Chapter 7
Soundtrack – Adriano Celentano «Amore no»
Narcissa first brought me to a choreography class when I was seven years old. It was an elite club for the privileged ones, for its membership Lucius had to part with a tidy sum. To give him his due – he never skimped on my education, hoping that it would help me become "a real man worthy of being the successor of the Malfoy family." Surely he couldn't even imagine that his only son, on whom he put a bunch of shitty expectations, would disappoint him in the future. Indeed, Lucius will never understand why I accepted the Dark Mark only after he used the Imperius Curse, why I looked away with disgust whenever his "Lord" killed another victim right under my nose, and why I hated so much The Dark Lord, that I once even tried to escape from my own ancestral estate.
Lucius called me a coward, a spineless mama's boy, and then beat Narcissa, accusing her of having raised her son to be a sissy.
But then, fifteen years ago, everything was different. Then he still believed in me and idolized Narcissa, and she helped me take more and more lessons in various arts, which I could then proudly tell my friends about.
I still remember this spacious room with a high ceiling, the expensive parquet flooring from the rarest kind of wood, the large windows with heavy curtains drawn tightly and the dance teachers, Claude and Yvette. Outwardly, they looked like a pleasant middle-aged couple, but in reality they were the most strict and tough teachers I have ever met. At that time there were about ten other children of my age in the group besides me, and even the well-known siblings Carrow could envy the discipline in the dance class. I still remember the expression on the face of that silly boy who decided to play a pretty harmless trick on Claude on the first day of class and in return received ten lashes on the hands with a flexible thin whip. Quite a Muggle punishment, the pain from it, however, was almost comparable to the Crucio. After this incident, none of us dared to squeak during their classes. But, I must say, then I learned the art of dancing in full. Later, my mother more than once invited Claude and Yvette to our estate, and they gave me lessons in private. The main emphasis was on swing standard dances such as waltz and foxtrot – they were often danced at social events that mother and father loved so much. But when I was thirteen, Narcissa insisted that I also learn the Latin dances, believing that if I were to master the art of dance, I better do it right. I didn't really try to memorize these hip wagging, given that at the time I already had Quidditch and my first relationship with a girl on my mind, but, fortunately, after just a couple of weeks of practice, Yvette stated: "Now, Narcissa, I can say that the boy is perfectly educated in dancing. There is no point in pursuing further studies unless he wants to become a professional dancer, of course."
Then I thought that I would hardly ever need the ability to dance salsa, bachata and other Latin bullshit, but I was damn wrong. And for sure, I couldn't even imagine who I would have to dance with. Not even a fucking thought it would be a stupid bitch Granger. It was her fault that I had to take part in a fucking dance masterclass. You see, this dumbarse couldn't find a partner, and guess who ended up being forced to be her partner?! Fuck, in a word. Of course, if you dig deeper, then all this could have been avoided if El hadn't treacherously rushed off in search of her uncle immediately after the show started. But no, instead I had to sit at the same table with the Gryffindor dunces for an hour, trying not to tell them to go fuck themselves, and then dance for another half hour, pressing my whole body against the Mudblood. I've already showered twice and washed my shirt three times, but it still smells like her fucking perfume. It's amazing that Granger even knows about the existence of perfumery and cosmetics. At Hogwarts, she was always shaggy, apparently not maintaining even the basic rules of hygiene. Several times, out of the kindness of my soul, I offered to buy her a comb, but for some reason the Mudblood refused. She must have dreamed of receiving such a valuable gift from Weasley, and judging by her finally normal-looking hair, the Mudblood's wish came true.
Draco looked up from the page as he heard a strange noise. It was night outside, and it seemed that someone was scratching the door of his and El's bungalow. Malfoy put the diary aside and carefully got up from his chair. He went to the door and looked out, opening it slightly.
Making sure there was no one around, Draco quietly returned to his seat, glancing at the bed. Elisa was still sleeping peacefully, covered with a thin blanket. Draco thought with some regret that he hasn't talked to her. Frankly, he went a bit too far.
When she finally returned to the hall at the end of the performance, he, angry as hell, stormed out of the room without saying a word to her, throwing only a murderous look at the last moment. He didn't care that it wasn't even her fault. He was mad at her anyway.
To be more precise, Draco had actually cursed the whole damn resort with its stupid rules, that had forced him to dance with the Mudblood Granger. On the one hand, there was nothing so terrible about it – Draco had been in worse situations. But on the other hand, he had never felt so stupid before.
Granger behaved too atypically for a dirty Mudblood, and in general was some kind of not Hermione, when she passionately clung to him and ambiguously rubbed against his body, even if only for a few seconds. Draco could have sworn that the Granger who went with him to Hogwarts wouldn't have dared to do such a thing for the sake of fucking wanting to get to him. But he hadn't considered that it had been a good four years since Draco had last seen the girl in person. No wonder she had matured, changed, for fuck's sake, contrary to his assumptions, as she had demonstrated to him today, not without pleasure, throwing all her principles and fears to hell.
She definitely knew that such behaviour should put Draco out of temper and was right: the first thing he wanted to do when he felt such close contact was to push her away with such force that she would slam into the opposite wall of the hall and be as far away from him as possible with her dirty-blooded stench.
But this was the first reaction of a man, developed over the years, who had been taught all his life that a pure-blood wizard should not even talk to Mudbloods, and even touching them would be tantamount to desecrating his blood. And although Draco had already largely revised his views on almost all the beliefs once instilled in him by the father, his opinion on this matter remained practically unchanged. The only difference was that he no longer despised Mudbloods as much as before, and against the background of the general disgust for Lucius and the ideas of his "Lord", it did seem like sheer nonsense.
Perhaps that was why Malfoy's first reaction to Granger's daring act was immediately followed by another. Draco suddenly realized that the Mudblood, among other things, was also a woman, as evidenced by the exciting curves of her hot body clinging to him. The thought was wildly weird and hadn't left Draco the entire time he had danced with her. Anyway, this whole situation was too wild and strange for him. He felt disgusted and, at the same time, a kind of awe at the fact that their bodies were touching. He felt hatred for the Mudblood and at the same time felt how soft her skin was.
It was a shitty realization that, against your will, you involuntarily begin to notice something so damn wrong, something that kills all your previous conviction in the correctness of your own judgments, makes you once again remember that there are two fucking sides of the same coin.
Draco felt something similar when he was constantly in the circle of Death Eaters. Then many things revealed to him in a completely different hypostasis, and the next few years were spent on getting used to it, somehow accepting the new realities of life. Today it took Draco a good two hours to get over what had happened and return to his bungalow. When he entered, he saw that El was sleeping deeply. Obviously, the day was eventful for her, but Draco probably didn't know if she had been able to talk to Lorenzo after all. Malfoy decided to wait until morning to find out and took out the diary.
He had a lot to tell about today.
"Are you kidding?"
"No, and you know it."
Hermione stared at the younger Weasley, stunned, and then looked to the two seemingly tiny pieces of cloth in her hands.
"Ginny, there's no way in hell I'm going to wear it," Hermione firmly putting the cloth aside.
"Are you saying that you will swim without a swimsuit at all? Well, go ahead," her friend smiled broadly at her.
"No, I want to say that I'm used to swimming in a fairly closed swimsuit, and not in a revealing bikini of a vulgar colour!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly.
She has already regretted a hundred times that she had entrusted Ginny to buy her a swimsuit. She just needed to get things sorted out at the Ministry, and she wasn't going to waste her precious time on infantile shopping trips.
"First of all, it's an ordinary bikini, like the ones hundreds of witches wear to the beach, and secondly, you look very good in scarlet, which is also not the least bit vulgar," Ginny picked up the swimsuit and, slightly tilting her head to the side, held it up in front of her. "I'd say it's noble. And mind you, you asked me to choose something "concise and not too revealing" for you."
Hermione looked at her friend eloquently, throwing another incredulous glance at the swimsuit. Fortunately, at least there were no magic sparkles and moving patterns on it, so it was possible to call its design quite laconic. Nevertheless, Hermione still couldn't imagine herself in it, sunbathing on the beach in front of hundreds of wizards. She had forgotten the last time she had been on the beach, and for her it was as if she had been exposed to the public in her revealing underwear.
"Come on, just try it on. If you don't like it at all, we can always transfigure your swimsuit into chaste grandmother's pantaloons, if you insist so," the younger Weasley said with a conciliatory grin. "Besides, you don't have another swimsuit. Of course, I can lend you mine, but…"
"No thanks," Hermione interrupted hastily, glancing over at Ginny's outfit.
She was wearing a provocative bikini of bright purple colour, that unusually contrasted with her fiery red hair and, moreover, could emphasize all the female charms of the younger Weasley, imperceptibly diminishing and adding volume where was necessary. Yes, compared to that, Hermione's version was really "concise and not too revealing".
Hermione sighed and got up from the bed. With silent resignation, she took the bikini from Ginny's hands and, with the last scowl, was out to the bathroom.
In the end, she really had no choice but to put it on. Harry and Ron had been hovering around in the living room of her bungalow for a good ten minutes, urging her and Ginny on every minute. They were eager to plunge into the alluring sea that everyone had heard so much about. Hermione didn't want to swim, she generally felt overwhelmed.
The very first day at the Magnolia had been a tremendous emotional shock to her. Maybe that was why she slept so badly at night, but when she fell asleep, she saw the same strange dream that she had already dreamed of once. She was walking along the Hogwarts' corridor, experiencing an unusual feeling of excitement and heaviness in her heart, and once again practically entered the room, when she suddenly woke up from the sound of the alarm clock. Hermione had no idea why she was dreaming about all this, but she made a promise to herself that she would definitely figure it out later.
"Are you done?" Ginny's voice came from the other side of the door.
"Almost!" Hermione said, tying the thin straps around her neck and finally looking at herself in the mirror. The reflection winked at her playfully and spun around, allowing her to view the swimsuit from different angles. Hermione stared at herself, dumbfounded, and didn't know how to react to what she saw.
On the one hand, the swimsuit was not as revealing as she expected, and definitely suited her, emphasizing all the advantages of the body, but on the other hand, she was too embarrassed by the scarlet colour. Hermione was so used to wearing black and white formal clothes that even in ordinary life she preferred this particular colour scheme, and therefore such a bright colour choice was at least unusual. Although, on the other hand, absolutely everything was unusual and sometimes frighteningly strange at this resort, so the prospect of wearing a bright swimsuit on the beach was not the worst in comparison with other possible events.
The thought made Hermione feel uneasy, but she diligently shook off the terrible memories of yesterday evening and, looking at herself in the mirror once again, sighed and left the bathroom.
"Well?" She asked with a touch of impatience, drawing the attention of Ginny, who was showing off in front of the mirror. She turned around and looked at Hermione with admiration.
"Just brilliant! Good job, me," the younger Weasley said with pride in her voice. "I think all the hottest guys on the Magnolia's beach are yours today."
"Oh, you'll never change," said Hermione, putting on a light sundress."And for the information, I have absolutely no desire to attract anyone's attention."
"I know," Ginny agreed easily. "But I think wearing this swimsuit you will be hard to miss!"
Hermione's hands froze on the sundress.
"So, is it too provocative?" She asked suspiciously, staring intently into Ginny's face.
"No, no, no! It's just that, as I already said, this colour really suits you," Ginny shook her head vigorously, trying to put it right, and went closer to Hermione.
"It would be foolish to think that no one will pay attention to a pretty witch in a beautiful swimsuit, don't you think?"
Hermione started to laugh.
"Unless there is a much more attractive witch next to her, especially in such a loud dress."
"Trust me, my dear, there is nothing more loud in a woman's dress than a wedding ring on her finger," Ginny raised her left hand, revealing a neat golden ring. "Men instantly lose all their enthusiasm when they see it."
"Well, we'll see," Hermione grabbed her beach tote. "In the meantime, let's go already! Ron and Harry are waiting for us."
"Come on," Ginny said cheerfully and walked out of the room. "I can't wait to get to the beach! I heard the water is especially good today!"
Hermione smiled and followed her. During this morning, Ginny never once mentioned yesterday evening, or rather, its terrible ending. Hermione was infinitely grateful to her for this. Harry did the same, and Ron seemed offended but still behaved quite okay. Thanks to her friends, Hermione practically forgot about yesterday and tried to think about it as little as possible. And it looks like she did it pretty well. The mood began to improve.
The mood was worse than ever. Firstly, Draco hated public beaches, and secondly, he hated female grievances, and thirdly, he categorically couldn't stand when something didn't go according to his plan. The first thing he realized just now when some careless teenager accidentally hit him with a sand ball intended, apparently, for a laughing girl who was jumping somewhere near Draco's sun lounger. One glance from Malfoy was enough for the couple to disappear from his sight at lightning speed. Nevertheless, going over all the obscene words and expressions that he only knew, Draco still found one plus in this situation: he noticed out of the corner of his eye that El was smiling. She didn't talk to him all the morning – she was offended. Draco usually sent people with their grievances to hell but with El it was different. It wasn't about crazy love and a blind desire to indulge all her whims, no. It was just that Elisa meant a little more to Draco than everyone else. And, probably, still much more, since he allowed her from time to time to show her absurd character.
"Well, I guess now we can have a real conversation, or am I wrong?" Draco began as if by chance, brushing himself off the sand.
Elisa didn't react to this, and he continued calmly:
"I, of course, could wait another two days but you know very well that apart from the time spent on empty grievances it will bring nothing."
El's eyes flashed unkindly, and she finally turned to Draco.
"Then how would you like me to behave if I don't even know what the hell bit you yesterday?"
"I think I've already informed you on this matter," Draco said, being pleased that Elisa finally spoke. "And you know the answer perfectly well."
She looked at him strangely and propped herself up on her elbows.
"Yes? Do I?! Then why did you run out of the hall and wander around for so long... I even don't know where? And don't start again about how hard it was for you to endure the company of those nice guys from Gryffindor, please."
"You wanted to tell "those four idiots, the sight of which makes my eye twitch"?" Draco arched an eyebrow. "Do you know how many times I had to suppress the gag reflex so I wouldn't make a huge mess all over that fucking hall?!"
"Oh, look, how sensitive we are! So horrible to sit at the same table for a couple of hours with quite friendly wizards!" El snorted.
"Oh dear, it's much more than that," Draco said coldly in a tone that didn't bode well. It was probably noticed that he plunged into not the most pleasant memories.
El stared at him with the desired interest, showing with all her appearance that she was extremely sceptical, and it was very difficult to surprise her.
"How would you like it, dear Elisa, if I told you that I had to learn passionate steps, pressing my whole body against the quite friendly, in your words, Mudblood Granger, while you had a nice conversation with your uncle, without bothering to hurry up a little?" Draco finally said, narrowing his eyes.
El looked at him blankly for a while, after that her face instantly cleared up and she sat up straight.
"What? Did you dance with Hermione?" El asked with incredulous surprise.
"Yes, and this was far from the most pleasant moments in my life, believe me," Draco replied grimly, casting a heavy look at her.
There was a noise typical for the beach, the wizards splashed merrily in the water and a carefree atmosphere of fun reigned everywhere, but Malfoy wasn't up to this: he was tensely waiting for El's reaction, who, slightly opening her mouth, was staring in surprise at Draco's face.
Suddenly, understanding pierced her gaze, and Elisa laughed loudly, throwing her head back.
Of course, she was completely unpredictable, but the last thing Malfoy would have thought would be this reaction.
"So, you want to say, that because of some ordinary dance with a cute, completely harmless witch, you came to an inadequate state of rage and couldn't calm down for two hours?!" El clarified incredulously, just in case, but without waiting for an answer, she laughed again. "Draco, this is ridiculous!"
"If you only saw this dance, El, you wouldn't find it so funny," Malfoy didn't give up, glaring at her. "With your pathological jealousy, you would hardly have appreciated my such close contact with Potter's golden girlfriend, accompanied by movements that look more like a fucking prelude than dance steps."
El seemed to think for a moment with a smile on her lips, but, mentally imagining the situation, almost immediately shook her head.
"Caro mio, I know perfectly well what bachata is, and I don't see anything reprehensible in this dance. It's unlikely that I would be jealous of you for your dance partner, especially if it's Hermione Granger, whom you, for some reason that I can't understand, hate," Elisa said softly, putting her hand on Draco's palm with a smile. In the first second, he wanted to justify his yesterday's behaviour, that, in truth, looked stupid from the outside, but immediately realized that El was unlikely to appreciate his colourful story about his emotions during this terrible contact with the Mudblood. Besides, she didn't know too much about his difficult relationship with the Golden Trio adequately assess the situation from the outside, and Draco had no desire to devote her to the details of the intricacies of their past. And even more, he would never admit to her that it was so difficult to admit for himself: yesterday, at some point in the dance with Granger, when their bodies were closely touching and moving in the same rhythm, and their gazes burned each other, it became clear that after they would hardly perceive each other as before. And Draco had a pretty bad feeling about that.
"Well, maybe you're right: I was acting like a complete idiot. Too many fucking unpredictable events and alcohol for the first day," Malfoy finally agreed, forcing himself to grin. "And this heat will soon make me crippled with a fried brain. How about freshening up a little?"
Draco stood up and offered his hand to El. He chose not to enter into a further argument and switched the topic, trying to drive away bad thoughts from himself. Plus, he had an opportunity to appease Elisa by simply agreeing with her. Draco had noticed long ago that it's easier to carry his point in this way in an argument, while often remaining unconvinced. And it always worked with women.
"No, dear, I'll probably stay here and watch your attempts to become an adequate person again, as far as possible in your situation, of course," Elisa said with a caustic smile and settled down more comfortably on the sun lounger. "Good luck, caro mio!"
"Well, I offered," Draco shrugged his shoulders contentedly and, reaching out as if casually asked: "So, we're good?"
El glanced at Draco slightly, narrowing her eyes and putting on her sunglasses, finally grinning.
"I will think about how to answer this question."
"Whatever you say, honey," Draco said quickly with a satisfied grin. "Just try to decide on the answer as soon as possible: you know I hate waiting."
"Oh, you're obnoxious, Draco Malfoy!" El laughed.
"Well, that's what it is, dear," Draco said smugly and, turning, walked lazily towards the sea.
He felt El's gaze burn through his back, and in his soul everything was jubilant: an explanation of what had happened would no longer be required. One less problem is good.
"Well, finally we're here!" Ginny exclaimed with anticipation as she stepped onto the beach and threw her beach bag onto the soft sand. "I don't know about you but I'm going into the water right away!"
"We're going with you!" Harry and Ron exclaimed almost in unison, pulling off their shirts as they walked.
From the outside, all three looked like crazy tourists, finally making their way to the sea. Their gaze was focused on one point, and their clothes with beach shoes scattered on the sand randomly. One might think that friends were in who-will-pull-their-clothes-off-faster contest. And only Hermione stood still and felt superfluous at this celebration of life.
"Wait, slow down for a second!" finally she pulled her friends, dumbfounded. "Let's at least decide on our spot to stay and get settled properly!"
The guys froze in unnatural poses, as if not knowing whether to follow Hermione's advice or to jerk with all their strength towards the sparkling cool water, but finally common sense prevailed, and Harry reluctantly agreed:
"Hermione is right. Let's quickly decide on a spot, and then we will swim and sunbathe as much as we want!"
Ron mumbled something in displeasure, and Ginny, rolling her eyes, resignedly took her things and stared impatiently at Hermione.
"Okay, okay, just let's go faster!"
Everyone, following Ginny's example, grabbed their belongings and moved deeper into the beach.
To the delight of Hermione, the atmosphere that reigned here had hardly changed since yesterday: the sand was still soft as silk, the sea gently washed the shore with soft waves, and the resting wizards were in a state of sweet euphoria. The only difference was that the sounds of unobtrusive relaxing music were heard over the beach, and there were practically no wizards in uniforms who usually organized interesting events on the beach or even right in the water. It was exactly three o'clock in the afternoon, and Hermione immediately understood what was the matter: at that moment there was a siesta – an afternoon rest typical for the everyday life of Italians. Obviously, in the Magnolia this old tradition was strictly observed, although Hermione was sure that very soon life would seethe in the usual way for the Magnolia, and the beach would again be filled with enthusiastic exclamations of wizards participating in any competitions.
Ron's exclamation brought her out of her thoughts:
"Let's stop here! You can't think of a better place!"
At the moment, the friends were standing about thirty two feet from the sea near a huge palm tree, in the shade of it, as ordered, there were four snow-white sun loungers for relaxation, separated by wicker tables, and there was plenty of free space nearby to sunbathe if desired.
As soon as the friends began to look around appraisingly in search of other options, four glasses with cool fresh juice appeared on the tables with a dull click, decorated with multi-coloured umbrellas with pieces of fruit on the glass edges.
"Oh, that's what I call a service!" Ron exclaimed contentedly, walked over to the table and, taking a glass, took a sip with pleasure. "Well, what do you say?"
"What can I say – it's perfect!" Harry smiled and patted Ron on the shoulder approvingly. "Well done, buddy!"
"What do you say, Hermione?" Ginny looked at her with enthusiastic eyes and, seeing the doubt on her face, asked with slight displeasure: "Is there something wrong?"
"The place is good, but it will take time to conjure up the protection…" Hermione began hesitantly, but she immediately fell silent when she saw three murderous looks.
"Hermione, can you just relax for a second and just enjoy your vacation?" Ron asked irritably, staring at her in confusion.
She flushed and walked closer to him.
"I'm just worried about the safety of our belongings! It would be very imprudent to leave them unattended!"
The reaction of friends was quite predictable: Harry and Ron looked at each other meaningfully, and Ginny snorted.
"Hermione, don't talk nonsense! It's unlikely that anyone in this resort would need our tried-and-true junk," Ginny snapped, quickly arranging things on the sunbed. "Let's better take off this damn sundress and go swimming!"
Hermione understood that it was useless to argue, and therefore, shaking her head reproachfully, she began to silently unload her things from her bag: a wand, a magic sunscreen, a soft terry towel, sunglasses, and when she was about to lay out her favourite book, she felt that something was wrong. Hermione turned sharply and saw her friends standing in the same position with their arms crossed on their chest. Their appearance expressed impatience and discontent at the same time.
"What?" she asked blankly, looking from one face to another.
"So, are you going or not?" Ginny finally voiced the general question as she shifted from foot to foot.
"Oh, go without me, I will join soon! As soon as I put a couple of simple spells and that's it," Hermione assured them and it caused her friends to simultaneously roll their eyes, and she hurried to add: "I promise, I'll join you soon!"
"Well, in that case, I'm going!" Ron jumped from his place and rushed to the water, deftly avoiding obstacles he encountered in the form of sandcastles and walking wizards.
"Okay, we're going too. Just come quickly!" Harry agreed, looking impatiently at Ron's retreating.
"Hurry up, please!" Ginny supported her boyfriend and immediately, turning to Harry, asked. "Well, let's go?"
Both of them were gone before she had time to finish the sentence. Hermione shook her head when she saw them run into the water with enthusiastic screams, frightening all the wizards around them with their sudden appearance. Ron laughed and raised his thumb in approval, then waved at Hermione. She smiled and waved back. She couldn't wait to plunge into the warm clear water, and therefore, quickly spreading her things and muttering a couple of protective spells, Hermione, slightly hesitating, took off her sundress. The feeling that she was standing in the middle of a crowded place in her underwear was desperate to leave her, but it was comforting that everyone was dressed accordingly. This thought encouraged Hermione, and she, having overcome the oppressive embarrassment, walked towards the sea.
The closer she came to the waterline, the faster the feeling of stiffness disappeared, and the thought of an imminent pleasant immersion gave a wonderful mood and the feeling that she was capable of everything she wanted. Finally, she came close to the water surface and stepped into the warm surf.
The water felt pleasantly cool against the backdrop of the sun on the beach, and Hermione felt small chills. She decided to step into the water gradually, allowing the body to get used to the new temperature, so she was only ankle-deep in water and at the same time tried to spy out familiar faces among the floating wizards.
There were no friends nearby, and Hermione was already beginning to worry when she saw two bright orange tops near the farthest rescue buoys, which were forbidden to swim behind. Ron and Ginny had already swum to them and were now waiting for Harry, who was nowhere near as good a swimmer as the Weasleys. Hermione smiled and raised her hand to wave to her friends, but suddenly her view was blocked by a half-naked man emerging from the water and walking straight towards her. Hermione's gaze involuntarily fell on his athletic torso, sprinkled with water droplets, and she looked away in embarrassment.
Frankly, she saw so many almost completely naked men only in her school years, when she went with her parents to the beach, and even then she didn't pay attention to them.
Now everything was different. The matured Hermione, who, moreover, had been lonely for quite a long time, now and then involuntarily noted the beauty of the male component of vacationers at this resort. From the realization that she was looking at men, for some reason she felt somehow childishly uncomfortable, as if she was doing something forbidden. And now, with a slight frown, she was about to bypass the troublemaker when she decided to throw a glance at his face – she wondered if he is as handsome, as beautiful his body is?
After running an admiring glance over the well defined six pack abs, a moderately pumped chest and broad shoulders, Hermione finally threw a look onto the face of the Apollo's body owner and froze when she met the mocking gaze of grey eyes.
She seemed to remember all the words from Ron's obscene vocabulary when she realized that all this time she was looking with interest at the torso of Draco Malfoy and based on his expression it was obvious that he noticed it.
Hermione was petrified in horror. From her stupor, she was pulled out by a smug voice that she would like to hear now least of all in the world:
"Do you like what you see, Granger?" Hermione shuddered and muttered in embarrassment as if waking up from a dream:
"You wish, Malfoy."
"It's strange, your expression said the opposite when you looked at my magnificent body with such genuine interest," he crossed his arms over his chest, grinning and making the muscles more prominent.
"But I don't…" Hermione involuntarily began to make excuses but Draco interrupted her immediately.
"Oh, Granger, no need to make excuses, I understand you! It's difficult to resist the sight of a beautiful male body, especially after long-term contemplation of, to put it mildly, the not very aesthetically attractive lanky Weasley figure."
After these words, Malfoy winked meaningfully at Hermione, and she felt her blood slowly begin to boil in the veins, and her cheeks were flushed with a mixture of shame and anger.
Draco was obviously in great spirits. Merry devils danced in his eyes, drops of water dripped from wet strands onto his still pale face, only slightly touched by a blush, and his whole appearance spoke of such self-satisfaction that Hermione if she had a wand, would have hit him with the strongest Confundus Charm.
"What a moron you are, Malfoy! Better shut up and go where you were going," Hermione threw it gathering all the willpower, and without waiting for an answer, quickly walked around him, trying to get away from this bastard as soon as possible.
But she took only a few steps when she heard:
"By the way, Granger, purely out of interest: are you sure you weren't mistaken dressing for the beach tonight? I think you forgot to put on your bathing suit."
"What?..." Hermione turned sharply to him.
"Well, you know, such a fully closed bathing suit, just in the style of a decent Gryffindor girl," Draco broke into a grin. "Although, maybe you decided to change your image? People say that time changes people, but who would have thought that Hermione Granger would trade her prim school uniform for this..."
After these words, Malfoy looked up at Hermione with such a meaningful look that she instantly wanted to fall through the ground. She thought there was nothing worse than being caught staring at Malfoy's body, but it turned out there was: Hermione suddenly realized how she must have looked from the side in his eyes. Not only is he practically naked in front of him, but also this defiant swimsuit!..
The thought became so sickening that Hermione could hardly resist the urge to cover her body with her hands. Malfoy, apparently noticing this, broke into an even more self-satisfied grin and had already opened his mouth to say something before Hermione's patience burst.
"Look, you, a narcissistic bastard, why do you even care?" she angrily screwed up her eyes. "Do you have some problems, or maybe an inferiority complex?! In any case, it doesn't interest me much. I'm disgusted by the mere sight of you."
"Calm down, Granger! It's just that I, as your good old friend, am interested in what such changes are caused by," Draco said conciliatory, bringing his hands up in front of him.
"Oh, where does such an unhealthy interest come from?" Hermione asked scornfully, stepping towards him.
"Well, you know, if they told me that the prim nerd Hermione Granger, a stronghold of decency and order, in a couple of years after graduation, will overturn glasses of strong wine one after another, unequivocally rubbing against a man in a dance in front of hundreds of wizards, and even walking almost naked in a revealing swimsuit, as if she had just left a den of debauchery, I would probably think that McGonagall would sooner arrange a frank striptease instead of a Transfiguration class than Potter's girlfriend would change so much."
Hermione was speechless for a second and stared at the insolently grinning Malfoy.
"You... how dare you..." she began, panting with indignation but Malfoy stopped her with a gesture.
"Granger, you don't even have to start. I already understood that you are unlikely to tell me the heartwarming story of your miraculous transformation," Draco cocked his head to one side, frowning slightly. "So, with your permission, I think I'll go. Good luck!"
Before Hermione could even say a word, Malfoy quickly emerged from the water and walked along the beach to his lounger, as if nothing had happened. And only when his silhouette completely disappeared, she finally realized that for a good two minutes she had been standing motionless in one place with her fists tightly clenched from anger. This ferret brought her to the boiling point again, but the most offensive thing was that to be completely honest, he was telling the truth. She behaved in this resort too atypical for Hermione Granger.
And it was something to think about.