Sole Survivor
Day Thirty-Two: Evening
We've managed to make it back up on deck, each fully dressed and casually reading a book, with five whole minutes to spare before the crew returns. I'm tired from the first two times on the bed, and tired and clean from the third time in the shower. But it's an incredibly pleasant, relaxed kind of tired.
I look over at Malfoy to find him leaning back in his deck chair, book open on his chest, head back and eyes closed. I giggle, which causes him to lazily open one eye.
"Something?"
"Just marveling at my crazy brain. Even after everything that's happened today, I still call you 'Malfoy' in my head."
Malfoy closes his eye again and leans his head back. "Better than 'Ferret Boy,' I suppose. Though I would prefer something along the lines of 'That Amazing Stud'."
I laugh, but it trails off as I realize there's still one question left unanswered.
"Draco, why did you sign up for this game? What will you do with the money if you win?"
He sits up straight in his chair and sets the book on the deck next to him. "I'm going to help. In any way I can, and anyone I can. Orphanages for the children of Voldemort's victims. Help for those who lost their jobs, their families. Help rebuilding Hogwarts." He smiles sheepishly. "Though it's all for selfish reasons, of course. I mainly want to make the name Malfoy something other than a dirty word."
"But … you helped kill Voldemort. Why would your name be a dirty word?"
"The people who know about my part that Halloween think about me the way we used to think about Snape. Always wondering which side I was truly on. And the people who don't know about what happened that night still think I'm a dirty Death Eater. I never really went public with my participation. I thought Harry deserved all the credit, and I wanted to tell you everything about SilverHawk before you found out from someone else."
I lean over and gently kiss him. "Well, just so you know, the name Malfoy isn't a dirty word to me." I grin wickedly. "Though thinking about the name does make several other dirty words come to mind."
He kisses me hard, then returns to his leaned-back, eyes-closed position in his chair. I hear a faint buzzing and stand up, scanning the horizon. A tiny speedboat is working its way from the island toward us. I settle back in with my book and wait for them to arrive.
Five minutes later, the boat seems abnormally full. Two cameramen, a sound man, the crewmen, and Marcus. The crewmen head below to begin cooking dinner, and Marcus comes over to where Malfoy and I are sitting.
"So, did you two enjoy your reward?"
Malfoy once again opens an eye lazily. "It was very relaxing, Marcus."
"You two weren't bored? You found something interesting to do?"
I set my book aside. "There are some very good books on this boat."
Marcus grins. "So are you going to tell us anything?"
Malfoy stands and stretches. "What would you like to hear? We spend the last three hours discussing game strategy. We threw a huge party here on the boat for a hundred of our closest friends. We played a game of Monopoly, and Hermione steals from the bank. We had a food fight. We sailed the ship around the world in a mere three hours. We sang our way through the entire score of Les Miserables. We hate each other, we fell passionately in love, we found out we're long-lost siblings. Pick whichever one you want."
Marcus gives us a disappointed smile. He really wanted some dirt. "Well, as long as you had an enjoyable time."
I stand up, and Marcus and the cameraman turn to me. I look at Malfoy over Marcus' shoulder. "It was lovely. My only complaint is that three just wasn't enough."
"Three hours, you mean?"
I look straight into Malfoy's eyes, remembering our three times. Malfoy smiles knowingly at me. "Yes, hours. What else would I mean?"
Marcus finally gives up, realizing he's not going to get any good information out of either of us. We're left for a while with our deck chairs and books, the same as before except with the exciting bonus of video surveillance. Malfoy has his book on his chest and his head tilted back again, his eyes shut against the sun.
"Need a nap?"
A wry smile curls the corner of his mouth. "Just resting my eyes. I've looked at a lot today."
I look at him for a moment, watching the book on his chest rise and fall with his breathing. "You know, Draco…"
"We really should talk game strategy?" He opens one eye to look at me.
"Get out of my head."
"Haven't you heard that old saying, 'great minds think alike'?"
I reach over with one leg and give him a kick. "You're missing the second part, about how fools seldom differ."
"If your game strategy is going to involve kicking me, I don't think it's going to work."
I try to give him an exasperated sigh, but the end comes out as a chuckle. Malfoy opens one eye again as we hear one of the crewmen approaching.
"Pardon me for interrupting, but dinner is served."
We put our books down and stand up from the comfortable chairs. Malfoy takes my hand as we return to the deck of the ship. The same table is there waiting for us, but with a fancier white tablecloth and two tall candles flickering in the slight breeze. In a show of gallantry, Malfoy pulls out a chair for me. Just as with lunch, we're supplied with bread and butter and a fresh bottle of crisp wine.
We're given another salad course to start, with a different dressing than the lunch salads, but still just as delicious. Our conversation stops and starts around bites of food, but even the silences are comfortable. I feel like I've just started getting to know Draco Malfoy, and yet like I've known him for years; both of which are true in their own way.
The main course is delivered family-style; dishes of green beans with butter sauce, roasted carrots and a delicious-smelling bowl of Fettuccine Alfredo. I'm surprised to see my favorite foods represented on the table.
"Your favorite dishes, eh? Decent choices," comments Malfoy as he starts filling his plate.
"How did you know that these were my favorites?"
"Because they served all of my favorites for lunch. I figured they'd do whatever you'd filled out on your application for dinner." He smiles and hands me a bowl of Parmesan cheese, which I spread liberally over my pasta. It's heavenly, the noodles cooked perfectly, the sauce incredibly creamy and rich.
Through the meal, our discussion actually does change to game strategy. We discuss how Pete could be a good person to take to the finals, because nobody would vote for him to win. But the fact that he's so personally distasteful makes us both want to vote him out as soon as possible.
"I would like to beat him in an immunity challenge … fair and square." There's a gleam in Malfoy's eye. His meaning is clear – in true manly fashion, he wants to beat Pete without the aid of magic, just to show that he can. I roll my eyes, and Malfoy responds with a boyish grin.
"All right, so Pete will stay. Kiki is with us; between the three of us, we have half the votes locked up. And I'm pretty sure Ellen will vote however Kiki and I tell her to." I shoot Malfoy a sympathetic glance. "That leaves Sheryl, the last member of your old tribe."
We decide that Sheryl will go next, and in the unlikely even that she wins immunity tomorrow, that Ellen will be the next to go. Looking at the remains of our meal, I note that there's still plenty of food left over. Malfoy calls over one of the crewmen.
"I don't suppose we could get a doggie bag for this?"
The crewman bows. "It's your meal, sir, to do with as you see fit. You're allowed to take away anything you can carry in your hands." He moves down toward the kitchen, and quickly returns with cardboard takeout-style containers. Malfoy's grinning like a schoolboy as he fills the containers with vegetables and pasta. Using our four available hands, we manage to grab several containers of food and the remaining two bottles of wine.
We're escorted to the edge of the boat, where our rope ladder awaits for our descent back to the speedboat. Malfoy and I look at the ladder, then our hands full of containers, then back at the ladder.
"You can catch, right?"
"Of course! I used to play … um … baseball. I could snitch the ball right out of the air."
"Good. Then put your stuff down, and get down there." I nudge him with my foot. "Or the kicking strategy will start up again."
Malfoy makes his way down the ladder. I watch him descend, the orange evening sunlight making his blond hair shine. I want to run my hands through that hair again; hell, I want to get naked with him again and run my hands all over his beautiful bronzed body. I want to…
"Any day now, Hermione." I'm shaken out of my reverie by Malfoy's shout. He's waiting on the deck of the speedboat, looking up at me knowingly. I feel my cheeks grow red.
One by one, I drop the containers of food straight down to him, and he catches them with a deft grace. Last but not least, I send the two bottles of wine down to him as gently as I can. He gracefully catches them both in turn, and finally it's my turn to go back down the ladder and re-enter the game. We sit next to each other on the cushioned seats, a semicircle of wine and food on the deck around our feet. I feel Malfoy's hand on the back of my neck, gently running his fingers up into my hair, then back down again to caress my shoulders.
I lean toward him, and he lowers his head to my ear to whisper. "Only seven more days."
I tilt my head up so I can whisper back. "What's a week between friends?"
"It'll be sheer torture. Are you sure you don't want to just go public?"
I ponder the proposition. It would certainly be nicer to be able to touch him whenever I want, and not worry about who sees us. "Well, besides the fact that Kiki already knows something is going on between us … I worry about Pete. If we're keeping him around, I don't want him being even freakier about us. Not to mention the fact that I don't want millions of viewers to watch us do what I want to do to you."
Malfoy gives a shuddering sigh, then nods in agreement. It's the best move to keep this relationship from the other players, to avoid giving them more ammunition for their own game strategies.
We have time to share one more long, passionate kiss before the boat makes the final turn into the lagoon. He's disgustingly perfect – in turn firm and gentle, very aware of my needs, not to mention an incredible lover. And don't forget beautiful, funny and smart.
The sun has almost set by the time our small boat pulls up on the beach. Our four teammates are there to greet us: the three women because they're eager to hear about the reward, and Pete because it's what he's expected to do. I can tell by the sullen look on his face that he'd rather be anywhere than finding out what a great time we had on our reward.
We pass the containers of food down, then each hop from the boat with a bottle of wine in hand. The women cheer us for bringing back the food, and we head back to the fire to divide it all up. Pete grabs his plate and sits just far enough away to register his disgust.
Kiki is a fountain of questions. "Did you have fun? What was for lunch? What did you do? Were you really left all alone?"
We answer with our prepared story: truth about lunch and dinner, and three hours of fictitious resting and relaxing and reading in between, and some vague references to "getting to know each other better." We describe the beds, and how comfortable they were for napping. Likewise the hot showers get a mention, without adding in the details of how well they fit two people. But as the half-truths are coming out of my mouth, I can't help but remember the actual facts. Merely mentioning the shower brings back hot memories of laughter and soap and slow, sensual lovemaking.
Finally, everyone is full of gourmet pasta and satisfied with our reward stories. Kiki and I take the plates down to the ocean to give them a quick rinse.
Kiki dips a plate into the water and looks at me. "So, how was he?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I deadpan.
She grins at me. "Oh, give it up. You're lit up like a Christmas tree, and you haven't been able to take your eyes off of him all night."
I smile back at her. "I said the reward was relaxing. I didn't say what was so relaxing about it."
Kiki takes her time with a plate. "You know, Pete was insufferable while you were gone."
I stiffen. "What the hell is his problem? What I do is none of his concern."
"I know, I know. But I just wanted you to know. He was making up all sorts of scenarios for that reward. Not only that you two were having the wild animal sex," she winks, "but also really weird stuff. Like the idea that you were both plotting together, and that you'd come back and slit our throats in the night."
"That's … weird." I ponder this new strangeness of Pete. "He hasn't … done anything with you or to you, has he?"
Kiki shakes her head. "Nothing I could really complain about. He's grabbed my arm a couple of times, but never too hard to leave a mark. And of course, he's made all sorts of threats about the game, but that can all be classified as his playing technique."
"Well, just let me know if he does anything else. I just don't know if I should be concerned or not."
She finishes up with the plates, pauses thoughtfully, then sits in the warm sand. I take a seat next to her.
"How's the alliance? Has this changed anything?"
I sigh and weigh my words before speaking. "I think we can get to the final three. But from there … honestly, if I were to win that last immunity, I'm just not sure who I'd rather be up against in the final."
"What about Draco?"
"I haven't asked him. I know he's aligned with us to get to the final three, but …"
"You just don't know if love is more powerful than money?"
I turn quickly toward her. "I never mentioned love."
Kiki stands up and brushes the sand from her bottom. I can see her white teeth as she grins down at me in the dark. "You didn't need to, duckie."
She holds out a hand. I take it and let her help me up off the sand. After a bottom-brushing of my own, we collect the cleaned plates and return to the shelter to find everyone else getting ready for bed. I find Malfoy already using my pillow, eyes closed with a slight smile on his face. I lie down next to him and run my hand up his side, eliciting a slight intake of breath. I put my head down on his chest and wrap an arm around his torso. He wraps his arms around me, and I can feel him gently kiss the top of my head.
I revel in the smell of him, the sound of his heartbeat, his warmth. I can't wait for the next week to pass.
Author's note (12/30/03): I know, I know. It's been a long time since I've updated. And I'm sorry to say, it will probably be a while longer. I'm currently in rehearsal for a production of The Winter's Tale, ironically enough, and my free time to write is at a premium.
I promise I will continue writing this story whenever possible, and update as frequently as I can. I also promise that this fic WILL be finished eventually. So pretty please, no reviews that only tell me to update soon.