A/N: So I want to start off with a huge-mother effing apology on behalf of my sincere stupidity! Last chapter I spoke of how Narcissa had yet to meet Astoria and that she wanted to make a good impression on the young woman at the Christmas party. I'm a total brain-dead goofball. Narcissa has met Astoria. In the second chapter of this fic, I wrote in Chapter 2 that she met her at Draco's Engagement Party. I also vaguely mentioned that the two women probably conversed at Draco's funeral. However, I will go on to say it is true that Narcissa hardly knew Astoria. She still does eagerly await to meet Astoria again. Furthermore, I'm in the process of scouring this 200,000+ monstrosity to make sure I didn't make a similar mistake elsewhere. If there is any kind of weird stuff like that popping up, "kindly" tell me and I will hastily remedy the situation. *Sigh* The embarrassing woes of being an imperfect, boggle-minded writer.
Anyway, on with my regular…Thank you to my readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have favored this fic.
Thank you: Aya Diefair, long live marshmallows, kitkatscratch, Dennett, Anjali K, Kou Shun'u, chayraskiss, hkmac, Guest, Guest, Analelle, Guest, Guest, Gibbles, Guest, Angelus Draco, and BeWhoYouAre99 for the reviews.
Firstly, let's address my poll. Blaise won all the way which I was kind of surprised since Theo saved her. Some were fine with either. I got one that said Theodore would be too much like Draco as in being creepily obsessive. Then I got some where they didn't want Hermione to end up with anyone for various reasons: she's Draco's soul mate, she needs peace before love, etc. and etc. Thanks to those who participated. I was merely curious.
Secondly, I would like to address a comment I got about how I'm making Alex hate his mom. Um…No, I'm not. I'm simply making him disagree with her because he's eight years old and has a mind of his own. His opinions and wants and temperament do not interfere with the love he has for his mother. You are right; many sons would do anything for their mother. I'm a daughter, and I would do anything for my mother. But at the end of the day, doesn't matter that I'm an adult, have a spouse, and a daughter of my own, I'm not going to agree with her on everything. Also, am I going to stop making people (besides her son) hate Hermione? No. She's surrounded by people who have never really liked her to begin with. And, am I going to stop with drama? Psht! Heck no! So…tough cookies. *Sigh* Can't please 'em all, right?
Here is Chapter 50. I'm sorry for any errors. I'll do another clean-sweep sometime in the near future. Like I said, brace yourself for the flashback coming up. It's…well…don't hate me, but I'm almost hesitant in asking for a review. But, heck, you know I need them, so R&R, please. (This chapter in no way reflects any hidden feelings of mine regarding the men and women serving the United States. I support them and am grateful for their sacrifices. I hold them with the upmost respect.)
"Oi, Miss Granger, smile for the Daily Prophet!" called a voice outside of the office.
Hermione turned her head towards the caller and was met with a blindingly bright flash of light which faded into firework-exploding spot. Eyes blurring, she blinked and saw with a man holding a large camera. He then tipped his fedora at her and smiled in satisfactory.
"Thank you!" he exclaimed and sprinted away.
Alex pumped the bottle of soap four more unnecessary times after the first and stuck his hands under the warm water of the faucet and sang his ABCs. He purposefully stopped at G and pulled his sudsy palms away from the stream, rubbed them, pressed his fingertips together, and blew into the hallowed cavern. He watched in the mirror as a large bubble poked out on the other side of his hands. Soon it popped, and the boy sighed and finished washing his hands. His dad once taught him how to make bubbles with wet, soapy hands. He was able to make several in a row, and they would float around the room until splattering on the floor.
Once his hands were dry, Alex opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bustling hallway of the Immigration Office. Sheets of parchment were scattered everywhere, many of them with footprint markings. A lot of grownups breezed by him as if they didn't see him or care. He plastered himself against the wall as to not get knocked over and scooted towards the office where his mom was filling out that forever long form.
"Hey, you can't go back there!" a voice shouted from the front.
Alex dared to stick his head out to see what the ruckus was and instantly suctioned his head back to the wall when a few people bolted towards the front. Instinct told him to stop and wait until whatever happening up there went away, so he stood still until he heard, "Oi, Miss Granger, smile for the Daily Prophet!" followed by the sound of a camera going off and a flash of light and a 'Thank you'.
A few seconds later, Alex saw a man in a grey cloak and a black fedora coming down the hallway at a sprint, doing his best to slither by those going the opposite direction. He knocked some of them over anyway. When he got in the boy's view, his pace slowed and his eyes slit in curiosity and then widened in delighted pleasure. Not wasting a moment, he dropped to his knees and readied his camera. Before Alex even knew what the man was doing, the camera flash blinded him. His little, clean hands covered his eyes and he whined, "Hey."
"Thanks for the picture, kid. You just earned me my Christmas bonus."
"Alex!" his mother called.
He messaged his eyes and then squinted at the man who took his picture but saw him already bumping his way down the hall and out of sight. Seconds later, the sound of Disapparation echoed off the walls.
"Can't anybody read!" some man roared. "The sign says no Apparating during business hours!"
"Alex," his mother shouted again.
"I'm here," he said and inched towards his mom's voice.
She was in the open doorway of the Mr. Owens' office waiting for him. When she saw him, she looked beyond peeved and he wondered if he did something wrong. He was cleared of all charges concerning the visa, so what was she upset about this time?
"Did someone take your picture?" she asked and closed the door behind him.
Mister Owens grunted. "This isn't a sanctuary from the press, Miss Granger. I need that door open."
"Can't we have it closed at least until I'm done with this form!" she griped, slamming her hand on desk. The man scowled at her antics and then nodded.
"I suppose if you're quick. These celebrities that come in here and think they get special treatment."
"I'm not…" Hermione paused and caught her son's inquiring glance. It was exhausting keeping so much from him, and he accepted every half-truth or glazed over story she'd ever shared with him. How long could she keep this up? How long did she want to? Alex now knew she had a First Class Order of Merlin, and he may be eight years old, but he knew the importance of such an honor. Hermione guessed by the evening, her son would remember and ask about what that fainting Stuart said.
"I would sincerely like some privacy at the moment. If I could get that for five minutes, my son and I will leave."
Owens waved his hand dismissively and pulled out another file, making a point to ignore her.
Hermione grabbed the quill she abandoned earlier and began scribbling down her information on the Visa Request Form. By the time she finished, her fingers were cramping and Alex was restlessly moving in his seat. Hermione blew a puff of breath on her signature to let it dry. She then handed the form to Owens. "Here. And you said a few days, correct"
"Up to a week. But there is no rushing these things during the holidays. I suggest you make yourself comfortable. I can send a note over to Sherry at Travelling Information, and she can set you up in a hotel," he offered while examining the form critically.
"No, thanks," she murmured.
"Where are we going after this? We never got breakfast. Can we get some?" piped her son. He was kind of hungry. His mom had assured him they could have breakfast in Salem when they got there, but that wasn't going to happen. Secretly, he was happy about the situation even though she was clearly irritated. Owens said his mom's request could take up to a week, maybe more. Alex certainly hoped it would take longer because of his grandmother's Christmas party. No way would his mom deprive him of that if they had to stay anyway.
"Uh…I don't know," she mumbled as if she hadn't even heard him. He looked up at her and noticed the deep, troubled lines on her forehead and haggardness of her appearance. She was tired and sad, and Alex felt guilty for being happy about staying when his mom desperately wanted to return home. In his own eight year old way, he supposed he understood why she'd want to leave. She'd gotten hurt during their stay, and she wasn't on friendly terms with any other grown up she came across. Luna was back in Salem and so was Mr. Li. Maybe his mom needed a friend, someone to lighten her mood, even just a little.
He grabbed her hand and they left the office and stumbled through the hallway, bumping into people as they exited the Immigration Office. "I love you," he tried, hoping that would ease her up a little.
She squeezed back. "I love you, too, Alex." Her eyes focused on a near empty terminal. "Let's sit and think for a minute."
"Okay," he said softly.
The moment they sat down, his mom alleged, "I have to get my wand."
"We just sat down," he complained, exasperatedly.
"I know. I know. I just…" She groaned and glared up at the ceiling. "No, I don't. I don't know what to do. I'm not going back to your grandparents. I know you want to, but I can't."
"What about Mr. Zabini? He'd let us stay with him. Maybe even take us to Italy like he promised."
Her eyes fluttered shut, chuckling mirthlessly. "Italy," she hummed in half-desire and half-incredulity.
"Can we go?"
"I don't want to go back there either. Blaise…Mr. Zabini annoys Mummy."
"Mom, don't take this the wrong way, but I think everyone annoys you."
"What?" Her eyes swiveled and pounced on him.
He shrugged. "Well...it's true."
"Alex, not everyone annoys me. And as you know not everyone gets along. Not everyone can be friends."
"Daddy even annoyed you. Even when he wasn't trying."
"Sweetie." Hermione shook her head and hugged her stomach. "I'm sorry your father and I didn't get along better. We tried to shield you from the problems, but...we failed pretty badly, didn't we?"
"I'm not talking about that, Mom. I'm just wondering if there is anyone that doesn't annoy you."
Her fingers tickled his jawline and then tugged on his earlobe playfully. "You don't annoy me."
"Am I the only one?"
She smiled sadly. "Probably. Is that okay?"
He shrugged again and got up from his seat to scramble onto her lap. She held him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead and then his cheek. He snuggled deeper into her embrace and cherished the warmth she gave. It wasn't all bad being the most important and loved thing in his mom's world, but sometimes he wished she spared a bit more of that affection to his dad. Perhaps, their relationship would've lasted longer, but a voice in Alex's head told him it was more complicated than that.
They sat this way for a few minutes until Hermione noticed people staring at them and mumbling to their peers and pointing. Brushing her lips on Alex's temple, she whispered, "We should go."
"Go where?"
"I don't know," she replied although she knew where she'd have to go for the time being.
Blaise sat at the couch with his long legs extended and semi-spread out in front of him, his tired eyes mesmerized by the flickering flames of his fireplace. In one loose hand, he held a small glass of cold orange juice, freshly squeezed, the fruit having cost a pretty sickle at the local market. Not that he cared much about such frivolities like price tags and bills. He was born into luxury and wanted for nothing for the most part.
He knew he better stop himself right there before he exchanged the glass of juice for a glass of firewhiskey. It was no use getting pissed and floo-ing up Mother, merely to rant about how difficult life was growing up, wondering when Step-Father was going to die again.
What started him on the brood-fest was waking up and realizing Granger hadn't the decency to say goodbye to him. Her things and Alex's were gone from the spare bedroom. The room was vacant like that harpy's heart. How could she up and leave without a simple adieu? Did she not even think that maybe he wanted to bid farewell to his best friend's boy. If Blaise was a lazy-arse, years could pass without him ever seeing Alex again, but that wasn't happening. The Malfoys may not have permission to enter the States, but the same couldn't be said for him. For the next ten years, Salem was going to be his primary vacation hot-spot, and Granger could go fly an effing kite!
Sneering, Blaise drank from his glass and nearly choked when hearing the loud, familiar sound of someone Apparating inside his flat. His drink went flying and stained the pristine carpet. He balled up a fist and pounded on his chest, coughing up the misguided, acidy liquid. Argh, that burned!
"Blaise!"
"Granger?" he wheezed and stood up and turned around to see her entering the sitting room. She looked tired, miffed, and a bit sad. Alex was beside her and clinging to her leg. He let go and waved shyly at him.
"What's wrong? I heard you coughing like you were going to die," she said while untying the belt of her cloak and shirking the item on the chair behind her.
"You startled me, is all. I thought you left."
Alex stole the seat his mom discarded her cloak on and got comfortable. They were so much more comfy than the chairs at the UPA and even the manor.
"Don't act so surprised," Hermione scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "I know you and Lucius collaborated in stealing my visa."
"What? Your vi…you think we stole your visa?" Blaise sputtered. He hadn't snatched her visa. Thinking about it, though, what a brilliant idea! Lucius, that snake. Old age hadn't made him soft or slow in the slightest.
"I know you stole it."
"I'm flattered you think so, but if Lucius took it, then he was acting alone. I had no part in it. I didn't even think about it, honestly."
"Blaise," Hermione folded her arms and tossed him a knowing look, "it was here in my travelling bag for over five weeks. You expect me to believe you had no part in stealing it? Maybe you didn't think of it, but Lucius would have certainly put the idea in your head. Tell me, do you have it or does he?"
"Think what your imaginative brain wants, but I don't have it. As for Lucius…" Blaise rubbed his chin pensively. If her travelling bag was here the entire time, then Lucius couldn't have taken Granger's visa. He hadn't ever stepped foot in the flat, and Blaise was always aware of the comings and goings of visitors. "He couldn't, either. He's never been here."
"He must've snuck in because-"
"There is no sneaking in to my flat. My Floo has a Charmed in memory. On top of that, my elves are keenly aware of how my guests arrive. With all truthfulness, I did not take your visa and neither did Lucius."
"Then Narcissa!" Hermione accused. "It had to have been her. Has she been here?"
"No."
"No? This is ridiculous! You're lying! Anyway, it doesn't matter. In a few days, I'll get a new one and-"
"It does matter because I'm not lying, and Draco's parents couldn't have taken it because they've never been here, like I said. If someone took it, Granger, they took advantage of my hospitality."
Hermione glowered at him distrustfully. "Even if I did believe you, who else could have taken it, Blaise? Perhaps Lucius or Narcissa didn't take it. Maybe you didn't either, but who else would go to such measures to make Alex and me stay?"
"I don't…" Blaise paused, being hit with a revelation. He chuckled lightly, heavily doused in exasperation. "Theodore."
"Theodore Nott? You're joking."
"I've known him longer than you have, and I can attest that he would. He's the only one I can think of who'd do this…or care enough to, anyway." He growled and punched the air. "What it is he expecting to achieve?"
Placing the blame on Theodore Nott was not something Hermione readily agreed with. It's possible the man may have pocketed her visa by doing Lucius a favor. Why else would he steal it? Because he liked her and wanted her to stay? That's rubbish.
"He probably didn't do it."
"Oh, I know he did. Aside from Alex, only three other people came over during your stay at the Malfoys: my mother, Daphne, and Theodore. My mother's visit was five minutes long, and I was with her the entire time. I doubt she even knew your things were here. As for Daphne, we both know she'd do anything to get rid of you. Taking your visa would defeat her purpose. That leaves Theo. I'm not daft enough in assuming his actions were completely based on his misplaced affection for you. He's not that touched in the head." Beat. "I don't think."
Narcissa dropped two sugar cubes into her piping hot tea and stirred it for a few moments with a spoon and looking up at her husband across the dining table. The Daily Prophet was now open and ready for reading, but she wasn't going to let him off that easy. She was beyond thrilled Miss Granger and her grandson were still in England, but Lucius had yet to explain why.
"All right, Lucius, tell me what you did."
"Hmm?" His head popped into view above the newspaper, his expression one of faux innocence. "I did nothing, my sweet. I promise you that."
"You don't have to lie to me. I understand. You know I won't be upset with you at all."
Her husband chuckled throatily and set aside the newspaper. "I'm not lying, but there is more to tell."
"Then do. I'm curious."
"And you have every right to be, so I suppose I will tell you what I know. Following Miss Granger's and young Mister Nott's meeting yesterday, he Owled me and wrote of his concern about how she may plan to leave earlier than we expected. He gave a forewarning, if you will. I thought nothing of it since I believed Miss Granger to be in too poor of health in travelling so great a distance. I also, naively that is, thought she'd at least stay until after Christmas for the boy's sake and that Mister Nott's assumption was nothing but. However, when Miss Granger did announce her leaving, I contacted him and told him of the situation. Already he was ahead of me and professed his stealing of the document which he had done after his meeting with her. He's a good lad, that boy. Clever, too." Lucius set down the Daily Prophet and picked up his tea, staring whimsically at the steam. "His father never appreciated him like he should have."
Lucius was torn out of his pleased stupor by the unpleasant sound of wood scraping against marble. He looked up to see his wife marching out of the dining room and into the hallway.
"Cissa?" he called after her in concern but then shrugged and returned his attention to the newspaper.
Narcissa marched to the nearest tearoom and paced the carpeted floor, hoping a little energy exertion calmed her nerves. A few minutes of this and she retired to the baby grand piano and slowly played a childhood tune she picked up during her younger years. The melody soothed her anger until she incidentally pushed a sour note causing her bad mood to return.
Five weeks prior Theodore Nott contracted a severe case of hypothermia remedied by a few capfuls of various potions, a cup of hot tea, and some dry clothes. The reason behind this unfortunate occurrence, according to Blaise, was due to Theodore rescuing Miss Granger when she fell through the ice of the river. It had all been rather heroic, and she and Lucius never thought much of it. Yet, with her husband's recent information about the young man's thievery of Miss Granger's visa, maybe there was more to Theodore's act of bravery than simply reflex or kindness.
As much as Narcissa wanted to believe Theodore had hers and Lucius' best interest in mind when he stole Miss Granger's travelling document, she wasn't naïve. His reasons were purely selfish. He stole it to elongate her stay.
You can't have him, too, Miss Granger. I won't allow it, Narcissa bitterly mused. She was aware how silly that sounded in her head because truly her son's former lover was not interested in his friend. But underestimating Theodore was not something anyone should chance. When he wanted to be, he could be persuasive and irresistibly charming. It didn't hurt that he abandoned his teenage awkward looks and morphed into a rather fetching man. All his qualities, physical and characteristic, were considerably attractive to women. How else did he manage to lure a Greengrass into a long engagement with little prospect of a future wedding?
Daphne was undeniably beautiful in a non-traditional way. She had perfectly straight dark brown hair, a smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose, and a pretty set of blue eyes, almost Ravenclaw blue, and identical to her sister's. Unlike the situation with Astoria, Narcissa met the girl's older sister years before while shopping in Diagon Alley at Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions.
It saddened Narcissa she hadn't spent a great deal of time with Astoria yet, but Draco had been so secretive of the relationship, so private. He had made flim-flam excuses for the delay in a proper introduction.
"I just want to make sure she's the one, Mother. You understand. I haven't even formally met her parents yet, so don't look so put out," he had said months before the engagement party.
Around that time, the engagement of Theodore and Daphne reached the ripe age of eighteen months with no concrete promise of a wedding date set. This worried Narcissa for him and for her son. She didn't want Draco getting any ideas, which unbeknown by her, he had plenty and they were all located in Salem.
The last five weeks with Miss Granger recovering in the manor was difficult for her. That ungrateful woman wasted years of her son's life, stringing him along, and she was obligated to house and nurse her back to health?
On the other hand, Narcissa loved Alex. The affection came instantaneous, and he looked so much like Draco, it delighted and pained her all at once. Nevertheless, she accepted that without Hermione, there wouldn't be Alex or perhaps even an heir to the Malfoy name.
Placing her delicate fingers back on the keys of the piano, she began playing again, this time a much slower and solemn tune. Her mind filled with what happened in Lucius' study that morning and how Draco crudely brought up the subject of Alex's conception. Narcissa couldn't help but wonder how about the details. Of course not the sexual nature of the boy's conception but how her son and a Muggle-Born came together. She and Lucius raised their son to only seek women of equal heritage, wealth, and beauty. Hermione Granger fell steeply from each merit. She hadn't a trace of magical ancestry and she definitely lacked class and social etiquette. Yet, Narcissa knew underneath those frumpy clothes, scowl, sharp tongue, and wild hair, the girl had potential. Dress her in fine robes complimented with fine jewelry and a new hairdo along with and a well-cast Silencing Charm, no one would be aware of Miss Granger's shortcomings.
Concluding the song, she tapped her chin and thought of the upcoming Christmas party. She was unaware how long the stolen visa would delay Miss Granger, but Narcissa was going to do whatever she necessary to keep her and her grandson from skipping out on her spectacular social event. Many people expected to see Scorpius Alexander Malfoy in all his eight year old glory, and the Malfoys were not a family to disappoint their peers. Miss Granger's appearance was also necessary expected she appear as someone worthy of birthing a Malfoy. From what Narcissa witnessed, she was not. No need for fretting. A deep, polishing scrub and a new set of formal dress robes never hurt anyone. She was not going to allow any murmurings and swirling of ill rumors circulate about Miss Granger for the sake of the Malfoy name and, especially, Alex.
Blaise offered a steaming mug to Hermione and sat down beside her on the sofa while Alex tucked into his eggs and toast in the dining area. "Drink this. You're not looking so well."
Timidly, she accepted the hot drink and peered at the greenish, clear liquid. "What is it?"
"It's tea heavily spiked with a potion that will clear up your airways for a few hours. I can hear you wheezing."
Hermione went to give it back. "I have my medications and I'm fine. Just a little jostled from the stress this morning."
"Don't be stubborn. Drink it. Breathing won't seem so much like a chore once you've had a few gulps."
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not. The Malfoys told me what your healer said. This isn't something you can recover from in a few days. Your lungs are scarred, and I refuse to house a stalwart, pneumonia-infested Gryffindor."
"I don't have pneumonia."
"Not yet."
She frowned and glared at the beverage before taking a small sip. She grimaced at the mineral-y taste and hissed, "I didn't say I was staying here."
"What? Are you going back to the Malfoys?" Blaise chuckled.
"No."
"A hotel is out of the question. Reporters will be swarming you and Alex before you can even reach your room."
"I already had my fill of picture-taking this morning," she recalled grumpily. "Someone must've recognized me at the UPA because a reporter showed up in the Immigration Office. He took a picture of me and Alex." She yawned and smacked her lips together, a funny expression tickling her face. "I'm tired. Did you…" Her grasp on the mug slackened, and it fell to the floor. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she tipped to the side, the soft cushion of the sofa catching her fall.
"So sorry," Blaise apologized as he slipped his arms under the crooks of her knees and her upper back. "I must've forgotten to tell you I put Sleeping Draught in that tea, as well. Do hope you'll forgive me."
He carried her to the same guest room she and Alex stayed in and laid her down on the bed. He then extracted a thick knitted blanket from the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and draped it over her slumbering form.
"Have sweet dreams, Granger,"
Christmas 2004
With a soft plop, their sides fell to the sand as their arms wrapped and excited mouths wrapped around each other. Curious hands smoothed over exposed skin and indiscreetly cupped places. Breathy chuckles and aroused giggles mumbled against skin before undeniably unobscured tongues met outside lips. A sun-kissed hand travelled from a firm backside and wrapped its digits into a thicket of damp tendrils, the white-gold, princess cut marriage set catching a ray of sun and reflecting it in a nearby neighbor's eye.
Painfully winking, Hermione scrunched up one side of her face and scowled at the honeymooners a mere meter away from her and inwardly cursed them for being so in love and so public with their affection. Had they no shame? This was a family-friendly beach for Morgana's sake! It stated as such in the bloody pamphlet. It was a good place to bring children, not make them!
She begrudgingly lowered her sunglasses from the top of her head to soften the reflecting light from the young woman's absolutely stunning wedding-ring set. That took care of the eyes, but the ears, not so much.
"I love you, Jessica," the new groom murmured to his new bride followed by a series of audible smooches. Unable to resist a glimpse, Hermione turned her head and saw the new wife plant kisses all over her besotted man's face.
They were annoyingly beautiful people and so very young, round pinkness still dominantly present in their cheeks. The young woman appeared fresh out of secondary school, and the gentlemen couldn't have been far in university.
Childish envy morphed into ridiculous worry. Hermione didn't know these people from Adam but wondered for them. They were practically babies running off the last bit of hormonal teenage high. Soon that would poop out, and they'd be left with a surprise honeymoon baby with a bad case of colic and sleepless nights and the foreboding refractory period.
It bothered her witnessing the couple dry hump so close to her son, but Hermione didn't have the heart to interrupt them with a lecture on PDA and consideration of others. This was going to be the happiest point in their marriage for a long time.
"Mommy, look!" exclaimed her son. Hermione turned her focus back to her son who clapped his hands at the creation in front of him. Three, slightly crumbling, upside-down bucket shaped sand domes stood just a few inches below her bare feet.
"Alex, they are wonderful! Good job!" she praised and gleefully accepted his high-pitched chortle.
Climbing to his feet, he waddled on the uneven sand towards her and plopped his bum down on his beach towel he got for Christmas that morning. It had a bright red and orange, fire-breathing dragon on it. Once they returned home, Hermione planned on Charming the character and the flames to move. In the presence of these Muggles, however, using any kind of magic was an intolerant idea. There wasn't a local, magic community. They were all dwelling on the main land and Oahu. To fix a magical problem in Kauai would cause Hermione all kinds of trouble, mostly financial because the write-up she'd get would be longer than her tanning leg.
Apart of her agreement in accepting this lovely, yet very Muggle trip, she was forced to leave her wand in a highly secure vault in a secret place at the Kauai airport where a total of two Squibs worked. The lack of magic didn't bother her too much like it would have for many of her fellow witches and wizards. Before Hogwarts and during her summers, she wasn't allowed the use of a wand. Being without one and being on vacation reminded her of simpler times like when she travelled with her parents, and they all lounged on the beach for days indulging on the local cuisine and reading books, anything to keep their minds and mouths occupied in case someone ever had the urge to talk.
The memories Hermione harbored of her parents were bittersweet but smirked when recalling the image of her younger self. She hadn't been much to look at then, but she absorbed the sun nicely. Harry had once commented how unfair it was she could brown so easily yet freckle perfectly and so adorably. Always the flatterer, that one. He knew of her poor self-image and when the occasion struck, he'd stutter out a compliment of some kind because Ron never really thought to do such a thing. At the beginning when they had started to fancy each other, his attraction was anything but physical which was one of the few reasons why their relationship lasted as long as it did. Ron loved her when she had been ugly. He wanted her when her front teeth were too big for her mouth and before she discovered the benefits of expensive conditioner.
The thing about Ronald Weasley and what drew his attention to Hermione was her bossiness. He loved being controlled even when he claimed otherwise. When the war was over, Hermione had felt her assertiveness drain from her, unfortunately. It was exhausting wagging fingers and pushing people all the time when all she really wanted one, dreamless-sleep night.
The nightmares were still frequent, but some of the bossiness came back when becoming a mother. Of course on Draco's visits, she found herself getting riled up but more for his benefit than for hers. Occasionally, he fancied the idea of being controlled, too.
Exhaling softly, Hermione dug her hand into her beach bag and pulled out a juice box for Alex and readied it for him. He took it with a grin and eagerly sucked up the sweet liquid through the flimsy straw as his mother eyed his beautiful blond curls and imagined them ginger…and winced. Her son could have very well been Ronald's if circumstances were different. And despite the man being a more stable father, it sickened Hermione to think of anyone besides Draco fathering her little boy. Her reasons were primarily shallow, however. Regardless of being a horrendous git, he did assist in bringing forth the most physically appealing thing Hermione ever possessed.
Without restraint, she stooped down and kissed her son's pudgy cheek and hummed at the moisturized warmth the sun and the SPF 45 sunblock gave him.
"I love you," she murmured and started picking particles of sand out of his curls.
The sun hung midway in the west, and Hermione purposefully left all concept of time back in the hotel room, wanting nothing more than for her and Alex to enjoy the beach that Christmas day. So far, they had a suitable complimentary breakfast and then took a walk, not directly enjoying the sand and water, but soaked in the scenery consisting of tropical flowers and the pleasantly damp morning. Hermione knew she had only seen a slice of the beauty and planned on seeing more with that silly looking PT Cruiser she parked in the parking lot at the hotel.
Followed by the walk, Hermione took Alex to Shipwrecks Beach and walked along the coastline with him, collecting small seashells and wetting their feet. Her son wasn't quite ready in taking a dip in such a big swimming pool, so they kept to the shallow parts and made deep footprints and smiley faces in the mud. After that, they had a small, packed lunch consisting of mini-deli sandwiches, sliced pineapple which made Hermione's tongue shiver and Alex hum in appreciation, and bottled water. They, then, spotted a free space on the sand, and she handed her son his sturdy plastic bucket and matching shovel he got for a present that morning and taught him how to build a basic sandcastle. When he got to the point where he wanted to do it by himself, she stripped off her Bandeau cover-up dress and lay comfortably on her plain blue beach towel with her practical yet stylish one piece black suit. Unlike some of these young tarts trotting around with their toned and bronzed bellies, Hermione had thin, squiggly-lined stretch-marks crawling up her underwear line. She wasn't too keen on sharing that imperfection with the rest of the world, thank you very much.
"I think it's about time we head back to the hotel and tidy up for dinner. What do you say? Are you ready for a bath and some real food?"
Alex perked at the mention of food and bobbed his head and began bunching up his towel in preparation to leave. Hermione crawled to the end of her own to grab the bucket and shovel and caught eyes with a young man emerging from the water. He smiled in greeting and nodded his head in a silent, long-distance hello, exposing two perfect sets of pearly whites, contrasting starkly with his golden brown skin. The friendly grin made his ocean blue eyes partially squint and sort of twinkle. He was ruggedly handsome, though, in that well-groomed sort of way. His dark brown goatee was neatly trimmed, and his thick head of hair was just long enough to grab when…
Flushing at her unfaithful thoughts, Hermione kindly returned a small smile and busied herself in packing the rest of her and Alex's beach gear. She even shook her head and let the guilt build up inside of her. True, she and Draco left things at a weird place, but they were still together and still loved each other…right? Well, she loved him, anyway, even if she used up her last 'no' with him. Plus, she was terminally attracted to him, and the sex was bloody fantastic. No one, not even some Muggle beach bum with rock hard abs and a Semper Fidelis tattoo on his outer bicep was going to make a blip on her radar.
Once her and Alex's spot was clean, Hermione stood and yelped in surprise when seeing the Muggle beach bum standing a foot away from her.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, Ma'am," he said, his accent American and unmistakably southern. "I was just wondering if you needed any help with carrying your belongings."
Cute, he may be, but Hermione wasn't a fool. No way was she handing over any kind of possession to this person.
The man must have sensed her distrust because he quickly backpedaled into an introduction. "Oh, I'm sorry. Look at me just marching up here trying to be a gentleman when we haven't even met before. I'm Dennis, Dennis Walton." His hand rose in offering and Hermione studied it in consideration before accepting.
"Hermione Granger," she said and shook his hand softly and was nearly blinded by the man's elated grin.
"Wow, where are you from, your voice is…" He chuckled.
Feeling a bit put on the spot, awkwardly Hermione answered, "Uh…I was born in England."
"Yeah? Which part? I travelled through there over a year ago. London was…" Dennis whistled and sighed, "incredible."
"I'm from Surrey." Hermione felt herself loosening up a bit. This strange, friendly man's enthusiasm was calming.
"Never been, but I bet it's awesome."
"Depends where you go, I guess."
"Yeah." His head nodded and then flickered his gaze to the small person next to her and crouched down instantly to investigate. "And who is this cute little guy, huh?"
Alex grinned a bit and shyly tucked his head against his mother's knee.
"This is Alex. He's my son." Hermione was half-hoping it directed Mr. Walton's attention elsewhere. It usually did whenever a man showed interest in her. The moment she admitted to being a mother, all those men remembered someplace they had go and fast.
"He's as adorable as my niece. She's over there." He pointed to a family of four consisting of a mother, father, and two children. The youngest was a little girl about two with dirty blonde hair in a set of pigtails. She wore a Little Mermaid bathing suit and tiny pink Crocks on her feet. She caught her uncle's gaze and waved.
"Yes, she's lovely," Hermione warmly agreed.
"We're staying here at the Hyatt," he pointed behind her at the thicket of trees covering up the property, "for the holidays, me and my sister and her family. She wanted an extra adult around for the kids when she and my brother-in-law need some alone time."
"Oh, that's nice of you. I'm sure the help is appreciated. We're staying at the Hyatt, as well. But, uh, I should get going. Alex and I have dinner date this evening, don't we?" She peered down at her hiding son and patted him on the head. He nodded and whispered a "yeah".
"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Walton. I hope you have a wonderful time here."
Hermione went to leave but stopped when Dennis exclaimed, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Is this the brush off?"
"Pardon?"
"You know. The brush off. We meet each other, I flirt, you're not into it and try to leave. The brush off."
"Mister Walton," Hermione chuckled nervously and folded her arms. Oh, dear, the boy had no idea. "I'm flattered by your attention, but-"
"Well, you are really hot."
Hermione brought three fingers to her lips and smiled tightly behind them. She and Draco were never going to marry, but maybe she'd start wearing a pretty ring on her finger. Just a simple band to ward off clueless men.
"Thank you, Mr. Walton, but I really-"
"I'm all tied up for dinner with my sister and the kids, but I'm free for dessert. Join me?"
"Mister Walton…"
"Call me Dennis."
Hermione stared. "Dennis," she said slowly, "I'm in a relationship. I can't have dessert with you. I'm sorry."
For the briefest moment, Dennis looked heartbroken but recovered with a puffed up chest and a smirk. "I should've known a gorgeous girl like you, ring or no ring, would have a lucky guy. Is he here with you?"
"Well…no."
"He let you go off to Hawaii alone? No concern you'd meet some handsome stud and fall for him instantly?"
The man's playful arrogance would have endeared her under different circumstances, but Hermione's fidelity to Draco hadn't broken yet despite the challenges. Staying celibate for a total of fifty weeks out of the year was difficult, especially when sweet, gorgeous men like Dennis begged for attention like an excited puppy. Like him, Mister Thane's polite and patient demeanor had intrigued Hermione, but their close, kind of flirty friendship didn't last long. He was currently engaged to a TA at the University.
"It's complicated," Hermione eventually replied, grimacing.
"Look, I get it. I seriously just skipped towards you and asked you on a date. You don't know me at all. I don't know you, but I'm going to be here until after the New Year. Since I got here and until I leave, most of the conversations will be about Disney characters and sunblock brands. I'd love to talk about something normal for at least a little while. I'm sure you'd like the same."
Annoyed, Hermione shoved the keycard into the door's lock and stomped inside the hotel room, Alex shuffling in behind, oblivious to his mother's huffy behavior. He watched as she discarded their belongings on the floor and walked to the mirror on the wall, her hands leaning on the neighboring table for support. She gazed at herself for a long moment and then yanked out her hairclip and shook her head.
"You should've told him no," she grumbled to herself and smashed her palms over her face. "Doesn't matter it's only dessert. It's not right."
Hermione padded to the bed, and Alex plopped on the floor near the beach bag in search for some snacks. She was shamed by her childish act of not sending Draco another letter before leaving was hurt and angry by is purposeful ignorance of the first three she sent.
There wasn't a telephone in her flat back home or a Floo, not like the last one mattered. She'd have to take a portkey to the nearest directory, and Owling him was absurd. The letter wouldn't reach him for a couple of days, at least. There wasn't any immediate way in contacting Draco.
Hermione imagined him walking into the flat that morning and being greeted by empty darkness. He'd call for her and Alex and would soon see the envelope on the counter with his name on it. He'd open it with a frown and read the short, stiff letter informing him of her and their son's whereabouts for the next two weeks.
If her estimation was right, he'd arrive sometime before midnight or possibly even after.
The ache inside her chest was more than simply missing Draco. She yearned for him constantly. No, this feeling was different, and Hermione couldn't pinpoint what it was.
She slipped off her sandals with a sigh and laid the upper half of her body on the bed, facing the opposite direction of the headboard to stare at her son. "Do you miss Daddy, Button?"
Her son pulled out a pack of Fruit Snacks and chomped on the plastic in an attempt in opening it. He nodded and pulled the package out of his mouth, a string of slobber connecting the two. "Yeth," he lisped.
"I'm sorry, Alex, I should've told him where we were going." Hermione got off the bed and took the Fruit Snacks from him and wiped of the spittle from his chin. "Come on. Let's get ready for dinner."
Hermione's mood lightened slightly when glancing at herself in the mirror. She went shopping the day before and purchased a pretty, white cotton sundress with a light yellow belt cinched around the waist and white knitted ballet flats. The starchy color tone contrasted nicely with her new darkened skin. Her humidly tainted hair was whipped up into a tight, twisted braid that she pinned into a bun at the base of her skull. The moment the damp, warm air hit her tresses upon arrival, it caused the locks to poof into a defying-gravity state.
Because it was Christmas dinner and the other guests eating were likely to dine elegantly, Hermione slipped a bloomed flower into her bun and leaned closer to the mirror to apply some lip-gloss. Two swipes of the gooey liquid and she was ready to join Alex in the bedroom. He sat on the bed, entranced by Spongebob Squarepants. They didn't have a television at the flat, so this was the first time her son had seen a walking-talking cartoon.
Alex was dressed in darling khaki shorts and a black button up shirt with tiny black-flip flops on his feet. Unlike her, she allowed his springy curls to go wild in the humidity because the fluff was cute on him.
"Are you ready for dinner, Button? I know I am."
Reluctantly, he bobbed his head and tore his focus away from the cartoon and lifted his arms, awaiting to be carried. His mother picked her purse up and him and then left the room. They travelled to the main floor and outside where the Tidepools dwelt.
"Granger, Hermione," she told the maître d'. His finger skimmed the booklet in front of him and then nodded and grabbed a menu.
"This way," he said and guided them to a bungalow overlooking the water. The post-sunset scene was breathtaking, even Alex 'ooooh-ed' when she situated him in the complimentary high-chair.
The Maitre'd left them and was quickly replaced by their waitress who suggested to Hermione a glass of white wine.
"That's sounds lovely, thank you," she agreed and gestured to Alex. "Can I get some milk for him, please?"
The waitress left and Hermione's toes curled inside her shoes from the excitement. It was silly, but she hadn't a drink since before Alex was conceived. Not since Ron's wedding, actually. It would relax her and take the anxiety off her chest, and perhaps she'd able to enjoy her meal without feeling anxiety over Draco.
The waitress came back with a child's cup full of milk and a single glass of white wine with a napkin. "The gentleman took care of this, Ma'am." She pointed to Dennis at the bar who saluted her with his beer bottle. He got up from his barstool and travelled the short distance to her table.
"May I join you early?" he asked.
Hermione gave him a helpless grin and nodded her head. She wasn't keen on the idea of sharing the majority of her evening with him, but she was raised in being polite and despite the gentleman's forward tactics, he was undeniably handsome and well-mannered. His smile of gratitude made her knees knock together and her belly slosh like half-set Jell-O.
"You look amazing," he complimented and added, "So do you, young man."
Alex eyed him warily while earnestly sucking on his straw.
"Thank you, Mr. Dennis," Hermione mumbled, smoothing out the skirt of her dress.
"Have you decided?" the waitress asked.
"Uh...yes. I'll have the Kula Lavender Crusted Filet of Beef and my son will have the Coconut Crustacean Chowder"
"And you, sir?"
"I'll have the Local Ahi," Mr. Walton replied and handed his menu over.
When the waitress left, Hermione fingered the curve of her wine glass and caressed the circular rim. "I thought you were having Christmas dinner with your family."
"I was," he said and laughed heartily, "but when my family tumbled back into the room, the televisions turned on and there was a James Bond marathon and a SpongeBob marathon and two cranky kids with sunburns. No one was leaving anytime soon and as much as I love room service and pizza, I remembered there was a beautiful girl down here with only her toddler keeping her company this Christmas evening."
"Mr. Walton, you didn't have to. You should be with your family," Hermione said.
"I spent all day with them. There not going anywhere and neither am I. You, on the other hand, I don't know when you'll be leaving. I probably won't even see you again. Where are you from, Granger? Did you really come all the way here from England? Usually you Brits hang around Florida."
At the use of her last name, Hermione suppressed a whimper by having a drink of her wine. After swallowing, she answered, "I'm from Massachusetts."
"Really? Boston?"
"No, uh, Salem, actually."
"No way," Dennis whispered and leaned forward in his seat as if enthralled. "That place is rich with American history or so my professors say. Is it awesome there?"
Hermione nodded. Muggle Salem was captivating in its own way. "Yes."
"Have you seen a lot of witch-hangings?"
Having been sipping at her drink when he asked, she coughed and hurriedly set the glass down. Placing her napkin over her mouth, she dabbed at the escaped liquid while clearing her throat. "Pardon?"
"Have you seen a lot of witch-hangings?"
An embarrassing amount of time passed before Hermione realized he made a joke. Following the revelation, she felt a bit offended. Did Muggles actually joke about that? Weren't they at all ashamed of what their ancestors and forefathers did to perfectly normal people? None of the people accused for witchcraft were magical at all. Many innocents died because of misplaced sexism and superstitious Puritans.
Dennis must have sensed her distress because he asked, "I'm sorry. Did I offend you in some way?"
"No," Hermione lied and softly chuckled. "It's just I saw one last weekend." He stared at her long and hard for a total of five seconds, his jaw slack before she took pity on him and quirked her lips in jest. "I'm kidding."
"That was pretty good. I almost believed you," laughed Dennis and lightly slapped his knee and drained his beer bottle. "So now I know you're funny. What else are you, Granger? Are in school or are you working? What brought you to Salem from Surrey? That's a long way from home."
"Yes, it is." Sometimes not long enough. "I…well…it's complicated."
"Like you and this idiot guy you're with."
"He's not idiot," Hermione defended in annoyance. If anyone was going to insult her lover, it was going to be her. "He's just not here. He has obligations of his own and staying for half a month in Hawaii is not a luxury he has. He's really busy. His job takes him all over the world, and he has a family, too."
"His family will always be there like my family will be in the hotel room tonight. They aren't going anywhere, but you're going places, Granger. If things were serious with this guy, he would have come with you."
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
Laughing uneasily, Hermione stood rigid in her seat. "Listen, you seem like a nice man, but I met you not even two hours ago. Forgive me if I don't fancy the idea of telling you the perils of my relationship."
"So you admit there are troubles?"
Unbelievable!
"I think I'm going to go." Hermione moved aside her half-empty wine glass, but Dennis's surrendering hand shot across the table in a motion to stop her.
"I'm sorry. There I go again being a jackass. I just…I'm attracted to you. I watched you on the beach for hours today, gathering up the nerve to come talk to you, only to find out you have someone waiting for you back home. I wanted you to know I'm here and if you let me, I can make this vacation of yours worth remembering."
Merlin, he was just as arrogant as Draco with the exception of being more subtle!
"I don't think so, Dennis." Hermione was about to leave when the food arrived and Alex got his dish first. He squealed in delight and hurriedly ripped off a piece of bread and dunked it into the soup and licked the dribbles from it.
Her meal was then placed in front of her and the aroma filled her nostrils. She inwardly cursed when her stomach growled loudly. Without a word, she dug into her dish and avoided eye contact with Dennis until her plate was mostly clean and her waist pressed tightly against her belt.
By the time the waitress returned, Alex's fluffy head was resting on the table next to his half-empty bowl. His long upper lashes were flirting with the lower ones. She knew with another glass of milk, he'd be out for the rest of the night.
"Dessert?" asked the waitress as she gathered their plates.
"Please," said Dennis when Hermione was about to say no. She allowed him dinner with her, even after discovering what a ponce he was, so dessert was out of the question. "Chocolate & Coffee Crème Brulée."
Damn him!
"I can tell you're a chocolate lover," he drawled and winked once the waitress left. "A fellow chocolate-lover always knows a kindred soul."
"I really shouldn't." And it wasn't because of the calories. She simply wanted to go back to her room and forget Dennis Walton ever bothered her on her special Christmas vacation. She pictured excusing herself from the table and toting Alex back to the hotel room where she'd put him in the room-provided crib. Another glass of wine would be ordered through room service, of course, and then she'd have a soak in the bathtub and pretend Draco was in there with her.
"But you really want to. Come on, I can't eat the entire dessert by myself. Well, I can, but I don't want to. There's something about watching a woman eat chocolate-"
"I'm this close," Hermione held her pointer finger and thumb a half-inch apart, "to shoving my fork into your eye."
Her threat, meant to scare him, only made him smirk. "I didn't take you as the kind of woman who did such violent acts around her child."
"He'd think it was a game and shove his spoon up your nose."
"I have a hard time picturing this baby cherub doing any kind of harm to anyone. Look at that face," he cooed and tilted his head to snatch a better glimpse at her almost-snoozing son. His chubby cheek was smashed against the table making his lips pucker into a fishy-face. Hermione's heart warmed at the image, wanting very much to pick him up and hold him. His head would rest on her shoulder and she'd feel the warm puffs of breath on her neck.
"He's perfect," she murmured in adoration and combed gentle fingers through his hair and lightly fiddled with his ear.
The dessert came and a delightful combination of chocolate and coffee exploded on Hermione's tongue which began to loosen from the second glass of wine she ordered and the giddiness she got from the sugar and caffeine. Words fell out of her mouth almost uncontrollably and without much shame.
"No, no, no. Well, yes," Hermione admitted ruefully, "I did move to the States to go to school, but then I found out about Alex. I had to prioritize. The professors and administrators weren't going to cut me any slack for having a baby, so I quit."
"Quit? You're education is important. How could you let your scholarship slip out of your hands?"
"Because something more important was slipping out of my vagina," she explained in a huff and then giggled. "Oops. Said the v-word, didn't I? But I could go back now if I wanted. I can kind of afford it, but I'm saving for a house. Alex deserves a backyard to play in."
"If you went back to school and got your degree, you're giving him more than just a house and a backyard."
"I suppose, but selling cosmetics isn't all bad. It's how I got this trip. Anyway, I'm plenty brilliant."
"Don't be so modest."
"I'm serious. I was valedictorian of my class. Beat out all those snotty, rich boys, I did."
"If you're so smart, why not go back to school?"
Hermione drained the last of her wine and licked her frowning lips. "What's with you and school? School isn't for everyone, you know."
"Yes it is, and I have a feeling if you were sober, you wouldn't have said that. The reason why I think education is important is because I got average grades in school, no scholarships, and no financial support to help me through community college. In hopes of a future, I joined the Marines like my dad did. They said they'd pay for my schooling, and they did. They are. I just…I had no idea, you know. I had just finished up basic training when 9/11 happened. Soon talk of war became an actual one, and before I could even finish my first year in college, I was sent to Afghanistan. I was still taught on base, but it's kind of hard studying when all you worry about is your fellow soldiers and yourself. Wondering if you're going to see your sister's new baby or if your girlfriend is going to wait for you. She didn't, by the way. I sacrificed a lot to get my education. I still am. In three weeks, I'm being sent to Iraq. It's my last tour, and then I can stay in the classroom as long as needed without worrying."
Dennis' words washed over Hermione like a bucket of ice-cold water, sobering her in seconds. His words echoed in her head, and she pondered them with sympathy but mostly empathy. Reaching her hand out in offering, he accepted it and she told him, "You will never stop worrying, and I'm sorry. I don't wish that kind of experience on anyone."
A third glass of wine for Hermione and a fourth beer for Dennis and they were ready to retire from the Tidepools. He dutifully accompanied her as she carried a now comatose Alex to the hotel room.
"Thank you for walking me to my room," Hermione said while opening the door. "And thank you for dinner. Have a good night."
"To you, as well."
Hermione bid him one last nod and closed the door and instantly kicked off her shoes. They weren't hurting her feet, but the soft carpet felt nice on her bare toes as she stripped Alex of his shirt and shorts and changed his diaper. The moment his bottom was clean and dressed in a fresh diaper, she carefully placed him in the crib next to the open window. He liked to hear the waves of the ocean crashing into the shore. It soothed him.
While tucking him into a soft blanket, Hermione heard a knock on the door, and she padded over to peak through the peep hole and saw Dennis. Confused, she opened the door and asked, "Is everything all ri-"
His mouth descended on hers and his hand slid up her neck and traced her jawline with his thumb. Warm, wet lips tasting of chocolate and coffee nipped at hers, and she moaned as tiny sparks exploding behind eyelids. Her knees weakened and she stumbled backwards, and he followed, closing the door behind him. The click roused her out of the trance, and she pulled away jerkily.
"What are you doing?"
"I don't know," he muttered and pulled her to him in another kiss. His arm wrapped around her, and he flattened his palm between her exposed shoulder blades and slid it down her back, groping at the more pliable places before ultimately settling on her bum.
Again, Hermione pulled away, but Dennis wouldn't let her go. Instead, he saw it as an advantage of exploring further territory and latched onto her neck. Her breath hitched and her eyes fluttered shut again. He wasn't munching on her special spot, but the three glasses of wine rushing through her bloodstream chanted he was close enough.
"We can't," she whimpered into his ear.
"I know," he replied and stripped her dress of its belt and tossed the strap aside. In another quick movement, his shirt was gone and his fingers found the back of her dress again, only this time they pulled at her zipper until it reached the bottom stop.
Grimacing at Dennis' failure at searching for her sensitive patch of skin, she yanked his mouth off of her jugular and reunited their lips forcefully, causing their teeth to clank against each other. This kiss was sloppy, but by no means the worst Hermione ever experienced. On the contrary, when Dennis grabbed the back of her thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist, the sparks started again.
Eyes closed and arms occupied, Dennis had no sense of direction as to where the bed was, but when his knees finally hit the edge of it, Hermione detached and shook her head. "No, not in here. The baby's in here. The bathroom."
"The bathroom?" he groaned in dismay while transporting towards the adjoined room. "That's not sexy."
"It's clean."
Dennis muttered unintelligibly and entered the bathroom and closed the door with a soft kick to it. "The counter?" he asked.
"No, the shower."
He moaned into her throat in response and carried her towards the show and opened the glass door. Blindly, Hermione reached in and twisted the handle and then wiggled down to put her feet on the tile floor. With her dress still on and Dennis' trousers still intact, she rid him of his belt, grabbed his forearms and guided him under the warm water.
To be continued...