Harold Saxon (theonewhoran) wrote in whoville, @ 2008-07-18 15:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | goodlittlegirl, ninth, theonewhoran |
Open
They were laughing as they walked arm in arm up to their bedroom, high on champagne and success. Harry backed up against the door, pulling Lucy in for a breathless kiss, and reaching down a hand to twist the doorknob. The catch gave and he pushed it open with his hip, backing into the room and drawing Lucy in with him with a strong arm round her slim waist, smiling, eyes shining with the glory of his triumph and wanting nothing more than to share it with this stunning creature he'd managed to find and fall in love with.
Lucy laughed at his little tug and half-staggered after him into the room. Then she gasped and her face paled. She went stiff in his arms, staring behind him at the room.
Harry frowned, toeing the door shut to give them some privacy. "What? What's the matter, Lucy?"
She just gazed at him blankly for a long moment. Then she breathed, "Harry, look round at the room. It's not our bedroom."
"Of course it is!" he scoffed, but something about her face made him look anyway. It wasn't their room. It was a bland, unfamiliar bedroom, like a hotel room. He squinted round at it, still keeping an arm automatically round Lucy's waist, but most of his attention on the room, as a cold thrill ran through him.
I didn't feel any displacement he thought, and then wondered why on earth he'd thought that, when the question wasn't why he hadn't felt any displacement but what the hell had just happened? How the hell could they not be in their bedroom?
A small sound from Lucy made him turn back to her, worry flooding through him at how pale and shocked she looked. "Lucy?" he said uncertainly.
She raised wide, frightened eyes to his face. "Harry, I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't!"
And before he could even draw breath, she was out of his arms and wrenching open the door, hurrying out as if – well, as if she was scared of him. Or of what had happened. He went after her, of course, but by the time he'd got the door open again, she was nowhere to be seen. He tried all the doors he could find, calling her name, but after two floors and three corridors, he had to admit defeat.
For a long moment, Harry stood where he was and gazed around at the corridor, puzzled and irritated because he didn't understand what had happened – where they were, how they'd got here, or why Lucy had run off like that. He could also feel one of his familiar headaches starting up, the annoying duh-duh-duh-dum rhythm thudding in his head.
He sighed, pursed his lips and set off towards the stairs, to see what there was to be seen. He ended up in a hotel lobby. Most peculiar.
At least there were people here. He let a couple go by, and put a hand out to the sleeve of one of them, to stop them. "Excuse me," he said politely – but with authority. "Could you tell me where I am?"