AN: There are a few things that need to be explained before going on this EXTREMELY alternate view of the wonderful Harry Potter world. In this world, two things very early on change everything: 1) Horcruxes don’t exist and 2) the Grangers moved to France in Hermione’s infancy because of the numerous unsolved Muggle killings (by Death Eaters) throughout England. While Draco is only mentioned in passing during this chapter, this is Dramione. Readers of my SVM stories know that I just LOVE switching up characters and making them act a little differently than they normally would or have them in unusual situations. I am posting the first two chapters at once and will decide on whether or not to continue based on the response and feedback.
Apparently necessary disclaimer: I own nothing about the characters or fictional locations. I’m just playing in JK Rowling’s toybox for a little while.
She’s there again. The first day, I thought it was unusual. The second and third days had to be flukes. This is the fourth day and she laying in the same spot and in the same position – on her back, eyes closed, soaking up the sun.
I take a moment to be grateful that Italy’s laws regarding underage magic are far more lax than those on the British Isles. I conjure a small bouquet of unique flowers as an ice breaker and walk down to the beach, leaving my wand behind.
She doesn’t register my presence as I approach; her eyes stay closed and she doesn’t move. I take the time to look over her. Her golden skin glistens in the early afternoon sun. She’s fit and curvy at the same time – flat belly, long, lean legs with round and smooth hips, and full breasts that amply fill the cups of her scarlet bikini. Dark brown hair with sun-bleached strips of blond is coiled on her head in a messy bun. What I’ve baffled by are the bright blue cords that run from her ears down to a tiny box with a screen showing still pictures. I clear my throat to get her attention. No reaction.
I know my appearance will spook her if I appear without warning. I think for a moment and change the direction of my approach, letting my shadow fall over her face. When she registers the lack of sun, she sits up and opens her eyes.
Alert, she’s even more appealing. Her face shows a multitude of expressions – confusion, fear, apprehension, and annoyance. She removes the sapphire toned cords from her ears and looks up at me. “Posso aiutarla?” (Can I help you?) she asks with attitude, not pleased with the disturbance. Too bad; she’s on my private property.
“Caio, bella,” I say smoothly. Pulling my hand from behind my back, I present her with the miniature, sunset-hued tulips I conjured earlier. I don’t usually go for Muggle girls, but this one is gorgeous and may be a fun diversion.
“Oh, how cute!” she exclaims in sarcastic, accented Italian. Smirking, she reaches behind her back and transfigures them into comically large daffodils. “I can do that too!”
She’s a witch?!? Not only is she a witch, but if she can do nonverbal spells at our age (I assume we’re about the same age), she’s an extremely talented and powerful one. I take a guess based on her accent. “Beauxbatons?”
Her smirk becomes a genuine grin. She asks in still-rough Italian, “Do you speak French?”
My French is basic and rough, not nearly smooth enough to hold a conversation with, much like I’m noticing her Italian is. I go with a third option and hope I’m lucky. “English?”
“Oui,” she sighs, relieved. “I speak English.” She still has the French accent, but it’s not as thick. I must look confused, so she clarifies. “My father is British, and I was born there, but my mum is French and they moved us to Nice when I was about a year old. I was taught both French and English at home. My Italian is from books and tapes.”
I disregard the “tapes” comment. I don’t know how anyone would learn a language from strips of Spell-o-tape. I tell her, “My mum’s English, but my padre was from here. The house there,” I point past the dunes behind us, “has been in his family for several generations. When I come of age it will be mine.”
“All yours? Il palazzo di…” she giggles and it’s a happy, bubbly sound. “I just realized I don’t know your name.”
“Ah, votre beaute caused my normally impeccable manners to escape me.” I take her delicate hand and press my lips lightly to her fingers. “Blaise Zabini.”
Her sun-kissed cheeks blaze pink under the gold. “Hermione Granger. It’s a pleasure.”
“So, Hermione,” I ask, loving the way her name feels as it rolls off my tongue, “how did you know that the flowers I presented you were magical?”
She throws her head back in laughter. “Call it a hunch. The flowers were unusually small and a curious blended shade of colors for a hybrid. I went with an educated guess.” Standing with a stretch that elongates her limbs beautifully, she heads toward the clear water of the sea.
I jog to follow her. “You are aware that this is a private beach, no?” I have no intention of shooing her away, but I do wonder if she knows that she is trespassing.
She wades in and flashes a smile at me over her shoulder. “Of course I do. It’s what convinced my parents to rent Nico Alvise’s villa,” she points to a small cottage further down the dunes. “Resorts are too busy and noisy. We prefer the peace here.”
I inch closer watching her bob in the waves. “And your parents? What do they do?”
She sighs and rolls her eyes, dipping down into the water to it’s just under her chin. “They’re dentists.”
“Dentists?” I ask. I’m not familiar with that.
“Teeth healers? Would that be a more recognizable term? They’re Muggles.”
I’m shocked into stillness. She’s Muggle-born? The blood prejudice in our world is not as bad as it once was, but it’s still alive and thriving in some families. Mine is not one of them. But the only Muggle-borns I know are either Hufflepuffs or, worse, Gryffindors.
“I knew it,” she mumbles and heads back to the spot on the sand where I found her. She rubs a towel briskly over her wet skin as I run to stop her from leaving. “You know,” she huffs, wrapping the towel around her waist, “what the bloody damn difference does it make?”
I step closer, not wanting her to have the wrong impression. “It makes no difference to me, bella. I was merely surprised. I just want to know more about my beautiful neighbor.” I step closer still. “I even made special magic flowers for you.” My goal is accomplished when she gives me a giggle. With a small tug, I convince her to join me on the blanket she left lying on the sand. “I really do want to get to know you better. So many summers, it’s just been me alone. It’ll be fun having someone my own age around.”
It’s not an exaggeration. My mother has dumped me here ever summer holiday for the past 4 years on the not-so-watchful eye of the property caretaker while she chases the next overflowing Gringott’s vault… I mean, fiancée. I’m not exactly close to any of my half-siblings; they have their own estates where they spend their holidays. Now that I think about it, one of my half-brothers started at Beauxbatons just a couple of years before I entered Hogwarts. “Do you know Lukas Milicevic? He just finished his seventh year.”
She bites her lower lip, searching her memory. “Tall boy, blonde, fair… Maison de Chimere?”
I nod. “That sounds right, although I’m not familiar with the Beauxbatons houses. What are they?”
She looks at me suspiciously. I’ve never understood the secrecy between magical schools. We came together two years ago for the Tri-Wizard Tournament companionably enough. I open the door for some sharing. “The Hogwarts houses are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. I’m in Slytherin.”
She smiles and starts walking down the shore, tugging my fingers lightly. I rise to follow her, loving the view from behind. She slows her gait to walk next to me. “We have five houses: Licorn, Ondin, Lutin, Phenix, et Chimere. I am a Phenix.”
Their houses are magical creatures. There is something seemingly… mystical about that. I know from Lukas that his house is named for the Chimera and common sense tells me that her house is Phoenix. My French is too basic to translate the others, so I ask. She explains, “Unicorn, Merfolk, and Sprites,” in her adorable accent. “We all have different qualities or strengths. How are Hogwarts students sorted?”
I can’t see any harm in divulging our house characteristics. “Ravenclaws are smart and clever. Gryffindors are courageous and brash. Hufflepuffs are hardworking and loyal, and we Slytherin are cunning and sneaky,” I say with a devilish smirk.
She smiles and it’s beautiful. “Chimeres are athletic and strong; sometimes frighteningly powerful, physically. Licorns are pure and kind, but fearsome if crossed. Ondin are physically beautiful and sneaky. They tend to pair up with Chimeras – beauty and brawn. Lutin are lively and mischevious. That whole house is filled with troublemakers, but only a few are truly malicious. Then there is the amazing Maison du Phenix,” she says, tossing me a cheeky wink, kicking her toes through the sea foam on the sand.
I clasp her hand in mine and walk a little closer. “I bet those Phoenixes are nothing but trouble,” I tease.
“Oh, Zucchero,” she says in a surprisingly convincing accent, “you simply can’t imagine the trouble you can get into with una fenice.” Her eyes meet mine and I want to melt. I want to swim in those warm chocolate pools.
“I’m sure it’s no worse than one would experience with an incredible Slytherin. Those Hogwarts boys shouldn’t be trifled with.” Fuck, I want her.
“I believe a proper Beauxbatons girl could hold her own,” she murmurs in a husky voice. Her body bows toward mine for a long moment; out eyes lock and I feel stupefied. Before anything happens though, she seems to snap out of it, literally shaking her head as if dazed. “I think you Slytherin boys might be more than I know how to manage. British boys are trouble.”
I can’t help grinning. “But I’m Italian. And French girls do nothing but tease.”
“I was born British and am only half French. Does that combination make me just a quarter tease? What would be rest of me be?” she asks with a teasing lilt.
She’s bloody smart. I haven’t had this much fun bantering back and forth with someone in months. The last time was when Draco got pissed on firewhisky and lost the stick up his arse for an evening. He’s one of the few people at that school with a brain and a sense of humor… at least, when he allows himself to drop his guard.
To answer her puckish question, I pull her to me and whisper in her ear, “Fucking gorgeous.” I’m gentle with her, not wanting to scare her away within an hour of meeting her. I just brush her lips with mine and pull back, take her hand again, and continue down the beach.
Hermione continues to look distracted during our stroll back to her blanket. She glances at me occasionally and runs her fingers unconsciously over mine. When we get to her spot, she begins to fold her things and stuff them in a canvas bag. “You know, you never told me what characteristics Phoenixes have,” I remind her softly. I don’t want her to leave yet.
She smiles at me. Not a grin or a smirk, but a genuine smile. “Maybe I should make it a mystery. If I don’t keep you guessing, what other reason would you have to come see me every day?”
Now my smile matches hers. “You want to spend your vacation with me?”
“I’m fifteen,” she says. Good, we are the same age. “I love my parents, but I don’t want to spend all my time with them. They want to go on guided tours and buy out antique shops. I just want to relax and enjoy my time here. The summer holiday goes so fast and before I’m ready, it’s time to return to Villas… I mean, school.” Her cheeks blush pink again and she looks away.
I really don’t know why we’re encouraged to be so secretive about our school locations. Karkaroff almost decked Krum for divulging too much about Durmstrang at the Yule Ball last year. I choose to ignore her almost-slip. “Would you like for me to join you here tomorrow?” Pleasepleaseplease.
“If you don’t mind me trespassing again, I’ll make us some lunch. Meet me here at noon?” Her eyes look as hopeful as I’m sure mine do.
“It’s a date,” I reply, again in a whisper, letting my breath rush over her neck, giving her adorable goose bumps despite the late afternoon heat. Her eyes are dark – wanting more? I press my lips to hers, harder than before, but still chaste. She steps closer and I can feel the heat of her skin on mine., Fuck… Merlin… she feels amazing.
I watch her leave, heading toward the small cottage beyond the dunes. For the first time, I don’t see a lonely vacation in my future.
Hermione is amazing. We have spent every day together for the past two weeks. I’ve met her parents and taken her out on proper dates. We’ve played on the beach and made-out under the stars in the dunes. Despite getting sand in some very sensitive places, being so intimate with her… Gods! It’s impossible to describe.
Her skin is so impossible smooth, it feels like warm satin when I touch her. Every time we meet, we become bolder, learning each other’s bodies. Her mouth and neck taste like a sweet, mellow wine – so smooth and ambrosial that the intoxication sneaks up on you. I learn quickly that every bit of skin that I am allowed to taste is exactly the same. Her breasts are soft but firm, the right size to fit my palms perfectly, with petal pink nipples that pebble deliciously at the softest touch.
She’s generous, my sweet Mia. She never lets me give her pleasure without reciprocating in some way. The first time her small, hot hand wraps around my cock, only willpower from an unknown source keeps me from coming instantly. I few nights later when she kneels between my legs and wraps her beautiful lips around me, I know I’ve found heaven on Earth and become eager to return the favor.
I will be her first. She will be my second, having lost my cherry to Daphne Greengrass after the Yule Ball. It was not as exciting as I had anticipated. I’m hoping that Mia and I will share the high that neither of us has experienced yet.
It’s only been two weeks since we met, but I know I care for her. It’s not love for either of us, but the fleeting summer romance we have is a significant one in both our lives. I want this moment to be as special and memorable as possible.
I walk to meet her at her parent’s villa. I hear her tell them that she will be late tonight and to not wait up. I suddenly feel lucky that her parents like me. Knowing she has no curfew to stick to… that we’re free to take our time… I feel myself harden at the mere prospect. She meets me on the porch after telling the Drs. Granger good night and greets me with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a smile. When I see her outfit, I can’t hide my groan. While I have seen her in an array of different bikinis, something about the pale blue lace sundress is innocently arousing. She takes my hand and we walk the short distance to my manor.
I’ve planned tonight to the smallest detail. We sit on the patio to eat dinner, a fresh antipasto salad and a dry red wine from a local vineyard. We both just sip, wanting to be relaxed, not drunk. Watching the sun sink into the sea, streaking the sky with blazes of pink, orange, and violet, we lean against each other and watch the colors reflect off the clear water. She giggles softly.
“What is it, Cara mia?”
She looks up at me, the deep brown of her eyes mirroring the vibrant sky. “I think I know the inspiration for my magical bouquet.” Keeping the smile on her exquisite lips, she tilts her head closer to mine. “I never thanked you for those, did I?”
I pretend to search my memory. “I don’t believe you did, you ungrateful witch.” I grin so she knows I’m teasing. “However can you make it up to me?”
She doesn’t answer me with words, instead twining her hand into my curls and gently pulling me closer. I don’t hesitate and press my mouth to hers, sliding my tongue between her lips. She whimpers softly and holds on to me tightly, matching my intensity. She slides her mouth to my neck – licking, sucking, and nibbling until I’m panting. “Merlin, Mia, I don’t think you know what you do to me.”
Her small hands slides down from my hair, over my chest and abdomen, stopping at the waistband of my shorts. “I think I do,” she whispers against my shoulder. “I think it might be you who doesn’t know what you do to me. But I want you… more than I thought I could.” Her breathing is heavy and it relieves me a bit to know she’s as affected by me as I am by her.
I break away from her kisses and meet her eyes. She looks hurt by the supposed rejection before I take her hand and stand. Silently urging her to do the same, I lead her inside. Hermione has been inside before, but has never ventures beyond the kitchen or the guest loo. Her eyes widen as we pass living rooms and other unused, empty rooms on the way to the master suite.
I make my room comfortable and, while proud of being a Slytherin, I don’t feel the need to cover every bit of my personal space in green and silver, like some of my housemates. The room is in warm neutrals – terra cotta, ecru, and burnt sienna. My Mia looks around, surprised. “Your home is lovely, Blaise. I have to say that it’s exactly how I imagined it. You have very good taste.”
I pull her tightly to me and smirk down at her. “Of course I do; look who I have here with me.” I kiss her lightly before swallowing my nerves. “Can I show you the bed?”
Without letting go of where her arms are wrapped around my waist, she nods a shy smile. I sweep her up and toss her gently onto the mattress. Following her, the stretch other over her and begin to kiss her more passionately than I have all night. I can’t get enough of the feeling of her lips on mine, the taste of her mouth, and the way her body rubs against mine. Sliding a hand up one silky, tan leg slowly, her skirt lifts the higher my hand goes. I shiver at her moan when she shifts her legs, trying to give me better access.
I nip down her neck to her shoulders and pluck the spaghetti straps of her dress with my teeth. When she nods, I untangle my other hand from her hair and slowly pull the zipper down, loving the expanse of bare skin it allows me to feel. And it’s all bare – no bra strap. I press my hand to her warm back and pull her closer, reveling in the way she fits so perfectly against me.
The tiny straps slide down her arms on their own and I feel it’s my duty to help them on their journey. I place my hands on her shoulders and glide them down her limbs, lowering the top of her dress and exposing her beautiful breasts. I move my lips over her collarbone and down her chest, anxious to meet my friends who seem just as happy to have me greet them.
I lick over the tight buds and blow softly, watching them harden and pucker. She shivers below me and sighs, running her fingers through my hair. Cupping her breasts in my hands, I latch onto one, sucking and nipping softly at one nipple while rolling the other between my fingers, gently plucking at it. Her high-pitched whimpers and the way she grinds her hips against mine tell me I’m pleasing her.
I slide her dress completely off her body, leaving her on my bed in pale blue lace knickers that match her dress in detail. I pull off my shirt and drop my trousers, so I’m standing only in my black boxer-briefs. Kneeling between her legs, I watch her look over me, her already dark eyes glazed almost black. My sweet Mia sits up and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in for possibly the sweetest yet most erotic kiss I’ve ever participated in.
I push the limits of my willpower, not wanting to go too fast or be too rough. My experience is not much more than hers, but I know that losing your virginity can be painful for girls. I want her relaxed and excited before I breach that barrier. I slide my lips over her cheek and nibble softly at that sensitive spot right below her ear, making her shiver and pant. My hands cover and squeeze her tits, massaging them. She shifts and rubs her thighs together, wanting some kind of friction. I whisper in her ear to be patient, that all her desires will be fulfilled before I let her go.
I let my lips slowly travel down her body. I nip and kiss every inch of skin I come to, drowning in the pleasured moans she sighs out at each point of contact. I suckle at each nipple before moving lower and dip my tongue into her navel. She giggles breathlessly before gasping as I venture further south. I’ve never done this before, but I want to try tonight.
So carefully, tentatively I run my fingers over her lower lips. She’s not bare, but closely trimmed and neat. The smell of her arousal is like nothing I’ve encountered before. I dip my head and let my tongue slide through her folds and get chills down my spine over her lusty cry. I take it to mean I’m doing something right and repeat the gesture. One hand flies behind her to hold onto the headboard and her other lodges in my hair, making me chuckle softly against her sensitive skin. Her flavor is sweet and intoxicating, like every other part I’ve had the pleasure of tasting, but even more so. I go on a combination of instinct and her responses, licking here, sucking there, rolling my tongue every now and then to break up any monotony. She whimpers and cries out, never quite going over the edge and is frustrated by the tension that surely has her abdomen in knots, the same as mine. But this is about her. I swirl my tongue around her clit and suck as I slide a single finger into her. She’s so wet, it slides in easily, but I can tell how tight she is. I let my finger ghost back and forth inside her before adding a second to intensify the sensation and to stretch her, hoping to make adjusting easier for her. The moment the second digit enters her, her back flies off the bed in an arch and she’s gasping incoherently, muscles shaking, body glistening with sweat. Seeing her come, because of me, is one of the most lovely, amazing things I’ve ever seen.
I pet and stroke her softly, easing her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Kissing my way back up her body, I nuzzle into her neck.
“Thank you,” she whispers against me cheek.
“I’m the thankful one, cara. You are so beautiful when you come like that. Are you ready for more,” I say with a wicked smirk, that she surprises me by mirroring back at me.
“I don’t think I could ever have enough. Just… be gentle at first, okay?” she says carefully. As though I wouldn’t. I kiss her soundly and give her my promise that if she wants to stop, she needs only say so. I grab my wand from the nightstand, perform a contraceptive charm quickly, and toss it to the side, so as not to break the romantic mood.
I ease down my boxers and let her see me. Her eyes devour my form and I get even harder from the hunger glowing in them. Sliding my body over hers, holding my weight off her on my forearms, I return to kissing her, relishing the way her fingers glide over my shoulders and down my biceps. I reach between us and position my erection at her entrance. “Ready, tesora?” I ask tensely, my willpower to hold out for her about to give.
“Please,” she whines, grinding her hips up into mine. I meet her and let my tip slip into her silky wetness. Fuuuuuck. Just the feel of how hot and tight she is almost takes me over before we can even start. I tense my jaw and think about Dumbledore in a Speedo. The metal image is enough to hold off what would potentially be a huge embarrassment. She shifts under me and let me know she’s okay for me to move. I sink further and feel her barrier. Pulling back, I tell her, “I’m sorry in advance. This might hurt.”
“Just do it, Blaise. I’m ready,” she says firmly, if a little breathlessly. Closing my eyes, I thrust and push through, wincing as she whimpers against my neck. I still myself, waiting until she’s ready for more. After a few moments and a gasp, she nods her head against me and slightly arches her back, pushing her lovely body closer to mine.
Carefully, slowly, I slide out before gently thrusting back in, not wanting to push her too fast. My body may want to pound into her like the world was about to end, but she deserves more than a mindless fuck, especially for her first time. She is in complete control of the pace and force of our lovemaking. As she becomes more comfortable with the sensations, she begins moving with me, finally wrapping her legs around my waist and bucking her hips into mine.
“More, Blaise,” she groans, and I increase both the speed and force of my thrust, hoping I can push her over before the slick velvet of her pussy takes me over the edge.
I know I won’t be able to hold off much longer, so I slide a hand between us and rub quick, slippery circles over her nub and feel her walls start to quiver and tighten. Dipping my head, I take a nipple between my lips and suck, just hard enough to toe the line between pleasure and pain, and it’s enough to send her over. “Blaise… Merlin… Oh PUTAIN!” she cries out in French, her cunt tightening around me like a vice. It’s more than I can take and I release, coating her womb with my seed.
I collapse to her side, both of us out of breath and speechless. She slides closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder. “Thank you again, Blaise,” she mumbles, obviously exhausted.
“My Mia, never thank me for that. I’m glad I can’t say the pleasure was all mine, but I certainly had my share. Thank you for letting me be your first, mia piccola fenice. It’s an honor you can’t imagine.”
“I just hate that I’m leaving tomorrow. We should have done this sooner…” she sighs, her breath warm against my neck.
“No, Mia. Any sooner and it wouldn’t have been as special as it was tonight. I hate that you’re leaving tomorrow too, but it’s not forever. We can owl each other until next summer. If nothing else, we’ll have the memories of tonight to hold us over.”
She wipes her cheeks free of tears and sits up to look at me. “Then help me make more memories of tonight, mio serpente erotico,” she drawls, making me harden again, just hearing her sexy accent while speaking Italian. She flips over me with surprising agility and we spend the rest of night making memories to carry us through the next year, until we can see each other again.
I smile every time the tawny owl drops a letter by my plate. We send letters back and forth every week, without fail. I can’t help noticing the tenor of her letters becoming more melancholy as the months pass. Before Easter, I have to reassure her that I’m still here for her, and that summer isn’t too far away. She tells me in her next letter than she won’t be returning to Italy for her vacation this year; things beyond her control are keeping her away and that she hopes I’m not too disappointed in her. I write her back and tell her that I’m not, but I also don’t hesitate in releasing some sexual tension with a couple of Slytherin classmates. I send her back a final letter before school ends and tell her that the beach won’t be the same without her and hope that we meet up again sometime in the future.
So, that’s the first chapter. If anyone is interested (that isn’t reading on FF.net) I’ll keep posting here, but I need to know. Cuz formatting is a bitch and I don’t want to do it if no one is reading.