Of Doves and Dragons

Chapter Twenty-seven: Rickety Docks

"I don't want your good advice, or reasons why; I'm alright. You don't know what it's like."

-Katelyn Traver, You Don't Know

The couple reached the pond just as the sun was reaching its highest peak. Ember was elated to find that the pond had a small fishing dock attached to the end and that there was a big oak tree that provided the perfect amount of shade. She moved beneath the tree lithely and placed her bag on the ground.

Draco crossed his arms and leaned against the trunk of the tree. He steadily scoured over their surroundings, looking for any type of threat that might be lurking. It did not appease him when he found nothing out of the ordinary. There were no landmarks of any kind besides the pond and the road, and consequently no one around.

Her skirt flared out dramatically as she knelt down in the grass and began to pull out a thick folded cloth from the backpack. The shirt she wore lifted up just enough in her wrestle with the object that it showed a delicate sliver of skin from where the back of her bathing suit dipped. Draco's mouth watered in a way that had nothing to do with his dehydration. His eyes squinted closer at the white shirt that clad her body, skeptically. "Is that my shirt?"

She twisted, a little too quickly, looking up at him with caught eyes and a deep blush. "Um, yes. I hope you don't mind but all my cardigans would be too hot for this weather."

Draco bit his bottom lip appreciatively. There was always something so sensual a woman wearing a piece of their partners clothing. It must have something to do with the basic instinct of needing to mark your partner. Whatever is was, Draco was enamored by her outfit. In fact, he had never seen her in anything but dresses and her Hogwarts uniform. This was a very pleasant change. She looked like a little adventurer that just ventured out of the forgotten woods.

He realized that it had been too long since she spoke. Ember, flustered, turned from him and began to unravel a light yellow blanket over the patchy grass. She sat down gracefully and fumbled to pull out napkins, bottles, and tupperware. She wouldn't meet his gaze.

He cautiously sat down beside her. "It looks great on you, sweetheart. Take all my clothes if you want."

She smiled into her chest and reached for a large tin bottle, elated by the fact that he had called her sweetheart (something he hadn't done in weeks), unscrewed it, and handed it over to him. "Drink. You're too dehydrated."

He greedily took the bottle from her and gulped down nearly half of the water. Immediately it eased his silently retreating headache. Now, far less parched that he was a moment ago, he watched her uncover everything she had unpacked to reveal a variety of food. Two sandwiches, a plethora of berries and nuts, and he clearly spotted a mighty helping of the banana bread from supper the night before.

He eyed her with astonishment as she divided the food and pushed some towards him on an uncovered cloth before delving into her own sandwich. She gazed out over the sparkling water with a content look.

It was clear that she had planned this last minute excursion thoroughly, even accounting for him to follow her when he had insisted that it was a foolish idea. It was so entirely sweet, filling his stomach with hot gooey glittering honey. She was a thoughtful fairy fluttering around him bestowing little bouts of warmth like the summer breeze. Instead of starting a conversation, he took a big bite of his own sandwich and followed her gaze and a peace-filled silence settled over them.

The silence was nice and lulling. He hadn't realized how different silences could be. There were the silences that were awkward and stretch out endlessly and there were the silences that were taut with tension- like the silences that filled the halls of Malfoy Manor, but then there were silences that left nothing but cleared air and manifested breathing room. They were as relaxing as they were rare, and Draco bathed in the companionable silence he would find with no one else.