Draco strolled lazily across the shimmering sand, watching the photographer walk away from Hermione. As they passed one another, Draco gave him an imperceptible nod.
"It's about time for the speeches," Draco drawled as he approached them. "I can get us all some champagne, if you like."
Weasley scoffed at him and stalked away, muttering curses under his breath. Draco watched him go. The second he was out of sight, Draco crossed the space between them in a single bound, catching Hermione's hand in his. He inspected her carefully, gently skimming his fingers over her wrist, ignoring the pleasant softness of her skin.
"Did he hurt you?" Draco said through his teeth.
Hermione blinked up at him.
"You saw that?" she said shakily. In fact, she seemed to be slightly trembling all over.
Draco wasn't sure which he wanted to do more: hold and comfort her, or chase down Weasley and
make him regret his very existence.
He nodded.
Hermione swallowed, stepping back from him.
"I'm fine," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "It's nothing."
Icy dread slipped into his stomach, sickening him.
"Is this the first time he's ever been violent, Hermione?" Draco asked, his voice just above a whisper.
Hermione merely walked away, heading for the champagne fountain.
Draco's fists balled. He stood there for several moments, attempting to rein in his temper.
He would ask her again later.
And if she said no,
he would remove Weasley's filthy hands from his body.
Perhaps he would use Sectumsempra. He would never forget the pain Potter's dark curse had caused him in his sixth year. Or perhaps he would simply rip them off with his bare hands. Either way, Weasley would never touch her again.
It was several minutes before Draco was able to breathe normally again.
Arthur Weasley had started off the speeches. He was halfway done speaking by the time Draco had procured a flute of champagne for himself and used his alcohol evaporation spell.
Hermione had gone to stand near Ginny and Harry while she listened, so Draco didn't follow her.
She was safe there, in the middle of the crowd of onlookers. Even if Weasley had gone to stand
near them as well, he wasn't likely to try to hurt her again at the moment.
"I got all the shots you wanted, Mr. Malfoy," came a whisper behind him.
Draco turned to look at the photographer with disdain.
"You cut it a little close, don't you think?" Draco said quietly.
"She's alright. Just a bit shaken," the photographer said with a shrug.
Draco's temper flared again. Only his considerable Occlumency training kept him from losing his grip on sanity. Quickly, he held out his hand and took the roll of film from the photographer, exchanging it for a fat bag of coins.
"For your silence as well," Draco said, giving him a glare of warning.
"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," the photographer said. He pocketed the gold and slunk away.
Draco slipped the roll of film into his trouser pocket, thinking.
What was on that film had the enormous potential to both help and harm Hermione. He would have to take great care to make sure it was all spun the right way. He had someone in mind, but he needed to send an owl out as soon as possible, preferably tonight, if it was to run on the heels of the main wedding coverage.
After many cheers and much gulping of champagne, Arthur Weasley stepped down and his son took his place. Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. Of course, since Weasley was Potter's best mate and Ginny's closest brother, he had to give a speech. His eyes still looked a bit glazed from drinking, but the anger had left his face. He'd had enough time to calm down, then. Draco wasn't sure he'd ever recover from his own rage.
Weasley's speech was predictable. He prattled on about when he first met the famous Harry Potter, and how Ginny had adorably fallen in love with him at first sight. In an effort to embarrass his sister, he produced a singing get-well card Ginny had sent to Potter in his second year when he'd been confined to the hospital wing after a Quidditch accident. He opened it for everyone to hear, and the card sang shrilly for the audience to great effect. Ginny was beet red, but took it good naturedly, laughing along with everyone else.
Hermione was the last to speak. Her words were heartfelt and sweet. As she spoke, Draco felt an annoying tug in his chest. For the second time today, he was reminded of things that would never happen for him. Potter and Ginny were damned lucky to have someone like Hermione as their friend. She was...everything. Funny and beautiful and clever and brave and compassionate. It struck him as a huge injustice that Potter always got all the attention, when Hermione was right there, better than him in every possible way. Then again, perhaps she didn't want much attention.
As she finished speaking and bade everyone to raise their glasses to the newly married couple, her eye caught Draco's. He raised his glass to her, and took a sip.
She looked as if she knew that he was not drinking to Potter.
Hagrid then rolled out a frothy cake that was nearly as tall as the half-giant himself was. While Potter and Ginny cut into it, Draco slipped away. He was beginning to tire of the fuss.
Several folded parasols had been left in a pile at the bottom of the cliff, waiting for anyone who wanted to leave the bay. The high, rocky sides of the cliffs around them were beginning to make
Draco feel caged in, so he snatched one up and popped it open.
"Are you leaving, then?"
Draco turned to see Hermione walking up to him.
"Couldn't I just need to use the facilities?" Draco asked with a raised brow.
Hermione pursed her lips as she drew closer.
"I suppose. But I have a feeling you're the type to leave a function without saying goodbye," she said.
She was breathtaking, lit from below with the golden glow of the sand, her hair windswept and wild. He was certain she'd used some type of Dark Magic to keep her makeup looking so luminescent and perfect for this long, even after that terribly tearful ceremony at sunset.
"I wanted a walk. Somewhere less.. confined," he said.
"Ah," Hermione said.
She looked back to the crowd of people, most of whom were now eating cake.
"Would you like to come with me?" Draco asked.
He knew she would say no. She didn't want romance- just companionship and fun. A moonlit stroll with him, alone together, was surely out of the question. An awful, achy feeling settled in his chest.
Hermione looked upward, gauging how high up the edge of the cliff was. Her face pinched with fear.
"I promise I won't let go of you," he said in a low voice. He'd meant it to sound taunting, but it
came our as serious as a vow.
Hermione met his eyes. Her face hardened with resolve.
"If I fall and die, there are about a hundred people here who will have your head," she said.
Unexpected joy leaped inside of him.
A genuine smile cracked his face as he said, "I'd expect nothing less."
Hesitantly, Hermione stepped toward him, closing the distance between their bodies. Draco snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her tightly into him. She felt so small in his arms. It always exacerbated the overly protective impulses he had around her. Her arms came around his shoulders, bracing as if she were already dangling off the edge of the cliff. He suppressed a smile at her tight grip, raising the parasol.
"Hold on tight, darling," he said into her ear. Then he jumped up.
Hermione let out a small shriek as her feet left the ground. Again, she buried her face into his chest, holding onto him so tightly, he thought she might be trying to choke him to death.
It wouldn't be the worst way to go.
They ascended slowly, spinning slightly. Draco held her as tight as she held him, despite knowing that the magic of the parasol would not allow her to slip out of his hands and fall. They were both light as feathers, magically tethered to the tiny, lacy umbrella.
Her hair smelled of honey and springtime. He resisted the urge to kiss the top of her head.
She holds the reins, he reminded himself.
As they approached the top of the cliff, Draco looked out over the bay below. The glowing sand was a glorious sight, drifting far into the sea beyond until the dark waves smothered the light. He wondered what it would be like to swim in that water. Perhaps he would stay late tonight, just for the chance to try it after everyone else had gone home.
The parasol floated over the rocky ground at the edge of the cliff, safely depositing them several feet from the drop. Hermione, he realized, was slightly trembling. She hadn't kept her eyes closed,
then
Draco tossed the umbrella aside and wrapped her in both of his arms, smoothing his hand over the silky fabric covering her back in slow, relaxing circles. They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other, listening to the gentle breeze and the shouts of laughter and chatter from the party far below them.
"I forgot to say goodnight to everyone," Hermione said into his lapel.
"You're not leaving, yet. You can always go back.
He trailed off as Hermione vigorously shook her head.
"I'm not doing that again. Ever," she said.
He chuckled.
*Poor Krum will be devastated that you disappeared on him," he said.
He gave her a tight squeeze before he pulled away. She swayed a bit as their bodies parted, as if
reluctant to let him 20
Instead, he took her hand.
"Come on," he said. "I actually do need to find a loo."
Hermione smiled, pointing to a nearby hut that was clearly set up for that purpose. The rows of chairs and alter had gone now, leaving only the rocky patch of ground. They walked across it to the hut together.
When Draco emerged from the hut, Hermione was looking out over the cliff, standing far from the edge. Without a word, he took her hand, and they walked off to find a path.
Hermione, having arrived the day before, knew the terrain well. She guided him to a footpath that wound along the edges of the cliff, a safe distance from the drop. They were about to pass a row of white tents when they heard voices coming from the cliff behind them. Hermione peeked over her shoulder and, before Draco could follow her gaze, she grabbed his arm and swiftly hauled him forward into one of the tents. Stuffing him unceremoniously inside, she quickly glanced again at the people behind them before following him inside, zipping up the tent.
The interior had been magically enlarged, though not much. It was just tall enough for Draco to stand upright in the very middle, where it was tallest. A low trundle bed was in the corner, next to a mess of makeup and beauty supplies on the floor. A small mirror had been propped upon a boxy suitcase, from which bits of clothing were peeking, having clearly been rummaged through.
Hermione stood close to him, as if she had a choice in such a confined space, and kept her ears trained at the tent entrance.
"Why are we in here?" Draco asked in a whisper.
Hermione was silent, listening to the sounds of the voices outside. To Draco's ear, they seemed to be receding. He thought he caught Hagrid's voice among them.
"I just don't want to deal with.. certain people at the moment," Hermione whispered in answer.
"Who, Hagrid?" he asked, confused.
"Erm, him and...others," she said vaguely.
Draco wanted to ask more questions, but he was distracted when she stepped back a bit, nearly colliding with him. His arm wrapped around her waist automatically, and he felt her body still.
He heard only their breath and the distant rush of the ocean now.
"I think they're gone," he whispered.
Slowly, Hermione turned around and stepped back from him. He reluctantly let her go.
"So..." he said, attempting to keep his breath normal, "What's happened?"
She looked at him, her face carefully impassive.
"Nothing's happened," she lied.
Draco looked at her skeptically.
"Come on, out with it," he said, nudging her shoulder. "What's got your knickers in a twist?" Hermione gave him a strange look that he couldn't decipher. Then she looked away from him, holding her head up in a high, dignified posture.
"I'm not wearing knickers," she said impassively. "The lines would show through my dress."
Time stopped. Draco was powerless to stop his eyes from going wide as he stared at her, making certain he had heard her correctly. His heart thumped hard, and he suddenly felt a bit lightheaded.
Hermione flicked a glance at him, her lips twitching with amusement at his reaction.
Draco took several breaths to collect himself.
"Is that so?" he asked, attempting to sound unbothered.
Hermione smiled vaguely.
"Yes. All evening."
Damn her for successfully distracting him. He couldn't even remember what they had just been talking about.
Draco swallowed hard. His plan had sprung into his mind, fully formed and as unstoppable as the dawn. He stepped toward her, closing the small distance between them. She didn't move away again, instead meeting his hard gaze with an intense one of her own. He put his hand on her waist, relishing the feminine, inward curve of her.
"So, if I were to slide my hand down a bit," he said quietly, listening to her breath hitch.
His hand mimicked his words, firmly smoothing down the sensual silk of her dress. "Then I wouldn't feel anything underneath?"
He felt her shift slightly under his touch. He worked his way downward, sliding over the curve of her hip, grazing the top of her thigh. He could feel every dip and slope of her shape underneath the thin material of the dress. She trembled a bit, swallowing hard.
"No.. you wouldn't," she whispered.
His hand curved around her backside, slightly gripping her. She was outright panting now. Her hands gripped his lapels as she arched her body into his touch.
His lips quirked upward at the sight of her, the feel of her. He loved her like this, panting and desperate for his touch, pretending it didn't affect her when it so clearly did. It was their favorite game: See How Long Each of Us Can Pretend We're Not Bloody Starving For One Another.
"Hmm," Draco murmured as he explored her body, now boldly using both of his hands. "I'm not sure I can quite tell whether or not you're telling the truth. You see, there's all this fabric in the
way
She trembled, clinging to him.
"Oh? Th-then perhaps vou should...
" She paused to swallow again. " ..check u-underneath. To
prove I'm n-not lying," she panted.
"I think that's a good idea," he said in a low rumble.
She shivered at the words.
He locked eyes with her, searching for any trace of hesitation or fear, as he slowly knelt to the ground, hands braced on her hips, face level with her navel.
The view from down there was nothing short of spectacular. Hermione's chest heaved as she looked down at him, her hands lightly brushing the skin of his wrists.
With tantalizing slowness, Draco moved his hands down her legs, savoring the soft glide of the silk. He felt her leg muscles tense with anticipation as he went. When he reached the hem of her dress, he pushed underneath and wrapped both of his hands firmly around her ankles, shackling her.
Shakily, she braced her hands on his shoulders for support.
This was his favorite feeling in the world, this sensual exchange of power with her. She let him take control, but it was always her decision to revoke it at any time. The temporary nature of it, the knowledge that it might end at any time, was what made it so addictive.
He didn't ask if she was sure. He knew she wasn't. That's why he would watch, waiting for the slightest hitch of trepidation from her. As much as he wanted to toss her onto the bedroll and rip her flimsy dress off, he was committed to an agonizingly slow pace for now.
The very second she turned from teasing to truly inviting, he was going to pin her down and show
her exactly what she did to him.
But not yet. Perhaps not ever.
She holds the reins.
His thumbs brushed slow circles on the peaks of her ankles for a moment. She trembled a bit as he finally slid one hand up the back of her smooth calf, adoring the little whimper she let out at the movement. Her dress pooled at his forearms as he moved both hands up her legs, past her knees, lingering to feel the soft skin at the back of her thighs. He watched as she panted and shook, soundlessly begging him to keep touching her.
Draco decided to oblige her silent plea, but not with his hands. He bunched the hem of her dress up over her knees, leaning down to kiss the soft skin there.
"How does it feel to see me kneeling at your feet, Granger?" he asked, brushing his lips across her thigh.
She was shaking badly now. She didn't answer his question, so he nipped at the soft skin of her inner thigh with his teeth, making her jolt.
"Come on, tell me," he cajoled, looking up at her face as he slid the fabric of her dress ever higher.
"Do you like seeing me here?"
"Y-yes," she hissed.
She let out a moan of pleasure as he rewarded her answer with his lips, sucking at the skin of her upper thigh, so close to his true destination. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, using him for balance as she attempted to stay upright. Unhurriedly, he glided his tongue along the crease of her hip and thigh, taking in the glorious taste and smell of her. A little gasp escaped her at the feel of him there, her hips shifting closer to him. Draco smiled, mentally taking note. She was sensitive there.
Just as his thumb slipped under the gathered material of her dress, footsteps crunched on the rocky ground outside, forcing Draco to freeze and listen. He heard a slight murmur of voices, then the footsteps receded.
Draco flashed a grin up at Hermione, who returned it weakly. She was still very much out of breath
Draco's mouth returned to her, but froze again as the footsteps came returned. This time, the voices seemed to be drawing nearer.
..was hoping summa those Veela cousins would show up."
"I know, I was hoping for that too. But all those Quidditch girls came, though."
It sounded like the voices of a pair of Aurors, probably making the rounds. Silently, Draco slipped his hands out of Hermione's dress. They seemed to only be coming closer.
"Yeah, I suppose some of them are pretty hot. But they're all lesbians, aren't they? I saw more than a couple of em dancing with each other. They didn't look too interested in blokes, y'know?"
"Yeah, true," the other one said. "What about Granger? She's pretty hot tonight, and I heard
Weasley's done with her."
Hermione stiffened. Careful not to make a noise, Draco got to his feet, bracing one hand on Hermione's back and the other at the handle of his wand. Hermione's hands, which had not left his shoulders, gripped him in warning.
"Granger, are you kidding me?" the first man scoffed. "She's okay-looking, I guess, but she's been in the paper more than the Minister lately. I'm not going near her."
"Fair point," the second man said. The voices sounded as if they were right outside the zipper of their tent now. "Do you think she really cheated on Weasley? Right before her best friend's wedding?"
"I dunno, but I saw her dancing with a bunch of people tonight. Maybe she's just trying to get his
attention or something.
Draco's grip on his wand was beginning to get painfully tight. The voices were beginning to wane
Ow.
"If I were him, I'd tell her to stuff it. Girls are all the same.
The voices lost their clarity as the two men walked away. Draco and Hermione waited for a moment after they were out of earshot before relaxing apart.
Hermione looked pale.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he smoothed his hand over the back of her hair, the soft curls tickling across his skin.
"So," he said quietly, breaking the thick silence. "Still up for that walk?