The Art of War

“This is to be asserted in general of men, that they are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous.”
Niccolò Machiavelli

The walk back through the jungle to where they were staying had her mind reeling. He couldn't have meant that, and yet it had deactivated the protections in that pyramid. And yet he had done all of those terrible things. Was it all to sell the image of loyalty, or was this some other test like apparently helping him heal had been? It had her stomach twisted into knots and she was mercifully grateful that the magic didn't seem like it wanted to rev them back up to lead them back into each other's arms. That wouldn't be productive, and she would try fighting it if it did because she did not want him kissing or touching her.

Despite her anger and confusion, she attempted to get him to answer her twice before falling silent until they walked into the villa. Closing the door quietly behind her, she pressed her hands together and walked over to him, trying to keep herself as calm as possible. "...You need to elaborate on what you said in that pyramid, Draco. You've already invoked the vow of silence. I can't tell another soul about it. Explain."

Twice she’d asked, and twice he’d ignored her. He’d already said too much. With all the time spent hunting leaks, and when it came to it, he might as well have been the biggest mole.

With his wand out, he threw a few more wards over the villa. “What is there to elaborate on?” he demanded, his silver gaze narrowing on her. “You’ve already decided of my triumphs, was it?” He reminded her of her own words and assumptions.

Narrowing her eyes on him, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd say all of it, but considering it took this long to even get two sentences out of you, Is this why wanting me here was complicated? Were you going to utilise me without telling me what the hell I was even doing?"

“I told you you played a pivotal role in my machinations. It certainly delivered a blow to your side. I took a pawn, crossed it over, and made a queen of it,” he said flatly “Diggory was the lure, but my final move was the one I knew would be followed through without need to elaborate.” Despite the charms, he kept his voice low.

She could hear what he said in her head clear as day. Both sides. Because sure, getting rid of the Dark Lord would free him here...but Diggory and the others wouldn't stop until he was dead. "Who knows?"

At her last question, he blinked, “No one,” he responded flatly. “Except for you…” he ran a hand through his hair and paced. Though no curses fell from his lips, they looped in his mind. fuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuuck.

"You told me I played a pivotal role, which only had me thinking of a blow to the side I was working for, Draco." How she wished she could use his damned last name to get distance, but it was her bloody last name now, too. A queen? She was important, but that important? "How about you actually include me in things if you want me to help you successfully create a void of power in the UK, alright?"

Her voice was sharper than she wanted it to be, but she wasn't loud. Almost afraid of being overheard. She cursed under her breath and moved to take a seat, letting her hair back down to half curtain her face as she rubbed at her temples. This is utterly mental....

“That was the point or perhaps you’ve forgotten the Dark Lord is currently the most powerful legilimens in the bloody Kingdom,” his voice was a hiss. He wished he could yell. Years of self-restraint and control had him maintain as close to stoicism as he could muster. He brushed invisible lint off his robes.

She was right about a power vacuum. At least neither side would emerge if he succeeded. You can barely look at me, and you want to be included? You accuse me of things from your high horse Morrigan, and you want to be included? Do you have the stomach for it? Because right now, between our first week here and the gaps from the pyramid, I’m not sure we’re making it out alive once we get back; how’s that for inclusion…

"I'm well aware of his capabilities and why we worked certain things into our vows. It works both ways, and while he'll be livid, we'll manage it somehow," she shot a glare at him from the corner of her eyes. Though his voice in her head felt far too intimate at that moment. Like he was in her ears like there was no distance between them at all. She was tied to him this way forever, too.

I can barely look at you because I was naïve enough to think the people I saved were safe. Can barely look at you because I've been under you for a week and still only know a fragment of the things that you've done. I know how bloody my own hands are and despise myself for it half the time for how good I am at it because of how mad I am nearly constantly. I had the stomach to torture Death Eaters until their minds nearly snapped. I had the stomach to cut people up and toy with them because it made them babble to get me to stop. That damn artefact will be translated; Lauren and I will handle it, and if we have to go back to get other artefacts to hold Him over, we will. And while we're at it, we'll try to think something up that won't have stragglers trying to kill us when you create a damn power vacuum. How about that? The entire time she ranted into his head, her eyes narrowed on him, and she hadn't dared to look away. How was that for honesty?

He stepped forward to look at her, jaw clenched. “It’s not my fault you’ve been asking the wrong questions all week. And as for my war crimes, we both know the corpses just keep piling. And just like you, yes, a part of me enjoys it. Fuck just hearing you in my head going on about torture and murder has me hard.” It wasn’t like before. He had clarity. There was no drive beyond his own, and he had control. Had always had control over himself.

"I'm sorry, should I have known to ask what you planned to do with your future and would you have told me? I asked why you wanted me here, Draco. I asked and you said you'd tell me later and then that it was complicated," she said simply, her voice still sharper than intended. Though she kept her gaze up on his face so she didn't look down to the reaction she had on him from talking about that. What was wrong with her that part of her liked it? Some unhinged part of herself...Maybe she was as bad as his aunt. She had nearly tortured people to madness.

“We have to enact the silence vow for the entire stay.” It was the only logical solution. “I can’t have Him seeing us fucking on every surface, and it’ll handle any other loose ends. For this once, with the artefact in hand, I think I can get away…with moderate damage.” The Dark Lord had grown so suspicious. He always feared the day he pushed too far. He couldn’t deny his master access to his mind; he never did. However, he always curated thoughts. Offered them in palatable tidbits.

The realization of it away from the job itself was like a splash of cold water through her as she closed her eyes, covering her face with her hand. "...Say that I didn't want anyone seeing how you got me into bed if he questions why the whole trip is blacked out. My shame should be something amusing to Him, I'm sure..." she grumbled as she deflated a little bit and tried to think. How would either of them get out of this and how would they manage destroying both sides of this? And what would they do after?

“We’ll enact it before the portkey then.” It was a plan. One he’d likely regret, but it would work. “If he wanted your shame, he’d summon you to witness it,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “All he wants is for me to uphold my end and keep you in line with His wishes. How I do it, he doesn’t care.” Everything she would do would reflect on him. He swallowed down. “And since this is apparently honesty hour, I’d say beyond research he’ll likely want to use you to lure Potter out before long. As if that will end anything.”

“And is it simpler now?” he demanded. Had keeping her blissfully unaware a while longer not been a mercy? He wasn’t knowledgeable in that department. He was known for lacking it entirely. And yet, she hadn’t quite been the same as others. She was no longer a prisoner or traitor. She was more than that—so much more than any role they’d held in the other’s life.

That was something she couldn't do. I can't get my best mate killed...I can't...even if he likely hates me now... It wasn't something she thought at him, but something she couldn't hold back. The guilt and the pain in that thought were clear even as she managed not to show either on her face.

"Simpler? Of course it isn't. But I prefer to know what danger I'm walking into, and now I have very little choice in the matter. Do me the courtesy of letting me know what I'm walking into. For better or worse, we're in this together now." She snapped before letting herself lean back into the couch, and she kept rubbing at her temples. So much for shutting her brain off. She had to listen now. Had to know. And then the other shoe dropped, and she grimaced.

“Are you angry at me for essentially setting you up to do what your side has failed to do?” He was legitimately at a loss there. “And last I checked, they marched you right into my welcoming arms. And I gave you enough,” he recalled clearly. “For better or worse, you’re still in your current best-case scenario, and you know it.”

I know, and there was something genuine and raw about the thoughts. “I won’t ask you to do it, not directly.” He could shoulder that burden, too, even if it meant losing her. “I can make it quick. Painless.” His throat was dry. There was a vacancy in his gaze, a cool detachment that had allowed him to survive. No joy or want. This wasn’t personal. It didn’t hold the same flavour as their own battles. If he came across Potter, he had no choice, but he could be…merciful. For her.

"I'm angry for not knowing what I was getting into here. For not knowing you want to take both sides down. We better come up with a damn good plan for what happens after that if you don't have a death wish," she murmured. There wasn't anywhere else she could go. If she had been left with Diggory and Shacklebolt, she would have been locked away from the world and used to rally people and nothing more. But she winced at his voice in her head.

"....if anything you get from me leads you to him, if you kill him because I helped at all....or because you got a thought from me...I will never forgive you, Draco Malfoy." Her voice was cold, but it covered up the pain of what she didn't say. She'd never forgive herself. This marriage would be loveless and empty, leaving them both hating the other. Resenting the other. Misery so did love company.

It was a lot. It was too much. All of it. His mind was reeling. “Find me a functional way to put this kingdom back on track, and I’ll consider it. I can’t say I really give a damn if I live to see it if it means succeeding.” It was the honest truth.

Part of him wanted to reach out to her, but he understood. He couldn’t blame her. “Then make it hard for me to succeed,” he said flatly. “And don’t tell me how you do it.” The solution was as simple as everything else. Which meant not at all remotely so. “Because I would rather not create a martyr if I can help it.” Thinking about what the Dark Lord would do to him made his stomach churn. He’d seen his cruelty too many times.

More research. She could manage research. She'd find something. But could she blame him for not caring if he died to take out both power structures that were causing so much damage? She deflated a little bit as she tried to calm her own nerves and reeling mind. "Fine," she said as calmly as she could before holding out her hand for the artefact.

"I'll get started now and clean up from the jungle after you do." Business. Getting back to business what they needed to do. They had another week here, and she might just spend it in the small study, working rather than anything else. She'd research more of how the wizarding world functioned before a minister. There had to be something.

“Hermione,” he spoke her voice tensely. Swallowing down, pulling out his wand. They’d made it out. And yet she had translated more than sacrifice. “Hermione, we haven’t encountered a beast,” he told her flatly. Unless they had, it made them believe they were still in the pyramid. “We’re either still there…” He dreaded the thought. It’d been too easy, and how long had they wasted on their spite?

She frowned more at that and stood back up, glancing around as she started to list creatures in her head that could have either cast this detailed illusion, knocked them out, or followed them. "...the lights wouldn't have come on if our sacrifices hadn't been accepted...the pyramid didn't close back up behind us...." she said, more tense now than she had been. Bloody hell.

He summoned a trunk forward and set it on the driftwood coffee table with an unceremonious thud. He went down the series of locks and opened one of the latches. When the cover opened, he carded through potions, silently handing some over.

Strengthening, wiggenweld, and extimulo, he supplied, knocking one back and then lining his belt with a few vials he’d skipped earlier. At least now, he doubted she’d distract him half as much. She was exactly how he had originally pictured.

Closing the lid, he moved to another latch. Every motion calculated, precise. It’d been a while since he’d needed more than a dagger or two.

Grabbing a few of the wiggenweld potions, she attached them to the belt she was wearing, took a strengthening potion, and put a few of the extimulo potions on her belt. She secured her hair and glanced at the door of their villa. She couldn't hear any birds chirping or any noise outside. It was eerily quiet.

She summoned a few daggers from her bag, knowing she might have had to use them in exploring a ruin, and secured them to her boots and her waist. In theory, she was more prepared for this than anything she likely had faced when she was younger—or at least more practiced now.

How could I have been foolish enough not to think about the damned door closing... She thought to herself, not realizing how open that line of communication between them could be when she wasn't focused on shielding.

There was a whole book about magical beasts, but so few covered South America, or Central America. They could be facing something completely unknown. He didn't like it.

His mind raced through scenarios. He barely registered the silence that loomed, though he noted the darkness that seemed to fall from the sky. In broad daylight. Draco swallowed down. Thunderbird? To affect the weather, it had to be big.

"Probably best to go out there and meet it," he muttered. He didn't want to deal with the wards, and he didn't want to have to leave either.

With a slow breath, she nodded as she drew her wand and stepped out ahead of him—ever the Gryffindor charging toward danger. But she looked around before her gaze turned toward the trees and almost froze.

"Oh bloody hell...." she grumbled

As tempting as it had been to use her as a shield, Draco kept to her side. They were in this together after, all, and then his gaze found what she’d spotted.

Through the trees, he could see it. Its thick body and large scales. It was as big as a basilisk, but on its head and down several meters, it wore a silver mane.

The snake was huge, and she couldn't help but stare at it. The mane that was on it reminded her of Draco's hair. Why did it always have to be snakes? No wonder the Dark Lord wanted something to do with this.

Always fucking snakes, he thought bitterly, taking a few steps forward, avoiding its gaze.

Slicking his lips, he tried to communicate with it. Hisses and spits fell off his tongue as he tried to reason with the bloody thing rather than kill it. They’d made it this far on wit.

Hermione watched as the large serpent hissed at Draco, tilting its head to the side as eyes slowly narrowed on him now rather than on Hermione. It started to lower itself out of the trees, but it didn't look like it was particularly pleased.

I have a feeling that it speaks a different dialect, Draco....

I’m coming to the same conclusion…, Of course, there were snake dialects. He had to find a weakness to it and fast.

As it lunged towards him in a gnash of fangs, he shot sideways in a flurry of smoke opposite his wife. When he’d become so gallant he wasn’t quite certain, but perhaps she’d see something he couldn’t.

Don't let it kill you. She said simply as she also darted to the opposite side that Draco had flurried. The snake seemed more interested in him than her, which gave her time to run through different serpent-like creatures.

Finding his feet, he summoned two of his daggers and enlarged them. He hissed at the creature again, this time with a curse—something to keep its focus on him. Perhaps he could aim in its mouth or nostrils, whichever landed at this point—softer expanses of flesh.

Harry had stabbed the Basilisk through the mouth after a phoenix had blinded it. Taking in a slow breath, she focused on the snake, and with a careful bit of focus, she slowly circled back around before casting a spell that was meant to cut deeply—his godfather's spell, in fact—aimed at the creature's eyes.

It shrieked as deep gauges ruined its eyes, making blood fall from them like tears and ruining its vision.

Her curse had his daggers miss, and though she had told him not to die, he hadn't relied on their bond. How many times in battle had he wished to have that ability? To make things simpler? One little argument and he was back to shutting her out.

As it thrashed, he moved again in a shroud of black smoke, keeping away from her and trying to find a place that was close enough for an attack.

It's blind, but now it's out of control, he noted. It seemed the more it struggled, the harsher the rain fell, the angry clouds overhead rolling with deafening thunder and blinding strikes.

I did notice that, she almost sounded like she was grumbling as the rain came down in a deluge. The thunder was loud enough to shake the ground, and the flashes of lightning illuminated the area.

How likely was it that this thing was immune to magic along the scales? She wished they had the sword of Gryffindor at that moment. It would have been a godsend.

Right as the serpent was about to try and strike at where Draco was, she flicked her wand, causing a branch to snap loudly, sending the snake to collide with the tree as it tried to strike there.

With it so unpredictable on the ground, he took the skies. Perhaps he'd find a weakness, something they could use. Beyond it's nose and mouth, he couldn't find anything else. Not on a preliminary glance.

As he flew, he kept close enough to look and far enough to avoid needing a save from his wife again. It was nice that she didn't want him dead. At least not yet. He circled the creature's head again, making sure the thick smoke surrounding him filled its area, letting it linger on his tongue. He moved to force it to strike, angling it towards itself as he dashed forward.

As irritating as she found the flying with smoke, it was serving a useful purpose at the moment.

One of its fangs collided with its side, the point of it coming apart. Impenetrable scales, the sarcasm dripped from his mind. Because that was all it was missing. At least now it had one less pointy thing. He took his wins.

Watching carefully as he worked, she started remembering every bit of knowledge that she could come up with. If they could drive something through the eyes, now that it was blinded, they would likely be able to kill it. But it was likely the eyes, nose, and mouth that were the places to get the hits in.

Which was confirmed as that fang broke off. Make it do that again. We might be able to get it to savage its own mouth and make it easier to drive something through the soft palette or be able to drive something through the eyes without risking injury....

Make it do it again?! Sure, that was easier said than done. Rather than complain, he tried to piss off the creature again. It took longer to make blind with rage, and once he had it springing again, coiling back in an S of sorts to strike, he shot forward, feeling it on his heels as he encouraged it back onto itself. It seemed to have learned, and though it still hit its good fang, the damage wasn't nearly as obliterating.

She was glad he hadn't complained, she likely would have been short with him right then. The rain had soaked through her clothes, but at least it wasn't cold. She carefully moved around, watching how they moved and seeing if there were any other weak points. But it was just that. She could possibly use a few of her daggers, using a spell to guide them, to embed them into the creature's eyes. If it would stay still.

He missed his broom. It didn't require as much energy in high-intensity situations like this. When he landed, it was to knock back a few potions. If he wanted to keep this up, he would need the boost.

I'll try to get it to bite that tree, he flashed an image of the bigger one he'd found. With some luck, it'll get stuck in the wood... Wasn't that how they milked snakes? Making it bite into something?

Do it. If it gets stuck in the tree, I can get my daggers in its eyes. She encouraged, her voice curt as she focused on the task.

Beneath the added weight of his cloaks, he cracked his neck and eyed the creature. His strength was returning, though he knew it was merely borrowed power. Just a bit to push him forward. Shooting off the ground, he flew straight for the back of it, wand ahead as he shot a snake of fire at that silver mane. Surely, its silken strands weren't as immune as the rest.

It seemed to have caused the grievance he wanted because when he twisted and turned with the serpent, it followed blindly forward as if the very trail of smoke Draco created was a lead. He didn't stop as he shot forward, waiting until the last possible moment to shoot up like some inverted Wronski feint.

The manoeuvre was one that she remembered seeing years and years ago at a Quidditch game. It had a bitter taste of guilt on her tongue and had her stomach knot even as she focused on the snake, and on Draco. Despite hating herself for it, she was worried about the blond as he used himself as bait for the snake. As angry as she was at him, she was worried. What the hell did that say about her?

With its fang and stub sunk into thick hardwood, the blond watched its body lash like a whip. The sort of motion he appreciated from leather, not overly large snakes. Looking around, he summoned vines forward, hoping with enough of them they could regain control. Their area of jungle certainly hadn't lacked lengths of vegetation to bring to life and ensnare the creature's body.

She carefully watched as he dodged and the snake continued forward, sinking its teeth into the largest tree. The creature struggled, the mane still burning as it thrashed and tried to wrench its mouth off of the tree.

If she were going at it with a dagger, he would do what he could to make it as safe as possible. To set her up with a proper shot. Even angry with him, she still had a purpose to fulfill, and he wasn't done with his betrayal.

Taking the chance, she darted closer, drawing both daggers. With a flick of her wand, she threw them and guided them down into both of the creature's eyes. It shrieked around the tree trunk, continuing to thrash and hiss as the daggers sank in deeper before it finally fell still.

If anything, his plan had prevented the snake from going too far in its motions, giving the lioness the time to strike that killing blow. He eyed those final thrashes and finally allowed himself to take a breath. He was winded and exhilarated.

It was rare for Draco to feel this exerted without having killed something. Certainly, he'd done his share in eradicating whatever that was, but he had barely made a dent. Every little dance with death had a reel of emotions with it. Like being caught in the undertow only to miraculously resurface and get that first breath of air.

"We should try to get some parts," he looked over the creature. "Potion ingredients...potential poisons." It would be something else to bring. He didn't care what it was, Lauren could research it.

Looking up at the creature, she flicked her wand and extinguished the fire in its mane. At least there didn't seem to be more than one. The rain had finally stopped. She needed a damn bath.

"Get me some vials and things to bottle some of it then. We can get some of the mane, possibly the broken fang. If we're careful, we might be able to get some of the scales. I doubt we can get any venom out of it now...It's blood we can get, though," she murmured, looking over the giant beast with a bit of a grimace.

"Yes, dear," he retorted in a mixture that was both domestic and sarcastic. Words he'd heard his father lovingly speak to his mother. Before she could reply, he was through the wards and going through their abode.

Shooting a glare at him at the sarcasm, she moved closer to the creature and carefully moved around it as she waited.

Returning to his chest, he pulled out vials and silver tools. It was a pity creatures like that seldom kept their magical defences once dead. With a bag in hand, he returned out into the heat. The sun would handle the wetness that seeped into his bones. It wasn't the cold rain from back home which he was grateful for, and somehow it was worse.

Every step squelched, so he apparated to avoid the unpleasant sound. Spotting the fang that had broken off, he moved to it and looked it over. Was it worth shrinking? Not without taking fragments for study he supposed.

With a swift gesture, she snipped hairs from its mane and guided them down into her hand. The strands were cool to the touch, smooth, and oddly reminded her of unicorn hair.

She trailed her fingers over the spot in its scales where it had hit itself and didn't notice even a bit of a scratch. It was unlikely they'd be able to get any of the scales. But at least they could get some things from the guardian creature. It was almost a shame they'd had to kill it. Who knew how long it had been in that temple?

After getting enough samples, he looked over the damage. This thing was huge, and honestly, he didn't want to clean this shit up. In fact, he didn't want to have to do more work. Sleep sounded pretty great, minus the fact that their little home away from home only had one bed.

"We should go to the village for dinner. I can have a team from there to...handle this," he sighed, trying not to allow the edges of a migraine to overtake him, but it was inevitable at this point. Even the silver of his eyes had more in common with a heavy cloud than something more tempestuous.

Everything they could get from it was bagged and carefully labelled, and she wanted nothing more than to clean off the sweat and the rain and crawl into bed. But there was just one bed. She'd take the couch. Sleeping next to him was not something that she thought of as pleasant.

"Agreed. Let me clean up some, and we can head down. Then, I'll not do anything for the rest of this day. I'll start trying to translate tomorrow..."

He could agree to that. He certainly couldn't go down there looking as he did. "Not doing anything sounds...refreshing," he admitted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done nothing. Even at ease, he'd had something to do. There had been no time to lay back and let his guard down. Not even with the magics that had had them entangled for days. Though she was glacial, it did nothing for his libido.

Returning to the house, he stripped off his cloak and let it fall on the bedroom floor. She'd seen more of him than his own mother had at this point, and he wasn't about to shy away because she had her knickers in a twist.

Hermione put the samples into his trunk and cleaned her daggers before returning them to her bag. As he let the cloak drop in the bedroom, she paused a moment to look at him before leaning against the wall and letting her hair back down, soaked as it was.

"I'll clean up after you're done," she said simply, that distance back in her voice as she paid him as little mind as possible. If she looked, she might react to him again, and she did not want to end up on top of him or under him right now.

“Suit yourself,” he stripped out of his clothes. “Maybe I’ll leave you some hot water,” he snickered. She might be hot pissed, but he had a migraine to nurse, and honestly, he was tempted to use it up out of spite.

"Least you could do," she said smoothly with a shrug before she moved into their room and drew one of her own books out of her bag. Charmed against water damage long ago, she stripped down to her skivvies and sent her clothing to a hamper, settling in to read something for enjoyment again.

Without a look, he walked over to the en suite and turned the water on. Some might have gone for cold in this weather and heat, but Draco went as hot as his skin could take, so the exit would feel that much cooler.

If she could manage to hold out, and she was sure she could, she intended on spending the rest of their honeymoon reading and translating. And keeping as much distance between them as she could while she figured out how and what to feel.

It was a while before Draco turned off the water. His gaze falling on his wedding ring. With a shrug, he reached for a towel and patted himself dry. At least he could think and breathe and exist without needing her under him. It didn’t mean he didn’t want to, but that was something he could ignore.

Once back in the room, he traded the towel for clothes and stepped out of the room. Of course, he’d seen her reading in a matching set, but he wouldn’t rise to the bait. It was purely transactional. As it should have been.

Glancing up as he came in with just the towel around his hip, she felt her throat go dry. Why did he have to be so damned handsome? Taking in a slow breath, she marked her page and closed the book before she stripped out of the set with her back to him and strode into the en suite. If he saved her hot water, she would be surprised by how long he took.

It wasn't fair. None of it was. She wanted the hot water to help her scramble her thoughts and make it easier to think things through. Where was the giant prefect's bath when she needed it? Instead, she turned on the water hotter than she could usually stand, hoping she got some hot water, and started to scrub herself clean.

She was lucky he’d felt somewhat fair to leave some hot water. He hoped it wouldn’t be enough, just like the last week would never quite feel like enough. He knew her taste; despite his best efforts, he knew he’d want more.

He had to focus on anything but. He hadn’t bothered with books for company, a decision he regretted. Instead, he settled on the couch and draped his arm over his eyes. Darkness, he needed darkness to push away the throbbing at his temples, rippling through the back of his head.

The hot water was just enough. It helped her focus, helped her muscles relax, and helped her scrub the feeling of the serpent off her skin. And she didn't know if she meant Malfoy or the creature they had fought together. And had fought well together. Damn him.

There was a softness to him underneath all of that hard-won control. A vulnerability that she could understand because she had it, too. She couldn't let her guard fall around him any more than anyone else. Transactional. That's all this could be. The sex was nice...but not now. Not when she needed to figure out what the hell they were going to do.

Getting out of the shower, she used a spell to dry her hair so it fell in soft waves around her face and summoned her clothes into the bathroom. She got dressed again, in a light pair of trousers and a top that was off the shoulder to help with some of the heat. She hoped. Looking at the wedding ring on her finger she adjusted it carefully.

She should have known there was going to be fine print to all of this. Walking out of their shared bedroom, she pulled back on a pair of shoes that were more comfortable but not exactly meant for trudging through the jungle. She was sure they were going to apparate. "Ready?"

The darkness of his inner elbow did nothing for the fractals behind his eyes. It was the side effects of a potent potion. One he was still working out the kinks of.

Her voice came to him, and he winced on the inside. Couldn’t she have taken longer? He sorted the last of his fractured mind and stood in a cloud of black smoke.

“I nearly fell asleep so long you took,” he drawled. He hoped the dullness of his greys would merely look like the distance of occlumency. The difference was subtle; even she hadn’t been in his life long enough to know everything.

"I'm sure," she said simply, that coldness back to her tone as well as the distance as she brushed her hand through her hair.

“Let’s go meet the local government then,” he offered her his arm. He didn’t trust himself to apparate, but fly? It was time for his wife to learn how to make an entrance.

Raising a brow as he offered an arm, she met his gaze. "I hardly have to hold onto your arm to apparate, Draco." There wasn't a portkey around. Wouldn't be one for a few more days to take them back to the manor, where she would likely return to her quarters to get that bit of space that she could manage.

Draco met her gaze warningly. “You will take my arm when I offer it,” he gritted. “Especially when paying a visit to dignitaries,” he reminded firmly. “Hate me all you want, but you agreed to this role. It’s an arm, I’m hardly forcing you to your knees.”

Hermione glared at him and took his arm with a roll of her eyes, not realizing what he was planning. Rolling her shoulders back, she took in a slow breath and let it out, smoothing out the anger in her face, looking cool and collected at the very least. "Force me onto my knees, and I'll find a loophole to cause you pain," she replied far too cheerily with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

He eyed above her lips. “The only pain you can cause me is the kind I’ll let you,” he whispered as if he’d just given her the sweetest compliment. “Just like…” he bit his lower lip and licked it. The heat was gone as quickly as it came. “And who said anything about apparating?” His smile turned wicked, gripping her firmly before enveloping them both in thick black smoke and out the door.

Let her. She'd find something that she could torment him with. If his lust was the leading factor, she could always wear things that would be enticing but publicly appropriate and not let him touch her. Hadn't Daphne's mother done that? All the more reason to attempt it. Apparently, it was a common tactic in marriages of convenience. Though she frowned, about to say something before he gripped her and that thick black smoke enveloped them and they were off.

Her grip tightened on him enough to make her knuckles white as she closed her eyes. The colour drained from her face as she felt her stomach heave. She hated flying. Despised it. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck. Don't get sick, don't get sick, don't get sick. Her thoughts were loud but unintentional as she clung.

Despite himself, he brought her closer, tucking her to his chest to keep her steady. When they landed, he was the picture of the doting husband. Not with how loud her thoughts had been.

We’ll have to work on that, he warned, keeping her close as a few members of local law enforcement came to meet them. With a translation charm, he could understand them and they him perfectly.

If it hadn't been Draco tucking her in against his chest, she might have felt more reassured. What was real and what wasn't with him? It was enough to make her dizzy. And the flight already did. I'd much prefer apparition. It was meant to be a snap, but even in her mind, it was more of a whine as she leaned in against him.

“You’re our foreigner friends,” a green-robed wizard with law enforcement insignia greeted.

Draco smiled easily. “Yes, lovely area you have. My wife and I wanted to visit the village. We’ve enjoyed the jungle and cenotes so far.”

“Cenotes are always a favourite; you just need to watch for Tsukàn.” The other official gave a laugh.

Using a translation charm on herself as well, she was glad that magic could help bridge the gaps between them. "For Tsukàn.?" She asked carefully with a slight tilt of her head, keeping that firm grip on her husband for the moment.

“Don’t mind Kaax. Tsukàn is a legend at this point. Hasn’t been a sighting in centuries. Locals believe it to be a guardian of the cenotes. It’s a large snake creature.”

Draco kept his composure. I think we might have caused some irreparable damage. He took in the story, and tried to see the banter between the lot. The way they seemed to assume the silence was due to some fear.

Oh we absolutely did....

"A guardian snake creature? How fascinating," she said, encouraging them to go on even as she stayed on Draco's arm. The vertigo of the flight slowly faded as she listened, nodding along to the tale.

Doubt a bribe will work now, he continued to smile.

Probably not...Especially if it was an honoured guardian. Of course, it had to guard the damn pyramid.

“Apparently, it began as just a snake in the jungle, but one day, Chaac, the god of Rain, told Tsukán to guard the cenotes and ensure they follow the proper cycle by calling on rain.”

“It’s also said to have the head of a horse…”

“No, the mane of a horse. That’s a bad gringo translation…”

Raising a brow, she looked as curious as someone that hadn't just seen the giant serpent. "A snake with a mane sounds fascinating."

“So there’s only one?” Draco asked. “Our school had a basilisk. Big snake, venomous fangs, petrifying gaze…but it could be made with a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad…”

"As my husband said, our school had a rather fearsome snake as well.....It's surprising how many stories overlap," she offered with a charming enough smile.

They were in deep trouble and likely had just caused an international incident without even meaning to.

If we go back, it might be suspicious, but if we don’t and they find the damn thing before we can… he was thinking out loud without meaning to. At least now they knew what they’d killed.

“What do you suggest for dinner. My wife and I were feeling adventurous,” he shifted the conversation to their purpose, which he’d come up with all of ten seconds prior.

“Honeymooners,” one said to the other.

“There are a few, but definitely the one with the band, every night they have dancing.”

“Yes, yes! Acan. It’s great!”

Which means we have to be swift with whatever it is we do and call in someone else to get rid of the thing for us.... She added, not minding this line of thinking at least. It was helping them figure something out.

Leaning in against Draco, she seemed ever the doting and affectionate wife as she looked between the two. Looking up at her husband with a bit more of a smile, she chuckled. "You did promise you'd find ways to dance with me," she teased lightly.

Even that felt like a lifetime ago now. She could be mad at him later. Not now.

“I did, didn’t I?” He offered a warm expression the other wizards seemed to accept.

I could summon Nott and Zabini. Probably a few more… If he were honest, he’d need all hands on deck. He had to start small. He couldn’t just demand ten men join him in a small village.

"You did," she teased, her fingers tracing along his arm as she played her role.

After a few officials' encouragement, he led his wife towards the road as they’d been instructed.

Walking with him towards the road, she stayed on his arm and gave a slight nod, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. Do it. They'll be gone afterwards and likely think that your bride just wanted to do something courageous and foolish like any other Gryffindor.

He couldn’t just pull out his wand and scorch his arm publicly. She was right, though. They’d definitely blame her. Which he hadn’t decided was a problem yet. We’ll have time to come up with a story. We have a night of dancing ahead after all…

I hardly care if your men blame me. They can get used to the idea of me doing what I want as long as it doesn't displease you. Means they'll know to leave me the hell alone or face my wrath. She countered with a slight shrug before he pulled her into that alley and pinned her there. She almost gasped as she looked up at him, her eyes a little wide.

Pulling her into an alley he pinned her against the wall as if he were going to kiss her. No one stopped to bother them as people moved along. Out of earshot and yet definitely with the status of onlookers. “Roll up my sleeve and pretend I just said something funny,” he guided. She was good, they were good at this. Too good. Or perhaps that was because they’d blurred that line so many times. Reaching towards his breast he pulled his wand to produce a thornless rose. A charade for its next motion.

Those lips...fuck, part of her wanted him to kiss her. She rolled up his sleeve and actually laughed, a soft sound that many would think was real. She'd had to pretend enough with other people while undercover or hiding in plain sight. She rolled the sleeve up past the mark, her fingers tracing the outside of his arm away from the mark as she kept her eyes up on him all the while. Like a perfectly enamoured wife might.

His features were warm as he rolled the outer petals over her lower lip. A physical barrier to stop him from kissing her. Until they go crying to the Dark Lord about the large exotic and rare weather-controlling pet snake He could have had. His mind was curt and firm, starkly contrasting how gently he pressed the stem to her palm. Though he seemed to sheath his wand, he pressed the tip to his forearm, pressing his forehead to hers to conceal the pain that coursed through him. It never got easier, and the distance, it made it feel like an eternity. Breathless, he finally set the length of wood away and kept close. Any onlookers might have thought the worst, with how he seemed to envelop her in cloaks and shadows.

Keeping his gaze, she kept her expression just that mix of enamoured that they had used in the photo shoot. Until it is pointed out to the Dark Lord that rather than being a snake that could be used, it would be one likely to attack any dark magic rather than bow. Even to an heir of Salazar Slytherin. Taking the rose in her hand, she watched him and almost grimaced in sympathy. That mark would always hurt him. Even if they managed to succeed in his truly mental plan. Her free hand brushed over the back of his hair, keeping her forehead to his.

He was shattered on the inside, but what else was new? He focused on her hand on the back of his neck. His breathing laboured a while longer before he could force himself back in place. Wand away, he fixed his sleeve. Grateful for the rustle of cloaks behind him.

“Don’t bother bowing. I need you both to make a problem disappear."

“You mean the…” Nott shut his lips at the warning look he received. “You two have been…busy then…” he seemed disappointed.

Hearing the rustle of cloaks, she glanced over Draco's shoulder but kept him close to her as her fingers brushed into the back of his hair, and she gave a slight nod.

"Evening, Nott," she drawled and then glanced over at Blaise. "Zabini."

"Mrs. Malfoy," the darker wizard greeted politely before glancing back at Draco. "Consider it done. Just the pair of us?"

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Theodore bowed his head with a small smile before looking to Draco. His expression sobering just as quickly as it had thawed.

“Get whoever you need. I want it gone by the time we settle in. Also, my wife might have lost a dagger or two in our altercation. Do retrieve anything left behind. And no witnesses.” Draco added. With orders out, he had to keep to his role for the evening.

"Lovely to see you both....but I hope not to see you both again for a week," she said smoothly, keeping her attention on Draco.

Zabini actually chuckled just a little, glancing between the two of them. The pair were unable to murder each other which meant whatever was going on with them was likely to be his and Theo's problem once they got back. Lovely. "Yes, sir. We'll make sure we get her knives back and keep things going smoothly. Know how much she likes her daggers," he murmured calmly before disapparting ahead of Theo.

“You ready, darling?” He asked his wife smoothly as if he hadn’t just ordered a cover-up job with a side of potential murder. He didn’t wait to hear his men disapparate as he offered her his arm, already cursing the constant beat of the music hammering his head.

"Ready," she said simply as she twirled the rose and took his arm again. Music and dinner. At least they wouldn't be bored while weaving a cover story.

With his men gone and his wife on his arm, he led her through the alley and onto a busier street. They definitely were in a magical village, though it wasn’t anything like Hogsmeade or Godric’s Hollows. It was lively and colorful and loud. All things that continued the assault around his brain.

Finding the restaurant hadn’t been too hard. Their welcome party had led them to a place teaming with life. Once in, a local beamed and ushered them to a table near the dance floor and, therefore, the band.

Following him was easy enough as she took in the busy street. At least she looked dressed for a night out, blending in well enough. The colours and the loud noise honestly had her briefly remembering the World Cup before everything went wrong and also recalling one of the nights there had been a celebration in the early days of the insurgency. Before she had gotten a taste for torture and interrogation.

At least we don’t have to yell over the music, he supplied. He wasn’t sure if her mind's voice against his would be pleasant or not. Another layer of his suffering or a balm.

Sitting across from him, she offered a bit more of a smile, but anyone who paid too much attention would notice it didn't completely reach her eyes. Small blessings, I suppose. Neither of us will shout ourselves hoarse.

Not anytime soon, no… It was almost unfortunate. He liked her hoarse and panting, but he kept that to himself. There was no need to break their newfound ice. She knew too much, and his master would expect this. This was easier to maintain.

Instead, he looked over the menu and ordered a shot of mezcal. He would welcome the heat of it.

Not ever, hopefully. She couldn't imagine letting go with abandon with him again. Not when she knew he was planning on flipping the world on its head, again, and doing as he wished. She couldn't blame him for wanting to be free, but she could blame him for dragging her into it on his terms.

She ordered a shot of mezcal as well as a margarita. She looked over the menu, paying more attention to that than him as she tapped her foot against the floor.

He tried not to smirk at the page before him. She hadn’t flat-out denied him. Interesting. Hopefully was such a pesky little word to add.

He had no idea what he was looking at. He didn’t want something messy. He hated getting messy. Eventually he settled on some grilled red snapper from what he deciphered. He’d stopped translating menus long ago. It was simpler just to accept what came. There would be no creature comforts here.

She had settled on some sort of shrimp or fish item with rice. She didn't want to deal with getting her hands dirty after feeling filthy after taking bits and pieces off of that snake. When they got back to the UK she would likely end up getting her hands dirty in more ways than one.

Once the shot was brought to the table, she knocked it back and closed her eyes at the burn down the back of her throat. Better. It helped.

Mirroring her action with his shot, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the heat trickling down his throat. It didn't burn enough, not as much as he needed it to. Still it took the edge off. It would do for now.

When a waitress came around, he asked for a specific mezcal he had found on the menu. It was the closest to what he normally drank.

She ordered her food with a charming enough smile to the waitress as she sipped at the margarita. She'd order another shot in a little bit. She glanced over at Draco, studying him momentarily as if she could watch him and glean anything else from him that way.

With his dish ordered and the lack of a menu to hide behind, he watched the attention she brought him.

I can’t kill you, I can’t lie to you, and now you know too much. Just ask. His thoughts were curt, impatient even. He didn’t understand what she was trying to figure out. What more could she want?

I'm trying to figure you out, Draco. Not sure asking questions will actually help me with that. It was blunt honesty as she looked at him and took another sip of her margarita. Either the tequila in it was stronger than she would have thought, or someone at the bar thought she was cute. Which would have interested her a few weeks ago. Pity it couldn't interest her now.

That nearly made him laugh. Six years of school had made him the villain. He'd merely embraced it. Glare away... he shrugged, appreciating the smokey liquid's fumes before indulging on his tongue. He didn't want the pretence of juice alongside his liquor. It was useless calories he didn't need weighing him down.

That bit of mirth had her roll her eyes as she looked at him, wishing she could start an argument that wouldn't show on her face. But she was too expressive when it came to him, and she hated it. He brought out the worst in her. I hardly need your permission to do so. Considering the tastes he had told her about, she had to wonder if that would get under his skin or not.

How long have you been looking for a way out? Might as well ask. He could always ignore her as he did on the return trip from the pyramid.

When he looked at her, he faked that smoulder. It wasn't particularly hard with her, especially after everything. They were newlyweds, after all. Years of occlumency and self-preservation had taught him to school every piece of himself, and yet, for a week, she had shattered that.

You're assuming I wanted in to begin with, he gave her a non-answer, and yet it was everything. He hadn't chosen to become a death eater; the honour was bestowed upon him. He'd been given an impossible task and more than his life had figured on the line.

It wasn't as all-consuming, that look he levelled at her. Not the one that had her nearly melt. And she was thankful for it. If he looked at her like that she wasn't sure how she was going to react. Didn't say you did. Honestly didn't think you did in sixth year when Harry and Ron were convinced you jumped for it.

Which was more honest than she had wanted to be. But she took a sip of her drink, glancing up at him through her lashes before looking at the dance floor. But not wanting in and plotting a way to get out to the effect of destroying both sides is not the same thing.

He noted her gaze on the dancefloor, and though she was getting better at their silent conversations, it was too easy to read her if they were still. Despite his desire to just sit, he rose to his feet and offered her a hand as a salsa began.

You're right, it's not like I tried to befriend the chosen one in my first year, tried to save him in my second, or anything like that... He kissed her knuckles. "Dance with me?" he asked, a look similar to the one he'd had at their wedding. It wasn't like he had to fake chemistry. They'd had it.

Looking over at him, she almost blinked, almost lost some of the poker face that she had. Insulting the one friend he already made first year didn't exactly help with that...I had a theory you sent Dobby. This was getting easier. At least to intentionally send things. She was rather certain that high emotions would still let thoughts bleed over.

Lightly squeezing his hand, she moved to stand up and stepped closer to him. "Of course." Chemistry was easy, too easy. It would distract her again if she weren't careful. But didn't she deserve something that at least felt real some of the time?

We met before that. At Madam Malkins, he recalled clearly. Once he settled on the Weasel, my opportunity was over. It was just fact. Befriending the chosen one would have been one thing. Risking his father's wrath another. Where his mother had been doting, his father had been intransigent. It only got worse after their first year.

Placing their arms so their hands were twined and his arm supported her other, he began leading them in the three-step motion that took them across the floor. Not like I could have changed much anyways... He'd only been a child. He'd only known what he'd managed to squirrel by eavesdropping and snooping. It'd earned him more canings than he'd care to admit. He wanted to drive his father's own cane through his chest half the time.

I see... Wrapping her mind around that was difficult, but she was able to focus on his body pulling her in and leading the steps across the floor. This part felt natural. Just like all of their physical chemistry, even when she wanted to hit him, something she knew she couldn't do anymore.

What did she do with any of that? The fact that he had helped in the only way he could, trying to get Harry to stay away. You did more than some twelve-year-olds would have. It was a simple statement that gave him some credit for the attempt as she didn't meet his gaze.

He didn’t want to look at her, so he kept his eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to hers. His body could follow nearly any ballroom dance without a second thought. He eyed her lips and regretted opening his eyes.

I merely expedited the inevitable. He’d stopped judging his past. He’d come to terms with his failures and the fantasies of a child. By third year, I embraced my path. The lessons, the dreams my father had of my bright future as Minister for Magic, all of it. Malfoys could always be traced to power.

That press had that feeling of intimacy building again. It was a lie. He couldn't love her, she couldn't love him, and this was just some weird dance, no pun intended, they would be stuck in for the rest of their lives. Would it be so bad to let herself forget and play pretend again for a little while?

You would have had to fight me for that too. There was a bit of a boast in that. She'd beat him in grades; she could have beat him in that, too. After learning more about the wizarding world, she wanted to help facilitate change. How else could you do that but at the top? Perhaps it had been far too ambitious, but, like any Gryffindor, she didn't know when to quit.

Seems like calls to like. The inner response was almost a taunt. He hadn’t always been vicious or harsh, but he’d learned from the best. Whenever he’d met her on the battlefield, he’d recognized a kindred spirit. The war had warped them, but somehow, he had a feeling there was a little monster in her, too. That he wasn’t the only one who had struggled with darkness on some level.

That's one way of putting it. She didn't want to think about how similar they likely were. She had become so much more vicious and cold during the war. So many people she cared about shied away from her. Was that why she hadn't noticed Wood's fixation on her and desire to change her? Had she simply wanted someone to accept her?

Dancing with her was easy. Brace yourself, he warned through the bond, the only warning he offered before dipping her as the song ended.

Her hands tightened on him as her eyes widened in surprise, unable to help the blush that dusted her cheeks. Show off.

Our friends are back, he noted the law enforcement agents from their entrance into town. His nose traced her jaw as they received applause. He pulled her back up and fell into step as the band began another song.

I won’t apologize for showing you off, he met her gaze. Especially when one of the bartenders seemed to keep throwing a look her way. She was his to torment, just as he was hers to torment.

Hopefully not looking for us. She almost glanced over to see what they were up to before she felt his nose trace along her jaw. It made her shiver lightly and drew her gaze back to his. It was all fake. Transactional. That's all this could be. It was all it was supposed to be, their own physical chemistry be damned.

Her fingers lightly trailed over his shoulder as she met his gaze, but she could feel the bartender watching her. She did spare a glance over at him, and while she did think he was dashing, she felt...nothing. No sparks. No desire to attempt to flirt to bother her husband. Nothing. Shit. One more dance or back to the table before our food arrives?

One more. At least when she was this close, he could forget the constant dull ache that lingered beneath his scalp. Unless you don’t want to… She had been avoiding him. Already he could feel her thaw, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to.

He discreetly kept an eye on the pair that had joined. Just in case they’d be trouble. If Nott and Zabini had fucked up, he’d know by now, right?

One more is fine. She replied smoothly. Dancing could be a distraction. There was no guarantee that he would even devise a plan that would work. Which was part of why he wanted her around, wasn't it?

It seemed like she was always someone's tool or weapon. And it left a lingering bitter taste in her mouth. But she focused on this instead. Less suspicious if we keep dancing too.

It certainly would be less suspicious that way. Especially since they likely knew they’d realized their presence. Also avoids them inviting themselves over… He didn’t want to entertain. At least, not like that.

Any chance the insurgency has connections here? He had trouble believing they just came along. Even if it made sense, he hadn’t made it this long without questioning everything that was remotely suspicious.

Hermione didn't want to play the doting newlywed wife anymore than she currently was. So that was fine with her as he led her into more steps, following his lead easily. If there is, I was never made privy to them. But that hardly means they didn't exist.

There were countless things she didn't know there either, but as she danced with him, she kept herself alert and aware.

Eventually, the song came to an end, and Draco tucked her arm in his so he could walk her back to her seat. Everything came to an end eventually. He only hoped she could keep up her end of the charade.

It was almost like the kitchen had been waiting for their return because no sooner had he tucked her seat in and taken his own a server brought their plates and fresh drinks.

He took a sip and stared at the fish on his plate, eyeing him with desiccated eyes. At least it was honest. With a hand motion, he let the limes squeeze over his platter and seized his cutlery to dig in.

Returning to the table was a small blessing. Any more of that, and she would continue to thaw towards him. She didn't want to melt for him; to open up further. And with their food before them, she focused on eating rather than him.

Not bad. It had some sort of tropical salsa, or at least something with fruit on her fish. But it was good. And the margarita was just as strong as the first one.

It was the same in every country, it seemed. The bartender found someone attractive? More booze for them.

Though not particularly hungry, Draco forced down every well-mannered bite he took. Though under different circumstances, it might have burst on his tongue with flavour, it was dull like most things—just protein to keep him going. He couldn't allow himself to weaken and soften as he had. It didn't matter that their blood vows were to blame. He needed to keep control.

Still, he could feel those gazes on him. "Everything to your liking, darling?" he asked casually. It would be odd if they didn't talk. Where he might have been an awkward child and teenager, he had learned. Not through genuine contact as most, but in a far more usable manner.

While he ate to survive, she ate for enjoyment and let herself relax a little bit—at least visibly. She took another bite of food and watched how efficiently he ate. She wasn't even sure he was tasting it. "Very much so. Not too hot either," she smiled charmingly enough.

Briefly, she debated saying something about the margaritas being so strong. But hadn't he threatened to harm anyone who so much as looked at her 'wrong? Best for all of them that she didn't mention it. "How's your food?"

"Perfectly prepared," he responded without missing a beat as if he had enjoyed every explosion of flavour on his tongue. At home, he would have merely pushed food around, but here? He couldn't leave anything to interpretation.

As easily bribed as people were in these parts, he was still on foreign soil, and only one border separated him from an entire government that would love to see him fall. It was almost interesting, given how phobic the MACUSA was towards muggles.

"There are a few temples nearby we can visit over our stay," he offered. He was done with them but knew he couldn't admit to that. At least the others weren't as interesting. They'd been far too pilfered to hold anything left of note.

"Oh good." She smiled more even as her mind brushed his. Glad to see you've eaten rather than half eating your food and then rearranging it on the plate. And you got onto me for not eating when I was first in the manor.

It was something she could poke at. What could he possibly do? Ignore her? She had a feeling that he'd do that already. She sipped her drink and finished the food on her plate as she mulled that over. "I think I'd like that. Ruins and temples are quite fascinating."

That brush of her mind against his. Of course, she was watching his habits. At least he didn't have to fear her trying to poison him. Not anymore, not that he imagined her in the kitchen of all places. You were killing yourself, it's different. She'd been so thin, sickly so.

"They can be," he agreed. Even with his thirst for knowledge, it wasn't exactly his cup of tea. At least not these. Not after the day they'd had. "I'm sure we'll find lots of gems to uncover here.

She gave him a slight look before sipping at her margarita. Oh yes, very different. I was more direct about it; you barely eat enough to get by. So, the difference between doing it completely and doing it by degrees. If she was stuck with him and he'd ensure she stayed healthy, she'd be doing the same.

A chuckle left her lips, and she nodded. "I'm sure we will. Glad you don't mind that I wanted something a little more adventurous rather than low-key on some island somewhere." Even if it was a job. She should have picked the island.

Has my strength or stamina left you unsatisfied that you're taking a vested interest in my eating habits? He sipped his drink as if he hadn't just made an implication to the very thing she wanted to put an end to.

His lips curled into a crooked smile. "I promised you a life of thrills and excitement, didn't I?" There was a near-wicked glimmer. It hadn't been exactly how he'd put it, but if he knew one thing, she certainly wouldn't be bored or benched at his side—even if he wasn't fully forthcoming.

Of course, that's where you take this rather than the very real possibility we'll both have to be at our best with what you're plotting. She didn't entertain the idea. If she did, she'd blush, remembering how good he was in bed. Far too good. It was something she hated both of them for, after all.

She lifted a brow with a bit of a smirk. "I think you simply said that I'd want for nothing. Which I suppose covers that." Of course, he could twist her words there, too. And she hoped that he wouldn't.

Am I not at my best? he asked, raising an eyebrow as he met her gaze. If he had wanted to be crass, he’d have reminded her how little sleep he’d had and still managed to face a magic-proof snake alongside her. Didn’t matter. Did I? he questioned instead.

“I’ve been true to my word,” he supplied smoothly. She certainly hadn’t wanted for anything. And then some.

Wouldn't know, would I? Might have been able to kill me if you ate like a person instead of like a bird. She countered as she met his gaze easily enough. I'm rather certain that's what you said.

"You really have been," she murmured, looking him over slowly with a hint of that heat that she'd had for him the past week in her eyes for just a moment, before she looked away as she took a sip of her margarita, watching the other couples dance.

Though he remained focused on his plate, there was a distinct version of a snort in his mind. If that’s what you tell yourself… his mind drawled through the bond.

That look in her eyes was a dangerous one. He knew he was in trouble if she was going to start whatever it was she was likely planning. For a moment, he watched her eye the dance floor. “We can always fit a few more dances after our food." Though he had no plans for dessert, he would encourage her to indulge. Food certainly seemed to be a pleasure for her.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes with a hint of a smile. Won't ever know, will we? Though I was able to nearly kill you while starving a few times... she glanced back at the dance floor, picking at and goading him as much as she could.

Considering that offer for a moment, she smiled a little bit more. "We should. Perhaps take dessert to go? I can always enjoy it while I read." Since she planned on spending most of the evening curled up in the study, reading, translating and researching.

Even a broken clock tells the right time twice a day. He was not going to engage in that sort of discussion. Their fight was done. If she needed to kick ass, she could duel someone at her leisure.

“If you wish,” he nodded, finishing a few more bites and a sip of Mezcal. Perhaps he’d take a bottle back. Then, he could nurse his ego along with his throbbing head. She was supposed to be less trouble, not more.

She did snort slightly at that, unable to help it before she finished her dinner and sipped at her margarita. "I do." She replied calmly with another of her charming smiles, though it didn't reach her eyes either.

After everything that happened today, she didn't want to welcome any advances. Wanted him to know that she needed what distance she could get from him. She needed to think, and him looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive wouldn't help. They'd still have to play their parts.

Taking a stand, he offered her his hand, allowing as much heat as he could muster. They had an audience to entertain. “And who am I to deny my lovely wife?” He asked. It would be easier to just lose himself to rhythm and not the mixture of everything. He had to give it to them, there was something sensual about their lively beats.

"You'd be a fool if you did. And we've known for years that you certainly aren't a fool." Falling into step with him, she let him lead again. She would be thinking a ton tonight, trying to figure things out. He wouldn't stop, and she respected that, but leaving that large of a power void wouldn't work out for any of them.

“I knew I married you for a reason,” he kissed her palm before settling back into position. He almost missed the waltz. It was stiff and held distance. This was anything but, and keeping her close was a dangerous game, yet there they were playing with fire.

"My brilliant mind and beauty?" She bantered back easily enough. Though it could honestly be how well I can duel and fight. You seem to like flirting with danger. She added quickly without any sign of heat in her gaze. If talking about torture got him going, why not tease him a bit? As if the dancing wasn't teasing them both already.

“Mmmm,” he left the sound an ambiguous acquiescence of her statement. And then her mind pushed those thoughts, and he offered her the mental equivalent of laughter. Danger huh, his mind teased. Or perhaps… he began and stopped, allowing his hand to settle on the small of her back in a more relaxed form like many of the couples around them.

The fact she could feel and almost hear his laughter in her head surprised her a little. This bond made through their vows would drive them both mad at some point. Danger. Or perhaps what? As he pulled her in a little more and she kept one hand in his, she looped the other around his neck, just as relaxed as the other couples. It looked natural. Just like they had in their photoshoot.

Perhaps it was your constant need to know absolutely everything… He teased her. She’d always been an insufferable know-it-all. Torture had at least made it a pleasurable sight. His head leaned slightly against hers. I think I’ll keep the reason to myself…much more amusing once you return to avoiding me.

Arching a brow at him, she huffed a little. I doubt very much that you found that endearing...More like infuriating like everyone else. Even her best friends hadn't exactly liked that trait about her. Even if it had saved their lives multiple times. Could simply be because I was so pivotal to your plans.

Pivotal. She certainly could be. He hoped she would be. Now, he wasn’t sure of anything. It didn’t matter. Her cooperation or not wouldn’t change his plans. He couldn’t let it change his plans. And in that moment he couldn’t let himself get lost in thought. He focused on the present. The warmth of her body, how easily they just fell into place, and the law enforcement agents enjoying a couple of beers.

She glanced over at the bar, noticing the law enforcement there, and the bartender looked at her again, trying to get her attention. Foolish. Either he didn't care she was with someone else, or he really wasn't reading the signs well. Turning her attention back to Draco, she simply let herself enjoy the dance. No thinking. No focusing on anything but this. Or she'd end up snapping.

There was a shift in how she felt against him. It made him wonder what had caused it. At the sight of the barkeep, he tucked her closer as the beat changed. He hated how close their dancing was to grinding. And yet, it sated something in him, especially with how certain men watched her. Angry or not, disappointed or not, she was his.

His body pressed to hers made her shiver lightly. She noted gazes linger on Draco, which wasn't surprising. He had been sought after in the UK, why wouldn't he be here as well? Her fingers brushed along the back of his neck as they moved, sparks of heat rolling through her body. She had to ignore them. She was still mad at him.

Those fingers affected him in ways he wasn’t quite proud of. Though he played the doting newlywed husband to a T, he had to keep focus. He had a feeling their journey back wouldn’t be so simple. Even abroad, his reputation preceded him. He just hoped it wouldn’t mean a duel for some arse wanting to prove himself.

The song ended, and they paused for a moment. Considering that they had been looking for a place to go to dinner and to get space so that Zabini and Nott could get rid of the evidence of them slaughtering a guardian, they had done well. We should order dessert and get back to the villa...Can we apparate this time? She hoped so. Flying made her tense, and she wasn't confident she wouldn't be nauseous.

He trusted flight more than apparition with his tension headache. It wasn’t exactly something he was willing to admit. Drinking and apparition…you’re right, you are a danger, he teased her. “Order your dessert so we can get back.” The sooner they returned, the sooner he could sleep off the day.

I've apparated while drunk before, and it went fine. Can't say the same with flight of any kind. She felt queasy just thinking about it. As long as she could brew a cup of tea once they were back, she'd simply curl up in the armchair and get to work. Despite how tired she felt. Slowly untangling from him on the dance floor, she trailed her fingers along his shoulder and down his arm, the image of a new wife not wanting to be away from her husband, before she walked back over to the table, chatting with the waitress before she ordered something to take back with her.

Draco walked over to the bar to settle their orders and requested a bottle of mezcal. He gave a curt nod to the pair that had made the suggestion and began to leave before they were on his heels. With a quick translation charm, he calmly faced them. Even as composed as he was, his fingers were ready to draw.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” He asked amiably.

“We don’t want any trouble here,” one said.

“It has been brought to our attention that you and your wife have a…history.”

Draco sighed. Some things never changed. “I see.” The slightest flair in his gaze accompanied the words. “My wife and I came for a quiet honeymoon. Perhaps there’s a way I can help…assuage any uncertainties you might have,” he offered. He’d happily serve them and take out the barkeep, but that would mean cutting their honeymoon short. He would do no such thing.

Hermione waited by their table but glanced over at the law enforcement officers as they followed her husband. She frowned a little, watching carefully. As she approached, she caught the tail end of it, saying that their worries could be set aside with the right motivation.

It almost made her glare, but she took her husband's arm and leaned against him, offering a charming smile as she waited for them to package the sweet she had ordered. You get bothered a lot when you go abroad?

This is nothing, but yes, governing bodies usually dislike the threat I pose. Even off duty, he might as well have been the face of the movement he belonged to.

With the brunette on his arm, they seemed to consider. “If you feel it’s necessary.”

Draco hated those words. Still, he reached just shy of his want and produced a leather pouch. “You did give us a wonderful recommendation,” he smiled as he extended it. “We’ll be gone in five days. I expect no interruptions.” His gaze seemed to suggest it was to enjoy the woman at his side, rather than just what it was. Buying the peace.

Normally, if her side of things had to deal with outside governments, they welcomed them or hated them depending on how they responded to the Dark Lord. Americans? Seemed to dislike them both in varying degrees for the threat that their war could pose for them.

Watching the exchange, she smiled a little more and rested her head on her husband's shoulder. When the waitress came out with a bag that held the sweet, passing it to the brunette. "Thank you," she said simply, to both the law enforcement and the waitress before she glanced up at Draco. "Can we leave? I'd much rather have you to myself again."

She'd much rather be curled up in the study.

Kaax weighed the bag and looked at his partner. “We shouldn’t keep the love birds much longer,” he decided, seemingly accepting the gift.

“Five days…is such a long time.”

“And if it goes uninterrupted, I might be inclined to be much more generous.”

“I knew I liked you,” the Kaax's partner beamed. “Have a wonderful stay!”

Draco felt himself breathe a little better. Arm around his wife, he eyed her with all the heat he could muster. “You’ll have me all to yourself until we Portkey back home,” he promised, not waiting to apparate them back just shy of the wards.

The apparition was appreciated and kept her from getting sick, a brief thanks whispered along the bond as he moved ahead of her. She turned around, looking into the jungle. Only spots of blood were any lingering proof that the serpent had been there at all. No sign of Nott or Zabini.

The moment they arrived, he let go and walked in. He needed a bath and sleep.

She turned on her heel and headed back into the villa after him, going to enjoy that bit of dessert and start trying to translate the artefact. Might as well make herself useful.