The Best Mistake

Chapter Four | Better to Forget

A pale arm wrapped around her naked body, the black edges of the Dark Mark visible on the side of his wrist. Her stomach lurched, and she had to close her eyes and swallow to keep from vomiting.

What had she done?

The answer to that was easy, she supposed. Hermione Granger had sex with Draco Malfoy, and apparently, felt comfortable enough to stay the night at Malfoy Manor.

Ah, yes, the lovely ancestral home where she'd been tortured within an inch of her very sanity.

Hermione's eyes flew back open at the thought and was once again met with the arm tattooed with a symbol of hate wrapped around her body. Merlin, she needed to get out of here before Malfoy woke up and realized what had happened.

While she liked to believe that his blood prejudices were behind him, for the sake of their working relationship, there was still something unsettling about having been shagged absolutely senseless by the person who had first called her a mudblood when they were children.

Cringing, Hermione turned her head on the pillow and found his face shockingly close to hers, so close that he was lying on some of her hair, facing toward her. His pale chest rose and fell with his steady breathing. The sight took her own away, mesmerized by his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, his blonde hair standing up in various directions, and his full lips, so kissable without his characteristic cold sneer.

Kissable? She'd lost her mind.

She must have...but then again, that would explain their encounter perfectly. Hermione was just attracted to him visually, and that certainly wasn't news to her. Ever since third year, she'd thought he was, at the very least, conventionally handsome, but his personality, especially back then, was so vile that she'd never even have admitted to glancing at him twice.

Yes, that was it. Malfoy was just ridiculously, laughably attractive, and she hadn't had sex since her break up with Ron. That didn't mean she was in love with Malfoy or dating him or anything so ludicrous; she'd just needed a shag, and he'd been willing last night under the influence of alcohol.

This was a one-night stand.

Hermione had never had a one-night stand before, but she knew she needed to get out of here quickly before he woke up. The thought of him opening his eyes, realizing who he'd slept with, and looking at her like she wasn't fit to lick his boots like he used to in school—after the night they'd shared, it made her feel sick despite herself.

Feeling assured by her thought process, she carefully lifted his arm and placed it on his side. He grunted and rolled onto his back, freeing her hair.

Hermione sat up hesitantly, and almost gasped at the sight of his morning wood on full display in front of her. She clasped both hands over her mouth and quit breathing for a moment. Merlin, that was inside of her? No wonder she felt so stretched and sore.

Sucking in a silent deep breath, she moved off the bed, taking extreme care not to disturb him.

Once standing, she took in his bedchamber. The starry night sky on the ceiling created the central theme: the rest of the decor was either the bright white of the stars or the deep night blue, a pop of red brick at the fireplace and dark rich oak. Sturdy antique furniture and white rugs dotted the hardwood floor.

It was not what she'd expected his room to look like, not at all.

She almost laughed. In hindsight, thinking he'd have a black and Slytherin-green room full of snake motifs had been rather silly, she supposed, but this room was so far out of that sphere that it was comical.