17 June, 2010 (Thursday)

"Look here, Hermione!" Rhachel hailed her over. Her cousin was holding up a gorgeous yellow-coloured, silk scarf that contained a lovely pattern of orange and brown squares on the side. It was very traditional Greek. "Perfect for you."

Hermione and Apollodorus went to join Rhachel at the small rack under the awning. They were shop-hopping in Nafplio that morning, and some vendors had their wares displayed outdoors under sunshades to entice customers. The scarves were under the watchful eye of a hawkish merchant, who noticed Rhachel holding it up against Hermione's cheek.

"Ah, the perfect item for such a beautiful woman," he said in Greek, while Apollodorus translated for her. "So striking against your skin and with such dark hair and eyes."

Apollodorus agreed, fingering the material as he brushed it gently against her cheek. "It's perfect with your colouring."

"She looks better in Slytherin green," Malfoy countered, reaching for a scarf that was hand-dyed in different shades of green. "Yellow is too Hufflepuff for her."

Apollodorus and Rhachel frowned at that.

"What is Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" her cousin asked.

"A brand of clothing," Hermione fibbed, quickly covering for her partner's slip, throwing him a glare.

Malfoy grinned at her lie (the first positive response he'd shown her in days). "Indeed. Designed with far too many happy frills and lace, in my opinion," he supplied. "Granger's better in cooler, more sophisticated colours." He glanced at her through his thick, gold lashes with an inscrutable expression. "Like emerald green." He held up the scarf he'd been examining for her inspection.

She glanced at it, and privately agreed it was perfectly suited to her taste and something she would buy for herself. "I disagree," she countered, just to be contrary. "I actually prefer sexy Gryffindor red." She answered Rhachel's question before the other woman could even ask it. "Another brand of clothing."

Apollodorus reached for a scarf hidden behind some others, its corner just peeking out. When he pulled it free, he smiled in triumph. "Perfect for you," he declared, draping it around her shoulders. The shoppe keeper immediately agreed. He rattled something off in Greek that made Malfoy frown. Apollodorus translated.

"Lovely and sensual! Flowers for romance, animal print for passion. I can see it suits you well. Yes, a very fine match made by your boyfriend."

Her cheeks heated, but she didn't correct the merchant. Instead, she purchased the scarf (refusing to accept money from Apollodorus for it, or to take it as a gift), and put it away in her shopping sack.

As Apollodorus led her to the next stall, her gaze quickly turned to Draco. He was watching her go, still holding the green scarf in his hands, his face pale and hard with disapproval.

He didn't speak another word to her that whole day.

X~~~~~X

18 June, 2010 (Friday)

As they exited the House of Fear at the Allou Fun Park, Hermione was laughing and clutching her belly with hilarity.

The cheap carnival exhibit had been a ridiculously silly experience, with its rubber and silicone displays of mutilated corpses, deranged, psychotic clowns, and prisoners in chains trussed up to look like victims of the Tower. The ominous soundtrack playing overhead through hidden speakers had been meant to create a spooky ambiance, but all Hermione could think as she'd walked along was that the song's composer had been a bit too enamoured with the pipe organ and timpani drums. The real fun, though, had been the costumed and made-up employees jumping out of dark spaces along the route to spook the every-loving brains right out of them. Some of them had appeared as chainsaw wielding maniacs or demented doctors carrying bloodied medical instruments, while others wore masks, pretending to be werewolves, ogres, and even the Devil, himself.

Hermione had hooted and sniggered in face of such illusionary horror. She'd seen scarier things in Hagrid's sock drawer, honestly. Rhachel, however, had screamed her bloody head off, and at one point, Apollodorus had dropped back after politely offering to escort her to the exit while covering her eyes. Malfoy didn't seem in the least bit offended by the other man's offer to guide his girlfriend out, as indeed, he seemed quite ready to leave Rhachel behind in his irritation. The man abhorred wimpy females.

"Entertaining," her partner dryly commented, coming out behind her, straightening his jumper. His tone was light, despite the snark, as he bent his mouth to Hermione's ear so their conversation would be private. "Reminded me a bit of Hades meets Hellingly Asylum. What about you?"

She chuckled and reached up on tip toe to whisper in his ear. "They could have done with more Charon and less Carnival of Lost Souls, I thought."

He grinned and was about to reply when Rhachel and Apollodorus brought up the rear, coming out next. Their presence effectively shut down her conversation – the first good one she'd had with him since before this whole trip, actually.

Things became suddenly awkward as Hermione's date looked from her to Malfoy and back again, a clear question in his eyes.

"I not like that," Rhachel stated, pointing back at the House of Fear, as she disentangled herself from Apollodorus' hold. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. "Awful place."

Ever the gentleman, Apollodorus removed his coat and wrapped it around Rhachel's shoulders, providing her warmth, as she appeared chilled.

A raucous series of terrified screams suddenly erupted through the air and had every one of them tensed and went instantly alert, seeking the trouble. Hermione unconsciously reached for her wand, which was tucked into a magicked pocket inside her coat, but stopped just shy of pulling it free when the shrieks cut off rather abruptly a few seconds later.

She had a momentary flashback to the Final Battle of Hogwarts. It was of that moment when the Acromantulas had broken into the castle and every witch and wizard had spotted them. It hadn't mattered what side of the war you were on then - you ran, instinctually knowing that people were nothing more than food to the giant spiders. The sharp, piercing cries of terror had reverberated off the stone walls of the crumbling castle, and then cut off as people used what precious breath they had left to instead pump their lungs so they could beat a hasty retreat.

The similarities of sound caused her chest to tighten with fear.

As she glanced sideways at Malfoy, she noted he was in much the same state as her, his grey gaze glassy had momentarily turned inward. He was reliving his own set of bad memories, she knew.

A few tense moments later, and the Shock Tower ride nearby reset itself for the next batch of riders, and Hermione understood that the war was long done for them both, and there was nothing here that would hurt them. She let out a shaky breath and calmly reached over to place her hand on Draco's wrist. "It's okay," she murmured under her breath. "It was just one of the rides. It takes people up, and then drops them before the machine catches them right before they hit the ground. It's supposed to be fun."

Draco looked down at her, at where her hand rested upon him, and eased up on un-holstering his wand from its hidden place in his coat. He relaxed under her touch, trusting her word and experience in this matter... as partners were meant to do.

Their eyes met, locked.

Hermione's heart painfully, awkwardly thumped in her chest.

"Let's not go there," Rhachel stated, pulling them out of the moment and back into the present. She was pointed at the Shock Tower ride as she snuggled up to Draco's unoccupied side and linked their arms, leaning into him. "I not like that one either."

Hermione stepped away from Malfoy, putting a safe distance between them once more.

What had she been thinking? Foolish witch! Draco was involved with her cousin! And she...

She headed over to Apollodorus' side, and didn't leave it again for the rest of the night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

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Preview of chapter 8...

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"You can't seriously be considering anything serious with that blond doufus. He's too much like Weasley."

Shocked by the cruelty and vehemence in his words, Hermione turned on her partner. "How dare you! Apollodorus may be as open and enthusiastic as Ron, but in case you failed to notice, that's where the similarities end. My date is an intelligent and witty man, and he has excellent manners. I'd be glad to get to count him as a new friend."

The dark cynicism slashing across Draco's aristocratic features astonished her. "Oh, I'm sure that's exactly what he's after with you – just friendship."

She arched an eyebrow at him, confused by his odd over-protectiveness. "Perhaps he does want more, but so what? What's it to you?"