Haimish.
Haimish. Adjective. Homey. Cosy and unpretentious.
Another writing prompt fic. "Skipping out on work again?"
Dramione drabble of sorts.
"Skipping out on work again?" Hermione looks up from the novel she was reading. Draco stood in front of her, peering down as she looks up at him, squinting at the halo of sun around the tall blond. Tapping his foot, he awaits an answer.
"And if, I was?" Draco noted the bushy haired brunette sounded tired, usually her reply would be sharp and snarky and slightly rude. Sighing softly, he joins her sitting on the edge of the stone steps. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, she was hidden in the shade of the wall more than he.
The summer heat had drawn the tourists out to the square, the trickling fountains being splashed in by young and old despite the signs. "Then it'd be highly unusual on Miss-Know-It-All, to be skipping out on the important work at the ministry. Highly unprofessional." His mouth upturns in a smirk on his narrow face.
She sighs heavily, closing the book after placing a bookmark in its place. "It's impossible to get anything done. Every idea and forward movement gets blocked. It's a chess board of corporate people and we both know that I'm useless at the game." Frustrated she unknots tangles within her hair, managing to mess it further than what it had been. "Work is just the start, Ronald's being impossible." She twists her engagement ring around her finger. The vintage Prewitt heirloom sparkling in the light. The large white oval opal was surrounded with a halo of tiny diamonds and was set upon a gold band, the jewel dating back to the Victorian era was far too ostentatious for her. She was far too polite to demand a different one. Draco mentally noted that she deserved something new, something modern, updated and brilliant just like her.
"He wants me to move in, you know?" she looks out over the plaza, "Mentioned… kids, the other day." Her voice wobbles at this. Her mind wanders, skipping between Ron's poky flat above WWW, the large building that was work and the blurry faces of unknown kids. She sighs softly, long fingers wiping stray tears that pricked her eyes, resting her head upon his shoulder. She felt impossibly lost and confused. Trapped, she supposed.
Draco curls and arms across the back of her shoulders, resting his head on hers. He didn't like seeing her like this; fragile. He wasn't used to it, even in these past few years and sort of friendship they'd struck up. As a boy he'd been drawn to the lionesses outward-ness, her bravery and her bossiness. Her incredibly sharp mind and thirst for knowledge and bettering herself. She'd make a wonderful Slytherin, but most definitely a Raven at heart. The fact that she out magicked most purebloods, even those older than her. "Come on." He stands, startling her slightly as her support slipped, offering her a hand. As her fingers lace with his, the other dropping the muggle paperback, he focuses on a mental image. The apparition catches her by surprise.
The small white stone cottage is nestled among trees overlooking a teal blue lake, gentle waves lapping over smooth grey pebbles upon the shoreline. A slight breeze cools the warm heat radiating from the blazing sun, partially hidden by candyfloss clouds. Keeping a hold of her hand, Draco leads her up the small path to the apple green door. The gold handle turns easily, a tad too hot to the touch. Unusually, she follows him, speechless.
He takes a right through the bottom of a short hallway entering a light and airy kitchen which spans the back of the small property. A soft green colour tints the walls with painted grey cabinetry which compliments the oak beams above. Letting go of his hand she perches on a high stool upon the breakfast bar which separates it from the dining area. A medium sized oak table centres in the room behind her stretching towards the front of the house, creating a long and narrow L shape. Draco opens a black fridge, removing a bottle of wine and glasses from under the breakfast bar. She notes the age and struggles to pronounce the name as he pours glasses for them both.
Sipping it attentively, she appreciates the cool crisp bubbles on her palate. Giving him a small smile, she takes a moment to relax, "Where are we?"
"Italy," he takes one of the wooden stools beside her amused at her lack of alarm, "An unplottable, untraceable getaway cottage."
"Mmmhm." She takes another drink, swirling the liquid in the tall glass. "How did you come across it?"
Reaching for a few grapes in the bowl in front of him, he ponders this for a moment. "After the war I needed a place to escape. To think, be alone. An acquaintance of mine noted a derelict muggle cottage. It needed work." He watches her reaction, her face was neutral, waiting for him to proceed. "After being cleared, thanks to you and Potter, I needed something to throw myself into. The perfect project. Out of England. Away from magic. Everything you see here was restored the muggle way. I even enjoyed getting my hands dirty, so to speak. The ministry was fine with me not having a wand. I only got it back last year." Three years without a wand.
Hermione surveys her surroundings trying to picture a crumbling, failing building beneath the now smooth and painted walls. And yet it somehow it retained its charm. Draco doing manual labour surprised her but understood the need to keep busy. Being in your head too often could be dangerous. Idle hands had dangerous tendencies. When you were busy, bad thoughts couldn't take over. It kept you motivated and distracted. Tipping her head back she drains the glass. "You've put a lot of work into it. It's beautiful. But how, may I ask, is it untraceable and unplottable?" she rotates in the stool, facing him. Twiddling the stem of the glass between her fingers she worried that she had pushed him too far.
Grey eyes meet brown. "Easy. Kingsley needed to keep me safe. To avoid a witch hunt, so to speak. This gave me a safe place to retreat when I felt like I was under threat. He put the wards up himself. Three people know of this place. Myself, Kingsley and the acquaintance. And now, you too." Finishing the rest of the wine, he reaches out his hand. "Come, let me show you around properly."
Taking his hand once again, they re-enter the hallway. Poking her head round the living room door, she surveys the room. Opposite to the dining room, the lounge had a beautiful view. A large square window overlooked the lake. A grey sofa and armchairs dot the room. The two-seater faces a small fireplace, a wooden fire surround matched the beams that span the ceiling. Forest green, teal blue and duck egg knickknacks spot colour around the white walls. More oak beams as shelfing. A canvas hangs on the wall opposite the fire place, a scape of the view outside. Simple and comforting. The colours were entirely Draco minus any black.
Taking a sharp left at the newel post the climb the wooden stairs. More whitewashed walls and oak. The lightness of the hallway below was mirrored here too.
The bathroom was above the kitchen. A lovely wheat colour upon the walls, just lighter than the stone floor. The majority of the room was focused upon a large white clawfoot tub. A decent sized shower was tucked into the corner with matching double vanity complete with sinks and the toilet. The skylights between the beams in the triangular ceiling casting soft light and warmth in the room. It would be blissful to be able to lie in the warm bath with a book. The scented candles dotted about at twilight would create a gentle light and calming scents.
Above the lounge area was the only bedroom. The grey walls and wooden floors were matched with more oak furniture. A large rectangular window overlooked the lake with a cleverly placed loveseat to overlook the view. Opposite the doorway, the longest wall, spanned with wardrobe facings. These, Hermione found out also had drawers behind too. A very muggle space saving solution. The door wall also had an intricate vintage vanity complete with a triptych mirror and low stool. Empty perfume bottles scatter the surface. The large bed, simple in shape and design, had low beside drawers either side. Draco watches from the doorway as Hermione tests the bed out, bouncing a little, ruffling the green duvet. The blue and white toned scatter cushions wobbling.
Satisfied and slightly amused Draco shows Hermione to his favourite room. Above the dining room sat a room in which would be useful as another bedroom but much more preferential to its current function. Opening the door, he lets her absorb the room. More skylights were present in here, along side the beams and wooden floors. What took her breath away were the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Organised into half and half, the room split between fiction and nonfiction from both worlds. Each large case in genre order then in alphabetical order of authors surname. A miniature library. Another larger grey sofa is focused in the centre of the room, matching armchairs dotted into corners. Clearly Draco had a liking of this particular choice of furnishings.
Hermione lightly traces the spines around the room. Below the window in the front of the building, the sky a baby blue, she comes across a small table with a kettle and tea making facilities. Flicking her wand, she makes herself a cuppa. Draco commenting from his place at the door that he would also like one. She busies herself, absorbing the smell of the old books.
This tiny little cottage belonged to someone who she never knew she needed. The calmness in the storm. This tiny little cottage felt like home.
Curling up on the sofa with a favourite tome he joins her with the mugs of tea; yes, to answer his original question, she was skipping out on work again.