Chapter 3 - Are You Lost?

Chapter 3 – Are You Lost?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Hermione found it hard to breathe. How had the Death Eaters found them? How had they breached their wards? The wedding reception was well guarded by members of the Order of the Phoenix, but then again, the Ministry was supposed to have been the safest place in their world – yet it had fallen as well.

Everything happened at once. Mass confusion and chaos reigned everywhere. Wedding guests began to Disapparate away. Death Eaters began to Apparate inside their wards. Order members began to duel Death Eaters, and she grabbed Harry's hand with her left hand, Ron's hand with her right and Disapparated them to the first place that came to her mind.

Piccadilly Circus.

She had been ready to go for weeks, with everything packed away in her little beaded bag. Still she wished they had more time to prepare. Holding their hands tightly, they walked along the busy streets, looking at every face they saw along the way, wondering, could this person be a Death Eater, could that person be one, too?

Hermione ushered the boys down a dark, almost abandoned-looking alley, explained how she had packed their things in her bag, and then she reached inside and retrieved clothing for them both. She told them to go deep into the alley and to change and that she would wait, wand at the ready, at the mouth of the alley for them to finish, and then she would trade places with them.

Looking at her surroundings closely, her mouth was dry, and she felt as if her throat was closing tightly. Her bag gripped securely in her left hand, her right hand in the secret pocket of her red dress gripping her wand, suddenly, she felt that same, similar feeling at the base of her skull down the back of her neck that she felt that day in the department store and in the field outside the Burrow.

She didn't know if she could handle seeing 'him' right now – here of all places – of all times. If she saw him right now, she would have no choice but to regard him as her enemy, for the fight had begun, the war was staged, it was the beginning of the end.

Scanning the crowd, first to the left, then to the right, she only saw nameless, faceless Muggles. Harry walked out of the alley first, startling her when he touched her bare arm.

"Oh!" she sighed.

"Sorry, Hermione. Here, let me stand guard and you go back and change now," he urged. She nodded, passing Ron and trash bins, and rubbish littering the ground. She stepped over boxes, planks, and around empty crates until she found a somewhat private area in the dark, deserted, damp alleyway.

Reaching deep inside her bag, her wits reeling and her senses keen and on alert, her stomach lurching, she saw the familiar person she least wanted to see walking toward her from the mouth of the alley from where Harry and Ron were supposedly standing guard.

She pulled her hand out of her bag, and reached for her wand instead of her clothing. She knew she couldn't waste one second of precious time calling for help. However, the man before her seemed unfazed by her actions. He wasn't preening, but he certainly wasn't afraid either.

"Are you lost, little girl?" he asked. "Because I happen to know that you're a long way from home."

The dark alley didn't afford much light for her to study him, yet his jaw seemed set, and his hazel eyes seemed calculated, focused and innate. He had grace, and he alluded a sort of elegance and intelligence that coiled deep within his body, waiting to spring forth, waiting to repel or sway people, whichever the case may be.

They continued to gaze at each other, and when she didn't answer, he walked ever closer. Grabbing a handful of her hair, gently, he said, "Did you run away, lovely? Are you still running? If so, I have to say, it seems that I've already caught you."

Hermione was aware that her breathing had become ragged and dull, and besides the sounds of dripping water and the distant sounds of the city streets, her breathing mingling with his were the only things she could hear.

Aware that he was still walking and as he walked he was pushing her further into the alley, she finally placed her hands on his chest. She said, "Stop." They were in the darkest part of the alley, where now he was nothing more than an outline. She sensed his masculine power, and with her hand on his chest, she felt his heart beating, and she knew it was beating as fast as hers was.

"Why are you skulking around here in this alley? What are you doing here?" she asked.

He laughed a bit and said, "Didn't I just ask you the same thing? I thought I did. And I never skulk. Are you sure you know the meaning of the word?" He placed one of his large hands, rough skin, over hers on his chest, trapping it against the leather of his coat, and under the warmth of his skin.

"I know more than you'll ever know, and you seemed to be skulking to me," she retaliated. "Why are you here?"

"Because I've got a secret for you, sweetheart," he began.

"I don't care; let me go." She hesitated. "Please." She wondered if he knew Harry was close by. She wondered if Harry and Ron wondered what was taking her so long. Then, with dread, she wondered if Harry and Ron were still waiting for her. "Wait, did you hurt them... my friends?"

Suddenly, she pulled her wand from her dress pocket and pointed it at his chest. With a set jaw, a frown, and a determined gleam in her eyes, she said, "What have you done to my friends?" All rational thought left her hazy, foggy brain, and she pushed the man hard, using her shoulder against his chest, until he was up against the other side of the alley, against the other brick wall.

He had an amused look on his face. Of course, he let her push him, for he was so much larger than she was, and she knew it, and that made her even angrier, and she hit his chest with her fist and said, "Tell me right now or you'll pay!"

"Ah, sweets, I didn't know you had it in you," he said with a laugh. He grabbed both her wrists and pulled her up against him. "Calm down, calm down, lovely, calm down," he began to coo softly, even as she fought harder against his grasp. "I'm just here to give you a warning; your friends are still waiting, like proper little friends should, at the edge of the sidewalk, for you to finish dressing. Now if I was a lad, I would sneak a peek, but that's just me."

She made a strangled sort of noise in the back of her throat, and in desperation, she tried to wrench her wand hand from his grip, but he pulled her even tighter against him. "Let me go!" she commanded.

"I will, but you're wasting your time fighting, now calm down, as I said, and just listen for a minute," he insisted, the smile gone from his face, his hold slacking. Moving his hand from her wrist to hold her hand, he kept her wand hand firmly in his while his other hand released her other hand to move around to circle her waist.

Pulling her up against him, just as someone started down the alley, he said, "Time to think quickly, beautiful." Then without warning, he kissed her again. He kissed her as if he had every right to kiss her. He kissed her like he was a man on a mission, like he was a man with a thirst, and she was his well.

Someone walked behind them, and he continued to kiss her, his mouth moving tantalizing over hers, his tongue snaking out to glide across her bottom lip and then inside her mouth to caress her tongue. Heat swelled in the bottom recesses of her stomach, flared to each limb, and she melded her body against his.

He only broke the kiss, his mouth hovering closely over hers, when the person behind him said, "How about giving me a taste of that sweet little thing."

Tucking her head protectively into his chest with one hand on the back of her head, he said to the person behind them, "Sod off, you blimey tosser, or you'll know what's good for you."

"Fine, fine," the man said as he continued down the opposite way, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

Hermione lifted her head from his chest to see that he was smiling down at her. He shrugged and said, "I had to protect my reputation, didn't I, as well as my property? I didn't know it was a harmless, Muggle drunk. It could have been one of those unpleasant Death Eaters, speaking of...." And he released her.

There was really no help for it, for when he released her, she pulled back her hand to hit him, but he caught her hand in one smooth movement and then raised it to his mouth and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. She wanted to hit him more than ever after that.

Still smiling fondly at her while she was more horrified than ever, he said, "As I was saying, my love, before we were so rudely interrupted, and before you almost tried to perform bodily harm upon me, you do realize that every Death Eater under the Dark Lord's control is now out looking for your little boyfriends, right? I hope you have a better plan to keep them safe than to take them to an alley in central London."

"Are you out of you mind?" she hissed. "Of course I have a plan!" Then she realized that she really didn't have a plan and that this man had found them far too easily, and it was because of the scarf. Berating herself for keeping it in the first place, and then for packing it in the second place, she pushed away from him, then pulled it out of her beaded bag, throwing it to the pavement by their feet.

"Take it!" she ordered. "Take it back, and don't even think of following us!"

He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and said, "I think something might be troubling you. What is it, sweets?"

"Oh, you're so ghastly! You're so atrocious!"

"If you insist on using big words, I might have to buy a dictionary," he mocked.

She stomped her foot and asked, "What sort of little game are you playing with me? Just stop it! I won't have it. I don't want it, and I won't have it. I'm not some sort of girl who can easily be played! I'm not subject to my emotions, and I'm not turned by a compliment, nor do I think you mean anything when you kiss me. As you said the last time, it's all a game to you, but listen to me, Scabior, with one S and one R, if I'm so inclined, and listen good, I'm not playing your stupid, silly little game, do you understand?"

Turning, she started back toward the mouth of the alley, but turned back. "I won't be outsmarted by someone like you!" she huffed.

That broke him from his stupor. He pounced. Literally, he bounded from the wall and pounced onto her, backing her onto the other side of the alley in one swift movement.

"You had your say, cupcake, now I'll have mine," he mumbled, pressing her against the opposite wall with his body. She pushed at his body with her hands, but he was too strong. His elbows were beside her head, his hands in her hair, his nose trailing down the side of her face.

"I'll only say this once, so listen carefully, lovely," he said right into her ear before his tongue came out to give the whorl of her ear a small tickle. She squirmed, which he seemed to like, because he smiled against the side of her neck. Kissing the side of her neck, back up to her ear, he said, "This is a game, you're right, with everyone except for with you. I don't know why, so don't ask me, but with you it's different. Don't ever, ever expect me to admit that again."

He bit the end of her ear, harder than he should have, softer than he wanted to, and she moaned, and he grew taut, his thigh pressing between her legs. "When necessary, I'll do what I can to help you, but only you. I won't purposely go after your boys, but if the chance arises that I can get them, without you, I'll go for it, I have to. Still, I won't go after them if you're with them unless it can't be helped."

He sighed, long and hard, ragged and desperately.

She sagged, her hands now on his shoulders, her forehead resting on his chest. Biting her bottom lip to keep from responding, she shook her head back and forth. Urging her head back with his, his palm came up to cup her cheek, his middle finger sweeping away a tear she didn't even know she had shed.

Placing a hand on the middle of her chest, he pushed her up against the wall, and said, "Stay there." Moving back toward the middle of the alley, he picked up the scarf. Turning toward Hermione, he stepped in front of her and placed it around her neck, wrapping it once her neck once and then tying it, his knuckles brushing the tips of her breasts as he did.

"With this, I'll know where you are, but I'll only come when you want me to come. You'll realize how it works. Get changed and watch out for Death Eaters." Gripping her chin and gazing into her eyes he said, "Why do I have a terrible feeling you'll be the death of me? And I rather like me, too." He smiled, laughed, and then winked at her before saying, "I wish I had something of yours to keep."

Scabior turned to leave.

"Wait!" she called to him.

He turned back.

Hermione reached inside her bag and pulled out a battered, small brown book. She handed it to him. Reading the cover, he said, "Selected Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Really, poems? Do I look like a bleeding poetic-reading fool?"

To which she only smiled and shrugged, then said, "You don't really look like you can read at all."

"Ah, well, that hurts, love," he remarked, taking the book in hand and tucking it in his coat. Without another word, he left. Hermione sagged against the wall of the alley, and just then, she heard Harry calling, "Aren't you dressed yet, Hermione?"

"In a minute, Harry," she called back. In a minute.