Love Wears a Mask

Love Wears a Mask

Chapter One: Love Tells No Lies

"Could you love a man named Ocard, Candy?" he whispered huskily.

The wind stirred softly in the willows above their heads, and Hermione heard whispers of accusation in the rustling. How could she expect the heart and soul of a man to whom she had told nothing but lies? Every day since she had met him--was it only yesterday? It seemed ages--she had longed to fling her arms about his neck just as she longed to fling off the chains of her lies. She longed to run her fingers through his hair and beg for his forgiveness. "Ocard," she breathed, "how can I love a man of any other name?"

The expression in his eyes clouded briefly. "Ocard. I'm not--fond--of that name, my dearest."

"It is your name."

He sighed huskily, drawing her to him. She felt the muscles of his chest and slim neck ripple under his tight black t-shirt and designer jeans, felt his arms travel slowly up from her waist, gently caress the small of her back, and tighten almost painfully as they reached her shoulders--

"But Ocard--" her voice stopped as she drew in a deep, husky breath-- "You--you cannot love me. I have not revealed to you who I truly am."

"Oh, Candy, I---" He paused for a moment, as though steeling himself, and then leaned forward the slight inch it took for his lips to meet hers--Hermione was drowning in his kiss, in his mercurial gaze, and then her mind was drawn irresistibly to the moment in which she had first laid eyes on those silvery, penetrating orbs....

********

"Gerald, dear," Mrs. Granger said placatingly, "do you really think we need to take Hermione along with us to your amateur golf tournament in Southern California?"

Hermione's father frowned down at his daughter, wondering absently when she had grown up to be so...well, there was no other word for it. Over the few weeks since his daughter had left Hogwarts for the summer holidays after her sixth year, she had grown to be beautiful. Her bronze-hued hair, far from its original bushiness, had transformed into glossy, silky locks that tumbled endearingly over her slender shoulders, left bare by the close-fitting sundress she wore, its curves hugging her hourglass figure. He wondered if her friends from school would even recognize her that fall--particularly the tall, red-haired one whose eyes had followed her so lasciviously as she stepped out of the barrier at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Gerald hadn't liked that look at the time, and now that Hermione was so loudly protesting being forced to cancel her plans at the Weasley's for the rest of the summer, he found himself being almost grateful for the timing of his amateur golf tournament in Southern California.

"Candy," he said tiredly, using the pet name she'd had since she was small, "it would mean a lot to me if you would come with us. You might like California."

"I was hoping to see Harry and Ron this summer," she said.

"You'll be able to see them in September."

She sighed. "Very well, Father."

And so it was decided.