The Best Mistake

Chapter Two | The Night of the Wedding (Part 2)

Staring at the group of Slytherins as they chuckled over something Blaise had just said, Hermione was very glad she'd stopped back at the bar before coming over here.

She steeled herself and approached. It wasn't until she stood right behind the empty chair that Malfoy looked up and the other at the tables followed.

"Uh—Can we help you, Granger?" Malfoy asked cautiously.

Hermione shook her head and held up her leaf. "No, I was just looking for my table, and it seems I've found it."

"No fucking way." Blaise Zabini grinned and stood. His chair screeched against the tent's transfigured hardwood floor.

Hermione nearly reached for her wand, thinking he meant to curse her, but then Nott, Goyle, and Malfoy stood, too, looking at her expectantly.

Ah, the gentlemanly manners of four men raised in the most traditional circles of pureblood culture. She'd never really been on the receiving end, especially not at Hogwarts where she was not only in a rival house but an enemy to their core values. Times had changed though, she supposed.

Hermione gave them a small smile and reached for her seat, but Malfoy pulled it out for her before she could, a strained smile on his face like it pained him to do it.

Hermione almost laughed at the absurdity of the action. He'd never have pulled her chair out for her in school or at work, and watching him do it now, it felt almost unsettling. Even knowing that his engrained pureblood manners compelled him to do it, for propriety's sake at a society event such as this, she just couldn't understand why he'd do it for her.

"Haven't got all day, Granger. Just sit," he hissed.

She raised her glass to him sheepishly and sat as he tucked her into the table. The four boys sat back down.

Silence as thick as polyjuice potion settled over the table.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Granger, I don't know if you remember Th—"

Hermione let out a breathy laugh which made him stop his introductions. "I remember everyone here, Malfoy. We were all in the same year."

"Really?" Theodore Nott, a lanky brunette with thick-rimmed glasses asked, sitting up straighter. "You remember me?"

Hermione considered his shocked expression and smiled genuinely. "I don't know how I wouldn't. As I recall, you were right behind me for top marks in Arithmancy every term—and in Runes as well. At the end of every school year, I always worried I'd see the name 'Theodore Nott' at the top of the class list instead of my own."

He opened his mouth, baffled. "There was never any chance I'd ever best you. You had the most insightful questions and comments during Vector's lectures. I thought you may as well be teaching the class." He adjusted his glasses and smiled.

Hermione shook her head. "Arithmancy was the most challenging class for me by far."

"I'd never have known. The time you corrected Vector on—"

"I knew you two swots would get along," Malfoy grumbled. Ice clicked against glass as he took a large drink from his tumbler of firewhiskey.

Theo actually looked embarrassed for a moment, pink darkening his pale cheeks, but Blaise clapped him on the back and shook his shoulder. "Theo here used to take quite the verbal beating in the Slytherin common room for his relentless study habits."

Blaise straightened his silver silk tie and gave Hermione a thousand-watt smile. "I know you said you remember all of us, but allow me to reintroduce myself. Blaise Zabini, at your service, and I do mean that." He winked, and Malfoy huffed beside her.