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Chapter 7: Declarations:
"What else shall we do? The night's still young," he said.
"You know what," she said, "You've been picking out great things for us to do all evening, so why don't you decide, again. I'm all yours."
He raised an eyebrow and said, "That's a dangerous declaration."
"Well, for now, I'm all yours," she amended with a wirily smile.
He smiled and said, "Then let the date commence." He held out his hand. He didn't offer her the crook of his arm, but his hand. He had discovered, over not just the course of the evening, but from the moment he set eyes on her again, that he liked the feel of her hand in his. He felt as if it belonged there. Draco Malfoy always got what he wanted, and what he deserved, so if he wanted to hold her hand, no one would stop him, not even her.
To his unabashed surprise, she placed her hand in his as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. He guided her through the now sparse populace that was on the boardwalk. She said, "Where do they all go when the night meets the day?"
He looked puzzled for a moment, turned to look down at her, stopped walking and said, "Pardon?"
"It just that when I arrived here, there were so many people, like this afternoon, and I could barely thread my way through the crowd on the boardwalk, and now it's almost empty. It's almost eerie. It's so quiet."
He smiled at her, leaned down as if he was to whisper to her and said, "No, my Granger, it's almost midnight. That's where the crowd goes when the night meets the day. They go home to bed." Then he wiggled his eyebrows.
She tried to hide her smile, (her blush she could do nothing about) and she said, "Yes, well, I suppose it is late. There's probably not much to do at this hour." She didn't want the day to end. She realized that this was probably the best date she had ever had, and it was with Draco Malfoy. Usually, after a great date such as this, a person would want to see the other person again, and then again, and again. She could do no such thing. Once the evening was over, it would be as if the spell was over. The night would turn to dawn, and tomorrow would be another day, and he would be gone. Then Saturday would turn to Sunday, which in turn would turn to Monday, and then she would be thirty years old.
Reality was indeed a grim prospect. On Tuesday, she would be a thirty years old woman back at work, where this Draco Malfoy would only be a trace and a memory, and would be replaced with her boss, her employer, her former nemesis.
She truly didn't want this night to end.
"You seem thoughtful suddenly," he said. He pulled her to stop walking. Since he still had his warm hand covering hers, she was forced to oblige his command.
"I've had a nice time, this evening," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully.
"Well, so have I, my Granger. So have I," he said just as slowly, regarding her with each word. He studied her for a moment and then asked, "What's wrong?"
She didn't know if she had the words to express her feelings. They were gratitude, longing, hopefulness, weariness, sadness and joy all rolled into one. She pulled her hand from his and sat on a bench that was in front of a large, intricate sandcastle. Instead of sitting beside her, he stood behind her, over her, looking down at her.
She clasped her hands in her lap. He had the overwhelming urge to plant his hands on her shoulders, and force her to look up at him, at which point he would kiss her soundly, and while he struggled with his urges, she broke him from his thoughts by pointing at the large sandcastle. "Look at the design the person put into the turret on the castle. You can see each raised stone jetting out. It's so realistic."
He sat beside her. "Yes, it is."
She looked over at him, but he was now studying the castle. "Why would someone put so much work into something that won't last?" she asked.
"It's a challenge, I suppose, and they know it won't last, but it's fun while it's happening, and it makes them happy, and it makes others happy as well," he answered firmly.
She looked toward the ground and said, "I wasn't talking about the sandcastle. I was talking about you and this date."
He looked at her. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, but it afforded him enough light to see her features plainly, her full mouth, her iridescent skin, her thick curly hair. He answered, "I wasn't referring to the sandcastle either."
Her gaze met his. He reached over and removed the rose from her hair, which caused it to fall down on one side. She reached up with nimble fingers, and removed the remaining clasps, which held her hair in place. It tumbled to her shoulders. He looked at the somewhat wilted white rose, and then he twirled it in his fingers. He put it up to her face, and he stroked her cheek with the soft petals. She barely flinched. He let it trace from her temple, to her cheek, to her jaw, and then back up the other side. He finally pressed it to her lips, and he moved it gently back and forth, once…twice…three times. He envied this rose, which touched the lips that he felt belonged to him.
She looked down again. He pocketed the rose and said, "A memento of the night." Then he stood up and said, "Our date isn't over yet, Hermione."
"I think it has to be, Draco," she said. He touched her chin, forcing her eyes upon his.
He smiled down at her, and though the night was dark, she saw his features clearly. He rubbed his thumb back and forth on her chin and said, "What are you afraid of, my Granger?"
She was afraid of him. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
He sat back down beside her. "What shall I call you?"
"Hermione? Granger? Mudblood? I don't know. My Granger seems so…" she broke off her train of thought.
He finished it. "Intimate?" he asked.
She merely nodded as she looked away.
"You're mine for this night, and perhaps this night only," he said. She wasn't sure she heard him correctly. She looked back at him, but was now looking away.
She clinched her hands in fists. She wasn't sure what he meant by that, and she was afraid to think about it further. She said, "How long are you staying at the resort?"
"How long are you?" he asked back. He stood back up, and without notice, he took her hand again, and they resumed their walk.
"Until Monday, remember? You gave me Monday off work. I'm going to celebrate my birthday here, and then go back to the real world, where everything will be different." She said it with such conviction that he almost believed her, but only almost. He knew things would be different as well, but not in the same vein in which she said that statement.
They would be different because he was falling in love with Hermione Granger.
He took a steady breath and looked in the other direction. No, this was just an infatuation. He thought she was pretty, challenging, adorable, sexy, beautiful, on no, he was falling in love with her. At first, he just thought he wanted to sleep with her, but now he knew he wanted so much more.
And she was such a pain in the arse sometimes, too.
Nevertheless, the heart wanted what it wanted, as cliché as that sounded. The main point was that Draco Malfoy wanted what Draco Malfoy wanted, and what that boiled down to was that he always got what he wanted. Always.
He knew he would have to tread lightly with her. Her and her blasted principles and ethics, her warped sense of right and wrong, her wretched ideology, were bound to get in the way. It must be hard to have such high morals. Draco was glad that his morals were so low that they never clouded any of his decisions.
He would deal with one problem at a time. The problem at hand was that he wanted to kiss her. He stopped walking again and said, "Let's deal with tonight, first. It's late, and we've had a long day, agreed?"
"Yes," she said hesitantly.
"I'm here until Sunday night. That means we have all day tomorrow to spend together, and most of the day Sunday. I only have one little meeting to go to that day, a breakfast meeting, and then later that day we'll celebrate your birthday before I leave," he rambled, thinking quickly on his feet. He wasn't going to leave her room for argument, so he kept talking.
"We won't worry about the whole working together scenario, because if you recall, we're different people this weekend. This weekend we're two people, who went on a blind date, had a fabulous time, chatted up, kissed a bit, held hands, and who decided to extend their date through the weekend, agreed?"
She cocked her head to the side, smiled, and said, "We haven't kissed."
"Are you sure?"
"Fairly certain," she said.
"I remember that differently," he said with a sly smile.
"Let me ascertain your memories on the matter," she played along. She removed her hand from his, turned to face him, but kept walking, but now she was walking backwards. She added, "You kissed my neck a bit, if that's what you mean by kissing a bit. Was that what you meant?"
"No," he answered. He reached for her as she started to tumble. She looked behind her, but then she kept walking. He thought he should steady her, for her wellbeing, of course. He reached out and placed his hand on her arm to guide her as she continued to walk backwards, and he continued his frontal assault.
"Did you kiss me when I wasn't looking?" she asked playfully.
"No," he reiterated.
"Did you kiss me in a dream?"
"Many, but that's not what I meant either," he said with a token of sarcasm.
"Did you kiss my doppelganger?' she asked.
"If I saw a Hermione Granger doppelganger, I would run and hide," he said. She laughed. She almost tumbled again, so he steered her toward the back of another bench. He pressed her backside daringly against the back of the bench, and stood in front of her. He took the hand that was on her upper arm and moved it behind her neck.
"When did you kiss me?" she asked, almost out of breath.
"Now," he declared.