Summary:Most people would think that seven days on a tropical island would be a week in paradise, unless they were stranded on the island with their ex-husband.
Why I loved it:I loved this getting back together fic, it was deligtfully written The angst and pacing of the story was so believeable. The setting of the story brilliant aand so romantic....
Harry and Draco were so well Harry and Draco. Draco was very sarcastic and Harry was a Gryffindor though and through. She kept them true to their cannon selves, which I looooove.
Hermione what would we have done without her? She is the most perfect friend and she had two stubborn idiots to help.
I of course adored all the ust, naked swimming and the h/c. I think I loved every little thing about this engaging story.
Excerpt(optional):Harry stumbled on the soft ground as the swirling colors of the disappeared, the all too familiar pressure in his gut made it difficult for him to get his balance. He opened his eyes and immediately shut them against the glare of sunlight reflecting off the sand. Sand?
Opening his eyes again, more cautiously, he blinked against the brightness and looked down. He was standing on sand, his shoes half-covered in coarse black sand. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that they were on the edge of a beach with rolling waves lapping against the shoreline. The edge of a thick jungle stood fifty feet away, the sun glaring a few degrees over the tree-line made the air sultry with heat and humidity.
“Granger has a lot of explaining to do.”
“Where are we?” Harry turned to look at Draco in complete bewilderment.
“How in Merlin am I supposed to know?” Draco threw down the Portkey, “What is this, Potter? Are you in on it?”
“What—Draco, I’m as confused as you are! The Portkey must have been miskeyed. We must be somewhere on the coast of New Zea—”
“Porkeying really does addle your brain. We aren’t even in the same hemisphere as New Zealand. It is two in the morning in New Zealand, so we obviously aren’t there. The sun is still rising in the sky, meaning we are west of England. The black sand indicates an island formed from a volcanic eruption, ergo, we are somewhere on the eastern edge Caribbean sea which has the only black sand beaches in the area.” Draco tapped the fingers on his hand as he rattled off his observations.
Draco held up his wand and pointed it towards the dense grove of palm trees, “Homenum Revelio.” They both watched the spell as shimmered and then evaporated without the telltale red sparks. “An uninhabited island,” Draco stated, “Could be any one of the hundreds in the region.”