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A Summer Holiday	By : TwistOfLime Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 12021 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
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- 12
Chapter Eleven: Secret Rooms

Draco awoke the next morning once again drenched in a cold sweat, the sounds of his mother’s tortured screams echoing in his ears. He sat up, running a shaking hand through his hair and taking deep calming breaths. Waking next to Hermione the day before and the blissful reprieve it provided had almost managed to push the nightmares from his mind, almost allowed him to forget the terror that gripped him each morning.

He showered and dressed quickly, noticing that Hermione’s room was open and empty as he headed downstairs and rounded the corner to the kitchen. He found Hermione leaning against the counter in a pair of cutoff shorts and a t-shirt, reading The Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow as she nibbled on a piece of buttered toast. Wordlessly, she offered her plate to him and he gratefully accepted a piece.

“Any news?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, frowning. “There’s nothing.” She sighed and tossed the paper aside. “I suppose The Prophet’s been infiltrated, hasn’t it? By You-Know-Who? They’re suppressing the news, lulling people into a false sense of security.”

Draco leaned against the kitchen island across from her. “Yeah, I suppose. Although, the Ministry could just as easily be behind it.”

They ate their toast in thoughtful silence and he found himself feeling very awkward all of the sudden. He was completely out of his depth with whatever he and Hermione had started last night. He didn’t even know what it was. What exactly did she expect? What did he expect? Luckily, he was rescued from his thoughts by Mrs. Granger who had just appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Morning,” she said cheerfully, moving to pour herself a glass of orange juice. “Any plans for the day?”

“I thought we’d go for a walk down the beach this morning,” Hermione answered and Draco noticed her surreptitiously hide the paper behind her back. “Draco hasn’t seen the castle yet.”

“That sounds lovely,” she said, beaming at the two of them. “I’m so happy you’re getting along.”   Kissing Hermione on the forehead and patting Draco affectionately on the cheek, she dismissed them from the room with a wave of her hand. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Draco followed Hermione out onto the porch. Now out of sight of Mrs. Granger, Hermione removed the paper from where she had hidden it, tucked into the waist of her shorts at the small of her back, and vanished it with a flick of her wand.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to read that?” she asked as they descended the stairs to the beach.

“No,” he answered, pausing before asking tentatively, “She doesn’t know, does she?”

“Know what?” she asked, but her voice was falsely light and cheery and he knew that she knew exactly what he had meant.

“About everything that’s happening, that’s happened. About the Dark Lord and Potter and Dumbledore. You haven’t told her have you?”

Hermione seemed to deflate a little. “She… I’ve told her some of it, though I’ve had to tell her more than I planned since she started seeing your mother again. I mean, would you tell your parents if you didn’t have to?”

“I suppose not.”

“It’s hard for them to understand. It’s not their world. Knowing would only make them worry and there’s nothing they can do. I know they wouldn’t want me to do what I have to do, what I’ve already done, but I can’t turn back now. It’s just… easier this way. Besides, I think the less they know the safer they are.

“I – I’ve been lying to them for a long time. It’s not as if I hop off the train and say: ‘Hey Mum, guess what I did this year. I helped a wanted mass murder escape from the Ministry.’ I’m used to all the… omissions, but it’s not something I like thinking about.” She sighed. “Look, I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I understand, but I can speak with my mother if you want, tell her to use a little discretion.”

“No, it’s fine. I think she’s figured it out for herself. Come on, let’s go see if we can’t find any crabs,” she said, leading them towards the expanse of rocks at the end of the beach.

They spent a good part of the morning exploring the tide pools and Draco was thankful for the excuse it gave him to touch her as he steadied her on the rocks. It was a fairly weak excuse, given the ease with which she moved from pool to pool. She hadn’t been lying when she said she spent a lot of time here and Draco, despite his seeker reflexes, struggled to keep up. In fact, except for the few times she had gotten over confident, he found himself mostly helping her as a pretense for balancing himself. Still, he thought, as he removed his hands from her waist, at least he was touching her.

Slowly they wandered over to the castle ruins, climbing over a low stone wall to cross a large, open, grassy area that must have once been a hall.

“So,” Hermione said, taking his hand and lacing her fingers in his. “What do you think?”

“Do you think this is what Hogwarts would look like to muggles?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” she laughed. “Come on, over here’s where we can swim if it gets warm enough.”

She pulled him around a crumbling stone wall onto a small footpath that sloped downwards, hugging the edge of the cliff. The path continued around a large fissure that curved away from the ocean into the cliff face, its claw-like shape protecting its smooth, stormy blue waters from the ocean’s choppy waves.

As the ground leveled Draco found himself in a small grassy area – a hidden room walled on two sides by ancient stone and by a sharp drop on the other.

“See,” she said, pulling him over to the ledge. “You can jump from here at high tide.”

She left him peering over the edge, wondering seriously what would possess a person to throw themselves off a cliff. When he turned around he realized with a jolt she had settled herself on the grass and removed her shirt, leaning back against the stone wall with closed eyes as she basked in the late morning sun.

She wore what had to be the tiniest bathing suit Draco had ever seen, bits of fabric tied on with string, a bright blue pop of colour against her skin, skin that seemed to drink the sunshine so that she glowed golden.

He sat down next to her feeling the warmth of the stone at his back and warmth of the sun on his face. It was nothing compared to the heat that seemed to radiate off Hermione in waves. He felt like she was burning him.

Draco wanted desperately to kiss her, to touch her, but felt hesitant and anxious. It was frustrating and he was mildly disgusted by his behavior. It was pathetic. If Draco was confident in anything, it was in his experience with women. He had never done this before though – whatever it was that he and Hermione were doing – and everything felt muddled and confused.

He kept telling himself that this was just some sort of escape from reality, that very soon their lives were going to become very horrible and that this was just a distraction until everything collapsed around them. It was something born of shared uncertainty, desperation and fear, something that existed as a moment in time, an indulgent detour in their regularly scheduled lives.

To an extent, all of this was true, but no matter how many times Draco told himself these things, no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, he knew that it was more – that he wanted more, though he didn’t even know what that meant.

His relationships with women were short-lived and casual. He did what was expected of him, took what he wanted and that was that. The women had always served a purpose, whether it was familial expectations or his own physical needs didn’t matter, there was never any kind of attachment. The women were convenient, the relationship more a business transaction than anything else.

No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he knew this was different. It might be a convenient distraction, but there was also warmth and friendship and he didn’t know how to deal with it. He could feel tendrils of something creeping slowly and gently wrapping themselves around him, binding him to Hermione in a way that was both intoxicating and horrifying.

Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye, telling himself that he should get up and leave and willing himself to do so as he silently argued himself in circles. He watched as her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips and suddenly the arguments reeling in his head quieted; all the anxiety and frustrations simply evaporating. Suddenly all he was concerned with was that Hermione was sitting there half naked and that they were finally – mercifully – alone.

Draco leaned over and brushed his lips against hers, his stomach contracting with pleasure and perhaps a little with relief when she began to kiss him back. Their kisses were tentative and chaste and he traced his fingers down her neck and across her collar bone.

When she sighed against his mouth, Draco pulled her onto his lap, dusting her face with kisses, brushing his lips across her jawline, over her eyelids, on the tip of her nose, avoiding the place he most wanted them and pulling away every time she tried to kiss him back. He felt her begin to shift position, to reach up and pull him closer and held her in place with one hand gripping her shoulders and the other trapping her hands on her lap. He had given Hermione the upper hand far too many times in the past couple days and he wasn’t about to do it again.

“Tell me Granger, did you bring Blaise here yesterday?” he asked between kisses.

“No,” she answered and he allowed her to nibble his lip. “But he is better company. It isn’t nice to tease.”

“Watch your cheek,” he warned.

“Or what?” she challenged in a whisper.

He wondered what she would do if he bent her over his lap right here and showed her exactly how he’d like to deal with her impertinence. He growled as the image exploded in his mind and in an instant she was pinned below him.

“Keep talking and you’ll find out, you impudent little witch” he drawled, running his tongue against the shell of her ear.

Busy congratulating himself on the shiver that ran through her body, he didn’t notice her small hand slip down between them and was caught off guard when she began slowly stroking him through the fabric of his trousers.

The contact sent a spark through his body, radiating out from the pit of his stomach. His arms trembling, he fought not to collapse on top of her as he lowered his head to kiss her, rolling onto his side and pulling her flush against him. Repositioning them had trapped her hand between them and she began stroking faster.

Draco groaned into her open mouth, bucking against her as he pushed a thigh between her legs, giving her the friction she needed. She gasped against his neck and began moving against him, each roll of her hips drawing a whimper of pleasure as she kissed and licked her way back to his mouth.

As they kissed, Draco let his hand trail over the curve of her hip and along the velvety skin of her side, reaching behind her to pull the strings that kept her top in place. Pulling the bit of fabric from between them and tossing it away, his hands gently caressed the silky skin of her breast and she arched against him. He felt her hands tug on the end of his shirt as she struggled for the leverage to remove it.

Desperate to feel her skin against his, he sat up, quickly removing the offending garment before pulling her against him once again, reveling in the feel of her naked breasts against his skin. Releasing her lips, his head dipped down to her chest so that he could run his tongue along the center of her breast, sucking it in his mouth before releasing it, blowing and watching as her pink nipple pebbled against the cool air.   With a final swipe of his tongue, Draco kissed his way back up to her mouth.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that: kissing with a ferocious urgency, running hands along every inch of exposed skin, moving against one another in desperation. He felt drunk off the sweetness of her mouth and the heat of her skin. Draco knew he was close, he could feel the tightening low in his stomach, but he wasn’t ready yet. He struggled to keep is movements slow and even, knowing she needed more.

His hands on her hips stilled her motions and she let out a soft noise of protest. He silenced her with a kiss, running a hand along the waist of her shorts, dipping his fingertips underneath the fabric. He pulled back to look in her eyes, asking silently for permission. Her wide eyes darkened and when she ran her tongue up his neck he interpreted the action as a yes.

Draco made short work of the button and zipper and this time when he slipped his hand inside, he was not interrupted. She gasped at the contact, her fingernails digging into the skin where she gripped his arm.

He stroked her slowly, tortuously. His hand straining against the denim fabric of her shorts, he thrust gently into her wet heat, curling his fingers while his thumb circled the small bundle of nerves that made her gasp against his lips. He could hear her breaths becoming erratic, the rolling motion of her hips speeding up and he matched the thrusts of his hips with those of his fingers.

She came with a strangled cry, biting down on his neck, and the sound, coupled with the reality of exactly who it was that was clenching around his fingers, was enough to send him over the edge.

Gasping for air, boneless with pleasure, he continued making small circles with his thumb as she trembled beside him almost whimpering until he felt her hand wrap around his wrist. “Please,” she begged breathlessly her hips pushing down against his hand a final time. “It’s too much.”

Removing his hand from her shorts, Draco fumbled for his wand, casting a quick cleansing charm over the both of them before pulling her against him and gently stroking a hand down her back.

They stayed like that as the sun peaked in the sky and began its journey back down. He was hungry, starving actually, having only eaten a bit of toast all day, but ignored it. The warmth of Hermione’s skin on his and the feel of her naked breasts against his chest was far more enticing than lunch. Unfortunately his stomach didn’t seem to agree and he couldn’t quell its sounds of protest.

“We should have brought lunch,” Hermione said when his stomach gave a particularly loud grumble, sitting up and searching the ground for her top.

Draco found it underneath him and after brushing it free of dirt handed it to her, the scrap of blue fabric dangling from his fingertips.

“That’s quite the bathing suit,” he remarked, watching as she pulled her hair to one side to tie it around her neck and admiring the way her breasts swayed with her movements.

“You like it?” she asked with a smirk, allowing him to tie it in the back, running his hands along her sides and trailing kisses along her shoulder as he did so.

“Absolutely.”

She smiled and leaned back against him, turning her head to the side to place kisses on his neck and nibble on his ear.

“Careful Granger, keep it up and you’ll be lucky to make it back for dinner.”

“You know,” she began, pulling away and regarding him thoughtfully, “I’m not sure you calling me by my last name is appropriate anymore. I mean, you did spend the afternoon with your hand down my shorts.”

He chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head. “I suppose you’re right, but after six years it’ll be a difficult habit to break,” he said as he stood and pulled her to her feet.

“Well then, I’ll just have you make sure I give you plenty of reasons to call out my name. Practice makes perfect after all,” she said with a quirk of her eyebrow before flouncing off down the footpath ahead of him.

They made their way back hand in hand, walking so close that Draco was surprised they were able to move at all. However, in unspoken agreement, they released each other and broke apart as they approached the house. They walked far apart, in silence, almost ignoring one another and no one watching would ever guess that they had spent the afternoon kissing and touching, hidden in a secret room by the sea.

It was safer for them both if no one knew what was happening. Besides, this was nothing more than a brief interlude, some sort of game they were playing as they ignored reality. There was nothing to gain from letting people in on the secret. In fact, Draco mused, given that there was only Narcissa and Emma around to see, it was to their benefit to keep this discrete. Their mothers may have wanted their children to get along, but this was most definitely not what they had meant. Draco wanted unrestricted access to Hermione and he certainly didn’t want chaperones.

Narcissa and Emma were on the porch playing a game of cards when they returned.

“Nice of you to join us,” Emma said as they climbed the stairs, Narcissa eying them thoughtfully.

“Your Hogwarts letters arrived while you were gone; they’re on the kitchen counter.”

“They did?” Hermione gasped and without a backwards glance she all but ran into the house.

Draco followed after her and by the time he caught up with her she stood facing the doorway, lips parted in shock, a small pin emblazoned with the letters ‘HG’ in one hand and a letter in the other.

“Congratulations,” Draco said, tearing his own envelope open and scanning the book list.

Hermione remained silent, her eyes flickering between Draco and the pin in her hand, until Mrs. Granger appeared in the doorway.

“Oh! Congratulations!” Emma squealed, pulling her daughter in for a crushing hug and kissing both of her cheeks. “I knew it! I knew you would get it! You’ll have to phone your father, he’ll be so excited. We’ll have a celebration dinner tonight. You can go down and invite Mr. and Mrs. Gregory after you’ve had lunch. I know they’ll want to come. Congratulations sweetheart.” With a final embrace she bustled out of the room to tell Narcissa the good news.

Hermione was quiet, staring at the letter, the corners of her lips curved down in a frown.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she replied, her forced smile more of a grimace.

“You’re not going back are you?” Draco asked quietly.

“W – what? Don’t be stupid,” she sputtered, turning around to nervously flatten her letter on the table with her hands. “Of course I’m going to Hogwarts, where else would I be going?”

Draco moved to stand behind her, brushing her hair to one side and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I hope whatever it is you’re planning doesn’t involve too much lying,” he whispered in her ear, feeling her shiver against him, “because you’re not very good at it. No one expects Potter to go back – he’d be stupid if he tried – and I’m sure you and Weasley are planning to join him.”

“I can’t tell you anything,” she said, slumping against him. She sounded defeated and her tone made him hold her tighter.

“I would never ask.”

He saw her hands clench on the counter in front of them and he turned her around to face him. She looked determinedly at his elbow and he had to force her to look at him with his hand on her chin. Her eyes were watery and her nose pink and his brow furrowed with concern.

Hermione let out a strangled sob, covering her face with her hands, and he pulled her against his chest, gently stroking her hair and back.

“I’m sorry,” came her muffled voice.

She took a deep breath before dropping her hands. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It’s so stupid, such a stupid thing to be upset about. I mean, people are dying, everything is in chaos and I’m sulking because I don’t get to be Head Girl.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Yes it is,” she protested, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Always so argumentative,” he teased. “It’s not stupid Hermione. You’ve worked hard for this and you deserve it. Hell, you probably deserve it more than anyone ever has. It’s not fair you won’t get to enjoy it. I’m sorry.”

“Come on,” she sighed, pulling away from him. “Let’s go put on happy faces for my mother’s sake. You’ll have to play your part especially well since I’m apparently a terrible liar.”

“We’re not playing parts Hermione. We’re celebrating something you earned regardless of what happens three weeks from now. You might not get to actually accept the position, but you did earn it.”

She only rolled her eyes in response and he followed her outside.
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A Summer Holiday