The Best Mistake

Chapter Nine | Absolutely, Positively Positive

Draco's narrowed eyes bore a hole into the office wall he shared with Granger. Not literally, of course, but angry heat radiated off him in scorching waves, dangerously close to manifesting physically, if only he'd allow his magic to take full control. He knew she was on the other side, sitting at her neat little desk, likely overworking herself, despite Potter's pleas to take it easy until Theo could look her over. His eyes narrowed further at the thought.

She was so bloody irritating.

It was one thing to ignore his warranted suggestion that she find a new place to live. Yes, that was fine, he supposed. Granger's living arrangements weren't his business. Draco really, truly, whole-heartedly couldn't care less about whether or not Fenrir Greyback and his pack of feral dogs showed up at her place, broke her complex-but-decidedly-inadequate wards, and ripped her to pieces. That was not his business. No. And he certainly hadn't been stewing over the possibility of just that happening since he'd talked to her at St. Mungo's last month.

An all-too-familiar pang in his chest had him rubbing the spot under his tie, his eyes never leaving the plain white wall he knew she sat behind. These chest pains were even more irritating than she was, and he was beginning to suspect she was somehow causing them. It wouldn't be too much trouble to have Theo run some diagnostics on him later when he finished with Granger.

Granger—also known as the single most annoyingly selfless witch he'd ever had the misfortune to meet.

Yes, ignoring the Greyback situation was one thing, but adding this blatant disregard for her physical health she'd displayed this morning. That made him more than irritated; it enraged him.

With an indignant huff, Draco tore his gaze away from the wall that separated them and gathered his quill and ink. Drafting a quick note to Theo, he yelled for Daphne.

Her head appeared in the open door with a quizzical tilt, face scrunched with distaste. "For the last time, I'm not a house elf, Draco. You can't just call me like that."

As he finished up the short missive, he looked up at her with raised brows. "Hmm. Well, you're here, aren't you?"

Daphne rolled her eyes and walked fully into his office. "What do you need, Oh, Least Favorite Boss of mine?"

"Least? Come on, Daph. We both know you don't mean that." Draco cast a drying charm on the ink, folded the parchment, and held it to her. "You don't want to be treated like a house elf, but how do you feel about being an owl?"

Her pink painted lips formed a pout. "Seriously, Draco?"

"It's for Theo, and it's urgent."

"You want me to deliver a personal letter for you on Ministry time?"

"I need an immediate reply. Owls are too slow for this, a patronus could be heard by anyone, and all my elves are busy. Potter approved, and it's not for me."

Draco shook the note toward her, knowing the patronus excuse was weak, and hoping Daphne would just take the bloody thing and not question it. Sure, Draco could send his to Theo, but Theo, brilliant wizard that he was, could never recall a memory happy enough to conjure one, despite his near-constant smiles. It wasn't a secret necessarily, but Draco couldn't and wouldn't discuss something so personal about his best mate with anyone.

"Theo is going to be so excited to see me." Her tone heavily suggested otherwise. Daphne sighed and snatched the note with reluctance.

"Don't be like that, Daph."

"He hates me."

"He doesn't," Draco replied, knowing full well that Theo did not like Daphne. She was always too soft, especially at school, and it made him uncomfortable. "And really, Daph, you don't have to have tea with him or anything. Just give him the note, wait for a reply, and bring it to Granger so she knows when he's coming."