Chapter 12
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Hermione opened her eyes, sunlight had woken her and she suddenly realized that she was quite stiff and her back ached quite a bit. But still she had slept quite well, she hadn't been cold, she hadn't even awaked during the night. She felt a heavy arm over her and her mind finally caught up. The warm lovely pillow she had been resting on was the arm of Harry Potter. She was lying on her back, but next to her was Harry, laying on his side, holding her very close. She suddenly realized where his other hand was and smiled. His other arm was resting around her, but his hand had landed on her breast. Indeed, he had taken quite a firm grip. Sure, it was all above clothing, but that wasn't the point.
Harry must have felt her stirring because he started to wake up as well. Hermione could guess the very second he had become aware of the situation because he yanked his hand away quickly and rolled back on to his back. He complained with a moan, rolling on the hard floor wasn't comfortable. Somehow Hermione had slept wonderfully. Hermione avoided looking at him until she could regain her composure. She was having so much trouble trying not to laugh.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled not completely sure if she was awake. She turned to him now.
"About?" she asked.
"You know, grabbing you like that. It wasn't on purpose," he muttered barely audible.
"Don't worry," she assured and sat up. Harry jumped to his feet and walked over to the window he peered out.
"This place feels a lot better when there's no storm," he said and Hermione walked over and stood next to him. It was still quite cold outside because the sun had just started to rise, but the grass gave the whole meadow a nice summer green color. It was very silent outside but a few birds could be heard from the forest surrounding them.
"Do we leave right away?" Hermione asked, hoping he would say no. It was still early.
"No, we should stay a while, have a nice breakfast and wait for the sun to come back." She nodded thankfully. They both left the house together to take care of their morning needs in the forest.
Hermione picked some blueberries before she returned and when she approached the house she could see the smoke from the cracked chimney. "It smells lovely," she declared as she entered the small room where they had spent the night.
"Same as last night I'm afraid," Harry answered and turned to smile at her. He was sitting at the floor and holding the toasting sandwiches to melt. Hermione sat down next to him, neither of them mentioning the awkwardness from the morning.
"So aren't you going to ask me?" Harry said while biting down on his sandwich.
"Ask?" Hermione stuttered a bit embarrassed.
"About today, I mean," he smiled widely, "you usually ask what the plan is."
"Oh, right," she grinned and added, "You did that on purpose." He laughed and took another bite.
"We'll reach Romania today for sure, I think we can take the first train to Bulgaria, then a nice place to sleep, and get ready to meet Viktor Krum tomorrow, we are supposed to meet him in Montana."
"Couldn't we try to reach him today then?" she asked, quite sure they could.
"Yeah, probably. But I thought it'd be better to reach him tomorrow, rested and prepared. We could go over everything," he said doubtfully. He didn't want to admit it, but he'd rather spend more time alone with her.
"Sounds good," Hermione said, thinking the same thing.
---
"You look worn," Harry said and Hermione looked at him a bit affronted.
"Thanks," she scorned and grimaced. Thinking about it, Harry looked pretty haggard himself.
They were walking on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere; they hadn't had much luck today. They had made it into Romania, but no one wanted to give them a lift so far. Days of walking could hurt your body more than you could imagine before hand, especially when you weren't really prepared and you had no sensible shoes. Their journey had been well organized by Dumbledore, but since it was infiltrated at such an early step they had both agreed that taking their own route would be much safer than continuing on anything Dumbledore had planned. It was best to just suffer through it rather than take the easy way and risk discovery.
"You are all dirty," Harry laughed.
"Not as much as you," she joked and shoved his shoulder.
"I want food," Harry complained but still in good spirits.
"Who cares about food, I want a bath!" she said. Harry looked sideways at her.
"I was just kidding, you don't look that dirty," he said and sounded a bit serious. Hermione turned to look at him, and their eyes were locked again.
"But you do," she smiled and he nodded. "Can we just try to get to the next town or village or whatever and stop there?" she asked. He nodded agreeably.
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Finding Viktor Krum would be a bit tricky. They had a meeting place, time and date set. But Harry and Hermione had missed it.
They were three days late. Things had gone very wrong and both of them knew they had people back in Britain who would be really worried by now. They had agreed that they probably figured that they had been delayed because of complications and wouldn't worry too much. That didn't help their Viktor situation though.
They knew the area around where they were set to meet him and took a bus there. They were going to meet Viktor somewhere around Montana in the northwest, but he probably didn't live there. It was probably just a meeting place. The town was a large one and they wouldn't just stumble into him around the corner.
Stepping of the train in Montana helped neither of their spirits. The city was far bigger than they had thought it would be. It was in the middle of the week, just as work was ending for the day and people were hurrying around them in a frenzy.
"Now what?" Hermione asked and clung to the backpack she was carrying.
"We should find somewhere to sleep," Harry said but didn't meet her eye. He was almost as anxious as she was about it. He had no idea where they could find Viktor.
He looked around the train station, wondering if someone could be one of Viktor's men. If it had been the opposite situation Harry would have surely left a few guards to keep an eye on all transportation routes.
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Hermione sighed in front of the mirror in her room. This situation felt all too familiar and she was growing a bit sick of it. The old dodgy bed behind her, the battered mirror she was looking into...and the always stained bathroom stinking up the room in the background. But she wasn't quite sure what she longed for most, reaching Viktor Krum, returning back home, or hiding Harry in the room with her. It was probably the Harry part that was causing her the problem. He didn't seem interested in hiding away from the world with her…even though sometimes she could just have sworn….
If Mad-Eye had let her bring the dress she wanted she would have put it on. They were supposed to try to find Viktor tonight, and it was time for something pretty. Now, however, she had nothing. All she had was a pair of scruffy old jeans which she had already worn half the trip. She reached for them and grudgingly smelled them. They smelled like…too many things to identify. She tossed them onto the bed resentfully and started to rummage through her bag. She had nothing else to choose from and sighed.
The next time she looked in the mirror she was wearing the jeans and a simple black tank top. She had her hair in a messy bun at the back of her head, she had no idea where they were going and it would just have to do. She hadn't brought any makeup and she felt a bit insecure about it. Shouldn't she be prettier? Surely Harry would expect her to look stunning? They were supposed to find people in hiding, they should try to pull them out somehow... but how was that done? With lipstick? She scoffed at herself, thinking only an amateur like herself would be concerned with make-up. You are allowed to be insecure! she told herself, it's just because you are such a perfectionist!
She glanced at herself once more in the mirror and sighed audibly. "You'll have to do," she said to no one in particular. She didn't want to doubt herself, if she wanted to react now was the time. She stepped outside to meet Harry in the lobby but was very surprised to find him waiting right outside her door.
"Harry," she exclaimed.
"Hi," he sounded foolish and adjusted his posture.
"What-."
"I thought I'd wait for you here," he hurried. They grew silent for a moment and Hermione took a moment to look at him. As far as she knew he hadn't known about the trip planned for him. None the less he was wearing all black tonight. Slacks, shirt, shoes…the whole lot!
"Nice clothes!" she stated.
"Thanks, I just ran across the street."
"Oh..." she sighed and thought about it. Of course, with enough money that could be done. She hadn't even
thought about it. Harry came from money, though, so it was no surprise that he would have. He seemed to notice her
hesitation and the hint of regret that she hadn't done the same.
"Should we go?"
She nodded and when she started walking he placed his hand at the small of her back. His hot large palm toughed her skin. It felt hot and a bit dry. It felt soothing...she wanted to stop walking just so that it would press harder against her
"Anywhere particular in mind?" she asked and caught a whiff of what smelled like shampoo and soap.
"Well, the Leaky Cauldron is hidden in such a dodgy part of London, hardly any Muggles set foot there…"
"So you thought we'd go looking in the same areas here?" she finished for him. Great, more creepy men, just like in London, she thought.
"We'll find him somewhere. Fortunately he knows my face, and I know his even better. We'll find him, or he'll at least have left one of his people here."
"So how do you know where the dodgy part of town is?"
"I asked a man across the street where I could find the cheapest girls and the best weed," Harry answered. Their eyes met briefly and Harry smirked at her.
"Great, so when we walk by his window he'll think I am a whore," she mumbled and he laughed a bit.
"No one could ever think you were a whore," he chuckled and she rolled her eyes.
"Thanks, I guess…" she mumbled
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They entered an old bar in a neighborhood Hermione would never have set foot in under normal circumstances. This was the kind of neighborhood she remembered her mother driving by faster than usual. She recognized the band playing on the sound system though, AC/DC was a band her father listened to a lot-especially when her mother wasn't home.
They walked inside and for just a moment everyone inside the bar stopped and looked up at them. The bartender's eyes immediately fell on Hermione and she felt shivers run up her spine. Harry must have sensed it because he protectively placed his hand on the small of her back again. She immediately relaxed a bit, she had gotten used to him holding his hand there and she rather liked it.
"Get us a table, why don't you? And I'll get us a few drinks?" Harry said. She nodded and hurried over to a table. She heard someone snicker and turned to see a table with men who looked to be in their thirties, she had no idea what was so funny, but they were obviously laughing at her. She looked around at the rest of the people, only one other woman was in the bar and she was standing at the pool table smoking a cigarette with a man, and it looked like they were fighting. Four tables, including theirs, were occupied. She looked over at the bar and saw Harry leaning against it, the bartender watching him but not approaching.
"Hey mate, can I order?" The bartender, who looked like he was on steroids, walked over.
"I'd like two Firewhiskeys…do you have any Firewhiskeys?" Harry asked speculatively.
"What?" the man barked in a thick accent. "What the fuck is that?" Harry eyed him suspiciously.
"Sorry, I meant two whiskeys, just plain and regular," he finished and glanced over his shoulder over at Hermione. The bartender slammed to large glasses at him and Harry paid.
"Nothing?" she asked when he sat down opposed her at the table. He shook his head.
"Don't worry," he smiled encouragingly. She nodded and sipped the whiskey.
"Wow, the muggle kind really is a lot worse than the magic," Harry said and then tensed as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Hermione turned and saw the bartender walking over to a man and whispering. He nodded to the woman at the pool table and she hurried outside with her boyfriend, pimp, friend or whatever he was. Hermione met Harry's eyes, noticing how tired he looked. He knew trouble was coming, so he turned back to her and gave her a warning look. The bartender walked over to the door and demonstratively locked it. He walked up to them with another man next to him.
"Why you are here?" the man asked.
"To have a drink of course, "Harry answered.
"You are police, Interpol!" Harry shook his head.
"Honestly, we are just here to have a drink,"
"No tourists come here!" the man shouted and his eyes gleamed with anger. "Who sent you?" Harry looked around and counted eight people in the room. He didn't want a fight, not with Hermione there. He knew she had been trained by Moody, but he had no idea how capable she was.
"OK, I hear you, mate." Harry said and started to get up. "We'll just leave." The man pushed him back down and looked over at Hermione.
"You'll leave my bar when I say you can leave my bar!" he grunted and turned to his friend. They both laughed proudly. "You should pay for disturbing us," he reached out and put a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear. She was completely frozen and kept her eyes on Harry. He flinched visibly when he saw the man touch her.
"Pretty girl," the man behind the barman said and smiled at her. She still didn't look at him. Harry exhaled slowly; he did not want a fight. He wanted to get Hermione out of this place quickly; he knew exactly what the looks the men were throwing them meant. He cursed himself for being so foolish to bring her here, he should have left her at the hotel.
"I will let you go," the man said and reached for Harry's whiskey. He threw the drink down. "When you let me taste your pretty girl," he said and Hermione tensed. She saw Harry clenching her fist.
"You are making a big mistake," he hissed and gritted his teeth. The eight men laughed all at once.
"I can show her how it feels to fuck Bulgarian style," the man said in a husky voice and reached for Hermione's arm. She yanked away it from him and leaned as far away as the booth allowed. "Come here, little bitch," he teased and reached again. Hermione slapped his hand hard and gave him an evil glare. Harry grabbed his hand so quickly that the man had no chance to react. With a painful crackling sound he had twitched the man's wrist and broken it. The man fell to the floor and yelped in pain.
The man next to Harry lunged for him but Harry shoved the free chair next to him hard into the mans kneecaps and he fell. Harry flew out of his chair and put his foot on the mans neck. He looked over at the remaining six men, challenging any of them to make a move. One seemed very interested but the others held him back. Hermione jumped out of her chair and hurried to stand behind Harry. Harry walked over to the bartender and looked down at him.
"You are very lucky," he hissed with a menace that shocked Hermione. "You are lucky I didn't kill
you for speaking to her that way." The man whimpered in pain, grabbing at his broken wrist. Harry turned to
Hermione and grabbed her hand. His eyes seemed to sparkle and he started to walk away. Before she could open her mouth
Harry read the reaction in her eyes, the registration of movement behind him.
He turned back around fast as lighting and saw the bartender on the floor next to him, reaching for the pistol hidden in his pants. He kicked his hand away and then stamped on it, the broken fingers cracked loud and Hermione started backing towards the door.
"We need the keys," her voice shook and she didn't recognize her own voice.
"Keys," Harry commanded in a calm voice at the bartender. The barkeeper didn't answer, he was crying now, his hands broken. "Keys!" Harry hissed forcefully and walked over to the man with broken kneecaps.
"Pocket!" he pointed and Harry reached into the bartender's pocket and yanked them out.
Hermione was shaking now, wanting to get out of there so badly. Harry leaned over the bartender and whispered in his ear. Hermione couldn't hear what he said but strained her ears. The music-"Smoke on the Water" by Deep Purple-was too loud for her to hear him. "Let's go," he quickly said and spun around to her. She didn't need to be asked twice and hurried out the door.
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They half ran down the street, both turning to look behind them all as they went. "Oh, my God," Hermione gasped as they settled into a taxi.
"Are you OK?" Harry asked and turned to her.
"I'm fine, but what about you? Are you hurt?" she asked and reached for his hand.
"I am fine," he assured. She didn't let go of his hand, she just kept caressing it, keeping it in her lap. "You are not in shock are you?" he joked and she looked up.
"Shut up, you ass,"
"Thanks, is that how you speak to everyone who tries to save your life?" he scolded but noted that she still hadn't let go of his hand.
"Thank you," she whispered. "But you know, I am quite a good fighter, had it come to that." It was true, but she had wanted to keep a low profile. Of course, that plan was shot all to hell now.
"I am sure you are," he said honestly. He looked down at his hand on her lap, and her small hands caressing in fervently. He turned it around, palm up. Without hesitating she intertwined her fingers with him. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
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