The Client
Title: The Client
Genre: SS/HG, mystery?
Rating: Erm..15?
Disclaimer: Not mine, all JK Rowling’s I just like to play!
The Client
Looking into the magnified mirror, with one smooth stroke she applied her eyeliner. Another flick of her wrist and her eyelashes boasted length and volume. Finally a tilt of her chin revealed her plump lips ready to rouge. Drawing back she admired her handiwork, disgust filled her eyes but she was ready. Moments later there was a knock at the door, her client was early. This didn’t matter to her the sooner the better, no prolonged waiting, time to think. Correcting her posture she strolled to the door, wearing her sensual mask as she did ever evening. With a flick of the wrist the door swung open revealing her guest.
There stood a tall man, dressed in black, hair hanging low around his jaw. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of the woman before him. Hermione took this as a sign of approval. “You like what you see baby?” she purred.
No response from her visitor. “Oh come on don’t be shy, we both know why we’re here. Come on in, relax.” The man before her stood completely still eyes wandering over her body once more. Ah she thought he likes to watch. Stretching out her hand towards him, red finger nails glinting in the candle light she gestured for her client to take hold of her. Instead the man stepped past her moving slowly into the room, eyes passing over everything within their path. Turning to face her he finally spoke “Do you remember me at all?”
Inclining her head to the right she studied the man’s features once more, “I’m sorry I don’t recall…perhaps it’s not your face I’d recognise” she teased reaching for the man’s belt. Before she knew it he caught her wrist mid-air, pulling her to his chest. His eyes searched hers for a glint of recognition; he could feel the disguised fear within her. He reached into he coat with his left hand producing his wand, aiming it at her forehead. Hermione struggled against his grip, for all she could see the man’s weapon of choice was simply a wooden stick, a type of wand, a child’s play thing but she feared it.
With one hand he held onto her struggling form his gaze intensifying fixed at her forehead. Hermione felt her mind weaken, a presence she didn’t like within her, struggling harder she kicked and elbowed her attacker. Still he held fast, taking the blows one after the other. Finally a jet of light sprung from the wand, her instinct was to duck but the strength holding her forced her body to remain upright as she felt the blast hit her between the eyes. Pulling her body to his chest once more he scooped her from the floor and placed her upon the bed.
Standing tall he looked down at her exhausted frame. The power of the memory spell had knocked her out, it had been ten years since the battle the memories would be buried deep, it would take her a few hours before she regained consciousness. Taking in her fragile form once again he noticed how thin she was now, how pale despite the lashings of makeup. Moving a curl of hair from her eye he inhaled her sent, jasmine. Something’s never change he thought, brining a slight smile to his sallow face. Grabbing a blanket from a nearby chair, he draped it over her. She’ll find me when she’s ready he thought, leaving a letter on the bedside table, before closing the door with a click.