Come Undone
Chapter Five
More answers disguised as questions...but some action at least.
Things should become clear with tomorrows update tho. Thanks so much for your reviews x
ps: *hugs* for anyone who spots the slight dig at JKR ;)
*
When everything inside you knows
There's more than what you've heard
There's so much more than empty conversations
Filled with empty words.
*
I hold my breath when he stands on the corner that turns to head to the tube station and breathe out in relief when he turns the way I want him too. I quicken my step to catch up.
I hold back while he buys a ticket. He glances around every now and then, casually. Even though I know he can't see me, I still automatically pull behind a column or something when he turns in my direction, scared he'll sense me, I think.
He doesn't though, and I'm soon scraping through the double doors of the subway train after him, just before they close. It's early enough that the trains aren't crazy busy yet, though I can feel the pace building - another half an hour and it'd be hard for me not to touch anyone.
He leans forward on his knees, staring at the ground as the train sways through the underground tunnels. I sit opposite watching him, though he barely moves. I think only I could notice how he gets slightly more tense across the shoulders, the more stops we pass.
Finally he stands, holding on to the pole with one hand, his other in his pocket. He looks around the compartment, and I feel guilty - knowing how mad he'd be if he knew I was following.
But he doesn't, and I hurry to follow him as he gets off at the next stop, weaving through the thickening crowd.
I keep his black jacket in sight, careful not to knock into anyone. I have to jog to keep up, he walks fast.
Up on the street he moves faster still and I almost lose him twice. Luckily for me he stops and bends his head for a moment.
I catch up and realise he's sheltering his hands around a cigarette. He's lighting a cigarette?
I recover from my surprise and realise for the first time that we're in quite an affluent area, we pass an elite department store before we round a corner into a street of beautiful homes, all worth around a million pounds to my estimation. I get a sense we're almost at our destination so I hurry to get closer.
He stops and flicks his barely touched cigarette into the gutter and I move closer as he digs in his pocket, then turns instantly up the steps into the next house. I follow him up, as close as I can, praying my feet are quiet enough on the flagstone.
He unlocks the front door and steps in and I slide myself sideways to get through with him before he closes the door.
I have to push myself hard against the sideboard in the entranceway while he stops short, listening and looking up the stairs directly in front of us.
It's a beautiful house, grand with tall ceilings and expensive furnishings from what I can see.
I hold still, trying to minimise my breathing. I watch his eyes; he looks agitated as he keeps staring up the staircase. Finally he seems satisfied to move, slowly and quietly climbing up the stairs.
I follow his lead, marvelling at the luxurious surroundings. I don't know what kind of building he's doing, but it definitely pays well.
I'm so busy doing that, I miss when he turns into the first bedroom in the hall. Too late I notice; he shuts the door behind him with a quiet click.
I curse under my breath. I turn in circles in the hallway for a moment, wondering what to do next. The door remains shut, so after a time, I walk gingerly down the hall.
The house is large for an inner city house, I can tell. There's a number of rooms off the hall, the one at the end is open.
A young dark haired man lies on the bed, clad only in jeans. Both his skinny arms and his chest and stomach are covered in coloured tattoos, a collection over time by the looks of it. He is sprawled diagonally across the bed, fast asleep. A noise issues from the bathroom, a muffled voice. I wait, glancing back at Harry's door from my position in the hall.
Suddenly a very slim girl of medium height pokes her head out of a door that's obviously an en suite.
"Fletch? I was..." She steps out, peering at him. She's clad in only a bra and lace briefs, both black, with her hair twisted up in a white towel. "Shit" she mutters, and then pauses, before crossing the room to the dresser. She digs in the pockets of a jacket hanging over the chair there, keeping an eye on the sleeping man all the time.
She doesn't find what she's looking for it appears, but grabs a cigarette and a lighter from a small table by the door. Then she strides out of the room.
I follow her down the hall, watching how she naturally exaggerates the sway of her hips. She stops at the door Harry entered and taps lightly.
"Jamie?" Her voice is quiet, hopeful. She taps a bit louder.
She's just about to walk off when the door opens. I step closer.
Harry stands in the doorway, shirtless, with just his boxers on.
"Alright?"
The girl's face softens. I look at her properly now.
She's pretty, with dark and large doe-like eyes. She's looking at Harry with unmistakeable affection.
"Yeah. Just wanted to see if you were home."
Her voice is a soft, Irish brogue.
"Got in late. Any news?"
"No, Fletch and Seth are back okay too. I'm glad you're back."
Harry smiles slightly. She touches his arm. "Get some more sleep." He doesn't seem to flinch that she's standing there in her underwear.
He watches her turn and then walks back into the room, thankfully leaving the door open slightly. I squeeze sideways to follow him in.
He falls face first on the bed, his arms wide.
I look around the room. It's sparse, there's just basic furniture, a few clothes draped here and there, a plasma screen on the wall.
I look back at the bed and realise he's turned onto his back and is staring at the ceiling. I watch him for a moment, enjoying just observing him as he lifts his arm, and absently rubs his wrist, over the tattoo of the time turner. His expression is soft.
Then it changes. He pushes up slowly onto his elbows and looks around the room with narrowed eyes.
I freeze and watch as he waits a moment, then sits up fully, pulling himself to the edge of the large bed.
He cocks his head as if listening for something. Then he strides across the room, closes the door, leans against it, and does the last thing I expect him to do.
"Hermione."
He says my name.
I can't move.
He steps away from the door.
"I know you're here."
He walks toward the centre of the room, his arms outstretched.
I back towards the wall, ready to evade him as long as I can. Then he speaks again.
"I can smell your perfume. I know you're here."
I can hear the certainty in his voice. I pull the cloak slowly from my face.
He stares at me as I materialise as if wanting to disbelieve his own eyes. I feel terrible, ashamed for spying on him, but part of me feels justified and happy that I might get to the bottom of all this. But as I watch, his frown deepens and I lose hope that he's not just going to turf me out on the street.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing."
His voice is quiet but menacing; I find myself wishing he'd yell.
I shake my head.
He carries on in the same quiet voice. "Do you even know... do you have ANY idea what you've just done?"
I feel a twinge of anger in my gut and I grasp on to it.
"No Harry, I don't. Because if you remember rightly, I'm completely in the dark. I don't know who these people are, or what the hell you're doing, so how the bloody hell would I?"
A male voice on the other side of the door startles us both.
"Jamie?"
Harry whips his head around to the closed door. I go to throw the cloak on again and he turns and gestures frantically at me. I think he's telling me not to. I just freeze in confusion.
"Alright? Gripper's on his way. Wants to talk."
Harry clasps his hands on top of his head and squeezes his eyes shut tight, swearing silently. When he opens his eyes and speaks though, his voice is completely calm.
"Yeah. Be out in a sec."
"Got someone in there yeah...?"
He closes his eyes again and rubs his face.
"Fuck off Seth."
I hear a low chuckle gradually grow more distant as it moves away from the door.
Then he hurries towards me.
"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck." He's looking me up and down, and then he does the strangest thing. He reaches for my ponytail and drags the hair tie out.
"Hey!"
"Shhh. We haven't got much time. You're going to have to trust me okay?" He's still looking at my hair as he shakes it out. "Take those shoes off."
I stare at him incredulous.
"Now!!"
I do as he says. "And the socks. Go barefoot."
He looks at my jacket, then tugs at my t shirt. "Have you got anything under that?"
"No, just a camisole."
He lifts up my top and looks. I'd be outraged if I wasn't so stunned.
"Perfect. Take this off." He tugs at my t shirt.
"Do you mind telling me what this is about?"
He looks me in the eye, finally. Then he grabs me by the shoulders and speaks low and quick.
"I don't have enough time. I'll come and explain, but for now, you just please have to trust me and do what I say. Okay? Do you trust me?"
I look into his eyes and nod curtly.
"Good. Listen carefully."
He yanks my jacket off and tugs my t shirt up and off me before I can react. He nods in approval at me standing there in my bra and camisole and then grabs my shoulders again.
"You came home with me last night; I picked you up at a bar. It's the first time we've ever met. My name is Jamie, that's all you know. You were pretty drunk, now you're catching a cab home."
He grabs my jacket and bundles my shoes and t shirt in it.
"But why...I could just apparate..."
"No." He says it forcefully and moves to grab my wand from my jeans pocket. He dumps my jacket on the bed and rips the lining, tucking the wand in there and then bundling it back up. I'd protest, but this is all happening so quickly, and really, I do trust him. I stand and wait.
"No magic, whatsoever okay? Not until you're well away from this house. Don't even think thoughts about magic - okay?"
He looks really uneasy. He picks up the Invisibility Cloak off the floor and looks around hurriedly, settling on digging it deep into his closet.
"I'll get rid of that later."
"Harry I don't..."
"I'm Jamie. Alright? Or James. You're...Jean. Jane's a little obvious." The closest thing to a smile he can manage steals across his face. He's really worried, I can feel it. I nod.
"Jean."
He drags on some jeans and a t shirt. "Alright. Try just to slip out. Don't talk to anyone. Leave as soon as you can and get far away."
He turns then and walks to the door.
"H- James?"
He spins to look at me. "Give it fifteen minutes. Then leave." He presses his lips together and grabs the door handle but turns back. "I'll contact you soon, I promise. I'm sorry."
He looks me up and down appraisingly. Then he offers a half smile that has no warmth in it at all and leaves me alone.
I look at the bedside alarm clock to keep time. I sit on the bed for a bit, smoothing my hand over the dark cover. It seems clean; the whole room is cleaner than Ron's room, almost as clean as mine. I lie back on the bed.
It smells like him. I close my eyes, try to order my thoughts.
What the hell is going on? Why did he just undress me, why do I have to call him Jamie? I'm so frustrated and itching to work it out- but he really was worried then, I could tell. I had to trust him without knowing anything - something I already knew I could do.
I run my arms over the bedspread and can't stop myself thinking if he spends his nights alone or with company in here. Maybe with the Underwear girl. The thought makes me push away from the bed and explore the room.
There's a small bathroom attached. I turn on the light in there and turn on the tap to splash some water on my face.
I dry my face on a towel hanging by the door and look at myself in the mirror.
I look different. My hair is a bit fluffy; I dampen my hands and run them through the curls. The camisole is actually passable as a top; I've never noticed that before. With heels on and a bit of makeup, I really could've come from a club. It wasn't my usual look, but I had to admire his styling.
I look around the bathroom a bit, it's clean also. I don't snoop too much though; I'm feeling too guilty and anxious now to go rifling through his stuff. I go and sit back on the bed to wait.
Five more minutes pass and I give up the war within myself about opening his beside drawer.
I wish I hadn't.
Under a magazine, there's another gun in there. Black, and much bigger than the other. Plus a box of condoms. I shut it quickly with a bang.
I tap my foot impatiently and decide I'll just go.
I grab my bundle and creep out the door.
My bare feet grow cold on the floor, it's all tile. I pad down the stairs, listening for noise, but not hearing any.
I make it to the front door and sigh in relief, reaching a hand for the doorknob.
It clicks open before I can touch it and swings towards me.
I stumble back and stare up into a pair of the most piercing blue eyes I've ever seen. They're amused, as they look me up and down, the thick black eyebrows above are raised.
"Hello."
I try and smile though I feel instantly cold. He's not particularly tall, though he is stocky, but something about him is just instantly menacing, even though he expression is fairly open and warm.
"Hi" I mumble. I try and scoot past him but he moves imperceptibly to block my way.
"You going?"
I nod and try a half smile. "I have to go."
I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see Harry coming towards us. He doesn't look at me at all, just stares at the man beside me.
"Jamie. This yours?" He gestures at me.
Harry nods, and still doesn't look my way.
"Walk of shame huh?" The man smiles at me, then grabs my face by the chin. I feel a bit sick suddenly, but meet his eyes.
Then I feel it. The gentle probing of thought pervading my mind, like a wisp of smoke making its way into my brain.
Someone is trying to read my thoughts.
It could be Harry - that's my first thought. But it feels cold and suddenly I register the piercing blue of the man's eyes, staring into mine. But this man isn't a wizard...I'm almost sure of it.
Instinctively I throw up a mind block, as we've been taught to do in my Healers training. We've covered Legilimency and Occulmency in depth, always useful to know with Healing - particularly with unconscious patients; I've become quite adept at it.
The man frowns at me, but lets my face go. He makes an amused noise, and then grabs my arm.
I look at Harry, who is watching me now, his expression cloudy. Someone clears their throat loudly.
"Taking out the trash?"
I turn to see the girl walking down the steps, clothed now, if you could call it that, in a black midriff top and low cut, tight jeans. Her heels click on the floor as she approaches, her thickly made up face twisted in disgust.
"Now don't be like that Angie."
This is Angie?
"Our guest is joining us for breakfast."
She glares at me in distaste but says nothing further, walking past us down the hall from where Harry just came.
"Jamie - you don't mind?"
I expect Harry to come up with something, an excuse, an alibi for me. Instead he stuns me by shrugging his shoulders, his face indifferent.
"Good. What's your name?"
I hesitate, then remember. "Jean."
"Jean and James. Cute." His voice is raspy, like a heavy smokers, and something about it makes me feel uneasy. "I'm Warren."
He drops my arm as the three of us walk down the hall.
"Don't mind Angie. She's just jealous."
I nod, still a bit dazed at the turn of events.
We walk into a bright open plan room at the end of the hall, kitchen, dining and lounge in one. The furnishings are white and minimalist, sleek and modern.
The guy I'd seen asleep is sitting at the table, clothed in a tight black t shirt and jeans now, I recognise him from his bright tattoos on his arms. He reads the paper, his fingers curled around a hot mug, but it freezes mid air as he stares at me through the steam. His brown eyes narrow and he frowns, watching me openly.
Another light haired guy lies across the broad couch in the lounge, playing a guitar that's lying on his stomach. He looks up at us as we enter then sits up, his handsome face curious. His eyes dart from Harry to me to Warren.
"This is Jean. She's having breakfast with us."
Every face changes expression except Harry's but no one speaks. I get then that whatever Warren says, goes.
"Angie, fix us a cuppa?"
She stops glaring long enough to start organising a percolator of coffee.
Warren gestures at the guy reading the paper.
"Fletch. And that's Seth." He thumbs towards the guy with the guitar who smiles brightly and waves. I can't help but smile back. Angie roughly dumps the coffee and cups in front of us. Warren doesn't flinch, and addresses the room.
"Anything to report?"
Fletch glares pointedly at me. Warren shakes his head.
"She's alright."
"Gripper..."
"I said she's alright."
Harry speaks up.
"We're still good. Chubbs is good to go."
Warren nods, happy. "Seth?"
The young guy leaves the guitar on the couch and pulls a chair from the table, sitting on it backwards, still watching me.
"No problems I can see. Still want some more time on it though."
"You've got it. Fletch?"
He shakes his head, his expression still dark. "Something's not right. I don't like it."
Warren rolls his eyes and grunts. Then he looks at me. "Coffee?"
Something tells me to accept. "Thanks."
He watches me too closely as I stir the milk in.
"All right. I'll be back tonight to go through more." He points at Fletch as he stands up. "If it's not right - I wanna know why."
Fletch glowers at the table in front of him, I realise he looks a bit like a ferret.
"Do you want a ride somewhere?"
Warren's looking at me again.
"Uh no, I'm fine, thanks."
"It's no problem."
I feel like I can't refuse, and Harry's face gives nothing away when I look at him. Warren takes my silence for agreement.
"Great. I'll drop you home. Let's go."
There's a cold and noticeable tension in the air. I glance at Harry; he's looking at the ground but shakes his head minutely, the action barely noticeable. I say the first thing that comes to my head.
"Actually - I've gotta go straight to work, or I'm gonna be late." I giggle -and though inwardly I cringe, my instincts are telling me to dumb myself down. "So embarrassing. Lucky I work at a clothing shop - I can get some fresh clothes for the day!"
Warren and Seth are smiling at me, Fletch still sneering to himself and if Angie's look could kill, I'd be Avada Kadavra-ed where I stood. But Harry has the slightest curve to his lips and I think I'm playing it right.
I stand and so does Warren, his fingers lightly graze my back as we make our way to the door. We pass Harry.
"Bye Jamie."
He smiles and winks lightly and looks nothing like my Harry. We head off down the hallway and I feel like a lamb to the slaughter.
Outside, I blink at the harsh light; it's already quite warm out. There's a wide black car right in front that wasn't there previously, and Warren ushers me to the passenger door and opens it for me. The gentleman act seems genuine enough but there is something unsettling about this guy, no doubt.
He pulls out fast, as soon as the engine roars to life.
"So, where did you meet our Jamie?"
"A bar."
"Which one?"
I giggle, feigning a flush. "I can't remember. I was a bit off my head."
Warren frowns but he's smiling, eyes flicking from the road to me.
"Well, you did alright with Jamie. He's a good lad."
"He is?"
"I trust him."
He says the words with such conviction, I forget the danger I felt. "How did you meet him?"
"Where do you want to go?" He seems to ignore my question. I scan my brain quickly and come up with a high street fashion store, far from my house. He nods, and I try and dig for information again.
"So, do all you guys live there together?"
Warren nods. "They're like...my brothers. I own that place, and I let them stay." The pride in his voice is obvious.
"Oh wow - it's really nice."
We stop at the lights and he turns to me. His eyes lock with mine, and again I feel it, a slight nudging of my brain as if something is trying to pry around again. I keep my mind blank and my expression neutral. Finally he speaks.
"You're welcome to come back again, if you like."
I don't know what the right answer to that is, and luckily the light changes and we take off again.
"So, what do you do?"
He doesn't take his eyes off the road. "Construction."
We pull up outside the shop. I squeeze my bundle close to my chest as he looks at it.
"Are you sure you don't need to go home for clothes?"
I laugh, as sincerely as I can. "No, I've got stuff here. It's my own fault isn't it."
He smiles, but his eyes are steely. "Do we have your number?"
My throat constricts and so I nod. "Mmm, Yes. Jamie does."
"Ok. Well, hope to see you soon." He leans across me to open the door.
"Sure. Thanks for the ride."
"Any time."
I walk towards the shop, watching his car behind me in the reflection of the window. It doesn't make any move to pull out, but sits there, squatting by the sidewalk like a watchdog. So I enter the just opened shop and head straight for the change rooms, grabbing something at random off the racks on the way. I stay in the cubicle for maybe ten minutes, not moving, just going over the morning in my head. It's like a badly made jigsaw puzzle; I can't seem to make anything fit. Finally I creep out, ignoring the sales girl who's staring at me strangely. I peer through the shop to the street, and breathe out audibly.
The black car is gone.
*
H
I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to cause you trouble, I just wanted to know where you were - that you weren't in danger.
I'm not sure what I found out.
It's been two days. Will you come back? Or are you too mad?
Please at least write. Me and the BGC wait.
Love,
H
*
Lyrics credit: On Fire by Switchfoot.