Just a Kiss

Chapter 28

Ronald bursts into his hotel room, the door banging against the wall behind it, and dashes straight for the bed. He takes only a moment to assure that he wasn't followed before yanking out his suitcase and throwing open the lid. 

With sharp, disjointed movements, he plucks the clothes from the floor and tosses them into the case until the room is void of his presence. After, he moves on to the bathroom and gathers up his washing items. With those in the bag as well, he pulls the zip around and closes the suitcase up. 

It's only when he gets the case put beside the open door leading to the hall that he comes to a stop, realization crashing like an avalanche over his head. 

"What am I doing?" He bemoans aloud. "I've very well just killed some bloke!" 

Thoughts whir by in his panic. They'll send him to Azkaban for this, never mind the fact that he's a war hero. Murder is still illegal. He can't stay in England, not when they'll have the entire aurora department out searching for him. 

Where would be safe, though?  France? Germany? Is anywhere in Europe safe? No, he doesn't think so. It's all too close to the ministry and his crime. He'll have to move farther and keep moving. Staying in the same place won't work anymore. It's the only way for him to stay away from the aurora's.

Australia first, the America's next week, and after that...anywhere in the world.  

A shiver runs down his spine but he shakes himself out of it and spins to give the room a final glance. He catches his reflection in a mirror over the bed, and comes to a sudden decision. 

Ron jogs for the bathroom and flicks on the bright lights. Running one hand through his hair and reaching for his wand with the other, Ron strains to recall the proper spell. The very tip of his wand is still glowing faintly from the powerful magic it had cast only seven minutes earlier, a reminder of what he's done. 

Avoiding the sight, he turns to his reflection and hums in consideration. Taking a breath, he swirls his wand and mutters the spell then watches in rapt fascination as his hair fades from the bright red to a muddy brown. Once the transformation is complete and he deems his appearance far more inconspicuous, though he'll have to deal with the freckles when he has more time, Ron looks away and switches off the light.

Snagging his cloak from a hook near the door, he throws it on and reaches for the door knob. He realizes half a moment later that the door had been open before he went into the bathroom, but by then it's too late. 

His world erupts in blinding white and a boom beats at his ears until all that's left is a high pitched ringing. He's sent flying backwards, a scream ripping from his throat, and lands with a heavy thump on the floor in front of the bed. Head hitting the metal bed frame, Ron is left disoriented and defenseless on the floor. 

Through the buzzing in his ears, he hears a quiet tread of footsteps coming ever closer. He can't move more than small shifts and he's about half sure something is broken around his left side, but with a struggle, he manages to gurgle out some sort of threat.

 It mostly sounds like a groan, but he's going to  tell anyone that asks that he made the person feel scared. 

A form blocks out the light shining on his closed eyelids. Finally, he forces his eyes to cooperate and opens them to small slits. He can't quite see right, but what he does see is more than enough to explain the situation.

She looks, shockingly, to him at least, terrifyingly gorgeous. 

Her hair is splayed out around her, matted and wild and damp with something that he can't quite decipher but no less beautiful. She holds her self with dignity, as she's always done, but this is different. It's more jagged, more dangerous, and filled with intent. He gets his answer as to what was making her hair wet when he catches sight of her clothes. They're stained rusty red, in splatters and in large spots. He'd gag if he could feel his lower torso.