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    A/N: Thanks for stopping by! Credit for everything Harry Potter related goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling and the lyrics are by Michael Jackson.

    ~*~

    The unfamiliar muggle city bustled with life. Muggle cars sped past, muggle couples walked along the sidewalk hand-in-hand, a homeless muggle man asked for money, a group of chattering muggle men and muggle women sipped their coffee from inside the window of a muggle bagel shop. The sky was dark and grey, but the humid summer air licked at my skin. I didn’t know where I was, or even how I’d gotten there. Frankly, I didn’t care. I needed to get away … but where is a person to go when they’re on the run? No matter where you travel to, you’re still always going to be trapped.

    And so, I walked on, my hands stuck in the pockets of my long black cloak. Miniscule droplets of water began to fall from the grey clouds above, causing many people to run into the nearest coffee shop or bookstore. It was just a little bit of rain. Personally, I thought it would do this city good … my lungs weren’t used to breathing in the humid air. But then, over the years I’d gotten used to making my body grow accustomed to the unfamiliar. Things were much simpler back when the Dark Lord was alive; back in the days when I actually had a hide-out. Then that Potter came along, fresh out of Auror training, and of course he just had to save the day, as usual. He killed the Dark Lord. He killed Snape. He killed my father.

    But he didn’t kill me.

    I was wandering in the rain
    Mask of life, feeling insane


    They’ve been looking for me though. I know famous Harry Potter and his little side kicks have been searching for me since the day of Dumbledore’s death. Bloody fools will never get over it … and I hadn’t even murdered the old oaf. I stopped walking suddenly with a start as a pigeon hovered past me, missing my face by inches. It landed on the ground a few feet away, where a man sat on a metal bench plucking a loaf of bread apart and feeding it to the seemingly famished birds, which flocked toward him from all corners of the dirty crowded street.

    Swift and sudden fall from grace
    Sunny days seem far away


    I watched silently for a few moments, studying the homeless man I had seen earlier in all his tattered clothing and matted shaggy hair lying on the brick wall of a small coffee shop, eyeing the bread in the pigeon’s beaks with longing. I wondered for a moment which of us were in a worse predicament, and quickly decided I’d much rather be starving to death than running aimlessly in shackles for the rest of my life. At least when death comes for him, it will be a peaceful release. When it’s my time to die … it will be because I’ve been defeated.

    The rain began to pelt down a bit faster, so I lifted my gaze from the homeless man to the coffee shop his body seemed to be guarding. I swept past him swiftly, and felt his hand tightly grasp my ankle. He looked into my eyes pleadingly beneath his brown stringy hair. I shook him off, the shadow of a smirk playing across my face as I dug into my pocket and tossed a quarter to him. He released me with his dirt covered hands which left a brown spot on my pants leg and reached for the silver muggle coin, and I continued my crossing into the coffee shop and took a seat by the window.

    Kremlin’s shadow belittling me
    Stalin’s tomb won’t let me be
    On and on and on it came
    Wish the rain would just let me be


    A waitress with a curvy figure and pretty face who reminded me greatly of Madam Rosmerta of the Three Broomsticks poured me a cup of coffee. I sipped it gratefully. I’d learned to savor everything my lips touched these days, as it was becoming harder and harder to be seen in public without an Auror spotting me. So many times I’d wondered if perhaps they had me hooked up to a tracking device or something, but try as I might, I could find nothing strange or unusual on my body or clothing. How they always managed to track me down was a mystery to me, as was the fact that I hadn’t yet been caught and sent to Azkaban to be next in line for the Dementor’s Kiss.

    Sipping the dark coffee, I sighed at it’s strength and stared out the rain smeared window. I counted the droplets that fell in streams, and watched as one collided with another and formed one single streak of rain. Through the world of grey, I watched where far across the street and through the traveling cars whose tires splashed through puddles there was a baseball game happening in an old worn out field. Then I returned my attention again to the droplets of water sliding placidly along the glass, when suddenly the reflection of a familiar face in the clear liquid caught my eye. I slowly turned my head to face her, but when I did, she was looking the other way, obviously pretending not to notice I was there. She was probably contemplating her next move … wondering how she would capture me, if those were actually her intentions.

    How does it feel?
    How does it feel?
    How does it feel
    When you’re alone
    And you’re cold inside?


    Her already bushy dark-as-my-coffee hair frizzed at the top from the cities mixture of humidity and rain, and her white creamy cheeks suddenly turned a slight rosy shade. I knew she could feel me staring at her, burning holes into the back of her head with my icy stare. Or maybe her face flushed at the memory of the other times she had caught me … and yet, hadn’t captured me. I always wondered what excuses she choked up for the Ministry of Magic about how she had been so close and yet failed to arrest me … or even kill me, as I’d heard a rumor recently that I was now categorized as ‘Wanted Dead or Alive.’

    Here abandoned in my fame
    Armageddon of the brain


    She swallowed a sip of her coffee uncomfortably, and I saw the enormous lump form in her throat and roll down, disappearing in her chest, which was rising and falling at a rapid pace. I leaned back in my chair smugly, watching her intently as I finished my drink. I observed how strange it was to see her wearing a white muggle turtle neck sweater and dark blue jeans, and then wondered if maybe there were other witches and wizards in the small coffee shop, who also thought they were the only non-muggles in the building.

    I snapped out of my thoughts immediately when I watched her reach into her bag. She couldn’t possibly be getting her wand to hex me right in front of a room full of muggles … she wouldn’t. Not being too keen on finding out if that was her plan, I left a bit of muggle money on the table and stood up to leave the coffee shop. Footsteps thudded on the floor behind me, so I quickened my pace.

    KGB was doggin’ me
    Take my name and just let me be


    Outside, the rain was showering down even harder, when suddenly there was the sound like a crack of a whip ripping through the air. The thunder rumbled, vibrating in the ground beneath my feet, and a strong overpowering amount of rain assailed from the grey sky above, as if a cloud had just burst open to release all of the water inside, as if it was so filled up it wasn’t able to hold anymore.

    On the crowded sidewalk, umbrellas seemed to pop up around me as if out of nowhere. The umbrella-less ran, screaming, into the coffee shop I had just exited, holding hands with their lovers and splashing through puddles. The homeless man huddled himself under his cloak, holding tightly to his shiny silver quarter. A crash sounded from the baseball field across the street. Not thunder – the batter had smashed the ball straight through the window of a tall brick apartment building. Glass shattered and went flying and mixed in with the rain as all the children went scurrying away and down the street.

    Then a beggar boy called my name
    Happy days will drown the pain


    And then – she was in front of me; the Auror who had been assigned to locate me. To turn me in. To … kill me?

    On and on and on it came
    Take my name and just let me be


    Her face was only a mere hairs breadth away from mine, expressionless and unreadable. She almost looked drained. What was her excuse for being so tired? Maybe if she would just leave me alone … running was an exhausting process. I knew this first hand, and I’m sure the dark bags under my eye lids were proof of these past strenuous and demanding years. And then I realized … she also possessed the dark marks under her own honey brown, unlively eyes. The life had flitted from them years ago, I’d noticed. I was certain mine looked much the same, if not worse.

    The rain poured down in such an overwhelming force that the woman’s hair in front of me lost it’s frizziness, as it was now pin straight, drenched to her scalp. Drops of water fluttered down the bridge of her nose, and I couldn’t help but notice how her already tight sweater now clung to her, emphasizing every curve of her body. She seemed to be staring daggers into me, daring me to comment with some crude and insulting remark. I considered it … but what would be the point? It was always the same with her. Always. So why not simply skip over the unfriendly and rude introductions and go straight to what she wanted … it was the only reason she followed me outside of the coffee shop, and she knew it as well as I did …

    How does it feel?
    How does it feel?
    How does it feel?
    How does it feel?
    How does it feel?
    How does it feel?
    How does it feel
    When you’re alone
    And you’re cold inside?


    The hustle and bustle on the sidewalk seemed to melt away with the down pouring rain as I snaked my hand up the woman’s back and clutched the back of her wet head. I could feel her breath on my lips, coming out in strong wisps that blew the droplets of rain on my skin away. And then, my lips plunged over hers, licking away the rain around her mouth. I could feel her hands making their way to the back of my head, her fingertips teasing paths across my neck and through my soaking hair. I caressed her lips with my tongue, begging for passage. When she opened herself to me, she pressed her small firm body even harder against my own, allowing a small low moan to escape her lips.

    We were both so enraptured with each other we hardly noticed the rain which was now pelting down like hail, or the people rushing past trying to get where they were going as quickly as possible, or the brilliant bolt of lighting that suddenly flashed across the sky. She bit on my bottom lip and looked intensely into my eyes, and there it was – that glint I had been waiting for.

    It was always the same with her. Always. This kiss was the only thing that could bring the life back into her eyes … into mine …

    Like a stranger in Moscow
    Lord, I must say
    Like a stranger in Moscow
    Lord, I must say


    As she released her teeth from my lip, I recited what I’d said after every random meeting we’d had over the last five years with bated breath.

    “Are you going to kill me, Granger?”

    We’re talking danger
    We’re talking danger, baby
    Like a stranger in Moscow


    Her hands still wrapped around my neck and water spiraling down her forehead, she was silent, as if in deep concentration. How difficult it must have been for her to keep running into me like this, but always return back to the Ministry of Magic empty handed. But with that new found glint in her eyes, she spoke the four words I was waiting to hear.

    “Not this time, Malfoy.”

    We’re talking danger
    We’re talking danger, baby
    Like a stranger in Moscow


    And then, as usual, she slipped her entwined fingers from around my neck, gave me one last glance while trying not to smile, and left me standing alone on the crowded sidewalk.

    I’m living lonely
    I’m living lonely, baby
    Like a stranger in Moscow


    It was always the same with Hermione Granger. Always. Maybe one of these days, she would find me and kill me. But for now, I stood alone in a crowd.

    THE END.

    ~*~

    A/N: Thank you all for reading my first attempt at a Song Fic. I hope you enjoyed it, please leave me a review before you leave! And also, I suggest that you go to YouTube and watch Michael Jackson's music video "Stranger in Moscow," which had a pretty strong influence on the tone of this story.

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