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Chapter 10 -
Draco took Hermione's hand and they left the house. They went out the front door once again, and headed down the lane, toward the unknown. Neither knew where they were going, either on their walk, or in their relationship. Hermione looked down at their hands, and back toward the road. She said, "Tell me something about you that I don't know, Malfoy."
"I sleep in the nude," he uttered.
She laughed for fifteen seconds. "Oh goodness," she said between laughs.
"What's so funny?" He smiled at her.
"Just processing a mental image," she declared.
"If that were true, you would not be laughing," he said, proudly.
She laughed for ten seconds that time. Then she said, "What would I be doing? Running away in fear and shock?"
"Alright, enough laughing at my expense," he said. "Tell me something about you that I don't know."
"Let's see," she thought for a moment, "I like to read."
"You don't say," he said annoyed.
"No, that's not my answer," she grinned, "I play the piano."
"You do?" he was surprised. "Are you any good?"
"I don't know, I think so," she said modestly. "I took lessons from age four to ten. Of course, I took dance lessons all those years as well, and you saw me out there on the dance floor."
They stopped to rest by a small covered bridge. They sat on the stone ledge, which held up the one side of the wooden entry arch to the bridge. It was barely large enough for one to sit.
"You weren't that bad," he replied, still holding her hand. He gave it a little squeeze, and then let it go. He stood up. He had pent up energy. He desperately wanted to grab her, throw her on the ground, and snog the daylights out of her. He turned to face her and said, "My turn, something else you don't know about me is that I too play the piano."
"Really?"
"Do you doubt me?" he asked.
"Didn't we clarify in the bedroom earlier that you were an artful liar?" she asked.
"Artful? Are we making up words now, and no, I'm not lying, I do play the piano," he said.
"You're probably much better than I, and I know 'artful' is a word," she added.
"Tell me its dictionary definition," he quizzed, looking down at her.
"It means cunning and devious, deceitful," she stated.
"You are making that up," he said.
"You're silly," she said back, "you know it's a word."
"I'm silly?" He laughed. "I'm not sure I've been called 'silly' since I was five years old. Tell me something else about yourself, Granger. Like, do you usually make up words?" he asked.
She stood up and said, "I'm sure they have a dictionary at the Burrow, we can go look up the definition."
He leaned against the stone ledge, which she had just abandoned. He said, "No, I believe, I believe. Tell me your other hidden talents. So far I know you like to read, you play the piano, and you make up words."
She glared at him with a halfway smile. She said, "I make a very mean three egg omelet."
"Really?" he stood up. He approached her and said, "That's my usual morning after meal."
She looked confused and said, "Morning after meal? What does that mean?"
"Look it up in the dictionary, Granger," he said playfully.
It took her only a moment to comprehend and then she said, "OH."
She looked around, embarrassed. He said, "What's your morning after meal? Oh, that's right; you've only had sex five times, so you probably don't have rituals like morning after meals yet."
She stared at him with a look he couldn't pinpoint and said, "I said I've only slept with five men, not that I've only had sex five times, and now I really regret telling you that, if you're only going to use it to make fun of me." She turned from the bridge, and started back down the lane to the Burrow.
He furrowed his brows. He ran after her and said, "Listen, I'm sorry. I know 'artful' is a word."
She whipped around quickly and said, "Is everything a joke to you?"
"No," he said, irritated, "and forgive me for trying to lighten the mood." Now he walked away from her.
She stood and watched him walk down the lane. If his dating theory from earlier was correct, this would be their sixth date. Did people usually have their first argument on their sixth date? Hermione didn't think so. She sighed, afraid that she had ruined everything, because she couldn't take a joke. She stopped by a broken-down, overturned, wheelbarrow. She wiped at the rusted metal with her hand, and then figured that her dress was already ruined from earlier, so she sat down to think. What should she do to remedy the current situation? Perhaps Draco wouldn't even still be at the reception when she returned. If he wasn't, should she call him? Go visit? Send him a piano? She smiled at the thought. She leaned down and took off her shoes. She rubbed her tired feet. She had done more walking today than she had meant to do. Her shoes weren't made for so much walking, or runny, or even dancing. She threw them over her shoulder.
"OUCH!"
She turned around. Draco had one of her shoes in his hand. He then bent down to pick up the other one. He said, "You hit me with your shoes."
She stood up and said, "I didn't know you were back there."
"Then why were you throwing your shoes, if you weren't throwing them at me?" he asked, handing her shoes back to her.
"They were so damn uncomfortable that I tossed the over my shoulder. Where did you come from, anyway?" she asked.
"When a man loves a woman, they have sex, and sometimes one of the man's little swimmers will reach the woman's eggs, and the results are someone like me, and that's were I come from, sweetheart," he said, with no trace of humour.
"I never knew that," she said with a perfectly straight face. "However, I meant, I thought you went back to the reception. Wait a minute, so a man has to love the woman for his swimmers to reach her eggs?"
"I decided to come back when I saw you sitting there, so I decided to sneak up on you," he admitted, adding, "And no, love doesn't always have to be involved, and I feel uncomfortable talking to you about this. You should ask your mummy these questions, Granger, not me."
She chortled and said, "My mummy already told me all I need to know. Now enough of that subject. What would you have done if you had succeeded in sneaking up on me? Say my shoes had stayed on my feet, and I was left unaware of your presence. What would have happened? What would you have done?" she asked, regarding him with both hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side.
"You will never know now," he answered.
"But I want to know," she begged.
"Then you'll be disappointed," he concluded, stepping closer.
"Come on, recreate what would have happened," she urged, sitting back on the rusted old wheelbarrow. "I'll even put my shoes back on my feet," and she did. She sat with her back to him and said, "Okay, now you sneak up on me. I'll pretend to be oblivious."
She started humming. He said, "You weren't humming like some idiot."
"Just sneak up on me already," she turned and said to him. She turned back around and hummed again. He could hardly suppress his smile.
He walked several steps away from her, and then he walked back. She looked so pretty sitting there, even with her back to him. In all truthfulness, he had no idea what he would have done once he approached her. Now, thinking off the cuff, he closed the space between them and grabbed her so swiftly she toppled off her perch, and they both landed in a heap on the ground. Him on his backside, and her on top, facing away from him. They both started to laugh.
He turned her around so she was lying by his side. She said, "That's what you had planned? Tackling me?"
"And this," he said, bringing his lips down to hers. They had almost reached her when he brought his head back up and he looked at her once more. He said, "I could easily fall for you."
"Nice play on words, since you literally did fall on me," she said.
"I'm very artful like that," he said, as he progress with his earlier intent, and bent his head to kiss her lips languidly. This time, it was an open, passionate kiss. No more holding back. He playful licked her lips, as he took her bottom lips between his, and sucked on it and then mischievously bit down. He opened her mouth under his, and touched the tip of his tongue to hers, before plunging it in more intently. After many seconds had past, he brought his head up.
Her cheeks were blushed, and her hair was wild around her head, like a halo. He put his hand on her forehead, and brushed a stray hair away from her brow. He said, "And that's what I would have done if I had caught you unaware. Unfortunately, you attacked me with your shoes before I could carry out my dastardly deed."
"Yes, how unfortunate," she agreed. He started to stand up, offering her his hand. They both stood and she said, "Somehow I have ended up on the ground a lot today."
"And the day's not even over yet!" he mused.
"And that, my dear, is a fortunate thing," she said, taking the initiate, and grasping his hand in hers. They started back toward the house, cutting through the field this time, and forgetting about the little lane, from which they had just come.
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