Millicent had never expected that she'd sleep so well on a ship, but perhaps a day of stingray-fleeing and listening to Ernie growling like a pirate and tying cherry stems in knots and so on made for sound slumber. In any case, she awoke feeling refreshed, pleasantly surprised by the shocking and novel sensation of NOT being completely and utterly murderous before her first cup of coffee.
Ernie was already in the dining room when she got there, once again sipping his coffee and reading a paper, taking leisurely bites of his buttered toast. This morning, it just seemed natural to seat herself across from him, swat at the paper until he saw her, and watch the scowl of annoyance change into a smile.
"Good to see you again," he greeted her as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. "Are you ready to tour The Abacos? To see the boating and sailing capital of the world, explore the beaches and coves and watch the sun set over the ocean as a lighthouse flares in the distance?"
"If you stop using that tour guide tone of voice, I'm ready for anything," she rejoined sweetly, and he had the grace to blush faintly. "So, have you ever sailed before?"
"Not exactly, though Justin once invited me over for a week during summer hols and we went out on the water in the yacht that his family owns, and it was nice," Ernie explained. "I suppose that it can't be too difficult. I mean, I got the most NEWTs our year after Hermione."
"And knowing how many uses Fir needles have in potions has a great deal to do with sailing, I'm sure," Millicent said sagely. "Blaise has a yacht in his villa in France. He's let me sail a few times when I visited last. Perhaps I'll start it up and show you how it's done, hmm?"
Ernie pouted a bit at the idea of not getting to do it first, but gentlemanly impulses (or perhaps Millicent's leaning across the table slightly to reach the jar of strawberry preserves, displaying her decolletage to excellent advantage) won out, and he agreed to the plan.
It had not been at all difficult to quickly figure out how to make the sleek white speedboat that they rented move forward. Millicent smiled broadly, adjusted her sunglasses, revved up the motor, and within a few moments, it was zooming across the water like a dart, and next to her, Ernie gave a yelp and clung onto his seat for dear life.
"YOU'RE GOING TOO FAST!" He shouted over the noise of the motor, and she merely laughed as the wind picked up and blew her hair away from her neck. Making a quick, sharp turn in the water, she did a few loops before taking pity on his manfully suppressed expression of terror and leading them back to the shore. He tightened the straps on his comically bright orange life jacket and wobbled as he stood.
"I'll drive a bit, please," he said tightly, and she agreeably switched seats with him. He fussed and fiddled with the dials before taking off, and then he acted as though steering it through a crowd of other boats even though there was nothing but cool water and cloudless sky for miles around.
She laughed at his meticulousness and the expression of utter concentration on his face and just sat back and enjoyed the ride. He'd be so sore later from holding his arms so tensely and making constant, minor adjustments. But she'd not tell him that... not yet.
He really was kind of cute like this.
They ate conch fritters and coconut shrimp at little white picnic tables along the water, and it was really surprisingly easy just to sit on the beach and watch the bustle of excited tourists around them. It was what the tour guides called a bucolic paradise, or at least it would be had it not been for the one family full of shrieking toddlers whose mother seemed content to let them do whatever they wanted.
"Y'know, one of these days, those brats are going to piss off the wrong person and then they're going to get thrown to the stingray things," Millicent commented, glowering as the youngest of them shrieked yet again because the older ones were throwing sand at him. "And no one will miss them. People like that woman should not be breeding."
Ernie gave her a bit of a reproachful look. "It's normal for some children to be spirited and lively."
Millicent gave him a patented Slytherin eyebrow raise. "You can't honestly tell me that you chucked starfish at people when you were four-ish."
"Well... no. I was well-behaved when I was young."
"And that's just changed SOOOO much, hasn't it?" she sniggered, and he gave her a sulky look which made her laugh. This new... friendship-type-thing with him aside, baiting him was still fun. And he looked cute when he was blushing and pouting in a blokey-no-I'm-NOT-pouting way. Not that she'd tell him that to his face.
She popped the last shrimp into her mouth and sidled up to him, leaning her head against his shoulder and patting his arm. "I'm sure that you've an inner hedonistic demon that enjoys smoking big cigars and riding motorcycles and getting tattoos and having lots of wild, kinky sex. In public places. Surrounded by liquor bottles."
His eyes glazed over a bit at THAT mental image, and she took the opportunity to snuggle just a bit. It wasn't weakness, she decided. It was natural. He'd been nice to her the last few days. More than. He'd made her laugh and have fun and ENJOY this vacation, even though some of the laughter was at his expense. And he'd not had any reason to do it, really. And he looked really good. The tropics agreed with him, the sun bringing out highlights in his hair and the summery attire showing off a surprisingly muscular form for someone who'd always been so nerdy in school.
She didn't really notice that he'd wrapped an arm around her and cuddled back until she felt his fingers caress her hair, and then she only stiffened for a moment. Surprise was quickly replaced by comfort, and really, she should have been more disturbed at how easy it had gotten for him to cross through her barriers and get close to her.
But this was comfortable and she barely noticed the waiter bringing away their dishes and the hellions finally shutting up.
They remained sitting like that for quite a long time, not talking, and yet the silence and the stillness didn't bother her at all.
They roused themselves long enough to play a game of beach volleyball with a few of the other tourists, Millicent picking up the game after a few moments and viciously spiking the ball over the net again and again, while Ernie sometimes ducked when it came hurtling at his head. After her 'team' had cleaned out the opposition though, the other vacationers had given them quite a quantity of tequila, ice and margarita mix, and Millicent made the mental note that when she returned home, she'd give a suggestion to Blaise that he should learn volleyball if he ever wanted free booze from strangers.
Before they knew it, both of them were quite relaxed, and they'd been walking barefoot along the pristine beach for hours, his arm still around her waist, her head still leaning against his shoulder. Cool water lapped at their toes, and a breeze picked up from the sea, blowing her hair away from her face. In the distance, the sun was setting, and the candy-striped lighthouse flared up its beacon.
Maybe it was the alcohol that gave her the courage to do it. But when Ernie took off his shirt and wrapped it around her shoulders as the air grew slightly chilly with the breeze, Millicent drew herself up to her full height, turned slightly so that she was facing him, cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his.
And it didn't feel strange at all. Not even in the split second it took for him to respond, to wrap both arms around her waist and pull her to him. To tease the seam of her lips with his tongue and swallow the little moan that passed through her lips. To pull back only briefly to get a breath of much-needed air into his lungs before kissing her again, and brace himself as she pushed him down onto the sand.
No, even when he slid that shirt off of her shoulders again, even when they were both clothed in nothing but the sea air and the dim light of dusk, it felt like everything was supposed to happen.
Her last coherent thought was that it felt like it'd been a long time in coming.
They eventually made it back to the ship, barely in time, and paused every five or so steps to snog, and then they went to her room because it was the closest, scrubbed the sand off their skin in her jacuzzi bath before making love in there as well.
She had no idea when they finally made it to the bed, and at that time, it really didn't matter.
Millicent awoke feeling languid and boneless and warm, the sort of 'sliding into a hot bath after a long day' contentment settled in her limbs. And maybe that was why she didn't freak out, like she should have, when she noticed a fair head of tousled blond hair on the other pillow and a muscular arm wrapped around her torso. Of course, that was not to say that she didn't blush when she saw exactly where his hand had settled.
Her slight movements roused him, and he blinked sleepily for a few moments before coming to and realising where he was. His cheeks turned pink and he smiled a bit bashfully, removing his hand from over her breast and running it through his hair. "Umm. Good morning," he greeted her. "Sleep well?"
"Wonderfully," she drawled, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms, laughing internally as his eyes flickered towards her chest as she did so. "I mean, aside from the wet spot on the bed under my arse, but I figure that's a small price to pay, hmm?"
"Wet spot?" he started to ask, before comprehension set in. "...Oh."
"Yes. And the 'oh' face was pretty endearing, I have to admit," she couldn't resist saying with a smirk, watching his mouth fall open and his blush deepen from pink to crimson, spreading to encompass his neck and chest as well. She leaned over and kissed him, uncaring that neither of them had brushed their teeth yet. "I'm hungry."
"Me too," Ernie glanced around the room, and his eyes fell on the room service menu resting on the bar.
Millicent crawled out of bed, wrapped a sheet around herself, and picked it up before returning to the bed. She paused at the foot of the bed and took in the sight of Ernie, sleep-rumpled and sweetly smiling at her, his hair a horrid mess and his face still bearing faint remnants of her lipstick from last night.
"We're going to be staying in all day and ordering room service at sporadic intervals," she declared imperiously, tackling him back down on the sheets.
The day passed in a blur of chocolate covered cherries and finger foods and margaritas and sex and, much to Millicent's should-have-been-mortification-instead-of-satisfaction, new and creative uses of Nutella chocolate spread. Day bled into night, and they watched the sunset through the window of the stateroom, both clad in nothing more than terrycloth bathrobes.
They toasted the twilight in the jacuzzi bath, and neither seemed to care that they were splashing water all over the place and getting all pruney. But they'd gotten a bit messy and sweaty earlier during the day, and besides, Ernie had offered to wash her hair.
They finally emerged, wet and a bit chilly, after the water became cold. Clinging to each other for warmth, they made their meandering way back to the bed, and after a day of wild sex, it seemed fitting to wind down and cuddle, sharing a kiss every few minutes, his fingers caressing her damp hair, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. Millicent's body felt languid in a way that she knew meant that she'd be sore the next day, but she felt content, muscles relaxed, deliciously lethargic. If she weren't so sleepy, perhaps she would've thought more about what all this meant, the ramifications of 'hooking up' as the vulgar would've put it. But his heartbeat was lulling underneath her ear and she didn't feel like moving an inch from her spot. He'd probably have pins and needles in his arm in the morning, but really, that wasn't her problem when he seemed not to mind holding her like this at all.
In the morning, though, it was slightly more awkward, because she was sore and did NOT feel like packing, and really, if SHE wanted to laze around in bed, he should suffer with her instead of awkwardly apologising about having to leave her to put away his things so that everything was in order by the time the ship docked. But common sense prevailed, and she grumpily let him go. Tossing on the first blouse and pair of trousers she found, she sat back down by her dressing table and listlessly sent her belongings packing themselves with flicks of her wand.
She told herself she was only cranky because Pansy was going to be picking her up and it would be OBVIOUS what she'd been up to all last night. Day. Night before that. Whatever. All right, so it was the best sex she'd ever had and totally worth the soreness and not walking normally today. But Pansy would still be annoying about it and tease and pry until Millicent wanted to throw her to the grindylows.
Because that silly ex-Head Boy prat was undoubtedly packing his things the Muggle way and organising his underwear by colour and so on, and because there was no way that SHE would go and visit him and then have to resist the temptation to ask for one last snog or five, Millicent did not see Ernie again until the ship docked and all of them were disembarking. She saw Pansy not too far off, looking chic and glamourous and disgustingly complacent, as typical. She had apparently dragged Miles Bletchley along, which Millicent considered a small blessing. The fact that she was walking funny could, at least, remain unspoken and undissected until Miles had left, because Pansy was not one to gossip and poke on about such matters as the sex lives of her friends in front of her boyfriend.
A warm, now-familiar hand clapped her shoulder, and she half-turned, her own hands encumbered by bags and parcels. Ernie's face was serious and very sincere, and he gave her that adorable little-boy smile, and Millicent wanted to curse him because he had no right to make her feel melty and girly IN PUBLIC!
"Hey, I... I'm really glad I ran into you on this cruise," he said quietly, apparently unaware that annoyed people were shoving past the two of them and kicking at his luggage as he stood in the middle of the ramp. "And not just because of... you know. But it was really fun, and I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather have done it with."
Millicent wanted to kiss him. Wrap her arms around him and never let go. But Pansy was waiting, and real life, and SHE was aware that others were glaring at them. "Thanks, I need to go," she muttered, and it really wasn't what she meant to say.
Ernie fumbled around as he dug one hand in his pocket, and came out with a business card. "Here, this shows you which ward of St. Mungo's I work in. Keep in touch, all right?"
She took it and stuck it in her pocket, making a noncommittal noise. She could practically feel Pansy's eyes burning holes in the back of her neck, and turned around abruptly. "Night, Ernie," she muttered, continuing down the ramp with her things.
"Who was that?" Pansy's curious, drawling voice asked without preamble when Millicent reached them. "He looks vaguely familiar."
"No one," Millicent answered shortly. "I'm sleepy. And cold."
"Yes, yes, ye olde British weather can't compare to the Bahamas, I'm afraid," Pansy said indulgently as she helpfully took a few parcels out of Millicent's hands and handed them to Miles, who'd obviously been roped into playing bellhop. "I'll let you off the hook today, sweeting, but don't think I won't get the dirty details out of you later."
It was on the tip of Millicent's tongue to indignantly protest that it wasn't THAT dirty! Really! But that would have been damning, and so she kept silent. "Whatever. Nothing to tell, never will be."
"You're dead wrong, I know it," Pansy said smugly and knowingly.
A month and a half later, Millicent would be cursing Pansy AND Ernie under her breath, panicking internally, and wishing that the smirking bint who was supposed to be her best friend wasn't RIGHT all the time.