Day 5
Day 5 by cherii_emrei
Draco Malfoy was the only male Pansy knew of (on this island, of course) that would indulge and appreciate the finer points of being pampered at the facility’s spa. Harry had outright refused saying that it wasn’t necessary and that he’d have more fun outside. Pouting her lips, Pansy thought she had nobody to enjoy it with. It was no fun going by oneself. Days at the spa were meant for gossip and relaxation.
Things started to look up yesterday when she saw Draco in the flesh in desperate need of spa treatment. She would have asked that he accompany her if he hadn’t walked off clearly shaken by Granger’s acidic replies.
She saw him again later that night, finishing a serious conversation with a muggle. She invited him back to her room and he chose to sit in a chair all night and Pansy was sure he hadn’t slept at all. He needed to relax and be pampered, and Pansy - she just needed to be pampered.
Having grown up with her, Pansy Parkinson was the only female Draco felt comfortable enough to sit and lay back with. She wouldn’t pester him for answers, but she would always speak her mind and tell him in so many words if he was acting strangely. She was also one of the few people that knew how to make him feel better.
That morning, Pansy bounced over to his chair practically gleeful and dramatically brought her person into his vision. She waved a brochure in front of his face and teased him with it. She proclaimed that “it was necessary they go” and that he needed it more than herself. He asked what she meant by that and told him, rather bluntly, that he was starting to get wrinkles.
That ceased any games of pretending he didn’t care to go.
Pansy then told him that she had already booked a facial for the two of them in half an hour.
* * *
Sunlight poured in from the open windows, a light breeze passing through every couple of minutes, and the sounds of waves hitting the shore rhythmically created the perfect ambiance for this facial. A heated towel wrapped around his head, and a comfortable, spring scented robe covered him like a blanket. He was told to lay his head back onto an oval shaped head rest with a hole in the middle. Both he and Pansy were assured it was not a toilet seat and they slowly, yet cautiously lowered their head onto the padded head rest.
Head in secure position, the woman massaged his temples and worked her way down to his jaw, then his neck, then his upper shoulders. Small talk was made between the four of them and Draco felt content.
That was all gone when Pansy opened her mouth and asked about last night.
“Seeking advice from a m… stranger who knows nothing about your life. I’m hurt, Draco, I really am.”
“I did look for you yesterday, Pansy, but you were nowhere to be found.”
If he had looked to the side, he would have seen her blush as she stammered out a reply.
“Don’t turn this around on me, Draco. You looked positively shaken last night. I’m curious, what was her advice?”
“Not to do what I’m doing now - sitting back and doing nothing.”
Moana gave him two options: One, get over it, talk to her and be happy with her, or Two, give up and be miserable (as he was last night) without her. He stayed up all night, dozing in and out of sleep with those two options in mind.
“She finally got some sense knocked in your head then. Good on her.”
“What ever do you mean, Pansy?” he asked with a hint of surprise in his drawling voice.
Silence reigned the room as she took the time to sort out her thoughts. The two aestheticians remained quiet as they were not required to make small talk anymore. It would be rude and impolite if they interrupted now.
Pansy found out about his relationship with Granger from Potter. She wasn’t shocked or surprised, just thankful that it finally happened. Years of watching Draco continuously trying to get her attention, it got to the point where she almost felt sorry for him.
“You always made a point to single her out - to make her faults stand out, no matter how petty they were. You paid attention to her.”
Draco had nothing to say to that. Leave it to Pansy to notice these things. Thankfully, his aesthetician interrupted the strained silence of the room.
“I am now applying the mask on your face,” his aesthetician interrupted with a heavy accent, “please try not to move while it settles in.”
“You heard the lady, Pansy.” He could feel her seething with impatience on the other side of the room. “I look forward to hearing your gathered thoughts once we’re done.”
There. Now that would give her time to sort her questions, and that would give him time to sort out his answers.
The mask began to settle in; slices of cucumbers were put on their eyes. An alcoholic beverage with an umbrella in the glass sat within an arms reach. And all Draco could see in his mind’s eye was Hermione.
* * *
Society would have a difficult time accepting them, Pansy knew. She managed to assure and convince Potter that this whole thing - the island, being paired off together - was not a scheme or some big conspiracy against him. She liked to credit herself as the person to convince Potter to accept Draco as his best friend’s boyfriend.
But how to convince the world that it was okay for a Malfoy to be with a Mudblood?
Faces glowing they were led to the massage tables. Pansy had confirmed that she would get the cute male masseur she saw earlier, as well as being in the same room as Draco. She had enough time to think, and she was determined to talk to him.
The masseur’s hands glided up and down her oiled back to get her accustomed to his touch. Slowly, he increased the pressure, releasing some tension along her spine before working on the knots in her muscles.
Small talk was made regarding the island and its peoples. They started to talk about living on the island - the mentality and the way of life when compared to living on the mainland.
Pansy took the opportunity to say something, hopefully obscure to the masseuse, but clear enough for Draco to understand.
“I agree. The island - it does something to us foreigners. The scenery is breathtaking, you don’t have to keep track of time - it’s either night or day. It’s a break from reality, where we forget about our responsibilities, and we’re released from our world’s constraints.”
She paused for full effect, “Then it ends and we go back. We have to face the music.”
Draco’s female masseuse breaks the silence that seems to follow every conversation Draco and Pansy have. She has heard many people speak like this, so she knows what to say. “You are both young and have a whole life ahead of you. Enjoy it while you still can. You will walk that bridge when you get there. For now, enjoy the island.”
Draco received the message loud and clear.
Another reason why he was unable to have a restful sleep last night was because he kept thinking of the possibilities when they returned to the Wizarding World. He knew he wanted to be with her - knew that he had to apologize to her, but he’d think about what awaited them and he wasn’t sure if they were ready for it.
Pansy and the masseuse were right - know what lies ahead of you, but enjoy now.
The masseuse asked them to turn over on their backs, and Draco relaxed under her skilled hands.
* * *
The day ended with Draco and Pansy eating ice cream at the restaurant’s patio. The sun began to set as pinks and oranges coloured the sky as the sun went to sleep.
Loud hustle and bustle of workers on the island were impossible not to notice as hardwood flooring was being laid down, and a band began to set up not too far away.
Decorations were put up and finally, the banner was raised.
Draco turned to Pansy with a devilish smile on his face.
“Care to show them how it’s done, Pansy?”
Not one to give up a moment to shine, Pansy agreed.
* * *
While Draco and Pansy were pampered in the spa, Harry and Hermione spent the day Scuba Diving off the coast of the island. Hermione desperately wanted to buy a waterproof camera to capture every single educational picture, but Harry managed to convince her otherwise. He was confident that she would have plenty more opportunities to go scuba diving, and her first time must be spent enjoying, and not taking notes, of the experience.
“Like riding your first bike,” Harry says trying to gauge her reaction. He wouldn’t be surprised if little Hermione Granger read about the different bicycles and different riding techniques before she actually rode the bicycle.
“That was a bad example. Okay. Like your first kiss.” Harry tried once more, and from her refusal to look him in the eye, he had the impression that she had practiced, or attempted to, elsewhere.
One experience that he was sure she wouldn’t have time to research on popped into his mind. He was a tad hesitant to bring it up because he didn’t really think it was appropriate. They were the best of friends and faced near death every single year they’d known each other, so why would this be such a big deal?
“Or…” Harry started, “like your first time ….”
“First time doing what, Harry?” Hermione asked him to clarify.
The girl just had to ask. Really, now, this was Hermione Granger - she understood everything and anything, but she can’t pick up this clue?
“You know… it.” Harry answered slowly. It really was awkward initiating the first conversation about sex with your female best friend. He’d have no problem talking - nay, exaggerating - with Ron, but this was Hermione.
‘Oh’ was all Hermione said and she started to exit the store. Harry was thankful that he didn’t have to say the awkward three letter word to her. Harry was also glad that he managed to convince her to put the camera away and enjoy the experience.
However, Harry didn’t understand the implications of his given example until they were on the boat returning to shore.
He had been participating in an animated conversation with Hermione about the evil looking stingray that followed the less threatening stingray before he saw them do their own horizontal-swimming-tango when realization struck him. He stopped what he was doing and looked straight ahead.
Hermione was curious about the sudden change.
“You and Draco. Visions of Stingrays…” Harry shuddered and wiped his face with his hands and continued to look straight ahead, refusing to look at Hermione. Hermione laughed at his discomfort and stared ahead watching the shore get nearer and nearer, which meant, she was getting closer and closer to inevitably facing Draco.
She was fine during the day and very thankful for the time away from the resort. Hermione was able to logically assess the situation and not get caught up in the emotions that flooded her the night before. She decided to wait until she talked to Draco before she jumped to conclusions.
The cheers of the passengers on the boat jarred her out of contemplation. The Event Coordinator advertised Salsa Night at the restaurant patio by her hotel and invited everybody to join the festivities. Excited by the prospects of Salsa Night, Hermione turned to look at Harry, however, he remained undisturbed. He completely ignored the cheers of the other passengers on the boat, and he’d absently say ‘yeah’ when she tried to jar him out of it.
His mind was elsewhere, she was sure of it.
She mentioned Pansy’s name once and that broke him out of his reverie. Hermione assured him that she said nothing and waited for him to lose focus once again.
This time, Hermione used her name in a different context: ‘Draco is such a pansy’. Again his concentration was broken.
The boat was getting closer and closer to the dock. Loud salsa music was heard from the distance and the Event Coordinator reminded them once again about Salsa Night.
Harry, obviously hearing it for the first time, asked Hermione, a bit too perkily, if she wanted to go. Gone was the dull and lifeless man who stared ahead for the last few minutes of the boat ride, and he was excited - really, really, really excited.
Hermione agreed and they went to their separate rooms to get ready. Harry arrived at her door, some fifteen minutes later, still barely dressed in his swimming trunks. He had seen the dancers on the patio, he confessed, and it was evident that he was having performance anxiety.
“We’re not going to compete,” Hermione assured him, “we’re going to have fun. You just need to relax.” Hermione shook his shoulders to emphasize her point.
Hermione lead Harry to the balcony that she and Draco danced on the very first night they arrived. She fought to keep her emotions in check when faced with the sentimental value of the balcony. This time, the music was heard loud and clear and she didn’t have to speak in hushed tones.
She sat across from him, knees nearly touching, and told him to follow the beat of the music, to ignore the extra notes decorating the basic one-two-threes of salsa dancing.
“One,” her right foot took a slight step backward, and her left foot slightly raised its heel before putting it back down.
“Two,” the right foot moved back to its original position beside the left foot.
“Three,” left foot forward. The right foot raised its heel and brought it back down.
Harry watched her feet and concentrated on the music. He started to raise his heels off the ground every time she raised hers. Soon, his feet inched forward and backward to match her every step.
“One,” his left foot moved forward as her right foot moved back.
“Two,” the feet returned to its stationary position.
“Three,” his right foot moved forward as her left foot went forward.
“Now, look at me, Harry. Don’t look down.” Hermione instructed him.
Hermione stood up and quickly pushed her chair back, her feet never missing a beat. Harry was focused, determined not to look down as he silently counted the beat.
She took his hands and guided him to stand up. He was a bit startled when he had to take a slightly bigger step to follow hers, but recovered quickly.
His body started to relax and he was no longer stiff. Hermione had to hold back a laugh as she watched the Boy Who Lived roll his hips to the music.
Harry knew how to Salsa! Hermione could tell that he knew the steps already but needed that push to get comfortable and confident with his skills, no matter how basic they were. It was odd, Hermione noticed, how naturally his feet moved to do the rock step. She knew from experience, that beginners needed to learn how to rock step - that slight raising of the heel before quickly bringing it back down. Not only that, but he didn’t try to emphasize his hip movement - it really was as if he was taught before. It wasn’t the Dursleys, it wasn’t her, then who was it?
Another mystery added onto the “Harry’s weird behaviour” plate and she chose to put it away for the time being. Right now, she was dancing salsa with her male best friend!
After deciding that they had enough of moving backwards and forwards, Hermione told Harry that they were going to liven things up a bit. “It’s practically the same thing except the foot moves behind the stationary one. Watch me.” Hermione grabbed Harry’s right hand with her left hand and swung it to the middle the same time she moved her right foot behind her left foot.
Harry was bewildered but picked it up when Hermione did the next step. His left hand met Hermione’s right hand and as they swung their joined hands in the middle, he moved his right foot behind his left.
During every other step, they looked outside the balcony. In the distance, they saw all sorts of people in different clothes - some matching in flashy outfits to gather attention; and others wore sarongs and bikini tops - dancing in different levels of expertise and moving to different combinations of the one-two-three. Hermione couldn’t wait to go down there and dance with all those people.
Certain he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself, Harry went back to the room and changed into black dress pants and changed into a loose but fitted red shirt with the top two buttons undone.
“Someone’s all dressed up!” Hermione teased him and didn’t fail to notice the light reddening on his cheeks. “You look great, Harry.”
Harry gave a slight nod of his head and mumbled a thanks before standing beside her to watch the party-goers. Hermione started to feel the tension rise in Harry when they both spotted a little circle around a couple doing very complicated moves in the centre of the dance floor. Hermione thought the complicated looking moves intimidated Harry, so she diverted his attention elsewhere. She directed his eyes to a young couple who were being taught by a slightly elder couple to follow their moves.
“Ready to go, Potter?” Hermione asked from the balcony doorway while offering her hand.
“Let’s go!” Harry exclaimed and the two best friends made their way downstairs.
* * *
Having Draco as her dance partner for most of her life, Pansy was able to notice a slight change in Draco’s mood and behaviour. His shoulders would tense, his grip would tighten, and on the rare occasion, he would forget about leading her. The very first time he’d been so distracted, he forgot to change the direction of her spin that she remained doing an extra three turns than necessary. Needless to say, she was very disoriented afterwards.
Tonight, however, they had attracted a crowd and Pansy refused to ruin her image of the dark-brown haired goddess who danced salsa with a passion! Well, she exaggerated. The crowd, though busy with dancing themselves, did leave them a lot of space, and that was saying something.
One low dip, complete with head thrown back and Pansy witnessed the cause of Draco’s distraction - Hermione had arrived with Harry, and they were attempting to dance. Now, the question was, which affected him more - Potter’s failure to properly lead a good dancer, or the fact that Hermione was presently two meters away from him?
With her arms crossed, Pansy leaned back against Draco, his hands caressing her arms. They moved to the beat as one - rolled their hips, rocked and stepped their feet from side to side as one.
“He’s doing it all wrong.” Draco whispered angrily into her ear. “Pansy, I can’t watch anymore…”
“Shall I be spun away from your arms into Potter’s, then?” Pansy offered.
“You truly are the sister I never had. Now go!”
From his hold, Draco clasped her left hand with his right and gave a slight tug to let her spin out of the hold. Instead of pulling her back in, Draco released her hand and she continued to spin until she stopped right in the space between Harry and Hermione, who just opened up from a side turn.
She stopped dramatically with the flaring trumpets, surprising and intimidating Harry.
“Potter, have I taught you nothing? Come with me.”
“You can’t take my partner just like that, Parkinson!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Take mine!” Pansy yelled over her shoulder as she walked away with Harry.
The crowd closed in and Hermione felt a familiar presence lingering not too far. Heat started to envelope her body. Her heart rate increased, she took quicker breaths, and she felt the hair on her forearms rise. A fresh breeze passed through her, hair blowing gently to her face. Instead of smelling the scent of her own hair, her nose smelled the scent of lavender and vanilla vaguely masking someone familiar.
The crowd continued to close in and that’s when she felt it. Him. His lean body pressed against her back and his manicured hand resting on her right side above the hipbone. Despite not seeing his face, nor hearing his voice, her body knew who he was.
Only one person - one man - did this, and was allowed to do this to Hermione. She stiffened in realization. Her mind ran with a million thoughts, but one rang clear: this feels good.
She unknowingly and instinctually followed his lead. Her right hand rest on his and their fingers intertwined. The fingers of his left hand slowly and sensually guided her left arm upwards.
At full extension, their hands met. The music picked up and all around them, dancers were making flips and turns. Unlike the crowd, Draco and Hermione made tight, slow circles with their hips.
As the beat reached its crescendo, Draco nudged her body forward with the hand that rest on her hip. Hermione made two quick turns with his guiding hand, then two more turns in the other direction. He abruptly stopped her to face him just as the beat ended.
Dancers in the crowd were full of adrenaline, cheering the band and their partners for completing the move.
Draco and Hermione noticed none of this. They stood still, hands entwined over their heads, eyes staring at each other, noting the quick breath intake, and the subtle changes only lovers would know. Whereas Draco’s skin glowed with cleanliness, Hermione was rosy underneath her tan. Draco noticed increase freckles on her shoulder, and she smelled like sun and water. Hermione smelled lavender and felt silk in his smooth hands.
A flicker of hesitation - or was it guilt? - passed through Draco’s eyes.
“Dance with me.” Hermione requested, just as he had their first night together on the island. She took that leap of faith, forgot the fear of rejection and ignored the vision of an exotic woman holding onto his arm.
She danced away from him, almost as if she was walking away. A few steps away, she turned around and walked back to him. A smile danced on her face, and she slightly bent over and started to shake her chest. The low cut of her silver speckled halter top teased him with a view of her cleavage. He made to grab her, but she quickly turned and walked away, emphasizing the movements of her hips.
A beaded silver chained shawl decorated the flowing knee-length white skirt that sashayed with her hips. He was drawn to her hip movement, and given the peek at her lower abdomen drove him wild.
At her approach, he reached for hands. Once clasped, he extended them to their sides. Draco remained stationary while Hermione performed a swivel - she twisted her hip to the left, bending her right leg at the knee to cross it over her left. She repeated that move on the other side and repeated it rarely ever staying in the same spot.
Exhaustion was starting to show in her lagging movements - the twists weren’t as strong and pronounced and for that, Hermione was thankful the song was getting louder and stronger. She threw her head back, using Draco’s strong arms for support, to break the pattern.
Draco was given the view of her breasts pointing up and her smooth chest. He couldn’t help but envision her naked, throwing her head back in passion, reaching that climax.
She whipped back up and they started with the basic pattern moving back and forth. Draco looped his left hand, along with her right hand, over his head, while his right hand was looped ever her head. The transition not only allowed changing his hold on her, but it allowed more touching - on the neck, on the shoulders and down the other’s arm.
Their eyes locked and their breaths mingled. Eye contact was broken and focused onto areas south of the eyes. Draco cupped her face in his hands, his thumb gently caressing her lower lip. She tilted her head to his hand, closed her eyes in contentment while she kissed his caressing thumb.
Entranced by the maiden in his hands, Draco stared hypnotically and unknowingly inched his lips lower, closer and closer to hers.
The basic steps were forgotten, yet they swayed to the rhythm of the music.
The soft pressure placed upon her lips awakened her peace. She gasped and her brown eyes snapped open.
Draco thought he’d step over the delicate and precarious line.
He moved to walk away from the shame that Hermione was so disappointed in him that she remained frozen and unmoving towards him, unable or unwilling to show emotion. He could handle great disgust showing on her face, and he’d be terribly thrilled if she smiled. Heck, he’d even settle for the stammering reply: “Let’s talk.” But she didn’t do any of that. She just stood there.
His fingers luxuriously travelled down her sun-kissed arms before parting ever-so-slowly from her touch. Draco stood in front of her for a while attempting to regain some sort of connection. He needed her to look at him.
And just as he turned to leave, a hand gripped his, asking him to turn back around.
He did.
The kiss started short, slow and sweet. It then flared open a need she had ignored for the past two lonely nights. Heat tingled up her spine, and her heart fluttered abnormally in her chest. The kiss grew in depth and intensity. They held tighter to each other, refusing to let go, let anything else come in between.
Except for the oxygen their bodies required.
“I have to tell you something.” His desire to correct things between them outweighed his intense need to kiss her and connect with her in every possible way.
Draco led them away from the dance floor to the quieter, more secluded area at the far end of the patio. He seated himself on the chair and refused to let Hermione sit anywhere but his lap.
“We need to talk.” Draco whispered in her ear.
“Not now,” Hermione pleaded, “let’s enjoy this - this moment.”
“Tomorrow, then?” he asked.
She nodded.
They were content holding each other.
Draco Malfoy was the only male Pansy knew of (on this island, of course) that would indulge and appreciate the finer points of being pampered at the facility’s spa. Harry had outright refused saying that it wasn’t necessary and that he’d have more fun outside. Pouting her lips, Pansy thought she had nobody to enjoy it with. It was no fun going by oneself. Days at the spa were meant for gossip and relaxation.
Things started to look up yesterday when she saw Draco in the flesh in desperate need of spa treatment. She would have asked that he accompany her if he hadn’t walked off clearly shaken by Granger’s acidic replies.
She saw him again later that night, finishing a serious conversation with a muggle. She invited him back to her room and he chose to sit in a chair all night and Pansy was sure he hadn’t slept at all. He needed to relax and be pampered, and Pansy - she just needed to be pampered.
Having grown up with her, Pansy Parkinson was the only female Draco felt comfortable enough to sit and lay back with. She wouldn’t pester him for answers, but she would always speak her mind and tell him in so many words if he was acting strangely. She was also one of the few people that knew how to make him feel better.
That morning, Pansy bounced over to his chair practically gleeful and dramatically brought her person into his vision. She waved a brochure in front of his face and teased him with it. She proclaimed that “it was necessary they go” and that he needed it more than herself. He asked what she meant by that and told him, rather bluntly, that he was starting to get wrinkles.
That ceased any games of pretending he didn’t care to go.
Pansy then told him that she had already booked a facial for the two of them in half an hour.
* * *
Sunlight poured in from the open windows, a light breeze passing through every couple of minutes, and the sounds of waves hitting the shore rhythmically created the perfect ambiance for this facial. A heated towel wrapped around his head, and a comfortable, spring scented robe covered him like a blanket. He was told to lay his head back onto an oval shaped head rest with a hole in the middle. Both he and Pansy were assured it was not a toilet seat and they slowly, yet cautiously lowered their head onto the padded head rest.
Head in secure position, the woman massaged his temples and worked her way down to his jaw, then his neck, then his upper shoulders. Small talk was made between the four of them and Draco felt content.
That was all gone when Pansy opened her mouth and asked about last night.
“Seeking advice from a m… stranger who knows nothing about your life. I’m hurt, Draco, I really am.”
“I did look for you yesterday, Pansy, but you were nowhere to be found.”
If he had looked to the side, he would have seen her blush as she stammered out a reply.
“Don’t turn this around on me, Draco. You looked positively shaken last night. I’m curious, what was her advice?”
“Not to do what I’m doing now - sitting back and doing nothing.”
Moana gave him two options: One, get over it, talk to her and be happy with her, or Two, give up and be miserable (as he was last night) without her. He stayed up all night, dozing in and out of sleep with those two options in mind.
“She finally got some sense knocked in your head then. Good on her.”
“What ever do you mean, Pansy?” he asked with a hint of surprise in his drawling voice.
Silence reigned the room as she took the time to sort out her thoughts. The two aestheticians remained quiet as they were not required to make small talk anymore. It would be rude and impolite if they interrupted now.
Pansy found out about his relationship with Granger from Potter. She wasn’t shocked or surprised, just thankful that it finally happened. Years of watching Draco continuously trying to get her attention, it got to the point where she almost felt sorry for him.
“You always made a point to single her out - to make her faults stand out, no matter how petty they were. You paid attention to her.”
Draco had nothing to say to that. Leave it to Pansy to notice these things. Thankfully, his aesthetician interrupted the strained silence of the room.
“I am now applying the mask on your face,” his aesthetician interrupted with a heavy accent, “please try not to move while it settles in.”
“You heard the lady, Pansy.” He could feel her seething with impatience on the other side of the room. “I look forward to hearing your gathered thoughts once we’re done.”
There. Now that would give her time to sort her questions, and that would give him time to sort out his answers.
The mask began to settle in; slices of cucumbers were put on their eyes. An alcoholic beverage with an umbrella in the glass sat within an arms reach. And all Draco could see in his mind’s eye was Hermione.
* * *
Society would have a difficult time accepting them, Pansy knew. She managed to assure and convince Potter that this whole thing - the island, being paired off together - was not a scheme or some big conspiracy against him. She liked to credit herself as the person to convince Potter to accept Draco as his best friend’s boyfriend.
But how to convince the world that it was okay for a Malfoy to be with a Mudblood?
Faces glowing they were led to the massage tables. Pansy had confirmed that she would get the cute male masseur she saw earlier, as well as being in the same room as Draco. She had enough time to think, and she was determined to talk to him.
The masseur’s hands glided up and down her oiled back to get her accustomed to his touch. Slowly, he increased the pressure, releasing some tension along her spine before working on the knots in her muscles.
Small talk was made regarding the island and its peoples. They started to talk about living on the island - the mentality and the way of life when compared to living on the mainland.
Pansy took the opportunity to say something, hopefully obscure to the masseuse, but clear enough for Draco to understand.
“I agree. The island - it does something to us foreigners. The scenery is breathtaking, you don’t have to keep track of time - it’s either night or day. It’s a break from reality, where we forget about our responsibilities, and we’re released from our world’s constraints.”
She paused for full effect, “Then it ends and we go back. We have to face the music.”
Draco’s female masseuse breaks the silence that seems to follow every conversation Draco and Pansy have. She has heard many people speak like this, so she knows what to say. “You are both young and have a whole life ahead of you. Enjoy it while you still can. You will walk that bridge when you get there. For now, enjoy the island.”
Draco received the message loud and clear.
Another reason why he was unable to have a restful sleep last night was because he kept thinking of the possibilities when they returned to the Wizarding World. He knew he wanted to be with her - knew that he had to apologize to her, but he’d think about what awaited them and he wasn’t sure if they were ready for it.
Pansy and the masseuse were right - know what lies ahead of you, but enjoy now.
The masseuse asked them to turn over on their backs, and Draco relaxed under her skilled hands.
* * *
The day ended with Draco and Pansy eating ice cream at the restaurant’s patio. The sun began to set as pinks and oranges coloured the sky as the sun went to sleep.
Loud hustle and bustle of workers on the island were impossible not to notice as hardwood flooring was being laid down, and a band began to set up not too far away.
Decorations were put up and finally, the banner was raised.
Draco turned to Pansy with a devilish smile on his face.
“Care to show them how it’s done, Pansy?”
Not one to give up a moment to shine, Pansy agreed.
* * *
While Draco and Pansy were pampered in the spa, Harry and Hermione spent the day Scuba Diving off the coast of the island. Hermione desperately wanted to buy a waterproof camera to capture every single educational picture, but Harry managed to convince her otherwise. He was confident that she would have plenty more opportunities to go scuba diving, and her first time must be spent enjoying, and not taking notes, of the experience.
“Like riding your first bike,” Harry says trying to gauge her reaction. He wouldn’t be surprised if little Hermione Granger read about the different bicycles and different riding techniques before she actually rode the bicycle.
“That was a bad example. Okay. Like your first kiss.” Harry tried once more, and from her refusal to look him in the eye, he had the impression that she had practiced, or attempted to, elsewhere.
One experience that he was sure she wouldn’t have time to research on popped into his mind. He was a tad hesitant to bring it up because he didn’t really think it was appropriate. They were the best of friends and faced near death every single year they’d known each other, so why would this be such a big deal?
“Or…” Harry started, “like your first time ….”
“First time doing what, Harry?” Hermione asked him to clarify.
The girl just had to ask. Really, now, this was Hermione Granger - she understood everything and anything, but she can’t pick up this clue?
“You know… it.” Harry answered slowly. It really was awkward initiating the first conversation about sex with your female best friend. He’d have no problem talking - nay, exaggerating - with Ron, but this was Hermione.
‘Oh’ was all Hermione said and she started to exit the store. Harry was thankful that he didn’t have to say the awkward three letter word to her. Harry was also glad that he managed to convince her to put the camera away and enjoy the experience.
However, Harry didn’t understand the implications of his given example until they were on the boat returning to shore.
He had been participating in an animated conversation with Hermione about the evil looking stingray that followed the less threatening stingray before he saw them do their own horizontal-swimming-tango when realization struck him. He stopped what he was doing and looked straight ahead.
Hermione was curious about the sudden change.
“You and Draco. Visions of Stingrays…” Harry shuddered and wiped his face with his hands and continued to look straight ahead, refusing to look at Hermione. Hermione laughed at his discomfort and stared ahead watching the shore get nearer and nearer, which meant, she was getting closer and closer to inevitably facing Draco.
She was fine during the day and very thankful for the time away from the resort. Hermione was able to logically assess the situation and not get caught up in the emotions that flooded her the night before. She decided to wait until she talked to Draco before she jumped to conclusions.
The cheers of the passengers on the boat jarred her out of contemplation. The Event Coordinator advertised Salsa Night at the restaurant patio by her hotel and invited everybody to join the festivities. Excited by the prospects of Salsa Night, Hermione turned to look at Harry, however, he remained undisturbed. He completely ignored the cheers of the other passengers on the boat, and he’d absently say ‘yeah’ when she tried to jar him out of it.
His mind was elsewhere, she was sure of it.
She mentioned Pansy’s name once and that broke him out of his reverie. Hermione assured him that she said nothing and waited for him to lose focus once again.
This time, Hermione used her name in a different context: ‘Draco is such a pansy’. Again his concentration was broken.
The boat was getting closer and closer to the dock. Loud salsa music was heard from the distance and the Event Coordinator reminded them once again about Salsa Night.
Harry, obviously hearing it for the first time, asked Hermione, a bit too perkily, if she wanted to go. Gone was the dull and lifeless man who stared ahead for the last few minutes of the boat ride, and he was excited - really, really, really excited.
Hermione agreed and they went to their separate rooms to get ready. Harry arrived at her door, some fifteen minutes later, still barely dressed in his swimming trunks. He had seen the dancers on the patio, he confessed, and it was evident that he was having performance anxiety.
“We’re not going to compete,” Hermione assured him, “we’re going to have fun. You just need to relax.” Hermione shook his shoulders to emphasize her point.
Hermione lead Harry to the balcony that she and Draco danced on the very first night they arrived. She fought to keep her emotions in check when faced with the sentimental value of the balcony. This time, the music was heard loud and clear and she didn’t have to speak in hushed tones.
She sat across from him, knees nearly touching, and told him to follow the beat of the music, to ignore the extra notes decorating the basic one-two-threes of salsa dancing.
“One,” her right foot took a slight step backward, and her left foot slightly raised its heel before putting it back down.
“Two,” the right foot moved back to its original position beside the left foot.
“Three,” left foot forward. The right foot raised its heel and brought it back down.
Harry watched her feet and concentrated on the music. He started to raise his heels off the ground every time she raised hers. Soon, his feet inched forward and backward to match her every step.
“One,” his left foot moved forward as her right foot moved back.
“Two,” the feet returned to its stationary position.
“Three,” his right foot moved forward as her left foot went forward.
“Now, look at me, Harry. Don’t look down.” Hermione instructed him.
Hermione stood up and quickly pushed her chair back, her feet never missing a beat. Harry was focused, determined not to look down as he silently counted the beat.
She took his hands and guided him to stand up. He was a bit startled when he had to take a slightly bigger step to follow hers, but recovered quickly.
His body started to relax and he was no longer stiff. Hermione had to hold back a laugh as she watched the Boy Who Lived roll his hips to the music.
Harry knew how to Salsa! Hermione could tell that he knew the steps already but needed that push to get comfortable and confident with his skills, no matter how basic they were. It was odd, Hermione noticed, how naturally his feet moved to do the rock step. She knew from experience, that beginners needed to learn how to rock step - that slight raising of the heel before quickly bringing it back down. Not only that, but he didn’t try to emphasize his hip movement - it really was as if he was taught before. It wasn’t the Dursleys, it wasn’t her, then who was it?
Another mystery added onto the “Harry’s weird behaviour” plate and she chose to put it away for the time being. Right now, she was dancing salsa with her male best friend!
After deciding that they had enough of moving backwards and forwards, Hermione told Harry that they were going to liven things up a bit. “It’s practically the same thing except the foot moves behind the stationary one. Watch me.” Hermione grabbed Harry’s right hand with her left hand and swung it to the middle the same time she moved her right foot behind her left foot.
Harry was bewildered but picked it up when Hermione did the next step. His left hand met Hermione’s right hand and as they swung their joined hands in the middle, he moved his right foot behind his left.
During every other step, they looked outside the balcony. In the distance, they saw all sorts of people in different clothes - some matching in flashy outfits to gather attention; and others wore sarongs and bikini tops - dancing in different levels of expertise and moving to different combinations of the one-two-three. Hermione couldn’t wait to go down there and dance with all those people.
Certain he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself, Harry went back to the room and changed into black dress pants and changed into a loose but fitted red shirt with the top two buttons undone.
“Someone’s all dressed up!” Hermione teased him and didn’t fail to notice the light reddening on his cheeks. “You look great, Harry.”
Harry gave a slight nod of his head and mumbled a thanks before standing beside her to watch the party-goers. Hermione started to feel the tension rise in Harry when they both spotted a little circle around a couple doing very complicated moves in the centre of the dance floor. Hermione thought the complicated looking moves intimidated Harry, so she diverted his attention elsewhere. She directed his eyes to a young couple who were being taught by a slightly elder couple to follow their moves.
“Ready to go, Potter?” Hermione asked from the balcony doorway while offering her hand.
“Let’s go!” Harry exclaimed and the two best friends made their way downstairs.
* * *
Having Draco as her dance partner for most of her life, Pansy was able to notice a slight change in Draco’s mood and behaviour. His shoulders would tense, his grip would tighten, and on the rare occasion, he would forget about leading her. The very first time he’d been so distracted, he forgot to change the direction of her spin that she remained doing an extra three turns than necessary. Needless to say, she was very disoriented afterwards.
Tonight, however, they had attracted a crowd and Pansy refused to ruin her image of the dark-brown haired goddess who danced salsa with a passion! Well, she exaggerated. The crowd, though busy with dancing themselves, did leave them a lot of space, and that was saying something.
One low dip, complete with head thrown back and Pansy witnessed the cause of Draco’s distraction - Hermione had arrived with Harry, and they were attempting to dance. Now, the question was, which affected him more - Potter’s failure to properly lead a good dancer, or the fact that Hermione was presently two meters away from him?
With her arms crossed, Pansy leaned back against Draco, his hands caressing her arms. They moved to the beat as one - rolled their hips, rocked and stepped their feet from side to side as one.
“He’s doing it all wrong.” Draco whispered angrily into her ear. “Pansy, I can’t watch anymore…”
“Shall I be spun away from your arms into Potter’s, then?” Pansy offered.
“You truly are the sister I never had. Now go!”
From his hold, Draco clasped her left hand with his right and gave a slight tug to let her spin out of the hold. Instead of pulling her back in, Draco released her hand and she continued to spin until she stopped right in the space between Harry and Hermione, who just opened up from a side turn.
She stopped dramatically with the flaring trumpets, surprising and intimidating Harry.
“Potter, have I taught you nothing? Come with me.”
“You can’t take my partner just like that, Parkinson!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Take mine!” Pansy yelled over her shoulder as she walked away with Harry.
The crowd closed in and Hermione felt a familiar presence lingering not too far. Heat started to envelope her body. Her heart rate increased, she took quicker breaths, and she felt the hair on her forearms rise. A fresh breeze passed through her, hair blowing gently to her face. Instead of smelling the scent of her own hair, her nose smelled the scent of lavender and vanilla vaguely masking someone familiar.
The crowd continued to close in and that’s when she felt it. Him. His lean body pressed against her back and his manicured hand resting on her right side above the hipbone. Despite not seeing his face, nor hearing his voice, her body knew who he was.
Only one person - one man - did this, and was allowed to do this to Hermione. She stiffened in realization. Her mind ran with a million thoughts, but one rang clear: this feels good.
She unknowingly and instinctually followed his lead. Her right hand rest on his and their fingers intertwined. The fingers of his left hand slowly and sensually guided her left arm upwards.
At full extension, their hands met. The music picked up and all around them, dancers were making flips and turns. Unlike the crowd, Draco and Hermione made tight, slow circles with their hips.
As the beat reached its crescendo, Draco nudged her body forward with the hand that rest on her hip. Hermione made two quick turns with his guiding hand, then two more turns in the other direction. He abruptly stopped her to face him just as the beat ended.
Dancers in the crowd were full of adrenaline, cheering the band and their partners for completing the move.
Draco and Hermione noticed none of this. They stood still, hands entwined over their heads, eyes staring at each other, noting the quick breath intake, and the subtle changes only lovers would know. Whereas Draco’s skin glowed with cleanliness, Hermione was rosy underneath her tan. Draco noticed increase freckles on her shoulder, and she smelled like sun and water. Hermione smelled lavender and felt silk in his smooth hands.
A flicker of hesitation - or was it guilt? - passed through Draco’s eyes.
“Dance with me.” Hermione requested, just as he had their first night together on the island. She took that leap of faith, forgot the fear of rejection and ignored the vision of an exotic woman holding onto his arm.
She danced away from him, almost as if she was walking away. A few steps away, she turned around and walked back to him. A smile danced on her face, and she slightly bent over and started to shake her chest. The low cut of her silver speckled halter top teased him with a view of her cleavage. He made to grab her, but she quickly turned and walked away, emphasizing the movements of her hips.
A beaded silver chained shawl decorated the flowing knee-length white skirt that sashayed with her hips. He was drawn to her hip movement, and given the peek at her lower abdomen drove him wild.
At her approach, he reached for hands. Once clasped, he extended them to their sides. Draco remained stationary while Hermione performed a swivel - she twisted her hip to the left, bending her right leg at the knee to cross it over her left. She repeated that move on the other side and repeated it rarely ever staying in the same spot.
Exhaustion was starting to show in her lagging movements - the twists weren’t as strong and pronounced and for that, Hermione was thankful the song was getting louder and stronger. She threw her head back, using Draco’s strong arms for support, to break the pattern.
Draco was given the view of her breasts pointing up and her smooth chest. He couldn’t help but envision her naked, throwing her head back in passion, reaching that climax.
She whipped back up and they started with the basic pattern moving back and forth. Draco looped his left hand, along with her right hand, over his head, while his right hand was looped ever her head. The transition not only allowed changing his hold on her, but it allowed more touching - on the neck, on the shoulders and down the other’s arm.
Their eyes locked and their breaths mingled. Eye contact was broken and focused onto areas south of the eyes. Draco cupped her face in his hands, his thumb gently caressing her lower lip. She tilted her head to his hand, closed her eyes in contentment while she kissed his caressing thumb.
Entranced by the maiden in his hands, Draco stared hypnotically and unknowingly inched his lips lower, closer and closer to hers.
The basic steps were forgotten, yet they swayed to the rhythm of the music.
The soft pressure placed upon her lips awakened her peace. She gasped and her brown eyes snapped open.
Draco thought he’d step over the delicate and precarious line.
He moved to walk away from the shame that Hermione was so disappointed in him that she remained frozen and unmoving towards him, unable or unwilling to show emotion. He could handle great disgust showing on her face, and he’d be terribly thrilled if she smiled. Heck, he’d even settle for the stammering reply: “Let’s talk.” But she didn’t do any of that. She just stood there.
His fingers luxuriously travelled down her sun-kissed arms before parting ever-so-slowly from her touch. Draco stood in front of her for a while attempting to regain some sort of connection. He needed her to look at him.
And just as he turned to leave, a hand gripped his, asking him to turn back around.
He did.
The kiss started short, slow and sweet. It then flared open a need she had ignored for the past two lonely nights. Heat tingled up her spine, and her heart fluttered abnormally in her chest. The kiss grew in depth and intensity. They held tighter to each other, refusing to let go, let anything else come in between.
Except for the oxygen their bodies required.
“I have to tell you something.” His desire to correct things between them outweighed his intense need to kiss her and connect with her in every possible way.
Draco led them away from the dance floor to the quieter, more secluded area at the far end of the patio. He seated himself on the chair and refused to let Hermione sit anywhere but his lap.
“We need to talk.” Draco whispered in her ear.
“Not now,” Hermione pleaded, “let’s enjoy this - this moment.”
“Tomorrow, then?” he asked.
She nodded.
They were content holding each other.