A/N:
Not really sure what happened here in this chapter-it's madness. Not to mention it took way too long for me to update. Damn, and I was doing so good for like a month! I wanna get back to weekly updates because those are fun. In fairness, this is a super long chapter, so hopefully that makes up for my lateness. Also, there's some pretties you can find in the usual places-photobucket, AO3, or FB-all of which are listed on my profile. Oh, and there is an additional warning: smutty goodness abounds-read at your own risk!
Beta Love to the wonderful and brilliant Carrington Shaw and RooOJoy!
Inspiration: Skyrim Elder Scrolls, From Past to Present
Shout out to Beyond the Book FanFiction Nook-you guys are the bee's knees!
Please let me know what you think? Thanks for the interest on this story and to the reviewers: Scaleybark, Mistress DragonFlame, I was BOTWP, uniqu3s0u7, pgoodrichboggs, EStrunk, LastBornSlytherin, daswhoiam, chibi-Clar, romancenerd7878, dragonlovermudblood, Green Eyed Lana Lee, .3597, mega700201, Meiri, Rcaseyseale, sleeplygirl, LeanaM, AnnaOxford, Betth, SlytherinPrincessNurse1994, sunshinealeia, BabyBHawk2013, and the guests!
000
Thorfinn stared at the symbol etched in the ledge of the anteroom chamber: a giant tree in the midst of what looked to be jagged lines reminiscent of water. This would be the third ward he'd come into contact with since venturing into the cursed pyramid—a move that proved fatal to all in his group save him. He now could recognize it for what it was, but wasn't quite sure how it would choose to manifest itself as the other tricks and jinxes had.
His heart raced.
It hadn't stopped racing since he'd reached this forsaken place.
He'd been right to feel nothing but trepidation upon accepting this doomed mission—his instincts never failed him. There was a reason the place had been forgotten with half of the jungle growing over and through it—it was a sodding death trap.
Thorfinn possessed just enough Runic knowledge to decipher the crude writings on the previous etchings, and what he didn't know, he was sure his locket saved him from the brunt of it. The amulet was alive and thrummed with magic even as it rested against his chest. He ran an errant finger over the mint green quartz stone. He needed Zabini. Or, bloody hell, he hated to even suggest it in his head, but he needed his intended. Lady Greengrass knew much more about the inner workings of ancient texts than he. He'd only barely managed to scrape by with his life, and he wasn't even sure if what the King sought would be in the next room, or if there were ten more rooms to go. The sodding pyramid made him feel disorientated.
The deaths of all of his crew weighed heavily on him.
He felt responsible, as their leader, but he had no way of knowing what he was getting into. Whatever was housed in the heart of the pyramid, the powerful sorcerer did not wish for anyone to get to it. Unless, perhaps, they knew how.
For now, Thorfinn did know how to breach the chambers. He knew a freezing charm was required for the first room, or you would blow up in flames like Barrons and the rest of the Muggles who hadn't possessed the ingenuity to flee the first chance they had. Thorfinn had been immune to the havoc-wreaking skin boils, thanks to the amulet. The Russian had managed to throw up a hastily formed shield, as did several other men, but they were still burned badly, which was partially the reason for their quick fallout in the second chamber.
The second chamber had been trickier. They paid attention to the ledge before crossing under it that time around. They debated on whether or not the inscription represented a drowning man. Finally, the remaining four men agreed and decided the solution would be a bubble charm. Where Thorfinn's charm had been strong and fortified during the flooding of the chamber, the other charms fissured and cracked before dissipating completely. Thorfinn tried to pull one man, then the next to safety, but the tunnel that appeared was small in width and long in length. The remaining men drowned, and he failed to save them.
Now he stood, facing the third, ominous room. He was at a loss for what this threat could mean or what type of defense he should conjure. Additionally, he did not think it wise to proceed into the unknown when he was the sole survivor of his team.
Indeed, there was only one thought prevalent on his brain—fuck this.
If King Riddle desired this hidden treasure so badly, he could leave his bloody throne and come get it himself. Wasn't he a notoriously strong wizard? Surely the man could run circles around Thorfinn and his ragtag crew—his late, very dead, crew.
Fucking aristocrats. They don't lift a bloody finger. The issue was, as curious as Thorfinn was to what treasured artefact actually lay hidden in the depths of this, for all intents and purposes, tomb, he wasn't curious enough to breach the next entry and find out for himself. Circe's tit, he didn't want it that badly.
Mind made up, he turned his back on the chamber with its odd symbols and mysterious meanings. He wouldn't die for someone else's dream, like everyone else on the fated mission had. And, his mind nagged at him, when you get back to Britain and face the King, then what? Will you explain how you tucked tail and ran? Fuck.
That did present a problem.
As badly as he wanted to return home, return to his mother, and his intended, whom he had barely begun to get to know, how was he supposed to show face at Court? He continued walking, his feet refusing to stop, even for the bodies that lay strewn about on the floor.
I'll just have to have a good reason to have abandoned the mission, and what better than that everyone on the cursed thing died but me? I need more men, I need more resources, I need specialists. If I return to the King with a plan, he can't be angry, especially when I'm the only one who's made it as far as I have.
Comforted with this, he turned around to face the foreboding place he'd just exited. The pyramid was oddly intact, not ruined by age or decay as he would have guessed. It was certainly magically fortified. The only thing proclaiming its ancientness were the large trees and roots that had sprung up and around it. Vines covered the expanse of an entire wall. The smell of wood rotting permeated through the air.
Thorfinn waved his wand in a complicated pattern, performing a spectral-capture charm. He would show the image to the King once he returned home, and prove he had indeed been there. If he returned, he would insist every member of his new team be outfitted with the rare amulets. That would be his condition, or he would refuse. A life in Azkaban was likely a sight better than whatever doom awaited him inside the pyramid.
000
Tracey awoke with a start, gasping as she sat up in bed, her chest rising and falling in short, shallow pants.
Never one to be a light sleeper, Harry bolted up immediately, the bamboo sheets pooling around his naked waist. He glanced at Tracey, assessing her. She seemed to be alright, though her hand was clutching her chest and she was fighting for her breath. He saw no blood or injury.
His fingers flew to her shoulders, spinning her to face him. Her face was ducked and her eyes were hidden behind long lashes. "What happened, Tracey?" He reached for her chin tentatively, and tilted it back. His breath hitched when he saw the eerie glow of her eyes. Her normally hazel orbs had an almost inhumane white radiance to them. "Did you have another vision?"
Tracey's eyes fluttered shut and she let her head full back, anchoring herself with a hand on each side of the paillasse. She nodded stiffly.
"What did you see?" he asked, running his hands up and down her gooseflesh-ridden arms.
"It was…" she stammered, swallowing thickly, "the same one I've been having." She opened her eyes and sought his intense green ones out urgently. "It makes me feel so funny inside…so many emotions…it doesn't make any sense."
"Just start at the beginning," he suggested.
"It was the tree again."
"The one with the star-shaped leaves?"
"Yes," she reached her hands out to grasp his, "but it's important. Meaningful in some way, though I can't quite place how." Her brows furrowed. "The leaves, they're the brightest green, Merlin but they almost sparkle, and they smell so sweet. One fell on my shoulder."
"What were you wearing?"
"I was dressed in white. My shoulders were bare, or one shoulder was, anyway, if that makes sense?" She frowned up at him, confusion evident in her dainty features, but the otherworldly radiance had left her eyes.
"Togas, maybe?" He lifted his eyebrows expectantly.
"Yes!" She shot up from her sitting position and began pacing around their small river cottage. "Togas. That's what I was wearing. It's what everyone was wearing, in fact."
"Everyone?" he said sharply.
She turned to face the open window. "That's right. There were others sitting under the tree, too. Merlin, but it was beautiful. The sound of the water trickling in the nearby…stream…lake, maybe? We were all sitting there, talking."
"The same people you saw before?"
She spun around. "No, Harry. They were not the same. There were some familiar, and some not. Some from New Godric's, the one's I've mentioned before like you, Ginevra, and Ron. But then there were some from back at home, which I found quite odd. Daphne, Zabini, that big brute who was several years ahead of us, and," she hesitated, "Nott."
Harry clenched his jaw. "That's a lot of people, and an odd group to be sorted with."
"That wasn't everyone. Harry, Malfoy was there!"
"Were we about to murder each other?"
"No, it's like I was saying, silly. We were just talking, everyone was talking, like philosophers discussing the common theory of the time or something. I mean, I'm pretty sure that's who they all were. Though we did look a bit different. Subtle things here and there." She traced the lines of her face. "The shape of our eyes, noses, cheekbones, but for the most part, it was the same. The thing was…there were others."
"Merlin, who else?"
"I don't know. I couldn't recognize them. Maybe they were just too different?" She shrugged helplessly. "Though there was one person, a girl, and Merlin, Harry, but she haunts me. I know I've never seen her before, but we were talking to her, and we definitely knew her. She was a friend, I'm sure of it."
"Well, what were we saying?"
Tracey looked forlorn, as she reached for the pitcher of water and poured herself a glass. "I've told you before, I can never understand what we're saying. It's in a language I've never heard before."
Harry got to his feet and in three strides stood several paces in front of her. "But you have heard it if you remember it."
"But Cho said I was manifesting real people into my dreams, and if I could learn to decipher what they mean, I could determine the future."
"I know what she said." He sighed. "It just seems odd. Like how do you manifest an entire language? And the landscape around you? It's as if you've been there before."
"I don't know, Harry. Cho's the divination expert, not me."
"Yes, but you're the one who keeps having the visions, not Cho."
Tracey sipped her water. "I'm not sure what it all means, but I swear, it evokes the strongest emotions from me. I hardly care about anything. And then I have one of these dreams or visions, whatever you want to call them, and it's like I turn into a complete ninny. All I want to do is cry. It makes no sense."
Harry placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Just tell me this much, did you get a general feel for what we were talking about? I know you said it seemed philosophical, but close your eyes and tune in to the feel of it. Try to dig deep and pick up on something you may have overlooked."
She did as he bid, screwing her eyes shut in contemplation. "I feel like the girl, the strange girl, had just returned to us after a long time spent away. I feel like we were all…reconnecting. Greeting old friends, and making new ones. I think we were consoling her, because—" her voice caught in her throat, and when she opened her eyes, uncharacteristic tears had formed. "Oh, Harry, she'd been through a horrible ordeal!"
She wrenched away from him and flung herself on the bed, freely crying now.
Harry's brows drew together, as he watched the odd sight. Tracey never cried. She could be vicious and merciless, but never did she show sorrow. He stepped forward carefully, sitting lightly next to her on the bed. He rubbed a comforting hand over her back. For Merlin's sake, wasn't the point of having a divinator to shed light on the unknown? So why then, did he feel more confused than ever?
000
Letting his newly rediscovered magic course through his fingertips, Draco directed the power towards the reed woven basket. It was an easy task, at first, to elevate the goods up the line of the waterfall, but the higher the basket went, the more difficult it was to hold the spell. The basket fell roughly to the ground. He sighed in exasperation amid Hermione's giggles. He glanced over to see she was having no trouble lifting the barrel of rum up the waterfall.
"Think that's funny, do you," he snapped, suppressing from his face the real reason he was on edge.
She magically rested the barrel unseen over the cliff's edge, high above them before turning to face him. "The reason it always falls on you, is because you lose faith the higher it gets. You shouldn't doubt yourself because you're making it harder than it is. Do you see?"
He grumbled under his breath, but tried again, attempting to forget about the height difference. Mind over matter, he inwardly chanted, pretending that the damned basket was right in front of his face instead of high above his head. This time, he managed to just barely scrape the cliff's edge before it tumbled over the top to the other side.
Smiling proudly, he looked at her.
She smirked. "Well done. Not exactly graceful, but you almost have your wandless Levitation charm down."
With the goods transported up the trail, Hermione began to make her own ascent, and Draco followed after her.
"I'm not sure why you wish to go up here in the first place," he grumbled. "Odd spot for a drink."
"It's not a drink," she called over her shoulder. "It's a party. Do you know anything about parties, Malfoy?"
"I should say I know a sight more about them than you do."
"Oh." She raised her eyebrows speculatively. "I just bet you're the life of them, too."
"Actually, we hosted a great many balls at my manor. I'm sort of an expert. I don't think anyone back home would consider this little expedition in that category."
She scoffed. "All you need for a good party is an abundance of food, good company, and—" she quirked her lips, "plenty of spirits."
He raised his eyebrows. Such a suggestion was uncharacteristic of her. She always seemed to choose the path of discretion, but the prospect of letting loose after days of rigorous training was intriguing, and he had to admit that following her up the steep trail provided him with quite the view.
"Really Malfoy, it's shameful. To be exposed to all of this-," she gestured widely, "and not take advantage of it? The top of this waterfall may be the most beautiful place in the world. I don't know why we don't go up it more often, and we can use more lettuce for salads."
"It's a dangerous climb."
Mirth danced in her eyes when she shot him a look. "Don't worry, Malfoy—I'll catch you should you fall."
A muscle clenched by his temple. "I believe that's what you call hubris, Hermione."
"Is it?" He could hear the amusement laced in her voice. "I hadn't known."
He let out a small huff as they continued their vertical ascent. She bent nearly in half before pulling herself up another rock and he could not help but notice the enticing curve of her arse. His throat got suddenly dry.
Out of nowhere, she lost her footing, and he stepped up instantly to steady her by the waist, his breath whispered across the skin of her neck. "Perhaps you need someone to catch you."
He felt her hands clutch his wrists for balance as she took in a deep breath. Her chestnut curls brushed against his face and his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. Bloody hell, even on a sharp cliff he wanted her. The witch was a vixen.
Ever since the day on the rock, it had been an exercise in pure discipline to keep things friendly and cordial. He found himself staring at her lips as she spoke far too often, imagining what it would be like to reciprocate the heated kiss they'd shared. The inclination to do so was constantly pressing. Just as he was longing to reach down, only a scant few centimeters, and lick the shell of her ear. Gods, how he wanted her. She plagued his thoughts night and day, no longer able to push the idea out of his mind when it assaulted him. She was forever prevalent. He should receive some type of award for remaining as aloof as he had been.
"Malfoy," she said huskily. "You can let go now."
He quickly dropped his hands. "Sorry."
She took a tentative step forward and they walked in silence the rest of the way up the trail.
The witch was right, of course. Malfoy had traveled to many places around the world and this was probably the most beautiful place he'd ever been to. Walking along the edge provided a rare view from behind the waterfall, and at the height they'd climbed to the scene was breathtaking. Nothing could compare to the unparalleled view, which displayed much of the island—even parts they had yet to explore.
He was hardpressed to care, especially when there was a much more distracting view in front of him.
Discreetly observing Hermione as she carefully hiked and climbed over the cliff was much more preferential. The rest just blurred in the background. When they reached the top, he tensed, poised to aid her over the treacherous ledge should she need assistance. She navigated over it successfully and he was quick to pull himself over after her.
"Merlin, it's amazing up here," she said, a look of awe etched on her face. She glanced over at him and he was careful to look indifferent. "Don't you think so?"
"It's like you said." He located the barrel and dragged it a safer distance from the waterfall. "The most stunning location on the island."
"You've been all over the world." She took the basket of fruits and shells, careful to grab some that had spilled over onto the long grass that hedged the water. "Where does this rank?"
He watched as she walked around the water and placed the basket under the grotto. "Nothing rivals it," he answered simply.
She looked up, smiling tremulously. "Come here, Malfoy." She slipped off her sandals and dipped her feet into the water.
He walked around the length of the calm pool, helpless to refuse her. Wouldn't it be terrible if she ever came to that realization? Draco didn't like the idea of anyone having power over him. But when she called to him, he almost felt in a trance-like state. It was silly, and he was sure he could simply shake the disturbing feeling, but the hell if he wanted to.
"Here." She handed him a conch shell. "Fill this one nice and full with rum. I'll work on the juice."
He lifted the lid of the barrel and filled the shell to the rim, the amber liquor spilling over the sides. He took a few steps back to where she was sitting and sat down next to her. She set two shells down filled a third of the way with mango juice, before taking the rum he collected and filling each drink the rest of the way up.
"I learned a spell," she explained with a grin. She touched both of the shells and he watched as they turned cold and frothy before his eyes.
"Which one was that?"
She bit her lip.
"Let me guess—no incantation."
She nodded, before taking a sip. He took a drink as well, reveling in the sweet, cool taste.
"Do you see that?" She pointed to the side and above them. "That cliff? That's where I'd carve out my house. I'd make an open lanai where I could walk out every day and look down at the island, drinking my morning mango juice. It's probably the safest place, what with all the rain and flooding."
"Yes, you'd want to build somewhere high."
She wrinkled her nose. "It's too bad I know nothing about magical architecture."
He took another swig from his shell. "You would want Martin Dubois. He's a French architect. He specializes in custom magical homes." He looked around appreciatively. "I bet he'd love a job like this."
"It would certainly add to his resume. Who knows? Maybe he will be commissioned in the colonies and get shipwrecked here himself."
"Why, Hermione." Draco clutched his chest dramatically. "How unlike yourself to wish ill-will on others."
She giggled. "It would be convenient."
He motioned to the grotto underneath her proposed house. "Rock is hard. You definitely need wands to cut through something like that."
"I still think we should figure out a way to make our own wands."
"Wandlore is com—"
"Complicated, yes, I remember." She got up and began shimmying out of her dress.
He froze. "What are you doing?" He was pleased to find his voice was far calmer than how he felt.
"I'm not swimming in my dress." She quirked her lips. "My shift will do just fine."
"Swimming?"
"Yes, swimming, silly. This is a party, remember? A water party…or…" she paused with a look on her face that could only be described as contemplative. "A waterfall party?"
"A pool party?" he proposed.
"Yes," she exclaimed, grinning widely. "A pool party, that's excellent, Malfoy."
She slipped into the water, ducking completely under before coming back up again. He was surprised to note that the water was so clear, he could see her even when she'd sunk several feet. She wasted no time floating onto her back, absently kicking her legs slowly to stay afloat.
She was clearly trying to kill him—that was evident. How was he supposed to stay friendly and cordial when she looked so bloody tempting? The material of her thin shift clung to her soft curves, and left nothing to the imagination. The outline of her breasts stood out proudly. He could even make out hardened peaks forming under the material. He unconsciously licked his lips. Did she even know what she did to him, or was it all as unintentional as she made it appear? Her luscious locks were framed around her head like a halo. She did look rather angelic, clad in white.
Abruptly, she turned over and swam back to him, grabbing her drink to drain the rest of it.
"Ow," she said. "My brain hurts." She set the empty shell down. "Well, Malfoy, aren't you going to get into the water?"
"I'm fine here, thanks," he said throatily, reaching for his own drink.
She shook her head. "That's not how a pool party works," she said, with a slight slur. Despite his discomfort, he was amused at her attempt to look reproachful. "You should be the expert at your own invention."
"I am the expert, and you're doing it wrong. We're supposed to sit and admire the water from the sidelines."
She splashed him promptly in the chest. "I veto this rule. Come into the water. You won't regret it—it's lovely."
Similar to before, he found it difficult to resist her request. With shaking fingers, he began unbuttoning his shirt before slipping it off and letting it drop from his shoulders completely. When he looked up, he was startled to find her staring at his naked chest. She was biting her lip, and tilting her head ever so slightly to the side as she absently twirled a renegade curl.
He swallowed down a choke as he stepped into the water. She was definitely toying with him. There was no way she could be unaware of the effect she had on him. What game was she playing at? Clenching his jaw, he stepped further into the water, circling her as if he were a predator. Or rather, she's the predator and I'm her prey.
She smiled widely, a dimple appearing distractedly under her right eye. "See, Malfoy," she said, apparently oblivious to his feelings towards her. "I told you it was nice in here." She drifted to the corner, her hands hidden in the water.
"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.
"Oh, nothing much. Just shifting things a bit."
"Shifting?"
"Yes, you know, elongating a rock here, raising it there, adding a hot spring…that sort of thing."
With effort, he kept the shock he felt from showing on his face. "You're doing transfiguration?"
She shrugged. "Trying. I want to sit down in here. Not sure if I can conjure the hot bubbles though, it's proving difficult. Feel free to help."
Dropping his previous misgivings, he wandered over to her. "I can help."
She guided him, and together they transformed a corner of the pool a slight distance from the actual falls. Using the rocks already in the pool, they were able to transform them enough into underwater seating. Hermione managed to create a spring coming up from the earth that shot warm water into the area.
After refilling their drinks, she waded back to the stones and handed Draco his drink before sitting down beside him. Her close proximity caused him to shift uncomfortably. He tried to distract himself by looking straight out and to the left at the spectacular view in front of him, but if he twisted his head a little more, he could see her, and she made for a far better view. He was suddenly assaulted by distracting images in his mind…images of Hermione stretched out before him and clad only in her thin chemise. How he longed to peel it off of her like a glove. He could do nothing to stop his mind from imagining what was under the material. Heat plummeted to his loins at the mere thought, and he had to think of something quickly to distract himself with.
"Maybe it wouldn't be so impossible to make that cliff suitable for your house." He tried and failed to keep the tremor from his voice.
"That's nice of you to say, but elongating and stretching is much easier than cutting into the stone altogether. You're right on that count—the wands are a must." She let her head loll back to rest on the ground, inadvertently arching her chest up from the water. He could not help but stare hungrily at the delectable sight she made. "Mmm. This warm water feels lovely. Sweet Morgana, but I could stay here forever."
He wracked his brain, struggling to find something, anything, to push his mind in another direction. It took much creative effort, but he'd managed to do quite well at it in the past several days. Now he was drawing a blank. He was sitting up at the top of the cliff, watching the sun drop lower in the sky. He could see the ocean, his favorite place to be in the world, in a wide expanse of exquisite blue spread out around the rich green landscape of the island. She was practically floating next to him, in complete serenity, looking as calm and tranquil as the sea. Girls had a name for this, witches like Pansy would say it was romantic. Draco knew nothing about such things, but he supposed if anything was to be classified in that category, this would be it.
Fuck if I know. All he knew was he was slipping, and he was going to do something he regretted, and it was time to rein things in, even if he needed to ruin this perfect picture they made. He couldn't make another mistake, especially if it was something she didn't want herself, and clearly she must have regretted the kiss he'd initiated, because she hadn't been keen on broaching the topic afterwards. He tried to mention it, but she'd quickly dismissed it, blaming the magical high they both shared. It had been too easy to drop the subject. Other witches he knew seemed to love to harp on an issue, it should have been a relief to meet one who didn't, but ironically, he wanted her to push it. The woman never did what he expected.
Pick a fight, a voice in his head suggested. It doesn't need to be about anything in particular, just something. A fight will be like pouring a bucket of ice water on whatever this is. He was reluctant to heed his own advice. He didn't wish to offend her, why couldn't he just get a hold of himself? Regardless of the reason, he couldn't help it, his body was tensed and his breaths came more unevenly.
It was all her fault, really. She was doing this, she had to be aware. He was first and foremost a man. He could either end it, or give in.
"Now you're just trying to tease me," he said with a cruel twist of his lips.
Her eyes flew open, and a puzzled look flickered across her features. "What?"
"You're sitting there…I can practically see through your dress."
She sat up and quickly crossed her arms over her chest in horror, before looking up at him, indignation burning in her eyes. "I didn't know you were looking, Malfoy."
Instead of feeling ice cold numbness, he felt a flash of guilt, and the heat seemed to only intensify. I just need to try harder. He pressed on. "You don't need to play coy, I saw how you snogged—that was far from innocent."
"Don't forget who snogged who!"
"You weren't complaining."
"I was far too stunned to see you were actually kissing someone with inferior blood status."
He felt bile rise up in his throat at what he was about to say, but forced himself to say it anyway. "That's right, your blood is wrong. You might be a superior witch, but it's a mistake, nothing more."
She straightened, dropping her arms from protectively hugging her chest, and for once it was her that towered over him. "Is that so, Malfoy? Please don't hold back. Is that how you really think? I can't say I'm surprised. I'll always be a Mudblood to you. But you know what I think?"
"I don't care." He shrugged and averted his eyes. She could throw her best at him, this he could deal with. Anything to disrupt the perfectness of the evening.
"I think you liked it."
He stopped breathing. Perhaps the two drinks had affected him more strongly than he thought? For she could not have just said that, of all things.
He glanced up wearily, and was alarmed to see triumph in her eyes. "What?" he queried. "Are you daft?"
Her smile widened and she took a step forward. "You heard me. You liked it. Despite your prejudiced Pureblood upbringing and all the rhetoric that's been harped into you over the ages, you enjoyed yourself, and now you don't know what to make of it."
He swallowed audibly and steeled himself, looking up at her with a sadistic look on his face. "It was tolerable enough."
"Tolerable?" She arched an eyebrow, appraising him as if he were a rather difficult Arithmancy problem.
"Enjoyable," he admitted.
"Is that all?"
"Yes." The lie left his mouth far too easily.
She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "I think you're lying."
Sod it all, this was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to be pushing her away, not drawing her closer. She's done this before, he tried to console himself, she knows how to toy with a man.
"That's a rather bold statement, Hermione."
Her eyes glittered dangerously and Draco vaguely noticed the way the sky had darkened around them to a deep shade of blue. His body tensed.
"There's only one way to test the theory." Her voice was velvety and oddly drugging. "I want to kiss you—is that so much to ask?"
A challenge. She was merely challenging him. Just kiss her and get her out. End it quickly and prove to her you mean what you say. He spread his legs more widely in the water and stretched his arms out on either side of him. "Is that what you want, to test your theory? Go for it, then." He willed his blood to chill in his veins, promising himself he would stay numb to her advances.
Doubt flicked across her face. She worried her lip, before clenching her jaw in determination and wading closer to him, until her legs were almost brushing his in the water. He watched her, erecting a haughty mask of indifference. She seemed unsure, and that was a good thing.
A light breeze skimmed across the water's surface, ruffling her damp curls in the process. His breath hitched as her freesia scent assaulted his nostrils. He swallowed discreetly as his senses became clouded. She seemed doubtful about where to place her hands and kept them by her side, careful not to touch him as she leaned forward. His gaze dropped unwillingly to her mouth.
The first brush of her lips was chaste; a mere whisper. Heart racing, he forced his breathing calm. She pulled away, a small crease forming in her forehead. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion before she leaned down once more, this time pressing her lips more firmly against his. They were warm and pliant and tasted sweet, like mangos. Exerting all the effort he could, he didn't respond.
She pulled away again, shoulders slumping slightly, and his eyes were drawn to the white skin of her neck, painted alabaster in the evening sky.
"See," he challenged. "Enjoyable."
A spectrum of emotions passed over her expressive features. Her eyes widened first in annoyance, before tapering in determination. "Perhaps I just need to try harder," she drawled, hauling him forward by the shoulders whilst seating herself fully over his lap.
It had all happened so fast, Draco had no time to school his reaction. This time when she pressed her lips to his, there was urgency. The tentative exploration quickly evolved into something hot and wanton as she opened her mouth, bidding him to do the same. Her fingers trailed through his hair and he couldn't help but grip her hips. She tasted so good, a potent aphrodisiac, and he found his will crumbling with every nip and suckle of her lips. How was he supposed to remain aloof with her straddling his lap? It was impossible to ignore the awakening of his senses and how spectacular it felt.
He shoved away his irrational fears, whatever they were, spurred on by the heat stirring in his loins. He placed one hand gently, but firmly on the back of her neck, and with the other grabbed her leg and twisted it more tightly around him. His tongue danced with hers, searching for more of that exquisite taste he could never tire of, so intrinsically her.
She was warm and supple in his hands and he delighted in the feel of her fingers sinking into his hair, scraping against his scalp. Around a moan, he shoved his fingers through her luxurious locks, letting his free hand sweep along the curves of her body. He wanted more, gods how he needed it.
Her tongue grazed against his teeth, and he tongued her in blatant sexual desire. The fire inside of him was alive and hungry.
He fought the inclination to snap his hips, not wanting to scare her, but Merlin how he wanted to move. He was hardened to steel, and she had to feel him, nestled as she was on top of him. Heat crept up his throat as he returned her kiss with a ferocity that both surprised and thrilled him. Somehow, it didn't occur to him that he should be pulling away, that he was treading a dangerous path, that he'd only set out to prove his point and stopping now would most definitely assure that. Stopping was the last thing on his mind.
He broke away, breathing heavily. "You taste so good," he informed her, paying rapt attention to the column of her throat. "I want to taste more of you."
"Even if I'm a Mudblood," she said throatily. Her chest rose and fell in uneven pants, but her hooded eyes still appraised him challengingly.
"I don't care about that," he admitted, making to capture her lips once more, but she halted him, placing her palms on his chest.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Let me show you how sure I am."
Her caramel eyes glazed and her eyelashes fluttered shut as he latched onto her neck, nuzzling, and tracing his tongue along the tight tendons. He delighted in the feel of her warm hands gliding along the naked expanse of his back. Wherever she touched sent tingling sensations rushing south.
Widening her thighs, she seated herself more fully down on him, and around a moan, he shoved a hand through her bewitching hair, securing her waist with his free hand. Her fingers drew to his neck, lightly massaging, nails scraping. He comforted himself with the fact that when she'd spoken to him, her eyes had darkened with lust—there was no fear. The thought comforted him. She had done this before, and it was okay to pursue this. He needn't worry—he needed this—and needed her. Really, who sodding cared if he allowed this to happen? He was a man obsessed, and the only way to rid himself of it was to have her—just once. Her blood status didn't matter, wrenching her thighs apart and assuaging his raw need was all that mattered.
Brazenly, his hands wandered over her chest, stopping when she keened as he brushed against hardened peaks. She undulated her hips and he hissed at the wholly delicious friction.
"Like that, Hermione?" His voice sounded oddly possessed, and so very far from his own.
She whimpered in response.
Suckling her throat, his fingers continued caressing her chest. He longed to be rid of the blasted chemise.
"I can make you feel so good," he promised, mind fogging with his desire. "I want to show you how good I can make you feel."
He thrust upward through the vee of her thighs, seeking the blissful heat he could feel despite the fabric that separated them. She arched her chest back and let out a low moan, causing his arousal to jerk, begging for more.
Desperate and hard, their lips clashed together. There was a strange almost giddy-like feeling in the pit of his abdomen, and he couldn't help shake the feeling that if he submitted to their heated kiss, he'd fall into a deep chasm he'd be helpless to escape. He kissed her back without stopping to expound on the madness of it, the mind boggling, delicious madness. His heart raced and his adrenaline pumped as if he were readying himself for a fight. His tongue slipped against hers like silk, water lapping around their hips, as his hands glided everywhere. But it wasn't enough, he wanted more.
The water was getting in the way of what he really needed to do.
Straightening, he pulled her up with him, dragging her to the edge of the pool. Their lips never parted as they stumbled clumsily. The warm island air should have chilled him but his skin was on fire. She ran an errant hand down his chest, trailing along his abdomen, causing his brain to spin. He walked her backwards until her back pressed against the wall of the grotto. His fingers trailed along her thighs, bunching the fabric at the hem, and dragging it up her wet skin.
"Let me show you," he murmured, coaxing her.
A stifled whimper issued from her lips in response. Aching for friction, he pushed himself against her so she could feel him through her shift gathered around her hips. He moved his mouth to nuzzle her neck, kissing it hotly as his fingers continued their upward ascent, before slipping between her legs, and finally finding her silken heat.
Her head thwacked back against the stone wall in bliss, eyelashes fluttering like jumpy flitterbies as he worked her expertly, finding her sensitive flesh and circling it with his thumb.
"So tight," he hissed, his breath fanning against her neck. He fought the urge to grip himself with his free hand, instead resting his forearm against the wall above her head.
"Please." The plea tumbled from her lips, as she wrapped a hand around his arm and interlaced her fingers with the other stationed above her head.
He nodded, mind buzzing from being so painfully hard. He pushed another finger in her, imagining it was steel, hard length driving powerfully into her tight heat, pounding naked skin against naked skin. He could tell her pleasurewas building judging by the pulsating around his fingers. Making a sound not dissimilar to a growl, he worked her, edging her towards the delirium he wanted desperately to bring her to, over and over again.
Capturing her lips with his own, he explored the decadent flavors of her mouth whilst his fingers picked up speed. He swallowed up her moans and whimpers of delight, considering them a personal triumph. When her back arched and her mouth fell open in a silent scream, he pulled back to watch her, as her pleasure rocked through her.
He memorized her face, taking note of how unintentionally sexy she looked like this. Her shift had fallen past her shoulders, revealing part of her chest to his hungry eyes.
He wanted her.
He had to have her.
Dragging her chemise the rest of the way down, he guided her to the floor. Eyes heavy lidded and languid, she followed.
000
Magic thrummed through her body as someone far more primitive than her stretched leisurely over her fallen dress. She couldn't think, just feel, so she acted on pure instinct. She watched as Malfoy crawled over her, mesmerized by his golden skin and the predatory look on his face. His piercing silver eyes threatened to skewer her very soul. He looked like he may devour her, and the thought thrilled her.
The new experience should have incited fear, but with him, he only brought her pleasure. She trusted him explicably. He made her feel good, and right now, she wanted to do the same for him.
The shift was soft beneath her back, up against the hard grotto floor, but it was too small. She brushed her fingers lazily over the fabric, directing some of the magic that had seemed to ignite inside of her, into the material, willing it wider and thicker. The effect was instantaneous and she sighed her content as she rested on the soft material. There was so much energy coursing through her, she thought for one giddy moment that she could indeed cut a hole inside the rock hard cliff.
She was invigorated, and if it weren't for Malfoy pinning her down, she didn't doubt she may float away due to how light she felt. But now his eyes were raking over her bare chest, and where she may have felt the urge to cover herself in shame before, she could only stretch appreciatively under his gaze. Her body was recovering, and she became aware there was something far greater on the horizon.
Something nagged at her brain, something distant and unwanted, causing her to be slightly perplexed. There was a forgotten challenge, a point she had to prove, but whatever the reason for it had been seemed highly unimportant now. She wanted him. There was no sense in denying it. Blood status didn't matter. Social status didn't matter. Propriety was long forgotten. The ancient call of a man and a woman who desired each other. What was more beautiful than that?
Hermione could not expound on it further, because he was running his hands over her heaving breasts, and leaning down to capture one pert nipple in his mouth. Her heart started racing as her breathing sped up once again. Her hands searched for something steady to hold onto and found his shoulders, delighting in the feel of his heated ridges and defined muscles under her fingertips. All logical thought fled as he scraped his tongue along her skin.
Her head fell back and forth, as the heat in the pit of her abdomen grew hot once more. She'd been deliciously sated a moment ago, but now she craved more. She told him so, neglecting completely to care how wanton she sounded.
He chuckled darkly against her skin, the sound was almost unhinged. "What do you want, vixen?" he gritted out, the words coarse and raw.
She didn't bother correcting him. She knew she was no vixen, yet he made her feel like she was. Eyes snapping open, she dragged a hand from his shoulder down his chest, reaching for that throbbing hot part of him she ached to touch.
His eyes screwed shut and he hissed as her fingers closed around him, for the first time. She delighted in how powerful she felt with him in her hands squeezing lightly. His hand flew to her wrist, holding it tightly and preventing her from moving.
"I want you inside me," she stated boldly.
His eyes locked on hers with cold, silver clarity, far from their usual guarded maliciousness. He looked almost tender, which was odd considering the tense way he held himself. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she yearned for more, as she wished to enjoy the feel of him.
"I can't wait any longer," he rasped, nudging apart her thighs.
She accommodated him, trusting him completely. He looked down on her with indescribable intensity as his hard length parted her silken flesh. She keened at the feel of him there, pressed up against her where she desired him most. It was almost too much, she'd only moments before been rocked with pleasure, and she was overly sensitive.
He muttered almost incoherently and she had to strain to hear, her body all the while tensing for the unknown. "So hot…so wet…"
His eyes were dark with lust as he pushed with a slow gliding motion and drove deep inside her. There was a sharp, fleeting pain, that caused her to close her eyes tightly. When she opened them, she saw a look of bewilderment on Malfoy's face.
His eyes were heavy lidded and confused. "I don't understand—"
She let her body adjust to him…to the fullness. The brief pain ebbed until it faded completely, giving way to an entirely new feeling, one that urged her to move.
But he was above her, looking frozen and torn, and she had a moment of panic that he would pull away from her.
"It's okay," she assured him, struggling to find the right words.
"No, I…I didn't know, didn't mean to—"
His fear was irrational. His eyes were full of regret, and she couldn't have that. Bracing herself with her forearms, she pushed up, forcing him to his seat, with her on top of him.
She gasped at the feel of him now buried to the hilt. The new angle brushed against something deep inside of her that elicited a shot of mind-splintering pleasure. It was something she hadn't felt before and she wanted to feel it again. Around a groan, his hands found her hips, holding her securely pressed to him.
"Are you sure," he said, eyes closed in bliss.
Anchoring herself around his neck, deliberately allowing her fingers to run wildly through the softness of his hair. "Show me," she demanded.
Growling, he picked up her hips slightly before forcing them back down. "Like that." His voice sounding pained.
"Oh." She moaned in understanding, before repeating the action. He continued to groan as she moved, falling into pattern that caused her mind to whiz and dizziness to surge. She whimpered as she adjusted her angle, hands folded around his back, and neck exposed to his searching lips.
The pressure built as she worked herself over him, the liquid heat inside of her churning like hot lava. She squeezed her muscles over his throbbing member and the action seemed to cause his restraint to snap. Eyes opening wide, and lips parted fractionally, he gripped her by the waist, driving up with her each time she thrust down. They moved in tandem. Brain spinning, she desperately searched for her release, keening on every downward thrust.
"Can't last," he bit out, moving his hand on her waist to where they were joined. With single-minded purpose, he sought her sensitive flesh, rubbing taunting circles over it.
Her head fell back in ecstasy, as she felt the pressure mounting.
"Hermione. My name, say my name, please."
Stunning sensations bloomed as she ground into him, her pleasure crashing over her. "Draco." Harsh breaths tore out of her mouth as she rode the rapturous wave.
His mouth slanted over hers, hot and demanding, as he pulled her roughly on top of him, once, twice, before tumbling over the edge with her, his name on her lips. She held him tightly to her, while tremors rocked through his body, practically melting into his chest.
000
