Sour Grapes

Chapter 2 - Wind Me Up

Just as Draco was about to head back for a bath, a loud metallic SMACK caught his attention and he spun around in the direction of the sound.

A young muggle woman was striding towards him, having just exited her car. This happened quite frequently when passersby lost their way and spotted him on one of his walks. He moved towards her, intent on meeting her halfway and saving her the possibility of being covered in the dusty earth he so commonly had to scrub off his skin. It was oddly stubborn dirt, and muggle tourist tended to complain quite a lot.

As he did so, he mused at what his Father would say about his level of consideration for a bunch of muggles. He smirked as he imagined his Father's sneer of disgust and disapproval, and it gave him a strange sense of comfort and relief to know that he was pissing Lucius off without even having to make the trek to Azkaban.

As he got closer, however, he began to sense that something wasn't right. This particular muggle woman looked vaguely familiar, though admittedly the sun was a bit too harsh to see her face clearly. There was something about her poise and manner of walking that made him wonder if he knew her. Her stride was headstrong and determined, rather than tentative and unsure like most muggles who stopped in for help. Her brown hair was rebelling against the top knot she'd clearly attempted to use to tame it, sticking out in all directions. She was looking down at her feet as she walked in an effort to make her way across the rocky path safely. Consequently, he couldn't see her entire face, even as she was closing the distance between them with speed and ease. She had smooth, sun-kissed skin, and he imagined that when she looked up he'd confirm that she was an extremely attractive woman.

Perhaps she'd like to accompany him to an event that evening, that would truly sort Father out wouldn't it? Maybe they'd have a summer fling and send photos to Luscious in prison via muggle holiday postcard. "Wish you were here!"

He grinned at the thought of his Father's would-be violent reaction to this, just as the woman looked up and met his eyes.

His grin vanished. His breath caught in his chest.

"Granger?" he said.

"Malfoy?" she replied.

"What are you doing here?!" they both cried in unison.

"This is my family's land, as if you didn't know, and I have every right to be here." "I'm here for Gabrielle Delacour's coming out gala this evening and fancied a wine sampling."

Again, in unison, talking right over one other.

"You what?" they asked together... then both recoiled.

—

Hermione wasn't sure whether to begin yelling or burst out laughing. She decided instead to be silent for a moment and catch her breath. As she stood there, her eyes moved down the length of his shirtless body, noting his extremely toned arms and calves, and settling on his bare feet.

What was Malfoy doing here and what was he doing walking around these fields with bare feet?! And when did he get so tan and muscular? She'd always known him to be tall, but lanky, scrawny, and pale. Admittedly, she hadn't laid eyes on him since his trial, and he had been gaunt, malnourished, and as war-torn as the next Death Eater back then. The years on this Vineyard had presumably treated him well.

Her eyes moved to his left forearm where the dark mark had faded significantly, resembling a burn scar more than a tattoo. Realizing that she was now staring, she snapped her eyes up and saw that he was wearing that familiar smirk she had once slapped right off his pointed face. Only his face was no longer pointed. He had filled out over the years, and he had a significant 5-o-clock shadow across his well cut jawline.