Tuesday, August 9, 2005 is the day that his life changes.

It starts off normally enough. His routine is set and he rarely deviates. It has been this way in the years since he left Hogwarts and he assumes it will always be this way. It’s nice, comfortable and secure. He wakes at precisely half-six, takes a shower, makes his bed, feeds his fish, and makes breakfast. On Tuesday, he eats toast, always wheat, with strawberry jam and he drinks coffee with two spoons of sugar and four drops of milk.

He sits with his toast and opens the Daily Prophet. He always reads the paper from front to back, and pays particular attention to current events and editorials. It’s as he turns to page six that his life shifts and finally becomes what he knows it is meant to be.

Creatures’ Rights Activist Blasts Ministry’s Proposed Regulations

Beneath the tagline is a grainy photo of a young woman. She calmly speaks to a large man wearing a Ministry robe, then she turns and smiles. When he sees her smile, he knows. She’s smiling at him. His index finger traces the gray tint of her curly hair to where it disappears past her shoulder. He reads the article five times, memorizes her quotes, knows every time she looks at him from the photo and smiles that she smiles for him.

Hermione Granger.

He rips the article from the paper and carefully folds it so it will not crease her lovely face. He places the article in the robe of his pocket, cleans his mug and plate, and then floos to work.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Fridays are slow. There is never a lot of work to do so he keeps busy organizing his files and preparing for the upcoming week. Today, he removes the article from his pocket. It is smudged from the times he has traced the words with the oily tips of his fingers, but he can still see her smile for him. A quick charm removes the smudges and he smiles. It is time to find her.

At lunch time, instead of going to buy a sandwich in the company cafeteria and eating there, he gets his lunch to go. He removes the article and looks at the name of her organization. The address is written in black ink from where he looked it up recently. He leaves his building with his lunch in the pocket of his robe. Once he apparates to Diagon Alley, he finds the building with little effort.

He does not go in to speak to her, not yet. It’s not time. She knows him and smiles at him, but he will wait until he knows she’s ready for them to be together. The alley across from her building is damp and smells, but he is oblivious as he removes his sandwich from his pocket and begins to eat, his gaze never leaving the second floor windows where her company is based.

She leaves at half-noon. He knows her instantly; his left hand reaching into his pocket to rub his thumb over the folded article. She’s taller than he expects, but he decides that is fine because she will now fit perfectly in his arms. He puts his wrapper in his pocket and follows her through Diagon Alley. He speeds up to walk behind her, careful to keep his distance so she doesn’t see him. He can smell vanilla and cinnamon when they stop at a crosswalk and he leans forward to smell her hair.

Her hair is soft against his nose and it falls down her back in natural loose curls. He likes the way the sun highlights natural reds barely visible in her brown hair. He stays outside when she enters the Leaky Cauldron, but he watches her through the window as she greets a man with red hair and freckles. She kisses him and sits down, but her smile is still meant for him so he ignores the man.

When his lunch hour is up, he apparates back to his office and completes the rest of his day with a small smile on his lips.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Today, he sends her flowers. He knows she likes red tulips because he followed her over the weekend, her and the redheaded bloke, whom he feels is a little too liberal with his hands. She lingered at an outdoor flower stand to look at the tulips and smiled when she looked up. He does not sign the card because she will know they are from him, of course.

He looks at the color photo he now has in the pocket of his robe. He likes this one most of all the ones he has taken. She smiles and laughs, and he knows the smile is for him. The edge is smooth and he’s proud of how well he cut out the redheaded man. All of the photos he has taken during the past week now cover the wall beside his bed, and he has another roll to develop from the past two days. She meets a familiar looking man for lunch, but this man with shaggy black hair doesn’t have wandering hands like the redhead so he doesn’t focus on him. Instead, he watches her through the lens of his newly purchased camera.

It is nice learning a new hobby, and he’s taken to photography very well. He likes to carry around the image in his pocket better than the grainy photo from the paper. That one he’s smoothed out and placed in a photo frame. It is beside his bed so he sees her smile for him when he first wakes in the morning and last thing before he goes to sleep in the evening. He enjoys reading the quotes in the paper. In fact, he spent his lunch break last Thursday searching the archives of the Prophet and making a copy of every article with a mention of her name, until his file was full of parchment. It amazes him that he missed seeing her before that fateful Tuesday. He only reads the parts with her name, but he feels as if he knows her by the time he finishes the last article. At night, he lies in his bed and removes the newspaper copies from his file. His fingertips and his cock are often stained with ink as he falls asleep with the papers all around.

He leaves work promptly at five and arrives in the alley across from her job by ten past. He wishes he’d seen her reaction to the tulips, but can easily imagine her smile and happiness at the gift from him. She leaves work twenty minutes after he arrives. She is carrying the tulips and is obviously lost in her thoughts. He follows her to the apparation point and smiles when she brings the tulips to her face.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

He speaks to her today. Her voice is melodic, firm but gentle, and not as soft as he thinks it will be when they speak. His first words to her are simply ‘It looks like rain’, but it has taken him more than two weeks to say them. She just smiles and agrees before continuing on her way to meet the redhead.

He no longer ignores the man. How can he when he is standing between them? He watches them from a corner table. The restaurant is charming with soft candlelight and music playing in the background. It is far too romantic. The redhead watches her constantly, touches her, tries to steal the smiles meant for him. This won’t do. This won’t do at all.

Perhaps she is tired of waiting for him? She sent him that smile in the newspaper more than two weeks ago, after all. And he only spoke to her for the first time today. It is obvious that she is using the handsome redhead to force him to be more direct; he relaxes as he realizes her plan. He knows she is smart, has traced her intelligent words with the tip of her finger repeatedly, and isn’t surprised she is using this man to lure him into her life.

He pays his tab when they leave and he follows behind closely. On Mondays and Thursdays, it seems they meet for dinner and part with a kiss. He is able to ignore the redhead and can practically taste her mouth against his. Tonight, though, they do not part at the apparation point. The redhead doesn’t go down the street to the floo where he can travel out of the country. Instead, he steps closer to her and kisses her far too inappropriately for a public corner. Then they apparate together.

He lurks in the street beneath her flat and watches the shadows in the window. He knows what they are doing when the lights go on in her bedroom and the rest of the flat is dark. When he gets home, he lies in bed and stares at her image while he strokes himself. He spills onto a duplicate copy he has made, watches his seed drip from her face, and sees her smile beneath the white liquid.

It is time to let her know he’s found her.

Friday, September 2, 2005

He studies the photos he’s taken during the past weeks. His newly acquired invisibility cloak has been of great assistance in his new hobby. He takes the cloak with him to work, always in the pocket of his robe along with his camera and his current favorite photograph, and he puts it on when he arrives in the alley opposite her work. With it, he’s free to follow her anywhere without worrying about moving too quickly. She’s very patient and methodical so he knows she’ll tell him when the time is right for them to be together. Until then, he sends her flowers and other gifts he thinks she might like.

His toast is getting cold as he looks at the three photos he’s selected from the walls of his bedroom. They are all lovely, but he must choose one. He remembers the trip to the zoo. She likes the lions most of all and the photo he has in his hand was taken while she watched them. Her smile is slight and he wonders what she was thinking. He gently traces the lines of her hair before he puts it back on the table.

He smiles as he picks up the next photograph. It was taken at the park. A beautiful sunny day, and he can see the highlights in her hair. She was laughing when he took the photo, watching children play before she went back to eating her lunch and reading her book. She ate lunch in the park most of last week, and he wonders if they’ll be eating there this week. It’s nice in the park. She always smiles when the children play nearby and she’s been able to read two books during her break. He may give her this one because it’s special.

The last photograph was his favorite a week ago, before the park visits. He used his cloak to go to her office. It’s awfully busy in her offices so he was able to follow an employee in without being noticed. He was off for a company holiday but she was at work so he went to see her office. It was exactly as he expected it would be: tidy, orderly, and warm. She’s looking at reports of some sort in the photo and chewing on the end of a quill in the photo, then she looks up when someone calls her name and smiles. That’s when he took the photo. She knew he was there and smiled for him. He left before she got into trouble for having a visitor.

He decides to give her the image he took at the park. Very carefully, he writes ‘For you’ on the back of the photo before he slides it into a white envelope. He doesn’t want to use brown because it’s too plain for her. White is a good color and her name looks perfect written neatly on the front. He cleans up his uneaten breakfast and apparates to the alley across from her office. He enters her building and goes up the stairs to the second floor. Twenty-three steps then twenty-two. It’s a short distance to the door from the landing.

He enters the offices and goes back to hers. She looks up and smiles, asks if she can help him. He notices her plan to keep others from knowing about their relationship and plays along. He shakes his head and gives her the envelope before telling her to have a good day. She thanks him and signs the slip of parchment he brought along in case anyone was suspicious about him being there.

He leaves but lingers in the hall to watch her reaction to his gift. When she opens the envelope, he can see her excitement. Her hands shake and she’s so thrilled at his surprise that she drops it on her desk and has to look away. Oh, he knew that was the right one to give to her. He’s very pleased when he leaves the office and apparates to his job. He arrives at his desk three minutes early and begins his workday.

Monday, September 12, 2005

She leaves work at lunch today. He sends an owl to his own employer telling him he got sick at lunch and must go home to rest. He doesn’t like her out without him to watch after her, so it is worth the lie. He wonders if she’s received the chocolates he sent. He saw her admiring them in a candy store the other day and knew she’d love to have them. She seems nervous again, and he really wishes she’d not work so hard. She is pale and keeps looking over her shoulder, as if she expects someone to be there.

A blonde woman meets her. Young, pretty, and tranquil. They eat lunch together. He has soup and she eats a salad and chicken. She doesn’t like seafood and pork seems to keep her up later at night so he’s glad she’s chosen the chicken. He finishes his meal before her, which is common. She eats slowly and savors her food while he eats quickly so he can watch her.

When they leave, he walks by their table and puts her fork in the pocket of his robe. He has a small collection now. He puts up a shelf beneath the photographs he has taken during the past weeks and carefully lines up each of his mementos. The glass she drank from during lunch with the shaggy dark-haired man. A napkin she used during a meal with an older woman with red hair. The wrapping of a sugarquill she ate while at the market during a Sunday trip.

She and the woman go shopping. He sees her linger at a display of music boxes, listens to the melody of Brahms’ Lullaby and overhears her tell her companion that the song reminds her of her childhood. When she wanders away, he buys the music box. It’s silver with a delicate swan and he arranges for it to be sent by owl to her home, pleased that he has committed all her details to memory.

Friday, September 23, 2005

He sends her flowers every day now and has for the past two weeks. Beautiful roses and tulips in a variety of colors. He watches her leave work in the evenings but she no longer carries the flowers. He thinks she must keep them in her office so they’re always close to her. She is not eating well and he’s worried. She’s lost weight since he first saw her, and there are dark circles beneath her eyes.

The man with shaggy black hair meets her today. Yesterday, it was a redhead he’d never seen. The day before, a chubby man with brown hair. For over a week, it seems someone is always there waiting for her when she leaves. He knows she doesn’t want them there. It’s obvious in her glares and the arguments he sometimes sees. He can never get close enough to hear, but she always ends up sighing and letting them stay.

He has tried to speak to her twice, but she barely notices. A vague nod to his comment about the Ministry elections, and she doesn’t even reply when he mentions the prediction for a sunny weekend ahead. Perhaps she is angry with him. He considers going to her now, but this man scares him more than the others. This one and the muscular redhead who sleeps over nearly every night now frighten him. He stays back when they are near, and never gets too close. He’d hate for her to get hurt by these two, but he doesn’t sense that she is in danger from them. It’s the only reason he’s not removed them from her life.

He follows them through Diagon Alley and is surprised when they do not apparate back to her flat. For weeks, that has been her routine. The only deviation has been when she met the redhead for dinner. And, even then, they left early because she couldn’t stop looking around and knocked her glass of wine over in her anxiety. He sent her a potion the next day for her nerves. She must be working on a tough project because she’s stressed all the time.

She and the dark-haired man are met by yet another unfamiliar redhead -- tall, with long hair -- whom she hugs before they all enter Gringotts. He considers going inside but the building is vast and he doesn’t wish to lose her, so he stays outside and plans the remainder of their weekend.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

The lights are too bright. He prefers the soft glow of candlelight to this manufactured light. The man opposite him is large and quiet. His head is bald and rather shiny, which is quite a distraction. He forgets the questions most of the time because his attention is on the man’s head. He’s wearing auror robes and keeps saying things that make no sense. Stalking, attempting kidnapping, and various other things that he doesn’t understand.

He’s not sure why he’s here. He tries to explain that he doesn’t belong here, but this man with dark skin and scary eyes won’t listen. She must be worried about him. He can see her face in his mind. She’d been surprised when he finally went to her office earlier, and she hadn’t wanted to leave work to go with him. He admires her dedication to her job but his surprise was important, too.

She hasn’t been sleeping well. He watches her flat at night until he must go home to sleep and sees the lights on at all hours. She is too pale, losing weight, and there are circles under her eyes that have grown darker in recent weeks. He just wants to take her somewhere quiet so she’ll relax. He knows there are meetings soon regarding the proposed regulations the Ministry wishes to place on dark creatures. He has spent hours learning about her work, and these meetings next month are important to her.

He tells the dark man. He replays the scene in his mind, describing what happens at each turn: He tells her this, that he wants to take her somewhere and she misunderstands and protests and tries to get him to leave. She just won’t listen so he finally pulls her from her office. He knows what’s best for her, after all. He’s watched her for weeks. He knows her. He is startled to hear a whistle from behind him and turns to see her wand in her hand. She says a spell he’s never heard and he stumbles as she tries to pull her wrist from his hand. There’s a popping sound behind him and he turns again, confused and scared, not sure what’s happening at all. When he finds himself facing a wand, he looks up to see hard green eyes and shaggy black hair. He lets her go but doesn’t have time to reach for his own wand.

He is brought here, to this brightly lit room, and has been trying to explain to this Shacklebolt character for hours that he just plans to take her for a picnic. That’s what one does for their loved one when she is stressed. If he were busy at work, she’d do the same for him. The man just stares at him and keeps asking him the same questions.

The table in front of him is covered with all of his photographs and clippings. He is methodically straightening them, trying to repair the rips they have made, and he’s angry his images are damaged. He shows the man the newspaper photo, his fingers gently trace the image beneath the glass, and he points at her smile.

“See?” he asks repeatedly. “She smiles for me.”

He hears the sound of the door opening and turns to see her. She comes into the room and greets the man opposite him before she looks at him. The redhead is behind her, his hands on her arms as if he’s trying to protect her. He doesn’t understand.

“Hermione, tell them,” he says as he points to the picture. “Tell them it was for me. You love me.”

“They’re going to help you,” she whispers as she steps back into the redhead’s arms. “You need help.”

He watches her leave and sighs as he looks at the framed image. She’s just confused. When she gets more sleep, then she’ll come and tell them everything. He looks at the newspaper article and smiles as his fingernail traces the lines of her face. She smiles for him.