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The day's scorching heat had finally settled into a tepid evening. The sea’s breeze gently fluttered the sheer curtains that separated the inside of the Greek villa from the coastal night. Holiday makers chatted happily as they promenaded along the boardwalk, only briefly peeking through the gates of the regal Venetian villa that took its place among many. As the house's occupants readied themselves for that evening's dinner, locals playing wind instruments softly resounded through open doors and windows. If you listened closely, you would hear the laughter of burnt, sticky bodies race towards showers, as ice was divided into cocktail glasses and drinks liberally poured. There was a lightness to the house that was fresh for the individuals who were experiencing it. There was a shared belief that if they were to acknowledge their newfound peace, its tentative existence would dissipate as quickly as it arrived. It was impossible to not live in the moment when fear controlled so much of their past and future. For now, though, they were on holiday and everything they had once been and were to become sat suspended in time and space, waiting for their steadily emptying sandtimer to drop its last grain.
“I’ll be there in a minute…” The shirtless, sunkissed man shouted up the stairs he was descending. His pale skin was dewy with a bit of colour. His shoulders were red and hot to the touch.
He had filled out with age and a post-war restfulness that allowed him to eat. While his body was still littered with scars, the definition of his muscles gave him enough confidence to enjoy the sun. He ran his salt-crusted fingers through his usually soft white blonde hair and winced at the feel of it fresh from a swim. He walked to the bedroom at the far end of the villa. It stood separate from the rest, across an intricately tiled patio. A small abode that historically was probably occupied by staff but had been renovated to accommodate the overflow of large groups of guests. His French doors had been left open to invite the cooling air inside, and as he crossed the threshold, his eyes darted to a small envelope that had been left atop his freshly made bed.
Draco x
He recognised the handwriting immediately, and the joy of the day's activities was overshadowed by a sudden feeling of dread. He froze, part of him hoping the letter was an illusion, a trick of the fading sun's light. He can’t say he hadn’t been expecting this. He knew as their summer days grew colder, reality would begin to take its hold, but it seemed to be happening a lot sooner than expected. There was still at least 24 hours before they would be expected to vacate Greece. They knew better than most what could be achieved in 24 hours. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he slowly walked towards the letter as if it were a dangerous animal bearing teeth. He lifted it slowly, and the perfumed pages attacked his senses, causing him to choke on memories. He didn’t feel ready to dive into its contents, but a small, naive part of him believed that it might be a request for his presence, and this was an invite he didn’t want to miss.
He unfolded the crisp white pages and stared at her unruly, sprawling handwriting. He smirked; it was so very reflective of her mind. A combination of perfectly crossed t’s and intelligible i’s. An enigma, just like him.
You probably think me a coward for leaving you with nothing but a letter (I am a coward and so are you). In all honesty, I don't think I would have had the confidence to say goodbye in person, or the willpower for that matter.
He couldn’t help but laugh. She was right; he was a coward as well, and he was only partly thankful that she knew him well enough to say goodbye via letter. He was also confident that they both knew doing it in person was a bad idea. If he had to look her in the eye as they honoured their agreement, he would renege instantly and offer to fly her anywhere else in the world if it meant they could keep pretending.
If someone had told me that I would have spent my summer holidays sneaking around with a boy whom I once couldn’t stand, I would have called them mad. Now, I think I'm the one who has gone mad.
It had been a complete coincidence that they both ended up in the small coastal village of Kyparissi. It wasn’t uncommon for those whose lives had been consumed by the war to decide that a summer holiday was necessary before returning to deal with the future. In fact, most of their graduating year left the country as soon as they were allowed. Hermione had arrived with the golden trio and friends, and Draco had arrived with his. It wasn’t until the end of the first week that they even figured out their lodgings were around the corner from each other. In the spirit of relinquishing the past, Harry invited the Slytherin group out for dinner, and after a few awkward conversations and too many drinks, an unlikely friendship began to form.
“A young lady like you shouldn’t be alone at night.” Draco sauntered across the sand to where Hermione was sitting, looking out over the waves.
“Ah… you underestimate me,” She mussed and brought the bottle of wine to her lips.
Draco sat down beside her and accepted the bottle she was offering him. After the uncomfortable dinner, they had found themselves in similar places over the following week. This particular spot was one that they both frequented often. Plagued by night terrors, sleep was hard to come by, and instead of suffering alone, they had both individually sought solace on the closest beach. Appreciating the company, it had quickly become a secret routine of theirs.
“Can I ask you a serious question?” Draco turned to admire the side profile of her face as the wind whipped her delicate curls into a frenzy.
“Is there any other type of question?” She turned to catch him staring, and they both looked away, heat rising to their cheeks.
“Why did you save me?” Draco couldn’t look at her as he asked the question. This thought had been consuming him since the trial. He believed he would never have the chance to ask, and now the opportunity presented itself; every interaction with her was eclipsed by the cloying curiosity.
Hermione had just enough bravery to look at his nervous hands shifting the sand back and forth. There was an air of relaxation to her now that was noted in her features. Her hair sat wilder, her shoulders loosened. Tense muscles had softened into delicate curves. The few days she had spent in the sun deepened her complexion, inviting back the warmth she had lost through years of fighting. She had always been beautiful, but as she sat in the moonlight, thinking of what to say, she looked radiant.
“How could I not?” This caught his attention; his head shot up, and when he met her eyes, he regretted his rashness. She smiled softly at him, and despite the vagueness of her answer, he didn’t require further explanation. The details were not important to him. He could see the sincerity in her piercing eyes.
He swallowed hard and nodded stiffly. He wanted to look away. Change the conversation. Think of anything but her soft lips. They swayed closer to one another, drunk on cheap wine, warm days and moonlight. Draco refused to close the distance. Afraid of the consequences of being wrong. He didn’t need to worry long because before he could apologise for even considering kissing her, she kissed him.
At first, it was awkward and confusing. He found himself stiff and unmoving, but when she didn’t relent. When her mouth finally convinced him this was really happening, his restraint disappeared. He pulled her body closer to his, lifting her onto his lap. She yelped into his mouth, and he nipped at her bottom lip in approval.
Draco rubbed his eyes with his free hand and turned to sit on the bed to stabilise himself. This wasn’t the time for reflection. He had somewhere to be, and any minute now, his friends would come looking for him.
In 48 hours, I will start my new job at the ministry, and you will do whatever it is that extraordinarily wealthy people do, but my mind, unfortunately, will still be in Greece. With you. I know we both agreed that this would be nothing but a fun summer fling, and I don’t wish to go back on that agreement. I just can’t be sure how I am meant to move on from something so…magical. With time, most probably. That’s what they say about everything… Will time heal it? I suppose we will both see about that.
Draco laughed at her sly dig. What was it that he was going to do when he got home? He was a free man because of her. How could he waste his freedom when it had come at such a cost? He stood and began to pace, afraid that if he stopped, emotions would smother him. He didn’t want to move on. How was he supposed to forget her tender giggle when he pulled her into a tight spoon in the early morning? The way she would look at him across the room when they knew they were to meet that evening in secret. The feeling of her soft hair on his chin when he held her from behind as they looked across the waves.
The peace she brought him when he had never known peace.
He wouldn’t move on, and time wouldn’t heal this, but he would never tell her because he would give her anything she wanted.
Even to his own detriment.
With the kindest of intentions, I hope we never run into one another unexpectedly. I have a terrible poker face (as you know),
A stray hand seemed to make its way to Hermione’s bare thigh that was resting under the dinner table. She was mid-conversation when the shock of contact changed the tone of her voice.
“Are you okay, Mione?” Harry asked, forgetting the forkful of food he was holding.
“I don’t think she has quite gotten used to sharing space with me.” Draco winked from the chair he was occupying to her right.
“I don’t think anyone can get used to sharing space with you,” Ginny muttered from Hermione’s left.
Draco laughed a deep, genuine laugh that shocked the table of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Hermione watched on in reverie as he stole attention from the group. She quickly realised she had been looking for too long when a small cough interrupted her thoughts. Her face grew red, and she returned to her meal, but not before Draco noticed and offered her a thigh squeeze of reassurance.
And you have even worse self-control (as I have come to learn).
“Draco, put me down; we are going to be late…” Hermione screamed as her body was weightlessly lifted into the air.
“Where do you think you're going?” His hands wrapped tightly around her waist, the towel slowly slipping free from her damp frame.
“To get changed,” She playfully wriggled in his hold. Her hair was falling from the bun she had haphazardly pulled together to keep it dry.
“We both know you're not making it to the other side of my room in just a towel.” He carried her effortlessly to the bed, hastily pulling her towel to the floor as he moved. He gently placed her down and flipped her onto her back so she was looking up at his looming form.
“You have no self-control,” She laughed, propping herself up on elbows, letting her eyes wander lazily over his bare chest.
“Can you blame me?” The bewitched man moaned, gesturing to her excitedly.
Draco’s groin twitched at the memory. He stood in front of the very bed he had shared many a morning, noon and night with her. Except now it would remain empty of her for the rest of time. He pushed the memory aside but failed to excise it completely and forced himself to continue reading.
I am choosing to believe that this was equally special to you as it was to me, and if that is not the case, I hope you don’t make an effort to correct me. Nostalgia is a powerful sedative that I require to make it through the working day, and you have given me the most impactful of stories to reflect upon.
When she had spoken at his trial and sealed his future, he had wanted to give her a gift. When it came time to buy one, he quickly realised that nothing would equate to saving his life. He hadn’t realised that maybe the best gift he could have given her was his time. There was no doubt that what they shared was special, and just knowing that in the coming month he might make a part of her life easier soothed a stirring feeling of sadness in him. He had done something significant. He had changed his role in her story. He was no longer her villain; he was something she could think about when the days were long and the winter cold. His gift to her was letting her know that she had not been mistaken when saving him. He would be something. Even if he was just 'something' to her.
A part of me wishes to thank you, but another part of me is furious with you. Where had this Draco been all this time? I hope he exists outside of the days we spent together. I like this Draco very much, and I know the rest of the wizarding world would as well.
He couldn’t help but shake his head at her request. He didn’t know who this Draco was, and he doubted that he existed without her presence. She was a guiding light for the good that hid inside him. He had no desire to share that with anyone else. Tomorrow, he will travel home, and when his feet hit the cold soil of dreary England, his walls will be rebuilt, and the shadows will follow him once more. This was his burden to bear.
His hands began to shake as he realised he was reaching the end of the letter. He didn’t want it to end. He had so many questions he wanted answered. Things he would never be able to ask. He was scared that he would never feel this way again, but also scared that he would. He had deluded himself when he told her he would never catch feelings.
They lay together in his king-sized bed with nothing but sheets covering their exhausted, sweaty bodies. He was propped up on his side, running his fingers along her cheek and into her hair. She smiled sweetly up at him, content with their previous activities.
“How can you look at me like that and still promise that this is casual…” She whispered through half-closed eyes.
“I am an expert liar…” The comment hung in the air. Neither asked what he was lying about. The way he looked at her, or whether he could keep this casual. Neither of them wanted to know the answer.
They both knew that this would have to end.
There I go rambling again. I will stop wasting your final night in Greece. Don’t try to find me. I have already left. I wish you nothing but the best for your future. You deserve happiness, Draco.
Yours for the summer,
Hermione x
Draco stood staring at the words, unmoving. He hadn’t realised it at the time, but what had once been a fling was now something indescribable. She was his. Even if it was just for the summer. It was something he never believed he would deserve, and to hold it for a time, even fleeting, was a privilege. This would just be a few months in her long life, but for him, this was the rest of his life. He would be hers forever, even if she was only his for the summer.
“Dude. You're not even dressed. We are going to be late.” A boyish man stood in the doorframe, and Draco turned away from the letter to look over his shoulder at him.
“Sorry,” he muttered, putting the letter quickly in his pocket. “ I got distracted,”