The Best Mistake

Chapter Seventeen | Blue Rooms and Revelations

Hermione left the conference room ahead of Malfoy, and turned to make her way back to the emergency apparition point for the second time that evening. She didn't get far, however, as Malfoy snatched her hand and pulled her in the opposite direction.

"My core is drained. I can't apparate," he explained at her grumble of protest. "The least Hestia can do is overlook our use of her personal floo this evening."

"I could apparate us," Hermione asserted and yanked her hand out of his grasp. "I'm quite good at side-alongs when I'm in control."

"I never said you weren't," Draco scoffed, giving her the most annoyed look she'd ever seen on his face, and that was saying something. "Merlin, I've never met someone so fucking defensive as you are in my life. You aren't keyed into the wards to allow you to apparate directly into the Manor. If you apparated us, we'd have to walk up from the gate, and I simply wanted to save you from any bad memories that could potentially bring up."

"While I appreciate the thought, I don't need you to make decisions with my delicate sensibilities in mind. I'm not afraid of your home, Malfoy, and I am not defensive!"

He looked over his shoulder with an arched brow, still pulling her along behind him.

"Fine. I can admit that, perhaps, I can, occasionally, be a bit defensive, but in my defense—"

"Don't even finish that ridiculous sentence, Granger," he interrupted, gracefully opening Hestia's office door, then allowing her to enter before him. "Whilst I so do love flirting with you—really, I do—now is hardly the time."

Hermione sucked in a breath and dropped his hand. "We are not flirting."

He smirked. "I asked you to stop."

"That wasn't flirting either!"

"Sure, Granger. Whatever you say, Granger."

Now Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arm, stopping him from reaching for the container of floo powder on Hestia's desk, forcing him to face her. When her eyes met his, he winced. "Are you—" She paused, not quite sure why she stopped him, not sure what to say. "Are you feeling okay?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes rather dramatically and put his hand over hers on his arm. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine." That much was certain. The look on his face when Hestia had said his father's name among the Azkaban escapees had nearly taken her breath away. Hermione had easily decided to accompany him to the Manor to make sure he didn't do anything drastic which, she'd never admit, was rather ironic, but now he was acting as if they weren't about to question his mother on suspicion of a very serious crime and his house-elf wasn't lost to Lucius' clutches. "You're being strange—weirdly chipper, considering the circumstances. Something is wrong."

"Astute as ever, Granger. 'Something is wrong.' Gee, what could that possibly be?"

She winced at his condescending expression. "You don't need to be so mean."

His face softened, and he closed his eyes, sighing. "I just don't want to talk about it right now—not any of it. We have too much to do, and I'm tired."

Malfoy looked so forlorn, so exhausted, that Hermione's body reacted before her brain, and she found herself reaching for him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and immediately regretted it, but even though he was stiff as a broomstick, clearly uncomfortable, Hermione was struck by a lovely, vaguely familiar scent that had her melting into him. It was sharp and sweet like a tart fruit mixed with the coppery smell of blood and sweat, nearly masked by the deep, rich notes of his expensive cologne.