Hired (A Tom Felton Fanfic)

Chapter 7

                I wake up, morning sun streaming through my blinds.  I roll out of bed and make my way to the bathroom.  I open the closets, trying to find a pair of jeans.  No such luck.  I give up, making a mental note to get some later.  Instead, I settle on a black and white striped shirt and a black skirt, pull my thick brown hair up into a messy bun, and head downstairs to meet Tom for my training.

                He is in the kitchen, eating a fruit bowl for breakfast.  He sees me linger in the doorway, smiles, and pulls out another bowl.  “What would you like for breakfast?”  His tone is professional.  He acts like last night didn’t even happen.

                I tell myself I don’t care, and take the same business-like tone as I say, “If you have oatmeal, that sounds wonderful, thank you."

                I watch as he busies himself with making my food.  He puts a bowl of water in the microwave.  I feel guilty sitting there and watching him make my food, and I pay attention to where everything is so I can make my own next time.  A few minutes later, he hands me a steaming bowl of oatmeal.  The warm smell of it reminds me of when I was a little girl, and my mother would make oatmeal for me every day.  For some reason, the memory makes tears flood my vision.  I turn away quickly, hoping Tom doesn’t notice.

                He does.  “Is everything alright?”  He asks, voice concerned.

                I force myself to nod.  “Yeah.  Just a little nostalgia.  My mum used to make me oatmeal every day when I was little.  That was before...  Before...”  The tears fall.  I hate myself for being so weak, so vulnerable in front of him.

                I hear Tom get out of his chair.  Then I feel his hand on my wrist as he pulls me up off my stool.  He hugs me tight to his chest and whispers into my hair, “You don’t have to tell me.  It’s okay.”  His kind words make me want to cry more.  He just stands there, hugging me against him, smoothing my hair, telling me it’s okay.  I want so badly for our love to be real.  It’s the thought of the cold look in his eyes last night that makes me pull away.

                I turn away from Tom, wipe my tears away, and then say, “You should know.  Three years ago, I ran away from home because I was supposed to be married.  My parents were very traditional and believed in arranged marriages still.  They wanted me to marry a very arrogant man.  I can’t even remember his name, but he was very rich.  I refused, but my father wouldn’t have it.  I used to think that there was a part of my mother that knew it was wrong, but as time went on, I wasn’t as sure.  The night before my wedding, I gathered up what little money I had, packed a bag of my most important things, and climbed out my window.  They never even looked for me.  I doubt they miss me at all.”

                When I have finished telling my story, I turn back around to Tom, expecting to see a look of disgust on his face as he realized he hired a runaway, but it isn’t there.  Instead is a look of...  I don’t know what.  Amazement, wonder, bewilderment?  He says, “When I hired you at the airport I saw a girl with a secret in her eyes.  I wanted so desperately to know what it was.  But now I know that I picked the bravest girl in the world.”  He smiles at me then, and I smile back.

                “Do you want to start training now?”  I ask, because if he comes any closer, I will kiss him for sure.

                He pulls away.  “Yeah.  I made a contract you should sign, and then we will go over how you should act at my events.  And then, you can go shopping for whatever you might need.  I’m busy this afternoon, but you can take my credit card and Frank, my bodyguard will drive you wherever you want to go.”

                I follow him into an office.  He pulls a piece of paper out of the printer.  The contract.  I briefly read it over.  Certain phrases jump out at me.  Service needed for a year, and may be renewed if you wish it.  And, Pay is 500 pounds per week.  I take a pen from his desk and sign without reading further.  500 pounds per week!  I feel weightless.  He smiles at my signature, then motions for me to sit down.  I watch him make a copy of the contract, hand it to me, then file the original away.  He spends the next three hours explaining who I should talk to at the events we will attend, what I will say, and how I should act.  At the end, he reviews quickly then looks at the clock.

                “Shit!  I’m going to be late.  I’ll call Frank and he will come pick you up and take you to some shops.”  In his hurry, he throws his credit card at me, adding, “Don’t hold yourself back.  Get whatever you want, and I’ll see you tonight.  Sorry for the rush!”  And with that, he is gone, in his car, driving hastily away.  Half an hour after he leaves, Frank shows up.

                The car ride is dead silent.  I feel so uncomfortable around Frank.  We finally arrive at the mall, and Frank says, “I will meet you here whenever.  I’ll just be reading in the car.”

                I smile and nod.  In the mall, I pick up some casual clothes and a new phone.  I stop and consider the events Tom told me I would attend with him, and decide to find some formal clothes.  I pick up a black dress, and a green one that matches the color of my wallpaper, and a dress that reminds me of the pale blue color of Tom’s eyes.  It takes me longer than planned to find all the clothes. 

                I feel badly for making Frank wait.  Frank.  Such a weird name for a big beefy intimidating guy, I think , on my way to the car.  He looks more like a Ripper.  I find him, reading in the car like he said he would be.  The book looks like it is meant for a doll in his beefy hands.  I knock on the side of the locked car door.  He jumps, then unlocks the door.  I fall in, the weight of my bags dragging me down.  He is characteristically silent as we drive back to the house.

                Tom gets back long after me, and says he landed a part in a new movie.  I congratulate him and excuse myself for bed.  Shopping that much tired me out.