Parade of the Sun - Dramione

PART TWELVE.

May 25; 11:18am

She couldn't fish. Or, like she had told her father when she was eight, the fish hated her. When it came to her survival instinct or theirs, they clearly wanted to live more than she wanted to eat. Maybe if she was out of food, she would beat them, but they were winning by a landslide. Her fingers were pruning, her spear stabbing alternating between vicious and clear demonstrations of someone who had given up ten minutes ago.

There was one silver fish that was taunting her. She knew it was from the way it kept coming close to her, flashing its fat little belly, and then zooming away the moment she lifted her quill-stick. A part of her wondered if the primal feeling this arose in her was something close to that barbaric instinct in men when a woman teased them. You're never going to get this, the fish said with its sucking mouth and beady eyes. Don't I look delicious? And Hermione had laughed at this thought process in the beginning, but around the sixth flip of its fins, she was determined. Prey and predator, and that fish would be hers.

She stalked around the water with her head bent and back hunched, arms stretched and curved above her head like a monkey. She threw her spear at anything flashing silver, usually ending up with scraped stones - then the meaty fish would be back to laugh at her, always when she was unprepared. It was out to get her. The fish was out to get her and drive her mad.

This was the position that Malfoy found her in, in her monkey pose, muttering angrily at the water. She didn't know how long he had been there, but she tried to play it off anyway, straightening her arms and pulling into a stretch. She cleared her throat, looking up at him leaning against a tree, favoring his uninjured leg, his arms crossed. She didn't know if he was waiting for her so they could leave, but she thought he would take off on his own instead. Though he probably realized the same facts she had - though without the scar bit - as she doubted he wouldn't rather take his chances by himself than partner up with her. She didn't know why he was standing there and watching her, but it was creepy - and embarrassing, considering the pose he had caught her in. At least he didn't know why she made a shame walk to the banks, glaring at every flash of silver she saw.

She cleared her throat again, uncomfortable, and quickly pulled her shirt from its attempt to become another layer of skin. She dug around in her bag, unzipping the little pocket, and pulled out the last of her bathing supplies. The one little bar and small shampoo were already used, so she tucked them in her pocket, looking up at Malfoy, who was staring out at the water.

She had tried to avoid bathing since she ran into Malfoy, not wanting him to know she had the stuff, but also not wanting to go off and bathe while he was getting ahead of her or was in close proximity. Not that she really thought Malfoy would peek at her - he would probably go bang his injured knee off something first - but the thought of being even near naked in the open with Malfoy in a mile radius was enough to accept dirt as part of her skin. She had made due with scrubbing hands and river water but it was time to get clean. She might have gotten the dirt and bat blood off of her yesterday, but she swore she could still feel it on her skin and clumping her hair.

Distraction was key. If he was too busy to go on ahead of her - though she knew she could catch up to him now - or not stumble upon her, she could do it. Besides, he should probably clean around the burn a little better to prevent infection... She did not want to haul a one-legged Malfoy back to the city, however much further it was or how much she prided herself on being a good person.

"Do you want to bathe?"

He blinked, her voice breaking whatever intense thoughts were causing him to stare at the water like that. She hoped he wasn't getting suicidal or something. "Was that a serious question?"