cunningas: (adrien: just get in the car bitch)
[requested by [ profile] most_amazing here]

"Come on, you'll love it."

"But I have so much studying to do- ack!" Hermione's protest was cut off by a rather undignified squawk prompted by Loki merely closing his fingers about her wrist and pulling her with him.

From Hogwart's to the Library of Congress in less than a heartbeat.

He grinned as she stared about in wonder, he didn't have to say I told you so when it was written all over his face. "Maybe we'll try the New York Public Library next."

[for the record: the LoC is amazing even if it didn't have any books in it. Beautiful beautiful place, I have pictures somewhere.]

He came to her again in the summer. No school or classwork to keep her occupied. And perhaps he'd come in the form of a handsome young man about her age with flashing green eyes who'd flattered her parents and made them think she'd had a date. Perhaps he'd gotten her out of the house before she'd had much of a chance to protest. Perhaps he'd taken her away in a flashy sports car and driven the miles of roadways in England, pointing out little known places of interest.

Here, where he'd spent time among a Roman army, though some of them were more Briton than Roman. Rather like that one King Arthur movie, really.

There, where the Sidhe had held many a late night revel and he danced in the dew-wet grass to demonstrate for her and laughed with the memory of it.

On the coast, looking out toward Ireland, he told her stories no one else remembered of the things that had once happened there.

To Stonehenge for the requisite visit during the summer solstice and they sat, invisible to all, side by side atop one of the great standing stones, their fingers entwined and Loki silent. The stones themselves could tell their story without his help.

Here and there, they traveled over all of England on what might be termed a "proper roadtrip" and yet, when he returned her to her parents glowing and smiling and full of memories, he still managed to be "that nice young man" and get her home by eleven.

He took everyone there, eventually, if they knew him long enough. So of course he took Hermione. And it was a good place to show, Tahiti, with the secluded beach he'd somehow endeavored to always find and its sugar white sand. With the scent of tropical blossoms wafting on the warm breeze and the sea rushing against the shore.

It was a good place, and an enchanting one and he smiled to see her smile and laughed when he pulled her with him to dance among the waves.

He couldn't always be kind. It wasn't in his nature. And with a careless word from her when he was already in a fould mood, it didn't take much for him to grab her roughly by the arm and pull her with him to a dark, dank cave in which sat three rough stones bearing dark stains of old blood.

He pushed her toward the rocks and sneered, "couldn't have been so difficult to bear? Try again."

He shouldn't have had to describe what had happened there, the bloodstains should have spoken for themselves and if they didn't? She could hardly be called clever. So once she'd had her fill -- which was a very short time indeed -- he dropped her back in her room and disappeared.

He didn't return for a very long time after that, no matter how much she called for him.

When he did, finally, return he said not a word about their last meeting. He said little at all, except that he had something to show her and soon enough they were standing among throngs of people in the town of Caltagirone on the island of Sicily, all waiting for...something.

When she asked, he merely shushed her and pointed toward the town's famous staircase where a glow was beginning. Slowly the glow spread as people walked along and lit the luminaries left all along it and a picture formed.

He slipped an arm about her shoulders, it was an apology, of sorts.


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December 2013

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