Hermione was overwrought. As far as she could remember, she had never felt so exhausted. Her job at the Ministry of Magic was monopolizing her days, and even her nights sometimes, because of her profound involvement in the Department of Justice. Yes, it was her will to devote herself, body, and soul to the defence and protection of the magical creatures because she believed in it deeply. But there was no point in killing herself at work. The witch was virtually living inside her office. It was as an escape plan from the mess of her apartment and her relationships.
That was another problem bothering Hermione's mind -the chaotic chain of pointless and disappointing affairs- for too long. Her relationship with Ron had lasted two years after the war until they both understood that time had killed their feelings for each other. Then, she had a short relationship with Cormac Mclaggen after long celibacy dedicated to the end of her studies. But the Quidditch player wasn't interested in anything else than his broomstick so she broke up with him quite quickly. A colleague from the Office of Registration of Were-Wolfs finally convinced her to get back in a relationship. All the scares of the scratches he had on his body made him very attractive, but again, Hermione wasn't happy.
Now, she had enough. She had a dozen days off that she didn't take earlier and she needed to take a break. "Girl," she told herself one day in front of a mirror, "You can't be efficient if your head is a mess". And the day after that, she was packing some stuff and getting on the first train to the North. Hermione liked to take the train. It was a rare thing, but it gave her the impression of leaving her daily life for the holidays. Taking the time to watch the landscapes of February change, to feel the soft vibrations of the machine on the rails. She could spend hours with her eyes attached to the outside, mind empty of any thoughts.
The train didn't stop for almost the entire afternoon. When it entered the train station at the terminal, the sun was going down and the snow over the high mountains was tainted in pink and oranges tones. The air was cold, but Hermione enjoyed the walk through the white streets of the little spa town. It was a long-distance to her home and she looked at the tourists as she walked further. She left the town slowly and kept walking up a narrow road that leads up to the mountains. Eager and relieved, she knocked at the door of a lonely house half-hidden by the woods.
An elder man with a few rare grey hairs on his head opened the door. A warm smile lit up his face and he hugged the young women with strength and tenderness.
"My sweet Hermione!" a lady said. She was as old as the man and appeared behind him.
The witch felt her heart filling with joy. It has been at least two years since she saw her grandparents and she realized at that moment how much she had missed them.
"Come in or the snow will melt," her grand-father joked.
The chimney full of cracking logs was diffusing a smooth warmth inside the living-room. The soup pot was full and bubbling over the fire. Hermione only had one desire: sprawl onto the couch and close her eyes. Once she did, she answered happily to all the questions she had been asked. How was she? How were her friends? Was her job fine? Not that she insisted on her professional burnout, but she explained everything new for her. And her grandparents were not surprised to hear about house-elves, gnomes, or magic anymore. They had been very understanding even impressed to discover the true nature of their grand-daughter and the existence of a whole other world was so close.
Hermione's grand-mother told her that winter was particularly cold this year and consequently particularly touristy. In the small town, people were jostling themselves into the renowned thermal baths. All around the place were multiple warm water sources that the spa resort had taped while praising all their therapeutics and beneficial advantages for health. That was precisely what Hermione was cherishing and looking forward to: her grand-parents owned a dozen hectares including a private warm water source. Well, as private as a little piece of nature could be, but still, no one ever took baths in it but Granger's family
The evening passed calmly. Hermione was relishing the pleasure of peacefulness and softness that the house was given her. Before going to sleep, her grand-mother offered her a cup of herbal tea of verbena with honey. It was the last thing that could relax her. Upstairs, she found the bedroom she used to sleep in, in the times that she came here. Exactly the same as in her memories. Through the window, she could see the highlighted town surrounded by the night, and the trees bent by the heavy snow seemed to doze under the stars. Hermione went to bed, happy about being there, covered by warm blankets. She didn't think of law projects all over her desk anymore. She didn't think of anything else other than the fact that she felt so good.
.
Muggles were stupid and ignorant. They had no sense of manners, no style, no grace. Disgustingly, Draco Malfoy observed the fat and sweaty bodies that were slashing about in the warm water. He should never have to suffer this. The community manager of the company was Blaise, not him! Yes, it was more prestigious if the boss himself came, but this time, it was in a place almost entirely full of Muggles. Draco was exasperated. The man from the spa resort caught his attention while explaining all the points of their presence here.
"So, as I was telling you earlier, the spa is organized around two thermal centers. The biggest one that you can see there is dedicated to a Muggle population -mostly seasonal, but they aren't exactly your business. The second center, which is smaller, has opened recently with better equipment. It targets upper-class wizards and witches with luxury needs and this is where I would like to draw your attention. We called on your company to provide innovative and impeccable services to our customers."
So went on the speech, and Draco remembered the quick explanations Blaise gave him before he left. The spa wanted his company to offer a whole range of potions to treat several aches in association with thermal care. Draco thought bitterly that he could perfectly have done this from his office in London. But he had to make a good impression to ensure the reputation of his business. As his colleague was invited, Merlin knew wherewith his step-family, Draco was forced to act hypocritically in front of other wizards in the middle of Muggles with a total lack of social interest. The only good thing about all this pointless trip was that he was fed, housed, and refunded by five-stars services.
They were told that after lunch that a guide would take all the company representatives to visit the main warm water sources supplying the spa baths. And that was how the Malfoy heir ended up walking through the woods, on paths barely wide enough for a human being to pass by; Whereas he was wearing shoes that cost five hundred galleons and a suit costing the double. Blaise was going to hear about it.
Both feet inside the clear water, Hermione was savouring the picnic she had prepared. The weather was perfect for February and the sun was shining on the snowy forest, radiating it with springy warmth. The source steams were making her so hot that she deeply wanted to take a bath in the natural pool. And after all, why not? It was an afternoon during the week, the probability for anybody to come close was nearly null. She didn't remember seeing anyone around every time she had come here as a little girl. A couple of minutes later, Hermione was taking off her clothes and immersing entirely, vanishing under the white and sparkling water.
They had passed near houses and Draco had hoped that the walk was over, but according to the clown walking ahead, the most beautiful to see was yet to come. So they had kept moving towards trees until they arrived in the middle of a clearing. From there already, they could hear the sound of water jumping across the rocks. While the little group of people started to dive further into the forest, Draco stopped at the edge of the trees, his gaze caught by something red on his left. He came upon a little path and saw a sign saying "Private property, keep out".
Muggles were really naive if, in their world, an old and rusty sign lost into vegetation was meant to prevent intruders to enter. Rolling his eyes contemptuously, Drago was about to join the rest of the group when a sound stirred his curiosity. It was also some kind of lapping, a movement inside the water, but coming from another direction rather than the one the other guys took. There must have been another water source than the one the guide wanted to show them and Draco wondered why he didn't talk to them about the one he was hearing.
With his curiosity deeply nourished, he started to walk toward the sound of water. The further he was going, the louder the sound was getting until he reached an abundant waterfall in the heart of the snow-covered forest. He stopped, amazed by the place. The hot water seemed to gush out of nowhere, smoky, running against black rocks. It was then diving into the first little pool, a second not much larger where the water was milky and white as cotton.
But here, hidden behind the trees, Draco remained frozen. The water was ending its race in a third pool, wider and deeper than the other ones, from where a woman came out, soaked with water. She was naked, erotic as hell.
Draco let his gaze run down her back. Her long brown hair was wet and straightened. It was sticking to her skin as she took it into one large strand over her shoulder. Her neck was now free and raised, upright, and sensual. The wavelets of the pool were washed up on the shore of the hollow of her lower back and against her hips finely sculpted. What was under that, the paleness of the water was discreetly hidden it.
Just like an apparition almost of the divine kind, her skin was reflecting the rays of sunlight and made her look like a fairy. A nymph.
Who was she, lost in that forest where Draco wasn't even supposed to be? Incapable of any movement, he felt his eyes slide down her spine and trying to pierce the opacity of the water. Drawing abstractly the contours of her bum very nearly completely underwater. He searched for her breasts in every move she made with her arms when she let her fingers dancing inside her wet hair. He wanted to see her face; she must have been beautiful.
What was he doing there? Why did he let himself get snatched inside these woods? Drago felt a voluptuous heat rising. Was it the steams coming out of the water source? No. He knew how sounded the song made by the calling of the flesh inside him. This dull rumble became almost bestial and was waking up his body in a lubricious way.
And suddenly, as if she had felt his presence or heard his deep urges, the woman stopped every move and Draco saw himself trapped. Leaving in a hurry would have been too loud but getting caught doing voyeurism wasn't an option. As the woman began to turn her head, Drago grabbed his wand and cast a disillusion charm on himself while flattening against the larger tree near him.
A few seconds later, he ran away without looking behind until he joined the clearing. While he undid the charm and realized his mind was stuffed with all the things he just saw, the rest of the group came back and the guide shouted out to him.
"Mr. Malfoy! We thought we had lost you, but you seem to have a great sense of direction."
"There is another warm water source, right?" Draco asked without noticing what the guide just said.
"Well, that's right. It is somewhere over here, but it's private propriety. Our company tried many times to buy the lands around it. If you saw it you must know that it's a wide source with very crystal clear water."
"I only heard the sound of the water," lied Draco very seriously.
"It's a pity for us not to own it. It would give the spa resort almost as much water as we draw from other sources together. However, the old couple refused all the propositions we made. The Gamber... no. The Granger. Anyway, they will give it away one day, won't they?" the guide exclaimed hopefully.
The man started to walk again, followed by all of the group, but Draco was a few meters behind. He couldn't help thinking of the naked and innocent body, conscientiously given to his eyes. A lure for luxury and physical desire. But above all, he wondered if this stranger was really unknown and taking a bath in that water as a coincidence or if there was an actual link with Granger, Hermione Granger, the Muggle-born from Poudlard. He hadn't seen her for a time he couldn't recall.
At this thought, a shiver went through his body and he couldn't tell if it was disgust or something deeper and more powerful. He tried to convince himself of the first option, but he couldn't honestly ignore the second one. Meanwhile, they all went back to the spa lounge to talk about business and whether to sign or not sign any partnership, Draco hadn't managed to clear his mind.
.
Hermione decided to come home when the afternoon started to fade. She had spent hours inside the water, chilling and forgetting everything around her. The heat of the bath had relaxed her every muscle and she had gotten rest. But at one moment, she seemed to hear some noises from the woods behind her. She hadn't seen a thing so she had thought it was from an animal passing by.
Now, she dove into a thick book, sat near the chimney while the sun was slowly going down the mountain. Tomorrow was going to be colder. An owl came suddenly, knocking against the kitchen window and scaring Hermione's grand-mother. The witch got up and opened the window to the bird. She recognized it, it was the Potter's. The married couple announced that they were living in London for the holidays and would like to join her for the evening. Hermione wrote down a quick answer on the back of the letter and send back the owl. She put her book away and went upstairs to get ready too.
When she had told Harry and Ginny she was visiting her grandparents, they had asked her if they could come to spend some time with her. And they were. Hermione grabbed her coat and went out. She had told her friends to meet her in one of the pubs in town. Night had fallen silently and the yellow light of the street lamps was tainting the snow with golden tones. Once they were together, the three friends came into the pub to warm themselves.
"Look who is sitting at the bar," Ginny whispered with a pointed finger. "It must be a joke!"
The two others looked where she was showing and saw Draco sipping a glass of whisky. He appeared to be completely lost in his thoughts.
"What is he doing here? In the middle of so many Muggles?" Hermione asked, surprised.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and went directly to him to order their drinks. The two ladies watched him share a few words with Malfoy who turned to them.
She was there, sat only a couple meters from him. Hermione Granger. Draco surprised himself looking at this neck bare under her bun. It was the same, delicate and slender, as the one he caressed with his gaze only a few hours sooner. When he met her inquisitive pupils, he was captured by the same shiver as earlier. It was arousal.
The way she looked at him, it was like if she knew. The way she seemed to be digging inside his head. Draco had the terrible and strange impression that she knew he had seen her in that pool, that he had observed her. Just like if she knew that he had fervently desired her.