no shirt 90% of the day. The clothes in my wardrobe were just collecting dust.
As I approach the property, I feel the strange hum of the magical shield. Sticking to the shadows of the trees, I try to blend in. The weather's nice today, and the salty ocean air fills my lungs. This place holds a lot of memories for me—just like it does for the rest of the pack.
Ana always made me feel welcome here. She used to tell me that my mother's death shouldn't ruin the love she gave me while she was alive, and that I shouldn't waste the gift of being alive myself. Her words stuck with me. They're the reason I worked so hard in school—I wanted to make my mom proud.
I watch as the wizard heads toward the garage. He stops just outside the door, turning in my direction. I step back further into the shadows, moving slowly. His face twists into a smirk before he disappears inside. Stange.
There's an herbal scent wafting from the garage, but I can't place it. My gaze shifts to the house, where I spot Hermione moving around on the ground floor before heading upstairs. The faint sound of running water drifts to me, and my mind starts to wander.
I wonder what she looks like beneath that oversized sweater she always wears. She's so petite, almost fragile-looking. Too thin. My wolf whines at the back of my mind. He doesn't like that she seems unhealthy.
His fascination with her rivals my own, and while it doesn't bother me, it makes me wary. Why is he so fixated? Is it because we haven't met her yet, or is it something more? Maybe it's just that she's new—fresh meat—and it's been far too long since I've had a woman in my bed.
But I know it's more than that. The spike of jealousy I felt when Sam mentioned his wolf liked her made mine go insane. It was the first time in a long while that I truly had to fight him to keep from bursting out of my skin.
It worries me, too. When I was filling the void with women and meaningless hookups, I secretly hoped I'd imprint one day. That hope kept me going at first, but it never happened. My wolf hated the smell of their heavy perfumes, their heated gazes, the overwhelming scent of their arousal. At first, I ignored his discomfort and pushed through, but eventually, I couldn't do it anymore. It didn't make me feel any less alone—it only made the loneliness worse.
Over time, I buried the hope of finding my imprint. I told myself I was doomed to live out this existence alone. But now, with my wolf showing interest for the first time, I can't help but let that hope resurface—just a little.
I'm so lost in thought that I almost miss her walking to her car. Moving closer, I watch her through the trees as she fiddles with her phone. The opening riff of Arctic Monkeys' Do I Wanna Know? blasts through her car speakers, and I grin. At least she has great taste in music.
As she backs out of the driveway, I quickly undress, stuffing my clothes and shoes into the plastic bag before phasing. With the bag held in my mouth, I run alongside her, staying hidden in the trees as she drives toward town.
When we near the edge of town, I phase back and quickly put on my clothes, slipping on my shoes before jogging out of the forest. I keep her car in sight, but truthfully, I'd recognize her scent anywhere now.
Walking down the main street, I spot her car parked outside the library and take a deep breath. I still haven't decided if I'm going to approach her or just stay close, keeping her in my sights.
I slip soundlessly through the doors, moving in the opposite direction of where she is. Keeping behind the high bookshelves that line the small library, I stay out of sight.
Her light footsteps approach, and I freeze, almost holding my breath. Through the gaps in the shelves, I catch glimpses of her as she runs her fingers along the spines of the books, a content look softening her face.
This is the first time I've seen her this close, and her beauty stuns me.
Her curly hair shines under the soft library lights, looking impossibly healthy and soft. It's not just brown; it's a swirl of toffee, honey, and deep chocolate. Her nose is small and speckled with tiny freckles, giving her a delicate charm. Her lips are full and pink, the bottom one slightly swollen as if she's been biting it. It makes her look like she's just been kissed.
She turns and heads toward the front desk. I listen as she asks for a map of Forks, and I have to bite back a growl. She's probably working on the case—which means the leeches.
Hidden in the shadows, I watch her walk toward a table in the back. My thoughts spiral as I hesitate. What should I do? Approach her or just leave?
The idea of leaving twists my gut, and my wolf growls at the mere thought. I exhale slowly, trying to calm him and push him back down. Meeting her for the first time with him so close to the surface would be a disaster.
I catch her sneaking a glance around before she pulls out what I assume is her wand. With a quick motion, she creates a copy of the map, folds the original neatly, and spreads out the duplicate. From her bag, she retrieves markers and a notebook, carefully studying the map before letting out a frustrated groan.
I smirk, knowing this library—the map is probably outdated and full of errors.
This is my chance, and I'm not going to waste it. Soundlessly, I approach her, leaning just over her shoulder. Her scent hits me like a wave, strong and intoxicating. I hold my breath, resisting the urge to bury my face in her neck.
But I can't help myself. I lean in closer, taking in her sweet fragrance through my nose, and close my eyes to steady myself, biting back a groan.
"Anything I can help you with?" I ask, my voice low and controlled despite my raging instincts.
She startles, whipping her head around to face me. For a moment, she freezes. Our eyes meet, and… nothing. A pang of disappointment nearly buckles my knees. Her eyes, dark brown to most, shimmer with flecks of gold under my sharper gaze—absolutely stunning.
My wolf claws at the edges of my mind, trying to tell me something I can't quite grasp. I shove him aside, focusing instead on the way she takes me in, her gaze traveling from my hair to my nose and then lingering on my lips. Slowly, she blinks. My wolf purrs at her attention, and I clear my throat, snapping her back to reality. Her cheeks flush, the blood rushing to her skin making her scent even stronger. But I detect no arousal—just mild embarrassment. Relief and a twinge of disappointment churn within me.
Raising an eyebrow, I wait for her answer.
"Uh, sorry, what was your question?" she stammers.
I sense no fear from her, despite my proximity. Moving quickly, I slide into the chair next to her, repeating my question. I slouch slightly to avoid hitting my knees against the low table, stretching my legs out under it.
I catch her checking me out again. This time, I say nothing, letting her eyes roam over me. Internally, I'm pleased I wore this snug t-shirt—it's doing its job. She snaps out of it, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, before mumbling something about looking for a property in Forks. Her explanation is vague, a clumsy lie about being new here.
I hide a grin, rubbing my shin thoughtfully as I study her. She doesn't realize who I am—or, at least, she's pretending not to. The tension in her face tells me she knows she can't blow her cover and has to tread carefully.
"What property? There are plenty of them, you know," I tease, leaning forward and resting my elbow on the table. The movement closes the small distance between us, and I lock eyes with her again, silently hoping this time… maybe.
But still, nothing.
"Um, I'm not sure who lives there," she stammers, attempting to describe the location. Her words tumble out awkwardly, and I can't help but laugh.
Her gaze sharpens, and she looks both curious and amused. The sight makes me smile. She's just so damn cute.
Her pulse races, but still, there's no fear—just intrigue. My smile falters. I don't want her to think I'm mocking her.
"I know who you are, little witch," I say softly, hoping not to alarm her.
She makes a small movement to leave, but my hand shoots out, gently grasping her arm. I take care not to grip too hard.
"Please," I plead, my voice earnest. "I mean no harm. I just want to help, if I can."
She watches me carefully, then slowly lowers herself back into her chair. I release her arm, withdrawing my hand with deliberate slowness.
Recognition flashes across her face as it finally clicks.
"I'm sorry, I…" she trails off, searching for the right words. "You just caught me off guard. I didn't realize at first who you were." Her smile is small, apologetic.
I wave her apology away. "No need to apologize. I should've introduced myself first." I pause, glancing down at my hands. "I know how it feels to hide parts of yourself."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand extend toward me. Looking up, I find her smiling, a gentle warmth in her expression. She introduces herself, and I chuckle softly as I take her hand in mine.
Before our hands even meet, I feel a static hum in the air. The moment I grasp her hand, my wolf howls with satisfaction, the sensation of her skin against mine unlike anything I've ever experienced. Energy buzzes over my skin, reminding me of the magical barrier she has around her property.
She gasps at the contact, and my eyes narrow, studying her face. Now that I'm touching her, I catch a faint shimmer in the air around her eyes, like the mirage of heat waves on asphalt.
Is she using magic on me?
My wolf growls in discontent, but I smile anyway. "Nice to meet you, little witch. I'm Paul Lahote."
Her hand feels small and delicate in mine. I release it slowly, fearing I might lose control and hurt her.
We shift back to the map, and I quickly point out the leeches' house. She blushes, laughing when she realizes I knew all along what she was after.
I warn her about their hunting territory, drawing a circle around the area on the map. Her expression shifts to concern as she questions their hunting habits. "Why do they hunt like that in the first place?" she asks, her tone edged with unease.
Her instincts, recognizing the danger they pose, make my wolf purr with satisfaction. There's pride too—she's not just cautious, she's sharp.
"I don't know," I reply, my voice low, "but I agree with you. They have the money and the land to farm animals. That would be safer. But for predators, it's about more than the blood—it's the thrill of the hunt. No matter what we hunt." I let the last word hang, emphasizing my nature as a predator, watching closely for her reaction.
She doesn't flinch or show fear. Instead, she catches me off guard by admitting, "I knew you were there that night on the beach."
My chest tightens. I want to ask how she knew, but the hesitation in her expression holds me back. She looks unsure, as if she's worried she's crossed a line. I decide to let it slide, shifting the topic instead.
"I wasn't in the right headspace that night," I tell her, my tone softening. I tell her what Ana said to me and her brows furrow at my words. She looks confused, maybe even put off by the way Ana spoke to me. I crack a joke, and her laugh is like a balm, easing the tension. We agree that Ana's a bit of a nutter, and I feel the mood lighten between us.
She points to the map, her finger hovering over a specific spot. "What about… her?" she asks, referencing the leech-lover.
I don't sugarcoat my answer, telling her exactly what I think. She nods, making notes in her notebook.
Then she hits me with another question, one I didn't expect. "Do you think Isabella wants to be with Edward?"
I shrug, choosing honesty. "I don't know. It wouldn't surprise me. But if the council and my packmates are right about imprinting, it shouldn't be possible."
Her confusion is evident, and when she asks about mating and how it solidifies the bond, her cheeks flush. The sight makes my wolf salivate, and I lean in closer, unable to help myself.
"That's true," I say, my voice rougher than I intend. "But imprints happen for a reason. If she's really Jacob's other half, she shouldn't want to be around leeches."
She shivers at the mention of the leeches, and the reaction makes me relax. I watch her irritation grow as she jots down what I've told her, her pen moving quickly across the page.
She keeps asking the right questions, her sharp mind piecing things together faster than I anticipated. My wolf nearly growls in delight, but I hold it back. I can't stop the grin from spreading across my face as I tell her, "You're smart, little witch."
When she manages to figure out something I hadn't expected her to, that strange pride swells in my chest again. I watch her with admiration as she continues to work, completely absorbed in her notes.
Then, her stomach growls, and I feel a sudden pang of worry. She's going to leave. I'm not ready for our time to end—not yet. Nervously, I ask, "Do you want to grab some late lunch? We could eat and then come back to your research."
She agrees, and I let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. When she mentions she loves Asian food, I silently clap myself on the back for suggesting it.
I offer her my hand, and as she takes it, there's that unmistakable spark again—an electric pulse where our skin touches. For a moment, I forget about everything else, just focusing on that strange, thrilling sensation. I hear her gasp at the feeling as she stands and I can't help but smile.
She pulls on her coat and raises an eyebrow and questions me when she notices my lack of one. I can't help but laugh. "No, I don't need one. I'm a walking space heater," I joke. The way she giggles in response makes the air feel lighter. We ask the lady at the desk if we can leave our things behind, and the way she looks at me—suspicious, like she's trying to size me up—doesn't escape my notice. Still, she nods and lets us go.
As we head to the restaurant, I turn the conversation to her. She's from London, I've gathered, and I'm curious why she decided to leave it all behind. Her answer is unexpected. She talks about this Harry person and some potions, and I can see the weight of it in her eyes. "You're saying they have potions that make you lose your free will?" I ask, my concern creeping into my voice. It's hard to believe something like that exists.
We get to the restaurant, and I notice how although her small size she takes space in a room. As we place our orders, I continue listening. She goes on about the effects of the potion while we wait, and all I can think is how messed up it all sounds.
"That sounds really messed up," I say, taking a sip of my miso soup, trying to process what I've just heard.
We talk more, casually at first, but as the conversation continues, I realize just how much we have in common. It surprises me. It was a long time ago since I connected with anyone, and had a conversation about something other than pack business. Most of the pack loves their life as wolves and since I can't relate, I have no connection to them other than being on patrol and hating the leeches. Hermione is interesting and she is smart and funny. She seems grounded and more real.
The food arrives, and I can't help but laugh at her reaction to my order. One giant plate of yakiniku, pad Thai, and—sixteen spring rolls. I catch her staring at the pile of food in front of me, and I tease her, "I won't steal your food, little witch," as she pulls her bowl closer to her. I bite into another spring roll and watch her as we eat and she seems lost in thought. her brow furrowed. I'm not sure what's running through her head
I decide to break the silence. "What's got you thinking so hard, little witch?" I ask with a grin. She blinks, startled, as if she didn't expect me to notice. I've finished my food and lean back.
"I don't know how to ask without ruining the mood or being rude," she admits, looking at me uncertainly. It's endearing, really, how careful she is to be respectful.
I chuckle, offering her an encouraging smile. "You don't have to worry about insulting me," I say, my voice softening. "You can ask anything you want."
She hesitates, and she takes another bite before continuing. "You know I'm here because of the MACUSA," she begins, and I nod. I know exactly what she's talking about. "Well, from what I understand, someone else came here before, tried to help with the issue, but it didn't work out…"
I smirk before telling her about the witch before her
"Yeah, that witch was shaking like a leaf when she first met us," I say with a smirk, rubbing the back of my neck. I'm not entirely proud of it, but there's a certain satisfaction in knowing that I had that kind of effect. "I have to admit, I kind of enjoyed it. Might've scared her a little."
Her laugh is immediate, and it's this soft, warm sound that seems to light up the space between us. I can't help but smile at the way she reacts, though I keep my expression casual. "What did you do?" she asks, her curiosity piqued.
I shrug, feigning indifference, but a playful grin pulls at my lips. "She wanted to see our wolves, said it was necessary to document. I might've acted just like she feared—like the big bad wolf." I enjoy how the words seem to hang in the air, watching her eyes widen for a moment before she giggles.
Her laughter is infectious, and I find myself grinning wider than I should. "She disappeared on the spot, and we never saw her again," I finish, my tone darker, a flicker of mischief in my eyes. It's not the most professional move, but it's the truth.
She shakes her head, still smiling, but then teases me. "So, that's why it says you're volatile in the file, then, I guess?"
I chuckle, a little proud, though I try not to show it too much. "It does? That's awesome."
I don't care what some wizarding community thinks about me and since Hermione doesn't seem to share their views on me I'm happy.
She takes a sip of her water, clearly full and she sighs, it's a pleased sigh and she slides the bowl towards me. The action is casual, but she doesn't know the heavy meaning about her actions and my wolf growls at me just claim her right here.
I raise an eyebrow and lean in slightly, my gaze fixed on hers, watching her face as it shifts from curiosity to something... else. Her pulse is quickening—I can see it in the way her neck flushes and the slight hitch in her breath. There's a strange, magnetic pull between us, and I'm trying not to acknowledge it too much. I'm doing all I can to put a leash on my wolf at the moment.
"Sharing your food with a wolf is a very intimate thing, little witch," I murmur, my voice lower than usual, letting the words hang in the air. Her eyes widen, a soft blush creeping up her neck. I catch it, and my wolf purrs inside me, liking the effect we have on her.
She looks down, trying to avoid my gaze, but I can't resist the pull of the moment. I reach out, gently tilting her chin up with my finger, guiding her to meet my eyes again. The contact is brief but electric. "And so is submissive behaviour," I add, my voice low and bordering a small growl. I can't resist and I let my finger trace her cheek before slipping down her neck. I feel her pulse racing underneath my finger and I quickly reach for a lock of her hair, being so close to her neck almost made the wolf slip through.
Her body stiffens, but it's not fear I see in her eyes—it's something else. Something I've been yearning for. The air between us grows heavy, charged with an unspoken tension. I wait for her to pull away, to retreat, but she doesn't. She just holds my gaze, the space between us crackling with energy.
Then I catch it—the faint scent of her arousal—and it hits me like a wave. I feel myself grow hard, and I quickly drop my hand, afraid of losing control. I'm hanging by a thread right now, and she doesn't seem to understand the kind of danger she's in.
Forcing the wolf down, I lean back, a grin sliding back onto my face as I break the moment. I grab her bowl and finish the last of it, needing the distraction. A small flicker of satisfaction stirs in me when I notice her let out a shaky breath, leaning back in her chair as she tries to steady herself. It's cute—how rattled she is by our little moment.
But I don't miss the flicker of curiosity in her eyes, the way she seems just as intrigued by this connection as I am. I can't help but wonder if she feels it as intensely as I do.
Once I finish eating, I glance her way. "Ready to head back?"
She nods, pulling her coat on, and I follow suit. I step ahead, opening the door for her. There's a quiet moment as she steps outside, and the cold air rushes against her skin. The wind has picked up, and she shivers, pulling her coat tighter around herself.
"You're going to need a better jacket soon. They say it's going to snow sometime next week." I say and I can't stop myself as I step in closer, sliding my arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently toward my side. The warmth radiating from me is immediate, and I can feel her body relax, leaning into me, the tension in her shoulders melting away.
I feel her eyes on me, searching my expression, probably trying to figure out what to make of all this closeness. It's not something I'd normally do, but something about her clearly makes me want to pull her in, to keep her safe, close.
"You really are a space heater," she jokes, and I can't help but laugh, the sound filling the air around us.
We walk back to the library in comfortable silence, the sounds of the world around us dulling as my thoughts are sole on the little witch pressed close to me
. When we get back to the table, I unfold the map, my mind shifting back to the task at hand. But there's still a part of me that's aware of her every movement, the way she's focused on the map, taking in the details as I point out the treaty line and the routes the wolves take.
"I plan to meet them sometime next week," she says, and I can hear the nerves in her voice. She's trying to sound confident, but I can tell it's an act.
I growl low in my chest without meaning to, my fist clenching as I stare at the map. The idea of her going alone—it bothers me more than it should. I need to know she's safe.
"Will you go alone, or will your friend... accompany you?" I ask, the word "friend" slipping out in a way that feels too loaded, too possessive. It's not the right way to ask, but I need to know.
She answers with a quiet assurance, and I feel some of the tension ease from my body when answers. "Yes, Severus will come with me. He's a dear friend and also my old professor. I trust him."
I nod, trying to mask my relief. "Good," I murmur, feeling relieved that this Severus doesn't seem like a threat. I trace the map with my finger, pointing out spots where we might meet, the task grounding me once more. She makes notes and circles the areas I'm suggesting
"What do you think is the main issue to resolve this?" she asks, and I appreciate the way she shifts back to business.
"The biggest problem for us wolves are that we're always one step behind because of the mind reader," I explain, my voice steady. "We never manage to catch them off guard."
She nods, then presses further, asking about the empath and the future-seer. I feel the grin curl at the edges of my mouth when I tell "The bitch can't see us," I say with a sharp grin.
"She complained about it once when we were watching them from a distance. I don't think they know we have that information."
I watch her take notes, a sharp glint of irritation flashing across her face. It's clear she's frustrated by the fact that this information hasn't reached her sooner and I share her irritation at my pack brothers laziness but also a small satisfaction that it was me that could provide with the information she needed.
"Thank you," she says with a relieved breath. It's like the weight has lifted off her shoulders.
She shares her worries with me, and I ease her mind once more by telling her about Jasper and the others. If the Major weren't a vampire, I could almost see us being friends, I think to myself.
When she mentions a magic that allows her to read minds, a wave of stress washes over me. I don't want her to see my thoughts, especially how fascinated I am by her—how I've been captivated from the very start. I want to get to know her like this, not through her poking around in my mind.
But she calms my fears as she explains it further, and I relax. Then, I notice the worry on her face after my reaction to her abilities, and I don't want her to feel insecure about her gifts.
"Would you show me your magic someday?" I ask, my voice gentle to let her know it doesn't bother me—it intrigues me more than anything.
She smiles, looking relieved, but then mentions needing to practice, and my wolf immediately freaks out.
"No!" I growl, the words tumbling out as I tell her how irresponsible it was for her to do that, how my pack brothers should have known better. I feel myself starting to lose control, clenching my fists, trying to steady my breathing. That's when I feel a small hand on my arm, and everything stops.
I freeze, staring at her hand on my arm. I know now, without a doubt, that something's going on. This shouldn't be possible since I didn't imprint. I place my hand over hers, stopping her from pulling away, and I relish the electric buzz where her skin touches mine.
I take a slow breath and let go of her, noticing the fading light outside. I don't want her to get home too late, and I also feel the need for some space after what just happened. I need to let my wolf loose and let his instincts guide me on how to move forward with this.
I tell her it's time to go, and she agrees without hesitation. She doesn't protest when I say I'll drive her home. I need to make sure she gets home safely.
As I start the car, Tame Impala plays, and she lets out an excited little squeal when I tell her I also like them. We dive into conversations about music and movies, and as we pass the grocery store, she groans and asks me to turn around.
When we step out of the car, I can feel the eyes on me, the judgment. They look at me like I don't belong, like I'm something to be feared or avoided. My hands automatically slide into my pockets, trying to hide the unease that surges within me. I can feel her frustration next to me, and I don't blame her. It's the same every time.
The cold, hard glares of strangers feel like a weight pressing down on me, and it makes my blood boil. As she rushes through the store, I can see her movement quicken, and I can almost feel her discomfort and irritation with every step.
When we reach the checkout, I hear a woman mutter something behind me, and it's like a punch to the gut. "Uncivilized criminal, no better than his father."
I freeze, feeling Hermione stiffen beside me. Then, she whirls around and hisses at the woman, her voice sharp and unyielding. "And you're an uncivilized, bitter old lady who should keep her mouth shut before someone does it for you!"
I watch the woman scurry away, and for a moment, I'm speechless. Gratitude wells up inside me, and my emotions almost spill over. She didn't hesitate. She didn't let them get away with it.
I place a hand on her back, feeling the warmth spread between us, grounding me. "Thank you," I whisper, struggling to keep my emotions in check. She leans closer, sensing that I need a moment to collect myself.
As we load the groceries into the car, the conversation shifts back to the topic we had been discussing earlier. I feel myself relax as I start driving.
When we pull up to her road, her house lights up the path, illuminating the trees ahead. I smile and tell her how I spent some time here as a kid while Ana babysat me.
She's silent for a moment, and I continue, not noticing her shocked expression. I mention the carvings I made, secretly glad that she has a piece of me in her house.
When she gushes about how talented I am, I feel myself blush and almost groan at my own reaction.
She waves her hand, and the magical shield lowers, allowing me to drive through and park in front of the garage. We sit in silence for a moment.
"Can I…" she starts, at the same time I ask, "Do you think…"
We both laugh, and I motion for her to go ahead. I catch the blush on her cheeks, and I can hear her heart racing.
"Can I have your phone number?" she asks, biting her lip.
I can't stop my smile. I feel like a teenager as she hands me her phone. I enter my number, watching her save it under "Paul," which makes my heart race, too.
"What were you going to say?" she asks, dropping her phone back into her bag.
I laugh. "I was going to ask the same thing."
Her giggle makes me smile, and I step out of the car, needing some fresh air. The closeness in the car was testing my self-control. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her lose her balance and catch herself against the car. I rush around and manage to catch her as she stumbles, almost falling.
I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close. I lean down, noticing her dazed expression and how pale she looks. I call her name, panic rising when I don't get a response. I shake her gently, trying again with no result.
I shout for her friend, my voice loud in the quiet air. I pick her up and jog toward the house. Just as I reach the porch, her friend opens the door, his face paling when he sees her in my arms.
"What happened to her?" he asks, his gaze flicking between her and me. He motions for me to step inside, and that's when her body turns limp, and she loses consciousness.
I gently place her on the sofa and kneel beside her. The wizard moves around quickly, running upstairs and returning seconds later. His worried expression only heightens my own fear. The few times I've seen him, he's always been so composed.
He moves his wand over Hermione, and a blue mist sweeps over her. He lets out a relieved sigh.
"She's having some unexpected bursts of magic," he explains, his voice returning to its formal tone. "It's not dangerous, but it is draining and can cause dizziness. I think her body just shut down due to the intensity."
I let out a relieved sigh, rising to my feet. As I look down at her, I tuck a stray curl behind her ear, feeling an almost painful buzz against my skin.
"Maybe not so unexpected," I hear him mutter behind me. I turn to face him, and he studies me silently, his eyebrows raising. He smirks and tucks his wand away, gesturing for me to follow him into the kitchen.
As I sit down, he turns to me, his tone almost threatening. "We have a lot to talk about, you and me, Paul Lahote."
Fuck….
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Hello!
This chapter is entirely from Paul's perspective. I wanted to dive deeper into his feelings
and explore the dilemma he's facing—about everything, really haha!
I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'll try to update tomorrow; I've been on a nice writing streak lately, and all your kind comments and encouraging words make this process so much more enjoyable.
You're the best!