June '01 | H E R
One thing Althea has not appreciated enough the last two months is the safety of countless rooms between her bed and the one of her husband's.
His smell is everywhere, his face a constant companion in her dreams, but up close in the soft morning glow, she is still not sick of it. They say a person's face is calmer when asleep, and they're not wrong.
He's angelic, and it's unfair.
Someone able to cause such heartbreak as she has felt in only a year shouldn't be reserved the right to look from the heavens.
Divinity.
She keeps her hand to herself.
If there was a spell to freeze time, she would employ it right this moment. Or stuff it in a snowglobe that she can replay whenever she needs to.
A moment this pure should be kept safe.
Sacred.
He has hugged the pillow when she woke up, so it's safe to say it was a wise choice putting it between them. She has scooted closer over night as well and she hasn't moved yet. His exhales feel too real on her arm, as though reminding her skin what he feels like, living alongside her.
It's been a while since she was able to inspect him so closely.
So what does it say about her that at the first sign of him stirring awake, she's locked in the bathroom?
Over half an hour, it takes to do her business as she gets progressively hyped for the day. When her stomach won't stop growling, she finally leaves her little oasis, only-Draco is standing in the doorway. His sleepy haze quickly wipes off as he eyes the towel wrapped around her chest.
Déjà-vu.
"Can't decide wether I'm liking this stay more than last year or not."
I'm liking the morning voice.
"I'm having a far better time," she smiles, feeling the weight of his gaze on every inch of exposed skin.
Chuckling, he rubs his eyes tiredly while moving past her inside. "I bet."
After an indulgant quiet breakfast, the four of them apparate to the closest spot to the beach and walk the rest.
That is when she feels his hand slip into hers. For show, of course, to play their roles. But not for him, and with the way her heart is acting up, Althea can't say with full certainty not for her either.
"Remember when you would find excuses to not go to the beach," she recalls, simply to think of something else.
"Are you forreal?" Blaise catches up, shooting his friend a look.
"That's the top most best thing," Pansy, under her boyfriend's arm, gapes. "You didn't once go to the beach on your honeymoon?"
Not even a toe.
Draco's face gains color.
"Let me guess," Althea ventures while gazing at his face all knowingly. "You wouldn't let yourself see me half naked."
Lip twitching, his cheeks bloom pink. "For one, I didn't want you to think we went here only so I could see you half naked, and I didn't think I could handle you in a bikini-not even a full body suit."
That is so incredibly foolish that it is adorable.
"Think you can stand the sight now?"
He looks straight into her eyes yet captures everything. "You've somehow gotten more gorgeous, so I reckon a hard no."
Butterflies have just come to life and they are wrecking her guts. Continue to do so as she steps out of her dress and he very obviously observes her doing so, and once more, she fills the tensely silent bridge between them.
"Any signs of fainting yet?"
He fights a smile. "Holding on strong, baby."
Taken out of his stupor, Draco whisks the shirt over his head and-she looks away.
It's too much.
Thea goes to unpacking the beach bag, pulling cut-up fruits out for everyone to share, towels, a book she's been meaning to read for months but hasn't found the time for. Blaise puts up an umbrella. Draco sets the cooler up for use, held endlessly cold by a charm.
Nothing could ruin this nice beach day.
"You want to hold your hair up or should I try my best at doing a quick though rather unimpressive up-do?"
Blinking at the gibberish, Althea looks over her shoulder to find Draco opening the bottle of sunscreen. A little too shrill, she asks, "What are you doing?"
He squirts some on his hand. "Hair up, come on."
"Draco..."
Leaning closer, he whispers with a meaningful look, "You're gonna ask Pansy, or better yet, Blaise to apply simple sunscreen where you can't reach?"
She was thinking more along the lines of burning her back.
But he's not wrong, regretfully.
Resigned, Althea puts her hair up in a clip, then rubs her shins as in to steel herself. Not for the cold lotion touching her skin which admittedly brings a shock she has to shake, but for the warm sensation afterwards. The gentle skin-on-skin, triggering nerve-endings that have been hibernating a little too long.
"You are such a child," Pansy says, a fond tone to it.
It draws Thea's attention, thank god. Blaise is starting to build a sand castle with buckets he brought, starting with the biggest one.
To Althea, she says, "He couldn't sit still if his life depended on it."
I wish I wasn't sitting still.
It's hard to pretend his hands on her sides, down her spine, around her hips are not coaxing her down a seriously bad, awfully compelling track.
Not that kind of massage, she tells herself. Not that kind of massage.
Her eyes flutter shut when lips press to her shoulder, heart racing to get out of it's cage.
"Don't overdo it," she warns quietly.
He's massaging the lotion on her arms, down to the wrist. His mouth close to her ear, he whispers, "I'm feeling signs of fainting and this is the only remedy."
Her laugh is cut short when a second kiss follows. "Idiot."
"Turn around for me."
She freezes. Realistically, she is aware he means something completely innocent, but the demand is so familiar, recalls steamy little memories, she can't help letting her mind wander and actually consider following it.
Goddamnit. Get a grip.
Which would entail declining his offer to put a layer of sunscreen on her front-she can well reach that on her own-yet here she is, changing to sit facing him. Gently, he pushes her down to lie. Her heart is missing some beats.
Scratch innocent-he begins to rub not her legs or even her stomach, but her chest with sunscreen.
"You're okay with this, right?" He speaks in a lower voice, though Pansy and Blaise are having their own chat. "Nothing I haven't done before."
His face tells that he is more than okay with this. "You're loving this too much."
"Other men are looking. Some really oily ones," he reasons, apparently. "Now they see that there's nothing to look at, much less to take because you're mine."
"Am I?" she muses.
"You are."
That's a bold claim, but she feels his deep vebrato low, low, low.
"Close your eyes. Relax."
He's drawing this out unnecessarily, visible to anyone's eyes, but honestly, Althea doesn't feel like stopping him. She likes his touch, wether she should or not. She likes getting pampered, from him specifically.
And to really put some logical reason behind it, this is her healing her former, rejected-on-honeymoon self.
She can feel him bend her legs to get the back of them and the higher, the closer he gets, the more she has to think of every funeral she ever attended.
"Can you do me?"
She blinks her eyes open. "W-What?"
"Sunscreen," he taps her nose, smiling knowingly.
Before she can reply, he lies down on his stomach. Althea isn't one to decline, plus she'll take any excuse to touch him. He always gets to touch her but she rarely has the chance. Can't be mad and all over him.
But now, she can enjoy every second of it, starting with his legs, slowly working her way up. Can feel the muscles flex under her palms, his skin getting hotter.
"Turn around."
"Absolutely not."
She blinks, not able to tell wether he's serious or not. "I need to do your front."
"Oh god." His eyes squeeze shut, face hidden in the crook of his elbow. "Not yet. Don't worry, I'll do it later."
Hm.
She leans down, running her fingers through his hair, wholly amused. "It was only your back."
"But your hands."
A smile blooms on her face. Feeling very pleased and up to taunt him a little more, she runs her finger down his vertebrae. It lures a groan out of him, goosebumps rising on his skin-right when Blaise starts talking to him.
"Mate, come help me." He wipes sweat from his brow with his shoulder before going back to digging a moat. "It's been years that we made Casa Blaco."
Draco breathes through his nose, expression pained. "A decade, to be exact, and it is my biggest achievement yet."
"You're always so negative," his best friend complains half-heartedly. "Come over here and form another core memory that'll last another decade."
"Can't."
"Thea," Blaise says then, with severity, "I'm sorry you married such a bore. Sad you have to live with this for the rest of your life."
He goes back to building his castle, adding towers at this state, which is when Pansy takes her hand and pulls her up.
"Finally done groping each other? Let's go for a swim."
"Playing mermaids?" Blaise teases, but Pansy is giving him a dry look.
"Yes, playing mermaids. What else is there to do in the water?"
He calls after her, "You're just as much a child, my love."
It appears that the beach tickles out the inner child of many people. At least if you consider playing any type of ball game children's play. The sand is streaked with half-naked people, baking under the sun while others have some fun playing beach volley ball. Draco and Blaise do their own version with a net they got from who knows where.
For a second time, she is hit with the intensity of his appeal. The uppermost beauty conceivable by the human mind, right there, before her eyes.
He should be unattractive. He should be ugly humpty dumpty but Althea knows the other sides he has. If she were to trust his word again, she knows that somewhere, she means the most to him and he merely has a troublesome time showing it to her. Like she knew there was much more underneath his cold front in school and when they were engaged.
Or she could be talking herself out of the most massive heartbreak she'll ever suffer.
The latter appears more realistic.
And reality doesn't treat people with wild fantasies well.
"Oh, Blaise..." Pansy cooes.
Snapped out of her thoughts, Althea sees it too, frowning sympathetically. "Oh, no-what happened to your castle?"
It has a massive dent in the middle. The untouched parts are impressively detailed with stones carved and all that.
"Some kid fell onto it," Blaise grumbles, making a passive-aggressive shot over the net.
"It was inevitable," Draco says, holding onto the ball. "Look at the size of it."
"He was adorable, the boy," Blaise allows, "so I'm only half as mad about it."
Pansy wipes her boyfriend's frown lines away.
Though he has sunglasses on, Althea knows Draco is looking right at her. "You wanna play with us?"
She loves that he tries to include her. It seems genuine.
"Actually," she jabs her thumb somewhere behind herself, slightly unnerved by his attention, "we were going to get some ice cream from one of the vendors."
He tosses the ball over the net at Blaise, easily smooth. "I'll go with you."
"Anything chocolate is fine with me," Pansy says, already lying down on the blanket.
"Something fruity for me, please," the other one says.
After Thea dries herself off, the two of them march their way through toy-cluttered sand, arms brushing while doing so.
At their wait at the endless queue, she notices something. He says men are looking at her but all she can focus on are the many stares he receives himself. Many, many heads are turning in his direction. The two women before them have turned more than a handful of times by the time the line got along half the way, and Althea is right there.
Right. Fucking. There.
They're standing close. They might not be talking, but it's clear he's taken, if not for the damn ring on his finger!
Another woman comes up, randomly picks him to give her information about where the shower stalls are. He nods, smiles, gives the right answer with a cordial attitude.
And Thea is quietly brooding.
But it doesn't stop there, no.
Much later-with multiple failed attempts to ease her mind and just cool down-as they sit in a pavement café, he receives double as much looks.
It never bothered her much before, but why do they seem to have increased tenfold here? Like, they're gawking!
Apart from the on-going stream of passersby, there is one particular woman right across from them at another table fluttering her lashes at Draco.
And he's looking in her direction.
Now, to give him the benefit of the doubt-and not to come off as too cuckoo-she tries to figure out if he is looking at Miss Pick-Me because that idiot-or genius?-still has the sunglasses on.
She must have looked at him a bit too long since his head tilts in her direction, "What?"
"Nothing."
"Thea?"
She sips her espresso.
He taps her sandal-covered foot under the table but she ignores it.
It's stupid. I'm being stupid.
On their walk down a shopping street, Draco upgrades the handhold to pulling her into his side. The smell of him, cologne mixed with a tinge of sweat locks her muscles tight.
He rubs her arm soothingly, but his voice is all so smart. "We gotta act our part, darling."
"I won't forgive you for this," she states quietly for only him to hear.
He twirls a curl of her sun dried hair around his finger. "Don't I know it."
She pinches his side.
In a local boutique, Althea combs through racks of cute summer clothing, knowing very well she has no business getting any more.
"This would look good on you." Draco picked a gold halter dress, gaze flicking between it and Althea.
It has an appeal, subtly sumptuous. In other words, he pretty much hit the nail on the head and it's scary how well he knows her like that.
"I shouldn't," she declines, though really wanting it.
"Oh, you should, darling." He puts the hanger with the dress in her hands, smiling encouragingly. "It doesn't hurt anyone does it?"
Her lip quirks. "It's not healthy for you to encourage my shopping habit." But I'm not hating it.
"You get whatever you want," he tells her. "We have nothing to worry about. You'll be thinking about it any-"
"Pardon." A woman squeezes past them, the sweetheart neckline really pushing her full bosom out. She is definitely pushing it into him and the eye contact... that is deliberate.
"Aucun problème." He smiles.
Smiles!
Althea throws him another long look.
A line forms between his brows. "What?"
"Nothing." With her arm full of choices, she slips into the closest dressing room.
Get a grip!
Taking a calming breath, she takes her dress off over her head-and that is exactly when another figure slips in.
"I'm changing," she whisper-shrieks at Draco, covering herself in time, heart beating as fast as a snitch. "Could you not barge in just like that?"
"Nothing I haven't seen before," he shrugs it off, preoccupied with pinning her with a look.
She's in the corner, alarm bells going off as he's coming closer.
"I'm asking for privacy." Safe distance, more like. "You can give me privacy, can you not?"
His stare is unyielding, working as a rope fastening her limbs close to body. "Not before you tell me what the hell those looks are about."
Seriously, she can't risk him being this close when layers are already shed. Going with the truth is the fastest way of getting him out of this confined space.
She lifts her chin defiantly. "Just making sure where your eyes are."
Again, a groove builds between his brows.
Is the confusion genuine or does she simply want it to be genuine?
Guess she'll never know, like with anything else that happened, is happening right now or will ever happen.
"How am I to know you never went for her again?" she glares, frustration getting the better of her. "Or someone else. Someone I don't know? Afterall, you couldn't have sex for eight months after marrying me."
His face drops. "Are you really asking that right now?"
Now he's only making her mad. She's not being manipulated today, nuh-uh.
"You lied so easily to me that the morning after we slept with one another for the first time. I told you that I had my concerns and you insisted-you lied right into my face, dickhead." And he looked just as genuine. "You're a pathological liar."
"Oh, I am not!" He takes on a defensive stance, shielding her from anything past him. "I said what I said because I made myself believe I didn't cheat because we weren't married then."
"Oh," she shoots right back, eyes slitting mockingly. "So you wouldn't be cheating now because we're on ice? That is bending the truth, Draco."
"I don't-I know, alright. I know how fucked it was for me to think that. It doesn't excuse my behaviour in any way." There we have it-remorse making an outstanding appearance. His hand reaches out, a piece of hair twirling around his index. "But I was so desperate to have this thing between you and me, I went to sick measures to not break it."
She scoffs under her breath. Breaking is what he did by keeping it secret, by letting her find out on her own instead of confessing.
She still stands by her words. Had he confessed right then, she would have accepted it for what it was. They could have worked through it quicker, healthier. There would have been no room for insecurities to fester and grow.
But-and she hates to admit it-she can understand his reason for not wanting to break them. They had been fragile and new and it was the first sign of light in over eight months. He especifically was convinced she would dump him at the next best chance.
It is no excuse, though.
"My point is," tentative, as though operating on a mine field, his fingers curl around her neck, "ever since we are married, I am nothing but loyal and devoted to you. I would never do the disservice of disrespecting you, Althea."
She meets his stare like a car crashing into a wall, blunt and painful. "Yet you banged Astoria twelve hours before waiting for me at the altar."
He ducks closer, fingers reaching into her hair. "But it was you I thought about."
She might have choked on her own spit just now. "That is not at all flattering."
Their chests are brushing, her hand between them holding up the dress feeling the pulse of his heart. "It was only you I ever thought about."
If he is mastering the biggest web of lies known to mankind, at least he's consistent.
"Stop saying that." She pushes his hand away, blood rushing to her ears. "Stop making something up so you can look better."
"You said it yourself." He runs the tips of his fingers along the curve of her bare shoulder, keeping her locked in the corner, under his weighty, binding gaze. "It's not flattering at all. It's sick. Disgusting. But fucking hell, you drove me crazy the moment my dick became a pulse."
"Stop." Sickly enough, his words hit the spot, and it is not her heart she's talking about.
"Don't ever doubt who I want," he says, loaded with the type of severity that makes it hard to breathe. "Because your name is written all over my skin, Althea. You rule my imagination and you taunt me in my memories."
At least he's poetic about it.
"No guy is ever this patient with a grumpy wife, so he plays the long game to slowly coax you to his dick."
"He only wants you for sex."
"He finally cracked you, and now he knows he has a fuckbuddy for life. He'll say anything to keep you warm. He'll pretend to go to his knees for you, but really it's you who he wants on her knees."
Weeks later and the words still sting.
Like her eyes right now.
"You're just horny for my body."
He agrees, "Indescribably horny. It's the most astonishing body there is. But I'm far more horny for this," he taps her temple. "I could live the rest of my life without sex if that is what you want, but I cannot live without your opinions and thoughts and nervous rambles and whatever cheeky remarks you have in store for me."
If that is what you want.
He's not even taking anyone else into consideration. And that may be a pathetic detail to fawn over, but she does and she's not going to feel guilty about it.
The corner of her mouth lifts. "They don't bother you?"
"Not in the slightest." He grins.
She pouts teasingly. "Then I'm doing something wrong."
He bites his lip from a smile, gently tugging a piece of her hair between his fingers. "I'm yours. I have been before you were mine and I will be after. I don't need you to believe me-it'll stand either way."
Even if words were to come to her mind-which they don't-they couldn't find a way out. Something is stuck and she doesn't know how to get rid of it.
Letting go of her, Draco slowly backs away. When he is fully behind the curtain, she hears Blaise tut, saying something along the lines of, "Can't keep your hands from each other for five minutes."
Her little laugh turns into a quiet sob, a deluge of emotions crashing down on her.
She doesn't know what to believe anymore.
-◇-
Much later in the day, after a filling dinner made in team effort, Thea and Draco find themselves in their bedroom. She left the door open so it would take some pressure away.
Draco has been complaining about his back hurting and she quickly found out it is because of a massive sunburn he got himself, apparently when he fell asleep on the beach.
And he was wearing a good layer of sunblock. That is how pale he is. As he spews a series of profanities, she tells him exactly as such.
"I take that as an insult."
She fights a smile. "Delivery successful."
Thankfully, Althea has packed a decent dose of sun cure. It'll restore the skin through magical herbs just overnight, if applied consistently.
"Lay down," she orders.
He hesitates. "I can get Blaise to do it."
"Don't be ridiculous." She waves it off with a hand, then gestures to the bed. "They might suspect."
Lips pressed together, he nods, doing as she says. "Right."
Just like that, the tension in the air has been turned up fifty percent. Despite his beliefs, she wants to sit here and take care of him. Looking at the bright pink of his skin, Althea knows she wouldn't have been able to sleep right without at least trying to help.
"We really need to get you a stronger sun block." He hisses when she barely touches his skin. "This is serious. I think you would have been five minutes away from a severe burn."
"I thought we've been through it," he says. "I'm pale."
"The palest of them all," she muses.
"Now it really sounds like an insult."
She has the strangest, most random urge, which isn't even strange at all. She wants to kiss his cheek.
Shaking her head, Althea lets a dollop of smelly paste drop onto the center of his back. Some sticks to her fingers and as she spreads them, strings pull between them. The greenish color and texture reminds her of snot.
Silently, she works the goo up his shoulderblades, which is a task. The glob tries very hard to stay a glob.
"You're good at this."
"Applying gunk to your back?" she deadpans.
"Being a wife."
That throws her a little.
Lately, especially after missing his birthday, she took the time to reflect and found that recently, she has had some hiccups in terms of her role.
However, his words come off as genuine. The compliment is a stand-alone. It doesn't benefit him by licking her boots. It is a mere observation, one she appreciates.
"I enjoy being one," she replies evenly.
It comes natural, like an inclination which goes further than being The Wife. She likes to come home to someone, to know there is someone she can rely on, and for the most part, Draco is a damn good fall-back.
Dealing with her mother, trying to help her sister, calming her through anxious fits when the art gallery happened. He'll drop everything when she is in need and he'll threaten the press when she gets ambushed at an inopportune time.
She's down to his ribs trying to smear the sun cure when he asks. "You never wish you wouldn't have to care for someone else?"
"So long as it is mutual, I don't see a problem." To clarify, she adds, "And I don't. I've been groomed to fit my role and always care beyond myself. The lection was served with breakfast and repeated during afternoon tea. But... you're a good husband, Draco."
He shoots her a fleeting look over his shoulder, corner of his mouth quirked up wryly. "What was that about honesty?"
"Objectively speaking, you really are," she insists. "Robyn has to pick up Andrew's socks and all. You cook me dinner half the time."
"The breadwinner has to be fed."
Thea smiles. They possibly do things that some would consider backwards, but it's working, isn't it? On the technical side of marriage, they are happy. Fulfilled.
On others, there appear to be struggles...
"If I ask you something," she ventures, "will you answer me?"
"You can ask me anything."
His willingness might take a turn.
Althea knew something was inherently wrong the night he has been in her bed. Sometimes she wonders if the marriage vow goes deeper than binding them for life, or if that is them sharing the connection layed onto them.
It shook her. For days after, she could hardly think straight, but Draco avoided her at all costs and any replies to questions had gotten shorter.
Something had happened. Clearly.
"What happened? The other night?"
He goes stiff. For a long time, he doesn't respond.
She thought, for a while, that he made a mistake again, a really really bad one. How else would someone interpret hearing their sobbing partner say sorry over and over again?
But the more he withdrew-as naive as that may sound-it didn't feel like it. She got the confirmation just earlier, in the changing room. That is, if she chooses to believe his words.
Nine breaths, she counts.
"Had a bad day again."
Her heart aches. As much he tries to play it off, the pain these 'bad days' cause is distinct in his voice, his muscles.
Reaching the lower part of his back, Thea cleans her hands with a towel. "How so?"
"Just did." He shifts uncomofortably. "You can't... predict them."
Well, last time it was the anniversary of the Battle that he disappeared for a whole day. Then there are the nightmares he can't seem to get rid of, the ones he rarely talks about but she knows he must be having-caused by challenging days.
"But you can find the trigger-"
"I'm all good now."
"Are you?" It doesn't sound like it.
He looks over his shoulder, and to his credit, the smile he offers has some more warmth to it. It doesn't reach his eyes, though. "I have your hands on me."
She offers one back, just as weak.
Those damn bad days.
Her gaze goes down his back to find the greenish paste to have fully been absorbed by his skin. The redness has calmed some, but it's still enough for her face to take on a victorious look.
The evil kind of victory.
It worries him. "What?"
"I'm trying to decide wether I feel guilty for what I did to you or not."
Worry turns to fear. "What did you do?"
When he fell asleep, she couldn't just let him sleep. A chance was blossoming right before her eyes, and she grabbed it with both hands.
"You know, just as I'm saying it-the verdict is not guilty."
"Thea, please tell me you didn't-" he's gone up to the mirror, face going through five different emotions as he finds a dick drawn by what had been an extra thick layer of sunscreen.
"I see." Though he may speak calmly, his eyes are not as they meet hers. His tongue rolls on the inside of his cheek. "Revenge is what you chose."
The smile that spreads over his face topples many arguments over in her head. It bursts synapses from sheer joy. It promises trouble.
She makes a run for it. Through the house and down the stairs, out the backyard doors. Her method is zig-zagging her way out of his grasp, because he's hot on her heels, threatening said revenge.
"Oh, sweet Merlin," Pansy cries from the firepit area, "they're at it again!"
"Why are you so goddamn fast?" Draco demands from behind her, out of breath.
She laughs through panting.
"Oi, he found the dick!" Blaise calls, amused.
"You're so dead, Thea," Draco warns, sounding far from mad. "So. Dead."
When she feels his fingers in the ends of her hair, she makes a sharp left turn and with the last of her energy, bolts for the fountain.
He's right on her, switching between cursing the heavens that he's chasing her in circles around the centrepiece and laughing. From outside, they must look like lunatics, but she is cackling at how ridiculous this is.
Her energy is running out, but that is not what makes him get her. It's the one-two-three step that fools her into running into his arms. The way they collide is so abrupt, they topple over together. He saves her from knocking her head into the stone ground, but not from drowning a literal two seconds.
Pulling her face up to surface, Draco holds her there in place, the back of her head still submerged, resting in his palm.
The cradling is oddly intimate. It hits her hard when she has wiped any excess water from her eyes and nose and he just... stares. And smiles.
Her pulse spikes for different reasons now.
It feels like every atom in her body is playing pinball with each other. The spot under her jaw he's rubbing with his thumb is sizzling with heat.
"Still get you everytime."
Dead.
She's dead.
The absoluteness with which he's looking at her-her heart is ready to shoot off into the universe.
Draco helps her sit up. She's not able to; neurons in her brain snapped. He's very close, she notices, but she doesn't feel like moving and he's not moving either. Away, that is. Closer, their faces get.
Did he put a spell on me?
As if in trance, she tries to get to his mouth. His stupid, beautiful, perfect mouth.
Vaguely, she is aware that Blaise and Pansy are bearing witness and that it would help their seamless case of portraying a happy couple. But it all blurs to nothing when his nose is brushing hers, and his minty breath warms her skin.
Just one tilt of the head and they'd kiss.
It is in her hands if they do. He won't go further than she is ready to.
Or so she thinks.
When he withdraws, her stomach plummets below the ground. The look he gives is nothing short of satisfied, because he just received validation that she does, infact, want him.
Meanwhile she thought it was more than obvious.
And he leaves her like a fish flapping helplessly on the shore.
Would I have...?
It's just hormones. It's been a while. He's pushing buttons. He knows what he's doing.
One of those got to be true.
Pansy howling a laugh has them looking in her direction. It's at something Blaise has said and she's dancing around the roaring fire, entertaining him in return. Maybe all couples look a little loony from afar.
"Better go change," Draco says, helping her to her feet.
In the room, with her back to him, Althea pulls the dump tanktop over her head and changes it for a comfy sweater, her cotton shorts and panties for a dry pair each. Bending over, she quickly runs her fingers through her equally damp hair before turning on her heel as she straights.
She expected Draco to have changed as well, but he's spellbound at the other side of the room.
"You go," he urges, pointedly avoiding her eyes. "Give me a few minutes."
Oh, she can't just leave. She has to point it out, just because. So she looks down at his own pair of shorts that appear rather tight.
Her brow lifts teasingly. "That makes two for today."
"Of which you know of."
At least he owns it. His sexuality is possibly the only thing that will one hundred percent not get a rise out of him.
It takes him less than five minutes to come out to sit by the pit with their friends, and Thea definitely did not think about how he might solve the problem. Absolutely not.
Still avoiding her eyes, Draco goes to sit in the last garden chair available, next to Althea's. While dropping into the seat, he pulls hers closer by the leg of it. The wood scrapes against ancient stone until their chairs are a hair's breadth apart.
As if that isn't enough, he takes her hand closest to him and claims it in his lap.
Her heart jack-hammers, in serious need to reboot her nervoussystem.
As they palaver with Pansy and Blaise about the good old days, school fall-outs and amazements, Althea catches several glimpses of Draco's side of the face, illuminated by the fire. It looks so much softer under warm hues.
He looks good. Not just as in attractiveness, but mentally-he looks well, like this is exactly where he wants to be.
And for a second, she has to do a double take. Lately, it felt like she had to get to know him all over again. Since that night in April, she perceives him through different eyes-or safety goggles rather, and for what he felt farther away not too long ago, he came a great deal closer in just one day.
And when that thought is a little scary, she reminds herself of one thing; if it comes to them, they are pragmatic, their marriage boiled down to the basic necessities, the formal aspect of it-as it has been intended. And they work that way. They are a good team.
It is a comforting thought to have.
As if on cue, he turns his head and the corners of his mouth tilt up, softly. Her fingers receive a little squeeze.
As much as she denied it then, Althea wanted more, secretly. She had more. Got her heart involved. It turned out shitty. Now, as it is slowly mending itself back together, she can't believe it'll survive another blow.
But she can't hide from what it wants most.
She won't.
But she will take her time this round.
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