Hermione walked down the night time street. The full moon lit the normally dark corners as she skipped over the puddles left from the recent downpour.
Tonight like most nights before them Hermione was headed to her usual haunt.
Her days were spent sleeping and when possible a little writing, here and there. Just to keep the money flowing. All the time spent here in London, helped her to forget.
But Hermione like most others, yearned for something more. She could never quite put her finger on it, but it was always there. A nagging feeling, making her uneasy and unsettled. But every night she rose above the niggling suspicions, and making her way to the various nightclubs. But tonight she was going somewhere else, somewhere new,The Lost Dream. It was a nightclub that had crept up in between the alleyways in London. Word spread slowly of a club, where you could go have fun and be perfectly safe. At first people laughed, believing that every club had more than enough protection to keep any one safe from harm. But those who scorned soon found themselves outside The Lost Dream. They would enter have a few drinks and be drawn to the dance floor. Where the hours would pass all to quickly.
She had heard like the others through whispers. So one evening she found the club that everyone spoke of. Hermione could see the queues outside, watched by big impressive minders. She contemplated joining the back of the line, but was interrupted by one of the doormen.
"You wantin to go in?"
"I would but the queue is a bit long."
"Your on your own aren't you. Come on I'll get you in."
The burly minder, who was called Thomas according to the identification, guided her lone form to the doors. He opened them for her and walked with her to the small reception. Where a girl looked up brightly.
"Welcome to The Lost Dream. May I take your coat?"
Hermione merely nodded and handed the check girl her coat.
"Are you on your own?"
"Well that will be five pounds entry fee, how much would you like on your tab."
"Beg your pardon."
"Ah you have never been here before have you. The management have decided that instead of carrying cash around which could get stolen. We give you a tab which you pay in advance. That way there is no loose money, anything you do not spend, we'll refund."
"Ah ok, could you put on fifteen pounds."
Hermione handed over a twenty pound note, which the girl kindly received. The receptionist gave Hermione a bright orange wrist band.
"If you put that on, you won't have to worry."
Hermione fumbled with the luminous band, it's tight fit struggled against her hand. But after a few minutes it eventually gave.
Thomas the Doorman waited patiently for her to finish.
"If you could follow me."
As he led her through the soundproof doors, the first thing she realised was how quiet it was. It seemed that for now the music had stopped and everybody had taken the time to relax. Strange.
Thomas noticed Hermione's stunned silence.
"Its all yours. I have to go out the front now."
She smiled toward the man that helped her. As he left her alone in the main area. I need a drink. So she made her way to the bar, where three eager barmen awaited her. Thirsting for a drink Hermione sat on a stool, giving herself a moment to look around properly. A barman walked over to her.
"What would you like to drink?"
Hermione smiled at the barman. "Whiskey, straight up."
"Ah my kind of woman."
Hermione stifled a laugh as she was poured her drink.
"Can I have your wrist please?"
Forgetting the unusual system this club had in action, Hermione quickly put the drink down. The barman gently took hold of her wrist, she noticed his face change slightly but he quickly covered it and scanned the code on the band. If it had not have been for all the years of training she had received, she would have forgot it immediately, but for now it was filed at the back of her mind.
While taking the second sip of her whiskey. She felt a presence, it was faint but unmistakable. But again it slipped from her grasp. In a crowded room she felt alone and this had not been the first time.
A slow beat resonated from around the room. The first beats were played over the speakers and everybody felt the call to the floor. To Hermione this was odd. Yes she had been to nightclubs and many of them, when a song she had liked came on she would get on the dance floor with all the others and party the night away. But this was different, very different.
She could feel this to her very core and it called to her with all its soul. The melody resonated loud and clear. She had to be on that Dance floor and it had to be now. The drink was forgotten on the bar as she worked her way through the other dancers. A sound of violins plucked at her body, making her move with a natural grace that she had never felt before. The yearning seemed forgotten in the dance that was ahead. Lost in the euphoria of the beat, the lights dimmed. So they each dancer was in their own darkness.
Hermione let her body move with the music, everything that she had, slipped away taken by the unison of the song and she loved every moment. It felt like a lifetime had passed when in fact only a few beats had resonated around. Lost in the beat Hermione carried on, unaware to anyone around her.
The figure in black had been watching her since she arrived. He studied her every move, her body language, the way she laughed, the way she flicked her hair. This could be her. But he washed that thought away as knocked back his whiskey. This had happened many times before, each time he was disappointed. He poured himself another drink, again he watched as one of the barman served the woman her drink. Whiskey, interesting.
The figure left his office, making his way along the gantry which ran across the club. Absorbing the feel of the place, like he did every night. This place was his creation. The Lost Dream. He often laughed when he recalled the title. He knew why he made this place, why out of nothing he created, a haven. Away from all the troubles and the hate, a mutual ground where everyone can be safe. Locked away from the fears and the uncertainty. This was his creation and his way out.
He felt the call, as did everyone else. The yearning made him remember why he was here. The figure never allowed anyone near him, only waiting patiently for the right time.
To a passing stranger, he looked no different to anyone else. But to those of the right mind, he knew what would be seen. He swept his hair away from his face. Maybe tonight it would be different. He sighed and followed the beat to the dance floor.
As predicted the staff did not notice their employer emerge from the lofty enclaves. His form lost amongst the others. He could see the affect of the music on her, the way her body moved symbolised her release. The figure moved around passed the other dancers. The lights dimmed, but this time there was a difference. He could feel it inside calling to him. Not like the others.
He felt her move, he could feel her hands, what she could do with them. His mind was in chaos. He had to touch her, he had to it now, she was less than an arm length away. Now, do it now.
His black robes clung to his lean form, as he stepped up behind her. The power flowed from her, thumping with the music. There was still a gap between them how ever tiny. He could feel his movements tie in with hers, finally he felt her call. She needed this as much as he did.
Take me, take me now.
He took the last step, closing what little space there was and touched her for the first time. He felt a charge of adrenalin flow through his system.
Hermione was lost in the darkness, alone yet safe for the first time in many years. She felt the regrets fall away, the could of, the has beens, everything stripped away. But then she felt some thing else. The uneasiness, the nagging that had always been there, was gone. Instead replaced with a tension that she had remember once before and left behind.
She kept her eyes closed as the presence crept up behind her. Her soul betrayed her, revealing itself in her moves. If this person was going to do this it had to be now.
A smooth hand wrapped around her waist, ruffling her silk top. He pulled her back toward him, so that they became one form, moving twisting in the resonance.
"I knew you would come," she gasped.
The figure said nothing, continuing the movement with music.
"I felt you."
"By the gods I have missed you," she whispered.
Hermione desperately wanted to turn round, to see the strangers face, to drink his gaze once more. But a part of her feared she would wake up from this dream if she did.
It was becoming to much for him. He knew he should answer her breathless words, but he kept to himself all the same.
She arched her back into his, razing her neck, feeling the fine hair graze her face. Sandalwood, always Sandalwood.
His hand was joined by another around her waist. Pushing upwards towards her breasts, the silky fabric climbing with his hands.
Hermione groaned with the added contact. Biting her lip, restraining herself just a little.
"We must leave soon," he muttered into her ear. "They are waiting for us."
"No. But we do not have much time."
Hermione felt his hand across her cheek, the touch was electrifying sending shivers all over.
"What must I do?" she asked.
"Come with me," he beckoned seductively.
"Yes," she gasped.
His hands dropped to her waist again, settling around her navel. Ever so gentle she felt the tugging at her stomach. A portkey.
The music continued for all the other dancers. They each found what they were looking for in the darkness.