A/N: I hope this was a quick enough update for you, because this was about as quick as I can go. The feedback really pushed me to get it out quicker, so thanks for that! I am pleased to be able to update on Hermione's b-day 3 Enjoy and please tell me what you think!
Beta Love to: Carrington Shaw and RooOJoy
When I wrote the dramione moment you'll see in this story, I was listening to Never Be Like You by Flume (like over and over)-it was my inspiration! Oh, and I hope you take a look at the pretties I made for this chapter because I couldn't resist. Not with the storm and all the coziness and what not. Easiest way would be photobucket, AO3, or FB. The-bravo-angel made the cover 3
Thanks for follows/favorites/reviews: chibi-Clar, pgoodrichboggs, daswhoiam, sleeplygirl, riddlesgurl86, beth, Green Eyed Lana Lee, dragonlovermudblood, Meiri, sunshinealeia, Mistress DragonFlame, purpleninjacow, HereToRead84, and the guests!
000
The rain pounded on the palms, sending rivulets of water cascading down on the hard-working slaves. Even though the day was still young, the sky had darkened measurably. The clouds hung in a thick canopy over the sky, blocking out the brightness of the sun. The ocean was in turmoil, water churning and roiling, in dark, angry waves.
Tracey was in a right foul mood over it. "Really," she whined, cinching up her wool trousers and tucking in her wet shirt. "This is bloody ridiculous, Harry. We should be in New Godric's Hollow, holed up from this storm, not still chasing Muggle-borns."
"But that's what we do, Trace," Regulus said, as they edged closer to the group of unsuspecting Muggles.
"As it happens, I wasn't asking you, Reg," she said pointedly.
"You needn't have come, Tracey," Harry said quietly, green eyes trained ahead. "You could have stayed at the base, or even back on the ship."
The blond witch frowned, her disillusionment charm wavering. "You know I go wherever you go, Harry."
"Then quit bloody-well complaining about it." Harry lit the tip of his wand and raised it, further illuminating the dimly lit area.
Regulus' mouth snapped shut at Harry's crass words. He glanced at Tracey to see her features were set in a fierce snarl, but she stayed blessedly silent.
"This isn't even the right Muggle-born," Harry continued, seemingly unaware of the daggers Tracey was staring into the back of his head. "Obviously he is a Muggle-born, but he isn't the one that was on Malfoy's ship."
Tracey sighed. "Oh, wasn't he? And how do you know? The compass led us here, after all."
"It's not—" the brunette wizard faltered, "it's not glowing properly."
Tracey's lips quirked in amusement. "It's not…glowing properly?" She peered at the compass still gripped in his left hand. " How cute. You really do need to quit moping and get over this witch or wizard you think you came across. There's a fine Muggle-born right here just ripe for the taking. Snatch up that one and let's be off. Reg does want to make it back to get bested by his brother in Sunday's Quidditch match."
"I won't be bested," Regulus said. "Sirius is far too pompous for his own good."
"I could care less about Quidditch," Harry said, a muscle twitching by his eye. "And chances are, we may not make it back by Sunday."
"But New Godric's Hollow is only five days from here," Tracey said, voice rising. "I don't see why we wouldn't make it back in time."
"If we did a final sweep—"
"A final sweep? You've been saying that for weeks! Here we are, in South New World, for Merlin's sake, no closer to being home than before."
"Tracey." His voice came out in a low warning.
"And since when do you not care about Quidditch?" Tracey's hands lowered to her hips, still holding her wand tightly in her right hand. "You were always so good at juggling work with play. Now it's all work, work, work."
Harry whirled on her, his voice coming out in a low growl. "Tracey, honestly. Do I need to have Reg escort you back to the ship?"
"I don't need a bloody escort." She sneered, looking back at Regulus and wrinkling her nose.
The raven-haired wizard put his hands up in mock surrender.
"Then I won't have another word about it." Harry turned towards the group, who were leaving to gather more of the wood they had chopped. "It's odd, but I haven't seen any magic folk here."
Reg pointed to the hastily-constructed barracks built further up from the beach. "That's Riddle's flag they're waving."
"Yes, but I daresay they've been left alone."
"Left alone?" Tracey's eyebrows raised high on her forehead. "Why would the swotting Purebloods leave their precious Muggles unattended?"
"I'm sure they've warded them, Trace," Regulus said, as if stating the obvious.
"They've likely gone on a foraging mission through the jungle. Think of all the magical creatures they can capture and bring back to sell in Britain," Harry said. "Meanwhile, Riddle builds another fort on the coastline, staking his territory. They're doing it all over the new world."
The trio watched the unsuspecting group of Muggles under the cover of their Muffliato and Disillusionment charms.
"So that's the one, huh?" Tracey gestured towards a man who had divested himself of his shirt and was currently heaving wood from a cart at one end of the beach towards the partially built structure.
Harry nodded. "How can you tell?"
"I don't need a compass whilst this close. I can sense magical auras." She dug her sandal-clad foot into the wet sand distractedly. "Why do they trust the building of their bases to them? Do they not wish to fortify it magically?"
"I would imagine it's much easier to have slaves do the heavy labor before reinforcing it later," Regulus said. He leaned over to Harry. "Suppose we catch him away from the others, perhaps at nightfall?"
Tracey sighed loudly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"The last thing we need is more Muggles at New Godric's," Regulus said defensively. "Perhaps in Africa, but our island in the Caribbean is getting a bit crowded."
"We could simply Obliviate them," Tracey suggested, tapping her foot impatiently.
"There's no need for that," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "An opportunity has presented itself right now, so it would seem."
Three pairs of eyes glanced over to see the man had wandered off between the trees. The trio exchanged looks before following after him.
They entered a small clearing hedged by a line of trees. The rain pounded down on them, flooding the area. The Muggle-born dredged through the meadow before reaching the edge and one of the towering trees. He cast a quick look around before uttering softly, "Pluvia Repelo."
Instantly, the water around him dissipated, encasing him in a dry bubble. Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise at the showcase of his skill. The man pressed himself up against the tree and slid down the bark, watching the clearing warily for any trace of people.
Harry shot his compatriots a pointed look. Stepping forward, he removed his charm and the others followed suit, making their presence known.
The tired man jumped up at the sight of them, his protective bubble dissipating. As they drew closer, they saw the fear claw up his features.
"Neat trick you got there," Tracey said with a half smirk.
"Neat, but stupid," Regulus said, examining his fingernails.
"Can you do a lot of nonverbal magic?" Tracey asked curiously.
He shook his head. "Y-you're Purebloods," he said, eyes widening first with alarm, then defeat.
"Not quite," Harry said. "He's a Pureblood." He gestured towards Regulus before pointing to himself and Tracey. "We're Halfbloods."
"I don't understand."
Tracey crouched down to his level. "You're not really a man, are you? Why, you're just a boy."
"I'm a man," he argued. "I'm sixteen."
"What's your name, boy?" Harry's tone brokered no room for argument.
"Finch, Justin Finch."
"That was stupid of you to use magic so callously," Harry said. "What if your captors had caught you?"
"Looks like he's caused his captors trouble before," Regulus said. "If the lines on his back are any indication."
"P-please, I didn't mean to. I just…" Justin trailed off uncertainly. "I just like using magic. I seldom get to. And they've left for their ranging mission, for Tikal. They won't be back this soon. I only wished to practice—"
"Wait," Harry said sharply. "Ranging mission…for Tikal you say?"
"That's right."
"Why would they divulge this information to you?" Tracey said suspiciously.
"Slaves…pick up things over time. Myself more than others."
"That's stupid of them," Tracey said.
"Their loss is our gain," Regulus said, grinning widely.
"You're not broken yet, not like these Muggles, are you, Justin?" asked Harry.
Justin shook his head stiffly.
Awareness crystallized in Harry's green eyes. "I understand…I understand perfectly." Harry turned around and started walking, and Tracey motioned Justin to get to his feet.
"Come on," she said. "We have a loo on our ship, you know."
Justin flushed and Regulus chuckled. "Don't mind her. She's eager to get back, that's all."
"I don't understand, you want me to come with you?"
"Why, yes, silly." Tracey shot him a look as if to say he were dense. "Freeing Muggle-borns is what we do." She cast Regulus a wily smirk.
"I never knew…that there were others like myself…resisting. And not simply locked away in Azkaban."
"There's a lot the Ministry doesn't tell you, mate," Regulus said, good-naturedly. "And we'll tell you all about the Phoenix."
"Just like you will tell us all about this ranging mission the Purebloods have gone on," Harry said, his smile infectious. "We have another five days at sea until we reach home." Tracey clapped at the change of plans, feeling suddenly giddy. "So we can hear all about it."
000
The tropical forest rain hadn't yielded in the slightest in three days. Draco peered up into the dark sky, sneering in disgust. Never before had he been so uncomfortable for so many days in a row. He was cold and shivering, not to mention beyond hungry. They hadn't cooked in all that time and they'd been living merely on fruit and water. His body was weakened from hours spent holed up in the treehouse, trying to wait out the storm. What he wouldn't give for some hot food in his belly.
"Hermione," he said, unable to keep the whine from his voice. "This is bloody ridiculous. How do you suppose I'll be able to find dry enough wood to start a fire with from any of these branches? They're drenched."
Hermione rounded the corner carrying a stack of wet wood. She sat down on the jungle floor, under the cover of their shelter. "Never mind that, Malfoy. Just come and help me." Draco flicked the meager sticks he'd been toying with away and walked towards her. "This wood is wet, that's obvious, but if you peel it, like this,"—she demonstrated what she meant by peeling off the bark— "it's fairly dry underneath. See?"
Draco gave a stiff nod and set to work helping her.
"Merlin, but you do turn into such a grouch when you're hungry."
He frowned. "Merlin?"
She shrugged. "Something my mistress used to say."
"I thought tropical rain was supposed to be warm," he grumbled.
"Maybe this is the island's version of winter. It could be worse. At least we have a shelter and dry blankets." She stripped off another chunk of bark before adding them to her growing pile. Draco could scarcely keep up.
"You call those blankets? Ladies' gowns and men's tunics?"
"It's better than nothing." She paused in her work, and turned to face him, eyes glittering. She placed a hand lightly on his wrist and he felt his breathing quicken. "Just think of this—before the hour is up—we'll have hot food in our stomachs tonight."
Draco mumbled something inaudible and he felt the warmth of her hand leave his. They both got back to their work, his eyes wandering over to the one fish they had managed to catch.
"Almost died for that fish."
"That's a bit dramatic and you know it. The seas were…rough, but—"
"Rough?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and turned to face her. "We, the both of us, fell right into that sodding lagoon. If you can call it that. Lagoons are supposed to be calm."
She chuckled. "Ever heard the story about privileged boys and silver spoons?"
He ignored her. "We're soaking wet." He stretched out his shirt for emphasis.
"We already were from the rain." She thrusted the Firecrab shell out for him. "Here, do you think you can manage filling this up with water? I've already got enough kindling."
Draco snatched the shell from her. "Oh, I think that will be easy enough, even for privileged wizards like myself." He got up and headed towards the pool, calling over his shoulder as he walked. "I don't think you'll be able to light that wood."
The sound of a spark carried over the howling wind. His head spun around, and he was stunned to see she already had the fire lit. Bloody know-it-all. The orange, yellow, and red flames lit up the previously drab area adding brilliant colors he had missed the past few days. He really didn't need to walk the small walk over to the waterfall; he likely could have filled the shell in a few moments by holding it up. When he returned it was overflowing.
"Suppose the rain puts it out?" Salazar's pants, he hoped not.
"I think it's strong enough, not to mention a bit more shielded." He handed her the shell and she set it down to boil on their provisional stove before reaching for his hand again. "Malfoy! Your wound, it's festering."
"It's nothing." He wrenched his hand away from her line of vision, pulling his sleeve over it. "Wizards aren't-"
"Yes, I know, they aren't prone to filthy Muggle diseases, you've said so before." She spun away, heading for the side of the treehouse.
"Where are you going?"
"To get some rum."
He frowned. He'd forgotten about the rum. How had he forgotten about the rum? Perhaps it would have made the past few days much more interesting. But why was she thinking about it now?
She returned quickly, a large conch shell in her hand, seemingly filled with the liquid. "What are you playing at?" His voice was etched with alarm.
"Hush and give me your hand," she demanded. He didn't even think twice about arguing, not when she was in this kind of mood. She took his hand in hers and poured some of the rum over the aching cut. He hissed at the sting of it. "You should let me wrap it with clean linen when we get inside." She took a deep drink from the shell, before wincing. Then she took another, not twisting her face up as much the next time. "You really should have said something, Malfoy. You're not immune to infection, despite what you think. Hopefully the alcohol will cleanse it. Here." As if an afterthought, she passed him the shell, and he drained the contents completely, trying his best not to choke. He felt immediately warmed, down to his very toes, as the effects of the liquor washed over him.
He cast a sideways glance to see Hermione was already hard at work boiling the beans.
"Can you roast that fish over the fire?" she said. He complied, feeling slightly light on his feet. "Be careful with it now, you don't want to waste the meat. We don't have very much."
The smell of the beans cooking and the fish roasting soon wafted through the air, mingling with the wet smell of the earth and leaves. His stomach began to growl. He watched as she warmed herself by the fire, curling herself into a ball, and shielding herself from the pouring rain.
"Don't see why we can't take some of this fire up into the shelter tonight," Draco said, his voice coming out hoarse. "Think of how much warmer it would be."
"Because we'd burn the bloody place down, silly." She swayed in her seat. "Think about it—fire—in a tree? Not very advisable."
"Pity."
"There's another thing we could do, though." She grinned mischievously. "More rum, perhaps?"
"Are you sure that's advisable?" He recoiled at the sound of his slightly slurred words. "The weaker sex don't generally partake-"
Hermione straightened to her feet, perching her hands sassily on her hips. "Did you really just refer to me as the weaker sex, Draco Malfoy?"
"I didn't mean—"
"You're a right git; you do know that," she called over her shoulder, already leaving with the conch shell.
He really should not be allowing this. Their situation was odd to say the least, but if Mother could see him now, drinking hard liquor, and with a Muggle! Not just with any Muggle, but a female one at that? It was completely uncouth. He supposed they were both merely adapting. How could one stick strictly to the laws of society whilst stranded on a deserted island with no other signs of civilization to speak of?
She arrived with the rum and took a drink before passing some to him. He tried not to think about the fact that her lips had just been pressed against the shell as he tipped it up to take his own drink.
"I'm bored," Hermione whined, eyes hooded, in a very un-Hermione-like fashion. "Why don't you do some magic for us?"
Draco scoffed. "I can't just do some magic."
"You did the other day," she countered.
"That was an exception. I require a wand."
She sighed. "Why don't you just use one of those sticks over there and pretend it's a wand?"
He rolled his eyes. "It doesn't really work like that."
"Why not?"
"I don't expect a mere Muggle like you to appreciate the ancient and complex art of wandlore."
"Doesn't it get lonely up there, all by yourself on that pedestal?"
Draco shifted in his seat, feeling slightly dizzy as he did so. "I'm sorry if my words came out a bit crass. I only mean, it's not merely wood that is needed in fashioning a wand. There also must be a magical core." He glanced over to see her eyes had lit up at his explanation. The girl did so love a story. "For example, my wand has unicorn hair at its center. Some may have dragon heartstring, or phoenix feather."
"So use one of those Fwooper feathers and the wood from a tree on this island to make your own." The suggestion came out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"It's not that simple." He chuckled. "Wandmakers study wandlore for years. I cannot simply fashion one so crudely. Not to mention the wood selected must be strong enough to encase the power of the wand. I'm not sure if I've ever heard of Fwooper feathers being used as cores."
"You never know unless you try, do you?"
"I suppose that's true." Draco found himself in much finer spirits than he'd felt previously. What was more, he didn't feel freezing at all. The liquor seemed to have heated up his entire body.
"Malfoy," she said, leaning towards him. The firelight painted her face orange and yellow in the darkness and she looked absolutely bewitching. "I'm always telling you stories; why don't you tell me one?"
His lips seemed to part of their own volition and his chest was rising and falling a bit faster than usual. "I…I don't really know any stories."
She frowned. "Really?" She pressed her lips together, deep in thought, and his eyes were drawn to those puckered lips. "Tell me about magic, then. That is your specialty, isn't it?" He nodded. "Spells. I've always been curious."
He supposed it couldn't hurt at this point. Truth be told, he'd already likely broken more Muggle to Wizard Interaction Laws than he could count. What else was he to do to pass the time? "The spells you've likely been exposed to, serving the Hornbys, are charms. Charms come in quite handy with housework."
She guffawed quite loudly. "You wouldn't see the Hornbys using their magic for that. They were content to let the slaves do everything the good old-fashioned Muggle way. Even when Cindy fell down the ladder and broke her arm whilst trying to clean the bannister. The most I've seen is when Lord Hornby would float the Daily Prophet to himself in the Drawing Room."
Draco did not know why such callous care of the Hornbys' slaves should bother him. When Mother needed something cleaned that was hard to get to in the manor, did she not simply use magic, or even a house elf? It seemed like a much safer route. "That's the levitation charm. You might have heard him say it—Wingardium Leviosa."
"Oh."
Emboldened by her hungry look, he continued. "Of course there are my favorites to use. Dueling spells."
"What kind of spells do you use in dueling?"
"There's the blasting curse, Confringo. That one's got me out of many a quandary. Simple curses, like the leg-locking spell—Locomotor Mortis or the body bind—Petrificus Totalus, come quite in handy. Expulso is a nifty little jinx that can get you out of a tight situation. Of course there are your typical stinging hexes, tripping jinxes, and stunners."
"I know a stunner, Stupefy. Olive was fond of that one."
He swallowed thickly, unsure of why this should trouble him. "Yes, that's your basic dueling spell, right there. Of course there's more, darker curses, but those are what we consider classics in the wizarding world."
"Darker curses sound…fun. Perhaps you could tell me about those next time?" She leaned over to remove the fish from the fire and start preparing their meal.
He knew he should be annoyed that a Muggle should have the gall to ask about business they should have no knowledge about. But that was one thing about Hermione he begrudgingly admired. If there was something she wanted to know, she didn't fancy not knowing it. It went against her nature, so it would seem. If the subject caught her interest, she would harp away until she learned all she could about it. Draco would kid, and call her an insufferable know-it-all, but deep down, he appreciated her inquisitive nature.
"Here," she said, handing him the beans and fish. "Eat up."
They ate together in silence, each relishing in the hearty, hot meal before them. Draco thought the meal divine. Hermione seemed to know just how to season things—not too much, or too little.
When they were through, she handed him his fish bone before taking her own, and he could not help rolling his eyes.
"Clean your teeth," she instructed. "And then rinse with the ocean water because we've been eating a lot of fruit lately."
"Why are you so insistent on this?"
She put her hands on her hips, but if she meant to look authoritative, the effect was ruined when she wobbled quite precariously. "Suppose you get a pomegranate seed stuck in between your gums? It will likely turn into an abscess. I already explained that seemingly little things can kill you out here, Malfoy."
"I don't see how you know so bloody much about everything."
"Muggle school. The Romans were very pro-dental hygiene. They chewed volcanic rock to clean their teeth. Very abrasive. I think our tactic is better."
Unsurprisingly, the rain still hadn't yielded by the time they cleaned up and put out the fire. The stairs leading up to their shelter were slippery, and they relied heavily on the wooden rail for support. Once safely inside, Draco shut the crudely built door, sealing off the brunt of the wind and rain. Even though the moon was fairly full, only a little light escaped into the room.
Now that he was tucked away from the elements, he became acutely aware of just how cold and wet he was.
"Here." Hermione handed him a pair of dry trousers. "Your shirts are still wet." She indicated to the drenched clothes she had laid to dry earlier. "But at least you have those." She walked over to the corner of the room where they'd hung a sheet to serve as a dressing screen. "I hope that rain lets up tomorrow. I miss the sun."
Moving quietly to his bed in the corner, Draco peeled off his wet shirt and trousers and pulled on his dry ones. He sat down heavily, wincing at the soreness of his muscles. He hauled himself to the end of the bed, looking forward to resting somewhere dry and soft, even if he was beginning to feel chilled again. He heard a sound and his eyes darted to the panel where Hermione was changing. He could just barely see her shadow through the screen, thanks to the scant moonlight, and watched her wet dress hit the floor.
His throat went suddenly dry. He knew he should pull his eyes away, physically wrench his head to the side, if need be, but he found himself suddenly frozen. Blood thundered in his ears and his pulse galloped as his eyes strained to see the shadow of her soft curves. He shouldn't be looking, but Merlin, he couldn't help himself. She bent over, presumably reaching for her dry shift, and Draco couldn't even breathe as he watched her shimmy into it. His head whirled and heat rushed to his nether regions. He felt like a ruddy teenage boy. Get a grip! He was hard pressed to heed his advice; his breathing grew ragged.
"I don't even feel like going to sleep just yet, Malfoy," she said from behind the screen. "It can't be more than eight, maybe nine in the evening."
He swallowed thickly, wincing when his voice came out hoarse. "Too dark to do much of anything, anyways."
"We can talk. Tell stories." She came out from behind the panel and he could just make out a bright smile. "Unless, of course, you're sleepy—" Her long strides were interrupted as she tripped over something in the dark. Draco was on his feet in seconds, steadying her. His left hand caught her right wrist while his right curled around her hip, pulling her up.
She was breathing shallowly, her chest a scant few inches from his, and she seemed to be frozen in stone. If he had felt affected by the sight of her changing before, her close proximity intensified it even more so.
"Sorry," she said throatily. "I do tend to be a bit clumsy."
"And you did consume more rum than a lady should ever venture to drink."
She erupted in a fit of giggles and for whatever odd reason, he got the strange sensation that a flock of flitterbies were flapping wildly behind his ribcage. Exhaling a shaky breath, he led her to her own bed, if it even deserved that name, opposite of his.
"You sure have quick reflexes." She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.
"Years of Quidditch training paid off, I suppose."
"You're a Quidditch player?" She curled into a ball, feet disappearing under the hem of her shift.
"Since I was eleven." How he longed for his broom. Not even for home, really, just his broom. "It would be incredible to explore this island on my Moontrimmer."
"Moontrimmer?"
"That's the latest model in Britain. Comes fully equipped with a cushioning charm."
"That's a clever idea." Her teeth chattered as she spoke.
He frowned. "Get under the covers, at least, Hermione."
She nodded absently and complied. "Malfoy, would you take me flying with you?"
"If I had my broom? That would be highly illegal," he trailed off, then flashed her a smile. "But I suppose we've broken enough laws, what's another?" He got under the covers, pulling them tightly around him.
"Have we broken so many?"
"The talk of magic and whatnot, mainly. I'm allowed to perform it in front of you, of course, but-"
"You're not supposed to have a conversation about it with me, like as if I were an actual person."
He hesitated. "Well…yes."
She was silent for a moment, as if pondering his words. Draco wondered if he had offended her. She was such an odd creature. It was almost as if she expected equal treatment from a wizard. But she was his only companion, and if he had a choice, he supposed he'd rather be stuck with her than many witches he'd come to know back in Britain. Even if she descended from filth, she still kept better company, and that was saying something.
"So is that what you'd want, then, if you could do anything?" He felt her eyes on him, more than saw them. "To go flying, I mean."
He stared unblinkingly up to the ceiling. "If I could do anything, I would get myself off of this wretched island," he informed her, rather bluntly.
"Oh."
He felt a stab of guilt, and though silly as it was, felt compelled to ask her the same. "What would you do, if you could do anything, that is?"
"Read books. Loads and loads of them."
"You're not going to get that here."
"I know. But it's not as if I would be allowed to read freely if we returned to Britain, either."
"When," he corrected sharply. "And when we get off of this island, you can rest assured I would take care of you."
She merely hummed something inaudible in answer. A thought struck him, the insufferable Muggle was so concerned with his well-being, but what if she succumbed to some filthy Muggle ailment herself? "Are you quite warm?" He glanced over his shoulder and could just barely see she was shivering slightly under the covers.
"I'm fine, Malfoy."
He sighed. "No, you aren't." He whipped his covers to the side. "Well, come on, then."
She stilled. "W-what?"
"I won't see you catch your death of cold. Then who will cook for me? The wisest thing to do is share a bed on cold nights like this."
She shot up to a sitting position, clutching her blanket tightly around her. "You can't be serious. Malfoy! That's just…you shouldn't…why…it's improper."
"Sorry to scandalize you so, princess."
"I mean…is that very…"
"Please, don't embarrass yourself. It's nothing like that. You're the one that's been harping the whole, you-must-survive-and-adapt spiel. That's what I'm doing."
"Oh."
"It's never a good thing to render you speechless."
"No, no. You're absolutely right and I'm just being silly. It makes a lot of sense to…er, share body heat. And blankets. Yes, I can bring my blanket."
"Your oversized ladies' gown that's been made for a giant, you mean?"
"You act like it's my fault. I just found it that way." She straightened from her bed, gathering her bedding, and walking over to him. He opened up the covers and she crawled up next to him. Draco felt suddenly plagued with doubt. It had seemed like a good idea, but now that she was up this close, with her freesia scent assaulting his nostrils, and her warm breath tickling his arm…this is a terrible idea!
"Can you please keep that bush you call hair out of my face?"
"Sorry." She tucked her hair behind her ears and positioned herself as far from him as she could. "I was just rubbing my head; it aches."
"Are you dizzy?"
"Yes."
"Let me help," he said. "Turn over that way."
"Okay."
He moved to his side and hesitated for a moment. She was facing away from him and he was free to drink in what little he could see of her to his heart's content. Her hair wasn't really bushy. Truthfully, the chestnut curls had felt soft against his cheek. He wondered how they would feel in between his fingers.
"If we were on my ship, I would offer you a potion, Nott's speciality for hangovers."
"Oh, would you have? Because I was treated so well whilst aboard last time." The sarcasm was not lost on him.
He slid his hand to the back of her head, lifting up the heavy fringe of hair. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. "It's why ladies should not partake in spirits. Now do you see? Far too fragile." His fingers carded through her silky tresses and he used his thumb to press into the base of her head as he massaged her scalp. She was tense for a moment, before she visibly relaxed, letting out a blissful sigh of contentment.
"I'm not fragile."
"Perhaps not as fragile as most, but still fragile."
Her head dropped to allow him better access, moving with the encouragement of his fingers.
"Does that feel better?"
"Yes," she breathed, biting her lip.
"It will be worse tomorrow. It's really too bad we don't have Nott's potion." He pulled her awkwardly to his side, careful not to brush against certain areas, but she practically melted against him, clearly thoroughly relaxed.
"This was a great idea, Malfoy. I'm quite warm now." She yawned and he almost lurched away when her bum nearly brushed right up against him.
Oh, yes, this was by far my greatest idea yet. I'm sure to get loads of sleep tonight, with this bloody vixen in my arms.
Unsure where to put his hands, he placed one above his head and rested his fingertips lightly over her hip.
"Now, about that story you promised me."
He was compelled to remind her. "I promised you no such thing."
"That's not very fair."
"Storytelling isn't exactly my forte, I've already told you."
"I suppose you did share some spell knowledge, so that's something at least." The girl burrowed further into his side, as if completely comfortable with their arrangement. Draco could not complain; it had been his idea after all. "There is one story, about a boy and two girls."
"This sounds promising."
"They were born long ago, back when Muggles lived in caves."
"How primitive."
"Yes, they didn't much care for it, either. They built their homes above ground, in trees, sort of like we did."
"Were they magical?"
"A much more ancient magic; one that did not require wands or spells. It was baser, connected to the earth. They tried to guide the aboriginals, show them better ways. In fact, they did so through the ages."
"Through the ages?"
"They were not immortals, but they were reborn again. Sometimes they would be spread across the earth, but they always managed to find each other, except for once."
"Oh?"
Her voice took on a dreamy tone. "Once, the girl was born on a far-off continent from their own. Deep in the jungles, beyond the reach of civilization. She yearned for the comradery of her friends from her past lives, but she knew they would not be united in this one. It was okay—she decided to make the best of it. She learned much from the people. She honed her magic and perfected her meditation. She found her inner self sooner than she had in other lives and did great things in her new body. It did not last forever, of course. Like all other times before, death came for her. The next time around, they were born in Egypt, all three of them, and maybe others they had come to know through their lifetimes. But it was different this time. The boy and the girl who had been together the previous life treated the girl who had been separated like an outcast. There was no longer the unity she had come to look forward to, nor the joy of learning. They seemed sure they knew everything and they turned their attentions elsewhere."
"To taking over the world?"
"How did you know?"
"I've heard this story before, about the Old Souls, that is. But never quite told like that."
"I don't see how you could have heard it, Malfoy." He could hear the frown in her voice. "I made it up. Or dreamt it up, actually."
"You must have picked tidbits up over time and then embellished them. But do continue."
"That's it. I'm not sure what happens next."
"I can help you there," he said with a smirk. "The girl and boy you spoke of, they united against the other girl. They made her drink of the elixir so that she would have immortality. According to legend, they bound her and hid her from ever being found again and subsequently eliminated the chance of her being reborn with the chance to stop them."
"That's despicable, Malfoy. They were friends!"
"It's just a story. A myth."
"I know, but still."
"You're the storyteller. Make up a happier ending next time."
"I will," she assured him. "When I retell it, I'll find a way for the girl to break out of her binds, because no one should have to endure that." She stayed quiet for a while, and Draco thought she may have fallen asleep, but then she spoke up once more. "At least you admitted something tonight."
"What's that?"
"That you need me." He could hear the smile in her words and he didn't flinch away this time when she leaned her head against his neck, distracting curls and all.
Awareness of the girl before him hummed through his body, and though he certainly no longer felt chilled, he thought the heat he now felt may consume him. At the very least, he was sure he wouldn't get any sleep that evening.
He was proved wrong, however, when the sound of the rain landing softly on the shelter inevitably lulled him to sleep. Despite his concerns, that night brought the best night's sleep he'd ever had on the island.
000
