Obliviate

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Maeve and Tom arrived in Little Hangleton late that evening. It was a small village with cobblestone streets that led them to what Maeve assumed was the central part of town. There were a few plain-looking shops that had CLOSED signs in the windows. It was clear this was a predominantly muggle town.

Across the way was a skinny brick building with a large sign that read: THE HANGED MAN PUB. It was the only building on the street with light shining through the windows.

"Maybe they know where we can stay the night," said Maeve.

Tom nodded as they made their way to the pub. Tom reached for the door, and Maeve's arm shot out in front of him quickly.

"I think you should wear your hood up. This village is small, and if you bare any resemblance to your family, they'll know who you are. It's best you aren't seen, given our business here."

Tom agreed this was a valid point and pulled his hood around his face.

The inside of the pub smelled strongly of beer, a smell Maeve detested. Behind the bar was an older man with a large grey mustache that covered his whole mouth.

"Excuse me, sir," said Maeve with a smile. "We're traveling through and hoping to find a place to stay for the night."

The barman looked her over. "I got two rooms, but I don't know about renting them to teenagers. You traveling alone?"

"We are, sir."

"What's a pair of kids doing traveling alone?"

Maeve sighed and smiled once more. She reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of Muggle money. She slid eighty pounds across the counter at the man.

"Are the rooms upstairs or down?" Maeve asked him.

The barman's eyes grew wide, and he choked on the swig of beer he had just downed. Scrambling to gather the money, he nodded and pointed towards the stairs on the opposite side of the pub.

"Thank you," said Maeve curtly.

Tom and Maeve made their way upstairs. There was a small landing with two doors opposite one another.

"Where did you get that muggle money?" Tom asked.

"One must always be three steps ahead of one's self. The possibility for plans to go awry is almost certain."

"Hmm," said Tom. "It's likely you overpaid. Or we could have done it my way."

"What's your way?" Asked Maeve.

"Goodnight," said Tom mischievously as he pushed open the door to one of the rooms.

Maeve found it difficult to sleep knowing Tom was so close. She scolded herself for her thoughts. She ran her finger along her jawline, thinking about how his hands felt on her skin as she drifted off to sleep.

Maeve felt the bed shake. In the distance was a faint whirling sound, followed quickly by another shake. She sat up slowly. Her wand on the bedside clattered softly against the wooden surface.

The next whizzing sound was louder. Maeve moved quickly to the window as the glass shook. In the distance, bright lights were flashing across the horizon like distant lightning.

Then a loud and shrill sound filled the air. It was a blaring siren that ascended and descended in pitch. It was a chilling sound.

Maeve gasped and grabbed her night robe. She threw it on as she ran towards the door. She flung it open and was startled as Tom was already standing at the threshold. His hair was disheveled, and his robe was carelessly covering his exposed chest.