A/N: Aaaaand...so begins some smut... expect it nearly every other chapter from now til chapter 16. I honestly used this story as a way to just practice smut writing... told you. Not real plot heavy.

Chapter 9:

Draco woke to bright sunlight pouring in through the windows of his villa. It nearly blinded him as a headache pounded so forcefully he could feel every beat of his heart in his temples. The bile rose in his throat as he tried to remember how exactly he had gotten from the hammock on the beach and into his bed and could vaguely recall trying to choke his password out at least a half-dozen times before he finally got the door open. He fumbled on the nightstand for his wand, eyes closed tightly as he waved it toward the French doors and windows, casting a tinted ward over the entirety.

The light dimmed significantly, and he dragged his body upright into a sitting position, rubbing his forehead as he tried to quell his nausea. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw a tiny vial on the nightstand, pearlescent pink liquid swirling within. At least the drunken-Draco had the forethought to prepare the hangover elixir within reach for himself. He tipped it back quickly, the liquid much too bitter for something that looked so pretty.

The relief was almost instantaneous, cooling him from the top of his head, inch by inch to his toes. His stomach still was not feeling up to eating much, so he pried himself out of the bed completely, surprised when he saw that he was fully nude. Looking around the room, he saw his clothing strewn about. With a grumble at his dulling headache, he trudged to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. Breathing steadily as he placed the coffee beans and water in the cup, he tapped the rim with his wand and it mixed into a pleasantly fragrant cappuccino.

Draco retrieved a piece of toast and made his way to the windows, darkened with his tinted ward and looked out over the sea. His stomach settled as he nibbled at the bread, watching the water's surface sparkle. A movement to the bottom right of the window caught his attention and he watched as Hermione Granger stepped out of a set of French doors onto a balcony two floors below. So that was her villa? Draco could not recall ever having seen her on the balcony before.

Yet, there she was, holding a book and a towel, looking around to make sure no one was watching from any of the surrounding balconies. Draco stepped behind the curtains when she looked directly at his window, though he knew she could not see him standing there behind the darkened glass. Satisfied that she was alone, she set her things down on a table alongside the lounge chair and pulled her dress up and over her head, folding it neatly and stowing it on the table as well.

Draco had to brace himself against the wall as he peered from around the curtains to where Granger stood, clad in a tiny white bikini. The contrast of the bathing suit against her golden skin told him that she must regularly sunbathe. If she had such a tantalizing piece of swimwear, why in the hell did she wear those conservative one pieces to the beach? He set his coffee mug down, no longer interested in coffee when he could drink in the glorious sight before him.

The wizard watched her back and the firm swell of her arse in the revealing bikini bottoms, willing her to turn around so he could glimpse her from the front. Her curves were mind-blowing from his view, but in his fading hangover-haze, he desperately wanted to know how magnificent those pert tits would look clad in nothing more than a few triangles of fabric. Feeling slightly voyeuristic, Draco watched as she retrieved her tub of sun potion and sat primly on the side of the lounge chair with her back facing him. Granger scooped her wild mane of curls into a messy bun atop her head and then tugged at the strings around her neck.

Draco's fingers pressed into the wall beside the window as he leaned so close to the glass that his nose nearly touched it. As her tits bounced free of the fabric and she undid the strings around her back, arching so that he could see the swells on either side of her thin frame, his free hand went of its own accord to wrap firmly around his cock. She put the top with her dress and retrieved the tub of sun potion, opening it and inhaling its fragrance—creamy cocoa and shea, he knew from their day at the beach.

She took a large dollop from the tub and began rubbing it on her arms, and Draco matched his own hand's movements to the swipes of hers. When Granger brought another scoop to her chest and began rubbing and massaging it into her own tits, the wizard drew his bottom lip between his teeth and removed his hand from around his cock. He put his forehead against his upper arm as he remained leaning against the wall.

What the fuck was he doing? The witch—whom Draco had grown to admire for her intelligence, her wittiness, her bravery and her beauty—deserved more than some creep watching her from his window. Granger was Potter's girl on top of everything else, throwing a further complication into Draco's growing infatuation.

Feeling anger at himself, at Potter, at the world, Draco turned and smacked the coffee mug from the table, shattering the glass and splattering the coffee within. On an island inhabited by some of the finest specimens of magical women, he just had to go and fall for the one girl he could never have.

Raking a hand through his hair, Draco went into the bathroom and ran the water for a shower. As he climbed in, he tried to think of anything else as he began lathering his own skin. The weather—which made him think of the way a tiny bead of sweat had chased down Granger's neck as they had walked along the beach. The activities the island had to offer—he and Granger were heading into town together again the following day and he silently wondered if she might wear one of her more revealing sundresses. Drinking himself into oblivion—he pictured her face as she admitted she would bring him home over everyone else at the table the night before.

Every topic he tried to think of only led back to the alluring woman. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and tried to turn his thoughts to anything else. But as he stood there, all he could see was her sitting on the mezzanine. The intoxicating shade of golden brown her skin was turning with so much sunshine against a stark white bikini.

Draco could easily imagine his pale skin against her much darker tan as he ran his hands over her bare back and sides, dragging the cocoa-scented potion over her skin. Naked, he sat behind her, his legs straddling either side of her hips, his cock brushing against her lower back as he massaged her skin.

He kissed and sucked at the crook of her shoulder, grazing his teeth along as one hand went up to pinch her nipple. His other hand untied the strings of her bottoms, one at a time. His hand returned to her body, running down over her abdomen before tracing a path to dip one finger into her pussy—smooth as glass and already wet for him.

Draco groaned, and drawing a ragged breath, he stifled his guilt and thoughts to let the scene play out in his mind. His hand firmly wrapped around his cock once more, he leaned his back against the wall. His eyes closed tightly as he fucked his own hand with long, slippery strokes.

Granger let out a series of sultry sounding moans, pleading with him to slide a second finger in to join the first, his thumb rubbing circles over her clit. As she began to shake, her orgasm building, Draco pulled her to sit fully in his lap. His cock pressed up into her, her tight, slick heat enveloping him, and she let out a low moan between shallow breaths. "Fuck," she hissed, leaning into him as he thrust up into her.

Granger came unraveled around him, panting his name as she rolled her hips against his as she rode out the waves. She rose once her legs had stopped quaking, giving him a delectable view of her lighter arse, her striking tan lines making his mouth water as she turned around and crooked a finger, beckoning him forth. He stood as she leaned over the balcony railing, resting her elbows against it as she spread her legs. He ran his fingers over her slick center once more before grabbing ahold of her waist and snapping his hips forward, slamming into her.

Draco was biting his lip once more, nearly bruising it with the force. His cock was growing steadily harder, the tip already glistening as he thrust his hips into his fist in time with the thrusts of his fantasy.

She groaned and begged for him to go harder until he was at a tempo he could barely stand. The sight of her tits bouncing, the coquettish smile she gave him as she looked over her shoulder at him, the 'o' her lips formed as he hit a particularly deep thrust. He snapped his hips a few more times before spilling into her.

Draco thrust into his fist a few more times as he thought of running his hands over her supple arse, watching his cock slide out of her, slick with their pleasures. When he came, his entire body felt like it was tingling with a fire only she could draw from him. With a few indolent strokes, he had finished, still leaning against the wall as he caught his breath.

The tension that had left his body, all of the relief he felt after releasing months of pent-up anger, frustrations, sadness, and desire, was short lived. He scrubbed his body after he regained his footing, nearly turning his skin pink with the efforts. Draco felt disgusted with his actions, guilt consuming him as he thought about what he had done. He felt as though he had violated her, watching her from his window and then allowing himself to get caught up in such a fantasy.

When he climbed out of the shower, Draco dressed quickly, avoiding the windows and French doors as though the glass would disappear and he would be sucked into a vortex if he went within ten feet of them. His mind battled itself as flashes of what she could look like on her back, lazily reading in the sunshine cut into his self-deprecating thoughts. He really was a despicable excuse for a man, having a wank to another man's witch after violating her privacy in such a manner.

Downing a second vial of elixir, he quickly descended the stairs leading to his villa and ambled into the bright sunshine. He took in a few deep breaths of the refreshing air, almost able to taste the salt on his tongue. The sunlight was still too bright for him as his hangover ebbed, so he ducked his head as he walked across the sand, trying to draw in long breaths to relieve his stomach ache. He just needed a banana and some ginger tea and to drive his fist right into Theodore Nott's face.

He was trudging over the sand, the feel of it entirely too scratchy and his mood souring further. As he passed a bright violet villa he heard a familiar voice and a feminine giggle. "I had a really great time, Harry."

Draco's eyes shot up to the source of the voice and saw Potter and Lovegood kissing on the stoop of the villa, he wearing the same clothing he had been the night before and she only wearing a thin robe. Potter ran his hands over her sides like he had been doing it all night and Draco suspected that he had. That scar-headed, two-timing, son-of-a-dead-bitch.

Luna slipped into the building, giving Potter a simpering smile as she closed the door. He stared at the door for a moment before shoving a hand through his hair and turning to go toward his own villa. Draco narrowed his eyes at the other man's back, willing him to burst into flame. Who did he think he was, treating Granger in such a manner? As much as he fought to keep to himself and not concern himself in others' business, he had seen enough. She deserved better than this prickless moron.

"Oi! Potter!" he called angrily after the raven-haired git.

Potter turned, and his countenance grew sheepish as he glanced back at the purple house and then to Draco. He was busted, and he knew it. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Malfoy. You look like shit."

"I'm going to knock the shit out of you in a few minutes if you don't come up with a damn fine reason why you're leaving Lovegood's place in yesterday's clothing," Draco replied between clenched teeth.

Potter's brow knitted together in confusion. "I hardly think what I do with a woman is any of your business."

"What are you doing? Why would you do this to Hermione? Hasn't she risked enough for you, proven her worth time and again? How could you hurt her in such a manner?" Draco demanded, feeling the animosity growing within him.

Potter looked even more confused than when Draco had first stopped him. "Hermione? Why would Hermione care if I'm seeing Luna? She likes her."

"What in the hell kind of weird relationship are you two in where she lets you walk all over her? Is her self-esteem that low, that she lets you have your way with every other witch as long as you come back to her? What have you and Weasley done to her?" Draco nearly yelled, attracting the attention of a couple walking alongside them.

Potter stared at him for a long moment before understanding flashed across his face and he burst out laughing, harsh barks that rattled Draco's brain. "Malfoy, Hermione and I are not together," he spoke slowly, as though the blond could not understand English, a grin plastered across his smug face.

And in that moment, Draco did not think he could understand the words. Potter had rubbed lotion into her skin and massaged her shoulders as she had moaned and stated that she hated people touching her. She always found a way to run her fingers through his stupidly messy hair or bump his shoulders with hers. They were almost always together. "I don't understand."

"Hermione," Potter's tone was all too condescending for Draco's liking, "and I are not dating. We never have, and we never will. She's like my sister."

"So," Draco began, trying to process the information in his still hazy state, "she's alone then?"

"Unless she went home with Nott or Zabini. Which I highly doubt, considering she hexed Nott's lips shut when he tried to give her a good night kiss last night," Potter laughed, eyeing Draco warily, his hand on his wand as though preparing for a duel.

"But she isn't seeing anyone," Draco clarified one more time, hating the disoriented feeling clouding his brain.

Potter finally gave him a sympathetic clap on the shoulder as he made to walk away from the strange conversation. "Mate, I think she's secretly hoping to see you," he told the blond, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Though I have no idea why she'd want a slimy little ferret like you."

"I'm not too inebriated still to properly hex your face off," Draco muttered as Potter turned around and walked away, laughing the whole time.

So, Granger was not with Potter? I'll be damned. Draco thought back to his fantasy, willing his mind to shut off as he did. He had not had to perform Occlumency in months, and thoughts and memories of the witch were filling his mind so loudly that he was having a hard time compartmentalizing and building up his defensive walls.

What he had thought about and done that afternoon was highly unacceptable but knowing that he had not wanked to another man's witch gave him a sliver of his pride back. Mate, I think she's secretly hoping to see you. Could Potter have spoken the truth or was he just trying to fuck with Draco's mind?

All of the dangerous thoughts that Draco had tried so desperately to keep from flooding in all hit him with the force of a knockback jinx to the chest. The way she had openly flirted with him at the café, going beyond what it took to make a waitress jealous. How she was always willing to spend time with him, no matter what he suggested they do. How even in the silences that filled the space between them felt companionable—she never felt the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter.

Draco touched the back of his hand as he thought of the night they had waded into the warm sea, how her hand had brushed to tenderly against his. When they spoke, they had real conversations. Deep, meaningful topics. She was not afraid to discuss that War, though she preferred not to speak of her parents. She understood him in a way no one else had, before or after the War.

Merlin, he had it bad. And for Granger. Who was not Potter's girl. Granger, who was intelligent, snarky, dark-humored and sexy as hell. The thought brought a smile to the wizard's lips as he made his way into the muggle town alone. They had been on the island for less than a month, and yet he had fallen for the swotty little firecracker. Without the restraint of the bigotry of his forefathers, the ideologies of his father and the Dark Lord breathing down his neck, Draco felt free to cultivate a friendship with her. Woe-be-damned, he was going to try to bewitch her because she was the only person to make him feel anything for the first time in years.

The flower vendor asked the whereabouts of his wife and the wizard smiled widely. Not his wife, but perhaps she could be something more than a one-time enemy and a sometimes friend.

o-o-o