A/N: Posted for the DFW Nikita challenge. My prompt was: "You asked me what you mean to me, my darling, you are my poetry."
If the story feels familiar to anyone... PM me. I doubt you'll be wrong.
Alpha thanks to niffizzle and LadyKenz347. Beta love to CourtingInsanity. All remaining errors are my own.
I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise.
Tuesday, 31 December, 2002
Beauty swathed the night; the signs of this inescapable truth were everywhere Draco turned.
The stars winked from the heavens, their reflection skipping and dancing over the waves lapping the powdery, sandy shore. The waning silver slip of a moon seemed to smile from its perch in the cosmos, as if in silent and approving agreement with Draco.
Agreement that tonight, tonight, the intimate privacy of dark and shadows was best. The bright half-moon that greeted him and Hermione upon their arrival was understanding and playing along with Draco's plans as he'd taken his witch into his arms moments ago and begun to dance near the rocky end of the strip of beach.
They'd been staying on this relatively secluded shoreline of the island for almost a week now and it seemed intimate moments such as this one could only be found in the solitude of their room—ironic, considering Aunt Andromeda had suggested Phuket to Hermione for the very reasons of warmth and seclusion, or so his witch had said. Draco, however, remembered his aunt had been sorted in the house of Slytherin, and had his own suspicions, but opted to keep them to himself.
"Draco..." His witch hummed as with the start of a lazy thought as she lifted her head from his chest. He dropped his hand from her back, twirling her out from his arms before she had the chance to continue, admiring the fanning of her curls as she spun back into his waiting embrace. She giggled as she took hold of his neck, her fingers threading his hair. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Maybe." He beamed back at her, pressing his free hand into the small of her thinly-clothed back. "But, were you about to ask me something?"
She gave a light shake of her head before leaning into him, resting her forehead to his chin. "I was going to say that we've been here nearly a week and still haven't thought to ask anyone about those strange green lights on the horizon."
"You mean you haven't thought to ask about it," he said, voice low. "I asked one of the desk clerks about it our second day."
"You did not…" Her head lifted, but he could tell the jest in her tone. "We've been inseparable since we've arrived; I would have noticed and overheard."
"Ah, ah, ah…" He chuckled, twirling her out again, capturing her lips with his for a brief kiss before resuming their lazy waltz to the tune of crashing waves and distant karaoke music. "You remember that nap you took in the room that afternoon?"
"You napped, too."
"Actually, you'll recall I didn't."
"Yes, you did." She didn't lift her head this time and her warm breath tickled the bare skin of his chest. "You were reading when I dozed off and I woke up to you asleep beside me."
He hummed into her curls, disregarding the stray strands that had begun to tickle his nose. "And in between that time, while you were sound asleep, I went to the front desk to inquire about adjusting the temperature of our air conditioner and I asked about the lights while I was there."
Water lapped at their feet as Hermione raised her head, eyes meeting his before looking out to the ocean beyond him. "Impress me, then, Malfoy."
"They're squid boats." She gave a soft scoff and he pressed his lips to her brow, lingering near the warmth of her skin as he elaborated. "That's what he told me. The fluorescent green light attracts the squids." He gave a crooked smile as her shoulders shrugged and she shook her curls.
"What a curious and wonderful world we occupy," she said, her fingers meeting at the nape of his neck again, pulling his face to hers, her lips nipping and sucking at his, depriving him of a chance to give any answer, save for the involuntary response of adjusting his stance.
His arms now twined around her waist under his unbuttoned oxford shirt she'd slipped on over the 'string bikini' she'd put on before dinner by the pool. (Said bikini was not to be confused with the 'sports bikini' she'd worn yesterday on their snorkeling excursion; the latter was not nearly so easily removed in a passionate moment.)
"You are…" he started as their lips parted, clearing his throat as he blinked at the witch in his arms; the witch Fate had finally deigned to allow him to call his… A hazy fog settled over his mind as starlight reflected in her eyes. He gave a thick swallow and said, "You've a funny way of putting things sometimes, you know that?"
"Not if you think about it." She lifted herself to her toes, nuzzling his nose with hers. "Because I'm sure the locals have been using that method of fishing ages before you and I ever came along. This island, all the places we've travelled and seen this year, they were all here long before you and I were. They'll still remain long after you and I are gone." Her arms tightened around his neck as her head and curls settled to his chest, and he couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe.
She had rendered him speechless and mindless more times than he could count over the last several years, but this… This…
He was helpless and breathless, surrendering to the scream of his heart and body and tightened his grip around her, laying his cheek atop her head, slowing their movements to an unhurried sway amidst the waves and the sand.
"Love?" she said after several moments.
"Hmm?" he hummed, utterly content.
"Not that I'm complaining at this unusual romantic gesture, but we've been dancing to nothing for a while now…"
"Karaoke music," he mumbled.
She giggled, hushed and girlish. "They turned the boy band covers off a while ago. D'you want to head inside?"
"Not yet." He gave a light exhale, pressing a kiss to her curls before pulling back and straightening his posture, keeping her wrapped in his arms all the while. "Because, you see, there's a song that's been running in my head all week, and I think now's the perfect time to share it with you."
Part of Hermione's right cheek tucked inward as she gave into that nervous habit of biting the inside of it, but her full eyes gazed into his still. Unblinking and unphased. It was enough for his heart to seize in his chest and startle to life again, cursing its boney cage. He sucked a sharp breath, drawing from the recesses of his courage as his lips parted and he began:
"'somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence—"
"That's not a song," she protested softly, "that's a poem."
"Shh," he hushed, pressing a finger to her warm lips. "I'm being romantic. 'in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near."
Her eyes become glossy with a watery sheen, and he heard her give a hard swallow, encouraging him to continue…
"'your slightest look easily will unclose me, though i have closed myself as fingers'..." He ducked his head to claim her lips, basking in her sigh and moan as their lips moved in lazy unison; and in the low whimper as he drew back, breathing the next lines against her lips: "'you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose, or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,'"
He paused, allowing his fingers to caress her back as they danced up, up, up… Toying with the stringy bow of her bikini under his shirt. He swallowed a noise between a purr and a growl as her eyes fluttered shut and she arched into him, her lips meeting his chin, making slow work of moving up his jaw.
"That's not the end, Draco," she murmured into his ear, send chills and waves of pleasure coursing through him. She ran her nose back down his jawline before ending with a kiss to his neck. "Keep going," she whispered as she dotted wet kisses against his neck.
Salazar. She would be the end of him… His hands flattened under that tantalizing scrap of material, around the middle of her back and it was all he could do to not tear at the bow… Shove the offending material aside and begin to worship her skin here and now…
He sucked a quick breath, rasping as he continued. "'as when the heart of this flower imagines, the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals, the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries...'" He paused, permitting a tender kiss to her forehead, her nose and cheek, his hands sliding to the side of her ribs, thumbs sneaking under the cup of her bikini to skim against the underside of her perfect, perfect, breasts.
She hummed in approval, her fingers travelling into his hair, threading, carding and mushing.
He couldn't find it in himself to care. He was hers, she could make him look freshly shagged anytime. Another lingering delicate kiss to her lips and he resumed where he'd left off: "'rendering death and forever with each breathing…'" Their eyes eyes met as he swallowed, hands dropping to rest at her hips. He allowed his head to come down, his brow touching hers as he finished: "'(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands'."
Her lips swallowed his next words as they pressed and sucked and slid across his, setting a passionate pace as her tongue entered his mouth, sliding against his teeth and tongue. One of her hands must have travelled to his shoulder, as he felt fingers dig into the skin there while fingers still clung to his hair. There was more he had to say, more to murmur into the night air between them before the dawn of a new year…
But who was he to bridle such frenzied desperation? Hermione loved him; he'd loved her so long in silent shadows, and now…
"Hermione," he gasped at last, panting between her still insistent lips. "Love… Could you…? Can we…?" He was lost, groaning as she arched and ground against him. "Witch," he breathed before claiming her lips once more, lingering and caressing. "As much as I adore you, I really hate the sand…"
"You're a wizard," she answered, shifting so that her fingers now traced along the edges of his swim trunks. "I'm sure you can figure something out…" She moved to press her lips to his again and it took every ounce of self-restraint to loosen his grip and create the slightest amount of distance between them. Her brow puckered. "Is something wrong, Draco?"
He exhaled low and slow, giving in to an ironic chuckle. "Far from it." He cupped her face with his hands, dropping a kiss to her curls. "It's just, I've been waiting for just the right moment all this week… And tonight, with the waning moon, the stars, the beach… It all seemed like the right time for this build, and I can't let another moment pass without telling you that—"
Here his jaw snapped shut; his mouth felt as sand and tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. His blood thrummed and thundered as his heart pounded inside his chest. It was everything just to swallow…
His witch's chocolate gaze held his, kind and questioning as she asked, "That…?"
"That I love you," he choked, mentally berating himself. "Which you already know, but it's the safest thing to say. Because you know what a self-preserving coward I can be. Because it would be too much to put myself out there and ask you to marry me plain and simple, but maybe if I recited another poem from your book, and told you again how very much I love you and went on with how I want to spend the rest of my life with only you, and—"
"Yes."
"—Yes, yes, I know I'm stalling, but I just need to get through this so I—"
"Draco, yes."
He stopped short, heart stuttering and sputtering to a grinding halt as he blinked at her. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Say that again, please."
Her smile was sweet and perfect. "If you're asking, my answer is a resounding yes."
His mind finally caught on, his body snapping to as he broke their knitted embrace and lunged for her hands, dropping to his knees. "Hermione," he said, clearing his throat again, "I... You are my song. You're my poetry, my life and my everything. All I have, I want it to be yours and shared with you for as long as I live. Will you marry me?"
Tracking tears glistened back at him in the starlight as she answered with a watery affirmative.
What followed was a tangled flurry of mingled laughter and tears, kisses, hushed reminders of their mutual and shared affection, and it was only when his fingers wound and tangled themselves in her hair that it occurred to him that there was a freshly made bed waiting for them in their hotel room.
They made it there after several distracted stops and starts and there was only Hermione as the door closed behind them.
'Hermione' as they devested each other of their few articles of clothing.
'Hermione' as he settled between her thighs and they brought each other the brink and fell over the edge. Again and again.
'Hermione' as his eyes fluttered shut and the room echoed her contented and sleepy sigh.
'Hermione' as he drifted off with her, muttering something about how angry Theo would be with them if they eloped while here at the beach…
'Hermione' as she giggled and murmured something that sounded like an agreement before they were lost to the land of darkness and dreams.
And all the promises of tomorrow.
poetry credit to E. E. Cummings, "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond"
Would love to know what you think!