rosemary

lovage

the lovage herb represents strength; going forward despite the past.

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It was quiet.

There was no sound above the engine humming and the tires spinning way too fast over the asphalt.

No music.

No talking.

The only noticeable sound was Harry's heart beating in his ears. He just hoped only he could hear that.

(Y/N) hadn't said a word since they pulled away from her home. Harry hadn't pushed her, instead focusing on getting them away from that town as fast as possible, before anyone could have a chance to notice anything out of the ordinary. The fastest route out of there landed them on the highway within thirty minutes, the black pavement stretched out for miles.

Now forty-five minutes out on the highway and the time barely ticking after three a.m., they were one of the few out on the road. Everything was almost eerily quiet after the kind of panic that had been ignited in him just an hour prior. This was why Harry liked making a getaway before the rest of the world woke. He could make note of every car he saw, every marker on the side of the road, and every deserted rest stop when the rest of the world was quiet.

Coasting past every sign and darkened gas station, the next nearest city was another one hundred and thirty-four miles away—at least according to a sun-bleached sign, anyway. Harry made a point to focus his efforts in creating a rhythm so he wouldn't miss a single detail around him. He checked the road ahead of him first, noting the signs and anything that could be an opportunity to slip them further away to somewhere no one would look for them. He then scanned over every exit and shoulder, trying to spot any car lingering in the dark, anyone waiting in the wings to possibly sweep behind them and give chase. Every car he came across was examined as quickly as he could manage without drifting through lanes, Harry noting the driver and anything that may have looked familiar to him in a previous life. His mirrors were his lifeline to ensure he didn't miss anything that popped up behind him. The pattern would then repeat, every detail fixing itself into his brain.

It was a strategic system, one of the few defenses he could manage outside of just going fast and getting away as quickly as he could. It also ensured he wouldn't look at (Y/N).

While he wanted to believe that she was asleep since she hadn't said a word or tried to pry any kind of explanation out of him, Harry knew better. Once in a while, he saw her hands stir in her lap, reaching up to her face or a short sniffle would shudder her chest. She was choosing not to speak to him, not to touch him, not to look at him.

Numbness still coated everything he felt. Even the raw edge of those softer emotions had been dulled. He would mourn that comfort he used to have with (Y/N) once she was somewhere safe.

Once the meter for the gas in his tank drifted too low for comfort, Harry strayed from the highway for the first time since embarking out. He had waited, patrolling the exits, until he saw one that looked well lit and close to the highway to make a quick exit as soon as he was done. While he was ninety-eight percent sure they weren't being followed, he knew that wouldn't be the case for too much longer. Soon enough someone was going to notice he was gone and had another with him.

Even with his certainty, Harry still took the exit and lingered around the station until he could be sure that no one was following them. When he didn't see any headlights coming after them, a stranger pull out of the shadows, or any other suspicious omen, he finally made his way to the pump.

His movements were calculated to cut every second of time he possibly could, everything efficient to ensure safety was that much closer. He made quick work of grabbing the money he had stashed in the center console, his attention placed on the numbered flag hanging on the meter.