Treasure Island (2/4)
Hermione blinked herself awake, unaccustomed to the bright light that shone down on her. The first thing she noticed was a half-naked man sitting by her side, silently studying her. She froze in shock, fear mingled with embarrassment at seeing his bare chest, and her scream froze in her throat as her eyes became wider and wider.
The man merely crocked his head to the side, the beginning of a frown forming as he continued to look at her. He grunted something.
Hermione blinked slowly. "What?"
His frown deepened, but he tried again, grunting and motioning with his hand towards what looked to be a platter of food; fruits were predominant, but there were also an abundance of red meat.
Hermione swallowed thickly and quickly looked away from the food least she get sick from the sight of it. "No thank you," she said.
He frowned again, leaning forward as if he didn't understand her only because he couldn't hear.
She repeated her words, motioning toward the food and shaking her head at the same time, and only then did he seem to understand.
Fear bubbled in her chest, and without taking her eyes too far off the man, Hermione tried to look around. It was only then that she realised they were up in a tree; and she nearly fell off with a scream when she realised how high up they actually were. She was not a fan of heights, and fear of falling overtook her fear of the unknown man and what he might do to her.
"Can we get down?" she asked, looking at him with panic brewing in her eyes and tone. "Down," she repeated, pointing towards the ground.
He nodded, and eagerly reached for her. Hermione yelped at the sudden movement, but allowed him the liberties as she knew she'd never be able to reach the comforting levels of the ground below without some assistance, however much she considered herself to be a very competent witch.
Once they stood securely on the soft grass, Hermione felt able to breathe properly again. "Thank you," she said to the man.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again quickly without uttering a syllable, a frustrated frown marring his forehead. Hermione studied him, just as he had studied her earlier; he was incredibly tanned, something not wholly unexpected if he lived on the island, which seemed more and more likely, and he was tall and muscled. Hermione felt a blush creeping up her cheeks as she allowed her eyes to wander down his broad chest and down the smattering of hair on his stomach. He wore a cloth, and she blushed even further as her eyes skimmed over it, down his long legs. He looked very strong, but the way he had handled her had been gentle.
"What's your name, sir?" she asked. "You do have a name, do you not?"
He sounded out noise, and Hermione reeled back.
"I'm sorry; I do not know what that means."
He tried it again, but Hermione shook her head.
"I mean your real name."
He breathed, loudly as his eyebrows knitted together. "I- no know," he said carefully, as if testing the words on his tongue before uttering them.
He looked delighted at being able to speak, and Hermione wondered just how long he'd been on the island if he'd forgotten such a thing as his name and his speech.
"No, no know- other word," he continued, stumbling over the words as they flowed over his tongue stiltedly, frustrated at his inability to recall. "'ember, I no emember."
"Remember?" Hermione tried gently.
"Yes, -emember." He nodded, delighted once more. He looked at her and smiled.
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she saw it; not only was it beautiful smile indeed and her heart fluttered at the thought of such a man as he, for though she was brilliant and self-sufficient she was still a woman and the attentions of a handsome man was always flattering, but she had seen that smile before. When Blaise Zabini took over the Malfoy Manor upon his latest birthday, he'd held a ball to celebrate. Hermione had of course been invited, and during her stay at his mansion, she'd studied several of the portraits, interested as always in the mystery of the disappearance of the true Malfoy heir and his parents.
Lucius Malfoy had been a handsome man and his wife a very beautiful woman; though their son had been but a few years old when they disappeared, he too was expected to have grown up handsome; and expectations had been correct, it seemed, for unless Hermione was very much mistaken, this man, was the true Malfoy heir; the very same Blaise Zabini had joined their expedition to try and find.
"Draco Malfoy," she said, slightly breathless in her revelation.
He blinked and breathed and as she watched, his whole face changed.
"Yes," he said his voice suddenly clear and aware, as if her speaking his name had broken through the barrier that'd grown in his mind from years of living on his own on a deserted island; it was almost as if her speaking his name was the catalyst for him remembering speech. "Yes, my name."
"This is astonishing," Hermione laughed, all of a sudden realising the surrealism of the moment. There she stood, in a dirty and slightly tattered dress, on an island in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, together with the long lost Malfoy heir, the true Lord of Wiltshire. And he wore no clothes and could hardly speak.
A rumbling to the left made Hermione turn, and she reeled back with a gasp as a large gorilla came into her line of vision. Another one joined it, and as Hermione looked, more gorillas were suddenly visible to her; in the trees, on the ground, in groups or alone. And all of them watching her with their dark eyes.
The man, Lord Malfoy Hermione reminded herself, grunted and grumbled at them, and as she watched, all but one left them in peace; either lumbering away entirely or merely turning back to what they had been doing before her laughter had drawn their attention.
The sole gorilla left, instead of remaining where it was or leaving with the others, came forward. The gorilla and Lord Malfoy exchanged soft noises and gentle pushing of their heads as they communicated, and Hermione watched, fascinated.
Lord Malfoy turned to her then, holding out his hand for her to take. She frowned, but took his hand in hers; it was warm and soft, and Hermione blushed as he pulled her forward; so focused on him that she didn't even notice he was pulling her closer to the gorilla. She'd not even felt this way when holding Mr. Krum's hand as they'd last danced.
Lord Malfoy grunted some more at the gorilla, and Hermione froze as she realised how close she now was to the large creature he'd been communicating with.
"I don't think- I mean, um." She tried to extricate her hand from his, but he refused to let go, frowning as she started to back away.
"My mother," he told her.
Hermione blinked at him. "Your mother?"
"Yes," he made a noise, low in his throat, "takes care of me, since very small."
Hermione studied the gorilla, careful not to smile. "What happened to your parents?"
"Died," was all he said, before he turned back to the gorilla and bumped heads with her. Then she moved off, leaving the two humans alone. "Come," he said, holding her hand as they walked off and away from the habitat.
They walked in silence, still holding hands, and though Hermione was sure her mother would've been ashamed at her rather brazen conduct, and with a Lord no less, she couldn't find it in herself to be bothered. It felt right, holding his hand.
"I thought gorillas only lived in Africa," she said once they'd walked far enough away from the habitat for them not to hear; they might not understand what she was saying, but she would've felt bad about speaking of them behind their backs when they were within hearing distance.
"Africa?" he asked. "Is that a place you are from?"
"No, Africa is a continent-" Hermione frowned and looked up at him. "You- you have lived here almost all your life," she said, as if realising it only now.
"Yes." He helped her over a fallen tree without a word.
"Do you remember, from before? Your parents and your home?"
"Yes, more now you are here," he said, gazing at her with soft eyes.
Hermione blushed. They reached the beach where she now recalled he'd first found her, but instead of stopping where the sand had been disturbed by her fallen form, they continued down along the edge until she could see a small makeshift hut standing, its roof crooked, on the edge of the forest some distance away. "What is that?"
"Home," he said only, not speaking again until they reached the hut. "I have not been back," he said, pushing against the wooden planks that'd been made into a door.
The inside was sandy, but not so dirty as Hermione had expected considering the years of disuse. Furniture salvaged from the ship that'd wrecked the Malfoys on the island stood almost everywhere; the dominating feature the bed stuffed with leaves which stood against the far wall.
"More comfortable," he said, pulling her towards it.
"Wait, what?" Hermione dug her heels in, making him stop and turn to look at her. He looked confused. "What do you mean, more comfortable?"
"You no like high trees; I find soft bedding on ground."
"Yes, thank you, but I'm not tired."
He blinked, almost more confused than ever. "For mating."
Hermione blinked and dropped his hand. He frowned and picked it up again, not allowing her to let go even as she tried to extract it from his grip. "Mating?"
"Yes; we are the same, I need to mate."
"But I don't-" she said, bewildered for a moment before she realised just what he'd meant. Then her eyes widened and her blush flared. "I cannot!"
He growled. "You have a mate already?"
"No! But-"
"Then no problem." He tried again to pull her towards the bed.
"No!" Hermione dug her heels in and pulled at her hand. He stopped once more to look at her, hurt and confusion marring his features. "I do not want to mate."
"I- why?" he asked, more confused than ever.
"I- I'm too young," she said. "I'm not allowed."
Disappointment took over, and he dropped her hand. "Then why did you come now?"
"What?"
"If you are not to mate with now, why not wait to come here?"
"I didn't have a choice; I fell off the ship I was on, and I-" she sighed, suddenly feeling bad that she'd had to reject him. But she couldn't go to bed with him, even if he was a Lord and not even if he made her tingle and feel things she'd never thought she would; what would her mother say or the Professor if he found out when he rescued her? Though she was a strong and independent woman, she did want to marry one day, and no one would marry her if she'd already experienced a pleasure left for a husband and wife alone.
"Ready soon, yes?" he asked.
Hermione blushed, but shook her head. "Not for a while I'm afraid."
He sighed, but seemed to accept it. He glanced about the room, as if looking for something to do, and when his eyes fell on a bridal chest hiding in a corner, his face lit up again and he strode over to it with a few quick steps, Hermione following curiously. The wood surface was covered with beautiful ornate inscribing, and though Hermione wanted to study the carvings further, she forgot all about it as he touched the lock with his hand; immediately, a spark of magic glimmered and the lock clicked open.
Hermione gasped as he opened the lid; inside was a treasure trove of beloved items, not showing the signs of time, but kept protected by the magic of the chest.
A plush toy shaped like a dragon, with stitches for eyes and a chewed on tail lay at the top; the man picked it up and smiled in remembrance.
"I had forgotten," he said.
Hermione reached into the chest and picked up a photograph; in it, a young Lucius Malfoy and his wife sat, smiling and waving. In Lady Malfoy's lap sat a very young Draco Malfoy, chewing on the tail of the dragon he held in his hands now. Hermione smiled; any doubt she may have had as to his origin now completely shattered.
"Your mother was very beautiful," she said.
"Yes," he replied, not even looking at the photograph. Instead, he'd gone back to rifling through the chest. The dragon toy he'd placed on the ground beside him.
Hermione frowned. "I think we should clean first; it would be a shame to get these objects ruined now, for want of a maid."
"What?" he asked, frowning up at her.
"I may not have my wand, but I can still clean," Hermione said. "Will you help?"
He looked at her studiously as if weighing his options. Then he stood, and putting everything they'd taken out of the chest back into it, he closed the lid. "Yes," he said resolutely. "I will help you."
Hermione frowned, wondering at his behaviour, but she smiled instead. "Great, do you know if there's a broom around here?"
"No broom," he said. "Brush."
He walked across the room and picked up a makeshift broom, created out of now long dead palm leaves and a stick. He held it out to her.
"Thank you, but I don't think this is going to work," she said, touching the leaves. They disintegrated right over his question of why not, saving her the trouble of explaining.
"I will make new," he said and strode out of the hut, leaving Hermione behind with his memories.
She sighed as she looked around, trying to imagine Lord and Lady Malfoy living here, using this broom to clean out their small hut, hoping to get rescued. And then they'd died, leaving their young son at the mercy of the gorillas.
In an effort at not thinking too much of it, Hermione started to clean as she waited for Lord Malfoy to come back. She realised then that she had not introduced herself, and while that was perfectly all right at home, when she of course could not introduce herself to a man, she realised that there was no one else here who could do that for her; when he came back she resolved to present him with her name.
She had made some headway by the time he came back with a fresh broom. He held it out to her as a peace offering and she accepted it with a thank you.
"I make good mate," he said. "I help."
Hermione blinked. "Yes, thank you, Lord Malfoy."
He crocked his head to the side, frowning. Then he made a guttural sound.
"What?"
He made it again and said. "My name."
"Oh! I don't think I will be able to call you that, my Lord, but-"
"Then Draco," he said with a nod. "I like Draco."
"You honour me," she said, smiling. "My name is Hermione Granger."
"Her-own-ie Danger!" he cried, delighted.
"Almost," she muttered, "but feel free to call me Hermione," she sounded her name out. "We need not be so formal with each other, especially not if I am to call you Draco."
He looked slightly confused at her words, but smiled when she did. "I like it when you say my name, Her-own-ie."
"Thank you."
His gaze turned longingly as they stared at each other, and Hermione turned away, afraid of what she might otherwise allow him to do.
"We should start cleaning."
"Yes," he agreed.
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