Chapter 10: The Afterglow Brunch
And as she took a bite, the taste of syrup sweet on her tongue, she knew nothing in her meticulously ordered life would ever be the same again.
Theo nudged the bottle of Malbec toward her with a crooked grin. “Hair of the dog? You look like you had a rough night.” Beside him, Blaise flipped a golden pancake with a flick of his wand, his expression smug. “Theo, you imbecice. That’s not the look of a rough night. That’s the look of a spectacularly thorough one.”
Hermione nearly choked on her orange juice. Draco’s thigh pressed more firmly against hers under the table. “Jealousy is an ugly colour on you, Zabini. Especially before noon.” His voice was a lazy drawl, but his hand, hidden by the linen, came to rest on her knee. The casual claim of it sent a fresh wave of heat through her.
“I’m just celebrating a friend’s successful re-entry to the world of the living,” Blaise said, sliding a perfect pancake onto her plate. “Aren’t I, Gin?”
Ginny, sipping her espresso, eyed Hermione over the rim of her cup. “Oh, absolutely. We’re all very supportive.” Her gaze was like an x-ray. “In fact, Hermione, come help me fetch more lemons from the grove. These two neanderthols are going to incinerate all the bacon if left unsupervised.”
It wasn’t a request. Hermione stood, avoiding Draco’s eyes, and followed Ginny down a narrow path lined with vibrant purple bougainvilloea. The moment they were out of sight, Ginny spun on her, freckled face alight.
“You shagged him.” It was a triumphant whisper.
“I—” Hermione began, but the denial died on her lips. She could still feel him inside her, the ghost of his hands on her hips. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is with him. But your hair is a disaster and you’ve got a bite mark on your neck that your robe isn’t quite covering.” Ginny’s grin was wicked. “So, empirically, you shagged him. Was it… therapeutic?”
The word was so absurd Hermione laughed, the sound startling a small bird from a lemon tree. “It was… dismantling.” She leaned against a sun-warmed stone wall, the fragrance of citrus sharp in the air. “He doesn’t treat me like I’m broken.”
“Good.” Ginny’s expression softened. “Because you’re not. Cormac was a corrosive idiot.” She plucked a leaf, twirling it. “Just be careful. Draco’s brilliant, and he’s better than he used to be, but he’s not known for sleepovers and sentimental talk.”
“We agreed. No crowding.” Hermione repeated his term, finding a strange comfort in its ambiguity.
“Smart.” Ginny linked her arm through Hermione’s. “Now, for the love of Merlin, let’s get back before Theo drinks all the champagne he smuggled for mimosas. And fix your collar.”
Back on the terrace, the atmosphere had shifted into the easy languor of a holiday. Theo was indeed pouring champagne, while Draco and Blaise argued quietly over the potioneering merits of a particular Welsh dragonhide glove. Draco glanced up as she sat, his grey eyes tracking the deliberate adjustment of her robe’s collar. A flicker of something possessive and pleased crossed his face before it was schooled back into neutral charm.
The hours melted under the sun. They swam in the cerulean cove below, the water cool and shocking against her heated skin. Draco swam with a powerful, lazy grace, and once, beneath the surface, his hand brushed the back of her calf, a secret touch that made her gasp and swallow saltwater. Later, drying off on the hot stones, she watched him talk, the way he used his hands, the sharp line of his jaw when he laughed.
This was the dangerous part, she realized. Not the sex, which was a conflagration she could compartmentalize. It was this—the normalcy. The way he passed her a towel without looking, the quiet debate they fell into about arithmancy revisions to standard brewing techniques while the others napped. He listened. He argued back with genuine intellect. It was quieter than their physical clash, but somehow just as intimate.
As the sun began to dip, painting the villa in shades of peach and amber, Theo announced a need for “civilized provisions,” meaning a trip to the coastal village. Blaise and Ginny volunteered, leaving with a flurry of towels and orders for more wine.
Suddenly, the vast terrace was too quiet. Hermione stood at the railing, watching their figures disappear down the cliff path. She felt him approach before she heard him, a change in the air.
“Regretting it yet?” Draco’s voice was close behind her.
“Should I be?”
“Most people do, eventually.” He came to stand beside her, leaning on his forearms. The fading light caught the silver in his eyes. “I’m not… built for the long game, Granger. People find that out. They start wanting blueprints where there aren’t any.”
The warning was clear, a pre-emptive strike against expectation. It should have stung. Instead, she found it oddly respectful. “I’m not most people. And I’ve just had five years of a blueprint that was a forgery.” She turned to face him, the sea wind pulling strands of hair from her pin. “I don’t want your blueprint. I don’t even want to know what this is.”
“What do you want?” His gaze was intent, stripped of its usual lazy amusement.
She thought of the empty space in the sheets that morning, and the way he’d filled it on the terrace. She thought of his laugh, and the crude, perfect words he’d growled in her ear. “Right now?” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I believe you owe me a proper dinner. Since you’ve thoroughly ruined me for breakfast.”
A slow, genuine smile transformed his face. It wasn’t a smirk. It was something warmer, more surprising. “A debt I’ll happily repay.” He pushed off the railing. “There’s a place in the village. The food is marginally better than Theo’s attempts at cooking.”
“Are you asking me on a date, Malfoy?”
“I’m informing you of a dinner reservation for two,” he corrected, but he offered her his hand. It hovered in the space between them, a question.
Hermione looked at his palm, at the faint scars there, then up to his waiting eyes. She placed her hand in his. The contact was electric, a simple clasp that felt more consequential than anything that had come before. “Lead the way.”