Chapter 15
The warm morning sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows of Ginny's bedchamber, casting everything in a golden glow. Fred paced back and forth across the polished hardwood floors, his boots thudding rhythmically with each step.
"Come on, we're going to be late!" he huffed in exasperation, fidgeting with the tight cravat around his neck.
Ginny hummed softly as she gently swept a brush through her fiery red tresses, while Hermione sat nearby, carefully applying a soft pomade of honey and jasmine to her curls. The faint scent of honeysuckle drifted in through the open window on a light summer breeze, mingling with Ginny's floral perfume.
"Today is too important for you two to be primping all morning," Fred scolded, though his tone held more anxiety than true irritation. His meeting with Angelina Johnson had his stomach in knots and his palms sweaty.
Ginny met Hermione's eyes in the mirror, exchanging a knowing smile.
They could see right through Fred's nerves to the tender hope that lay beneath.
After all, today was not only Fred's long-awaited rendezvous, but a chance for Ginny to see Harry again. At Ginny's gentle prodding, he had agreed to come along, and she tingled with anticipation at the thought.
Ginny's eyes sparkled as she carefully swept the pink safflower pomade over her lips, leaving them glossy and full. She smiled at her reflection, picturing Harry's reaction when he saw her.
"He's so talented," she gushed to Hermione.
"Fencing, horse racing, even Quidditch! Though the way he speaks of it, you'd think he was a famous athlete." Ginny giggled.
Hermione smiled indulgently as Ginny gently applied the deep red carmine powder to her own lips. She could see the joy radiating from her friend, like sunlight shining through stained glass.
"And he's so kind," Ginny continued, her voice softening.
"He goes out of his way to make me feel special. Sending little gifts, writing me notes..." She trailed off, lost in happy remembrance.
As Hermione studied her friend, she was filled with tenderness. Ginny's affinity for Harry was written in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Their love was like a living thing, destined to find a way no matter the time or place.
They were two souls, tethered together across realities.
Ginny met Hermione's gaze and laughed. "I'm being silly, aren't I?" Hermione shook her head, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.
"You're not, you are undeniably smitten," Hermione teased, winking at her flustered sister.
Once more came the impatient whines of Fred.
"Must you take so long?!" He ran his fingers through his fiery red hair in exasperation.
"We're coming!" Ginny's voice rang out, a hint of exasperation in her tone. With an exaggerated roll of her chestnut eyes, she added cheekily, "You should consider yourself lucky there's no remedy for your ghastly features, or perhaps you'd be the one taking longer."
Fred's freckled face contorted into a series of gestures mocking his younger sister's barbs. Though siblings, their rapport often tended towards good-natured quarrelling.
The creak of the wooden steps heralded the girls' descent. At the base awaited Mr. Potter, looking dashing as ever. His unruly raven locks and brilliant green eyes smiled at the sight of Miss Ginny, clad in a pale green gown bringing out the faint freckles across her cheeks.
Behind him sat his elegant brown carriage, its lacquered exterior glinting in the morning sun. He had offered that they all ride into town together.
“You do amaze me every time, Miss Weasley.” Harry smiled, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Allow me.” he inched behind him, opening the carriage door for her and providing a hand for support.
Ginny's eyes searched for Hermione's, widening with excitement in secret sisterly communication as she entered the carriage.
Behind her came Fred, his detectable annoyance a stark contrast.
George followed, his matching freckled face alight with mischief as always. Finally came Ron, his shoulders slumped and clearly not as enthused for the day's outing.
With Mr. Potter's hand assisting her, Hermione carefully climbed into the plush interior, arranging her pearl-colored skirts around her. Harry sat beside Ginny, leaving extra room in the now slightly crowded carriage.
As the driver moved to shut the lacquered door, Harry pried it open again with his left hand, pushing it gently.
The gravel crunched rhythmically under approaching footsteps, slow and deliberate. Long, elegant fingers, adorned with a distinctive silver serpent ring, pulled the carriage door fully open, a tall broad-shouldered silhouette ducked slightly to enter, his platinum blond hair gleaming like a halo.
Piercing silver eyes met Hermione's chestnut ones as he settled himself inside.
"Did I mention Mr. Malfoy is joining us?" Harry added politely, smiling around at the staring faces crowded into the small space.
He settled on the leather seat, the crisp linen of his impeccably tailored black vest brushing Hermione's arm as he took the only available seat next to Harry, facing her.
"It's a party now," groaned Ron, his bulky frame slouched as he peered sullenly out the window opposite Mr. Malfoy.
"Good morning," came the stoic, aristocratic voice of their new carriage companion.
Mr. Malfoy's greeting prompted a round of polite replies.
As the carriage wheels turned, setting them in motion, the group fractured into smaller conversations. Fred, Ron and George's spirited debate over the latest Quidditch results filled one corner, while Ginny's soft giggle sounded next to Harry as they discussed the day's plans.
Hermione sat stiffly, intensely aware of Mr. Malfoy's imposing presence.
His long legs took up most of the shared space as she kept her focus out the window, watching the pastoral scenery roll by. She could feel his cool grey eyes cutting over to her repeatedly, his gaze piercing yet remote.
The silence between them hung heavy in the cramped carriage.
Hermione's thoughts drifted back to that night at the Malfoy manor.
She remembered the way his stormy grey eyes had smoldered in the firelight of the art parlor, his gaze intense yet guarded. The forbidden allure she had felt under his study was not something she could easily forget.
Glancing up, her eyes met his once more.
Time seemed to slow, the clatter of wheels and chatter fading away. His striking visage filled her vision, platinum locks falling across his angled forehead.
Her rouged lips parted softly, as if to speak, but no words came.
A blush bloomed across her cheeks as she held his gaze. She both anticipated and feared what he might say, what sentiments might lie underneath his stoic facade. But Mr. Malfoy remained silent, continuing to look through her with those fathomless silver eyes.
Flustered, Hermione turned her focus back to the passing scenery.
A small, devilish smirk spread onto his aristocratic features as Draco’s fingers moved in a distinct pattern toward the fabric of her dress. Noticing the subtle motion, Hermione felt a slight tug as one of the pearls lining her gown snagged forcefully off its fastenings, clattering delicately onto the ground next to her feet.
Observing the pearl in surprise, her eyes darted upwards to meet Mr. Malfoy’s intense gaze, watching as his slate grey irises darkened with obvious longing.
Slowly, seductively, he leaned forward, his knee bending as his slender fingers retrieved the ripped accessory.
Hermione’s breath hitched, her chest rising rapidly at his sudden proximity. Goosebumps visibly scattered across her exposed skin as she could almost felt his warm exhale against her thigh.
Draco took the small, lustrous pearl into his fingers, his hand mere inches away from her ankle. Having retrieved the tempting item, he then discreetly grazed the cool, smooth surface along with his fingers onto Hermione’s bare skin, slowly moving upwards along her calf with pure, unrestrained want in his eyes.
Then, he returned to his seat.
His actions had been entirely imperceptible to those around them.
"Your pearl, Miss Granger," he spoke, his voice low and alluring.
Hermione extended a hand, her equally colored wrist-length gloves shaking ever so slightly.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she responded breathily, electricity coursing through her body at his featherlight touch.
Damn him. She thought, her heart threatening to erupt from her chest.
The remainder of the ride passed in pensive silence, furtive glances and flushing cheeks the only outward sign of their unspoken ruminations. As the carriage rolled up the winding path to the ample gates of Belvedere Park, the verdant greens beyond were dotted with ladies and gentlemen of the upper echelons, their coquettish displays of courtship providing mild amusement to the visiting foreigner.
Mr. Malfoy alighted first, fine leather boots crunching on the gravel driveway. He extended a hand expectantly as Miss Granger gathered her skirts to follow.
She placed her hand in his, feeling a spark shoot up her arm at the contact.
He supported her as she stepped down, the floral perfume she wore teasing his senses.
Their hands lingered a moment longer than propriety deemed suitable before she gently pulled away, skin still tingling from his warmth.
Hermione hurried to join Ginny, a becoming blush gracing her cheeks.
Mr. Malfoy remained fixed in place, running his thumb slowly across the fingers that had recently been entwined with hers. He could still feel the imprint of her soft skin as he closed his eyes, the lingering lavender fragrance surrounding him in her absence.
A wayward breeze ruffled his white-blonde locks as he released a slow, steady breath, clutching the memory of her touch close.
Forbidden, yet desired.
His alone.
“Did Mr. Malfoy just help you out of the carriage?” Ginny eyed her sideways, brow furrowed in confusion at their unexpected civility despite families' rivalry.
“No,” Hermione blurted hastily, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. “I nearly fell stepping down.”
“Oh, alright then,” Ginny dismissed with a shrug, her attention already turned to the handsome emerald-eyed Mr. Potter as he approached.
Hermione exhaled in relief, smoothing her wind-tousled curls.
She stole a furtive glance back toward the carriage where Mr. Malfoy still stood, silently willing him to meet her gaze. His stormy eyes remained fixed on the spot where her dainty hand had lingered in his, mind far away.
Heels clicked onto the gravel pathway as the group walked in tandem, the lush greens of Belvedere Park crowded on this fine day.
The sweet floral perfume of roses and lilies lingered on the gentle breeze, mixing with the earthier scents of grass and mossy stone.
Ladies adorned in delicate muslin gowns of palest pinks and blues promenaded with parasols aloft, their hushed gentlewomanly conversations and trills of genteel laughter floating on the mild air.
The bright sun filtered through the leafy canopy above, dappling the ground with shards of light and shadow. In the distance, a quartet in smart black tailcoats played a lively Viennese waltz, the sylvan notes of violin and cello mingling with the warbling of linnets and goldfinches in the trees.
Gardeners in canvas pantaloons and straw hats tended flower beds blooming in profusion with hydrangeas, irises, and peonies, their wheelbarrows and tools strewn about the meandering gravel garden paths.
Top hatted gentlemen tipped their beavers in cordial greeting as the new arrivals passed by.
Hermione's skirts swished around her ankles as she walked, the fresh breeze catching stray tendrils of her upswept chestnut hair and tickling the back of her exposed neck. She clasped her embroidered reticule tightly, keenly aware of Mr. Malfoy's lingering gaze following her every step.
As the group meandered along the garden path, a mosaic of colors and textures revealed itself.
Moss crept between the weathered stones underfoot, releasing an earthy petrichor scent when crushed by ladies' dainty slippers. Bees buzzed lazily among the profusions of climbing roses, their petals soft and velvety to the touch.
Passing a flowering arbor, she fingered the tender blossoms cascading from the lattice, their soft petals like velvet under her fingertips. She closed her eyes and breathed in their sweet perfume, the heady floral scent mingling with the fresh cut grass.
Sunlight filtering through the leaves cast dappled shadows on her cheeks, highlighting the honeyed tones of her complexion.
Opening her eyes, Hermione peeked cautiously over her shoulder through the leafy arbor, hoping to glimpse Mr. Malfoy's striking visage among the promenading crowd. She caught a flash of white-blonde hair in the distance, his tall figure obscured momentarily as a group crossed the garden path.
Craning her neck subtly, she managed to spot him walking almost solitary under a broad oak tree, partially concealed in its shadows.
Draco remained silent, keen eyes observing Miss Granger from afar as she walked with her friend.
He noted the graceful turn of her neck, transfixed by her chestnut curls dancing in the breeze.
A ray of sunlight illuminated her face as she turned, revealing honey-colored eyes that reminded him of amber.
As if sensing his gaze, she glanced back over her shoulder, and for a moment their eyes met across the gardens.
Amber and stormy gray collided, speaking words unsaid.
“Gosh, that’s Lady Phillipa Harcourt.” gushed Ginny, pointing subtly at an aristocratic looking woman ahead.
Her lustrous golden locks were fixed in an intricate updo, tiny pearl pins glinting in the sunlight. Eyes of clearest blue squinted with mirth as she exchanged lively banter with the ladies and gentlemen beside her. She wore a dress of rich blueberry-hued silk that accentuated her frame, the deep color a striking contrast against her skin. Matching kidskin slippers peeked out from under the hem, polished to a sheen.
“She looks incredible.” admitted Hermione, the woman’s seemingly contagious vivacity and charisma radiating from afar as a ray of sunlight illuminated her, halo-like.
“I’ll introduce you, she’s absolutely lovely.” Ginny looped her arm through Hermione's, steering them closer to the magnetic lady in bold, eager steps. Hermione followed obediently, risking one final fleeting glimpse over her shoulder, hoping to catch Mr. Malfoy's eye again.
But he had vanished from sight, leaving her to wonder if their brief shared moment had been merely her imagination.
“Oh! Miss Granger, how lovely it is to see you.” smiled Lady Harcourt, rising gracefully to her feet and dipping into a slight curtsy before the two ladies.
Hermione sank into her own curtsy, murmuring polite greetings. Up close, Lady Phillipa's beauty was even more striking and refined. Her keen blue eyes twinkled with good humor as she grasped Hermione's hands warmly in her own.
"Hard not to approach the Blue Baroness when she's around." joked Ginny, their seemingly playful relationship evident as the woman placed an affectionate hand onto the red-head's shoulder.
"You've all adopted that name, it's begun to stick." Lady Phillipa laughed, the sound airy and musical. "People are addressing me in such a way regularly now. Though I dare say the epithet is rather apt, given my propensity for wearing this shade." She gestured to her rich silk gown, perfectly tailored to flatter her voluptuous frame.
"It suits you wonderfully." Hermione complimented sincerely.
"You are too kind, my dear." Lady Harcourt gave her hands an appreciative squeeze before releasing them. "Come, walk with me.”
Linking her arms through theirs, the charismatic lady led them further into the gardens, regaling them with lively tales and witty discourse as they walked.
Turning a corner, they came face-to-face with a stunning marble fountain. Cherubic figurines danced around the fountain's edge and surroundings, crystalline water cascading melodically into the basin below. The soothing sound of the flowing water mingled with the songs of birds roosting in the nearby topiaries.
As Hermione admired the fountain's artistry, a flash of raven hair caught Ginny's eye.
Like an instinct, Ginny's back straightened, posture stiffening.
Following her friend's gaze, Hermione spotted the handsome visage of Mr. Harry Potter across the garden path, partially obscured by a flowering trellis. He seemed deep in conversation with two other gentlemen. Ginny's eyes remained fixed on him, cheeks flushing becomingly.
Noticing her reaction, Lady Phillipa gave an understanding smile. "Ah, to be young and fanciful again," she remarked wistfully. Although still in the bloom of youth herself, Lady Harcourt's recent marriage two years prior had imparted her with a matronly wisdom beyond her years.
She gave Ginny's arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze, like a mother comforting an anxious debutante before her first ball.
"I’ve heard talks Mr. Potter is courting you, is this true?" Lady Phillipa inquired.
Ginny nodded mutely, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. She nervously smoothed her skirt with her free hand, suddenly feeling gawky and awkward.
“You make a most handsome couple, I always knew you’d be quick to marry," Lady Phillipa declared fondly. "And what about you, Miss Granger? Have any gentlemen caught your attention yet?”
Hermione started slightly at the question, thoughts involuntarily flashing to stormy gray eyes and a head of white-blonde hair.
“Oh, no...not yet,” she murmured, hoping her cheeks were not flushing to give her away.
“That’s not true, she’s being modest.” chimed Ginny with a sly smile. “Mr. Krum has been putting in plenty of work to gain her attentions lately.”
Hermione shot her friend a surprised look, not expecting her to divulge that information.
Lady Phillipa's eyes lit up with interest. “Is that so? Well, Mr. Krum is quite the catch. An excellent match, if I do say."
Flustered, Hermione stammered, “It’s nothing definite...he has only paid me a few visits.” In truth, the handsome and athletic Mr. Krum had begun pursuing her more intensely. But try as she might, she could not force her heart to reciprocate his interest, for it was already being pulled in another direction entirely.
Sensing her discomfort, Lady Phillipa gave her arm another pat. “Do not feel rushed into anything, my dear. Follow your heart, wherever it leads.”
With an understanding smile, she simply nodded.
The three continued to walk toward the gentlemen, their conversation turning lighthearted as Lady Phillipa regaled them with amusing stories of married life. However, something caught Hermione’s eye as they passed the other side of the fountain.
A marble cherub sat sweetly next to her feet, its sculpted visage reminding her of the earlier injury that had led to her falling into Mr. Malfoy’s care. She moved her shoulders, trying to release the sudden burst of tension that seized her.
The uncanny feeling of being watched overcame her, and she glanced toward a thick fence of bushes nearby, its leafy appearance almost maze-like.
Feeling inexplicably drawn, she broke away from the ladies and made her way toward it, leaves brushing softly against her skirts. The floral scent of the bushes enveloped her as she drew near. Somewhere nearby, a nightingale warbled a sweet melody.
Walking slowly past the glossy leaves, she peeked through the shrubbery.
Shafts of sunlight illuminated the small, secluded alcove beyond. And there, partially obscured by the winding roses, stood Mr. Malfoy himself. Her breath caught at the sight of him, heart skipping a beat.
His mercury eyes locked with hers, stormy and intense. Neither spoke a word, the charged silence hanging heavy between them.
She noticed his sharp intake of breath, the way his hand clenched at his side in restraint.
Now facing him directly, her back pressed against the leafy wall. She maintained a cautious distance, as if to protect herself from her own impulses. A stray beam of sunlight filtering through the canopy above illuminated his angular features.
After a suspended moment, he raked a hand through his pale locks in frustration.
"You make it immensely difficult for me, Miss Granger," he uttered, voice rough.
She did not reply, her hand pressing against the leaves behind her to steady herself.
"Mr. Malfoy..." she whispered tentatively.
Unable to resist any longer, he took slow steps closer until just inches separated them, her body trapped gently against his. She felt the hard plane of his chest, the racing of his heart mirroring her own.
Looking down at her with lidded eyes, he reached up to caress her cheek, touch scorching.
"Draco," he insisted softly.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she leaned into his palm. Their eyes connected intensely, conveying all that could not be spoken aloud.
“Can I kiss you?” he muttered, his eyes dropping to her rouged lips as he leaned closer.
Heart pounding, Hermione managed the slightest of nods. She felt the warmth of his breath an instant before his mouth captured hers in a searing kiss. His hand slipped from her cheek to the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her curls, as he deepened the kiss.
Somewhere nearby, birdsong and the gurgling fountain serenaded their stolen moment.
She clung to him, senses overwhelmed by his mint and woodsy sandalwood scent, the taste of his lips on hers. He held her as if she were made of the finest porcelain.
This kiss was gentle, wanting, necessary.
She slid her arms around his strong shoulders, melting into his embrace.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. He pressed his forehead against hers, inhaling the sweet floral scent of her hair and skin.
When they broke apart, he pressed his forehead against hers, inhaling the scent of her hair and skin.
But then, the sharp click of approaching heels on the pathway startled Hermione. Gasping, she pressed her hands against Draco's firm chest, pushing him back. She could hear a familiar voice from the other side of the leafy wall.
"Miss Weasley, have you seen Miss Granger?" spoke Mr. Krum, sounding annoyed.
Heart in her throat, Hermione glanced at Draco in alarm, the stolen magic of their moment now threatened with exposure.