Chapter Twenty-Six
Hermione was struck with an awareness that she . . . liked this vulnerable side of Lucius Malfoy. She liked that there was something strangely endearing in the thought that she was seeing an aspect of the man that he typically fought tooth and nail to conceal.
Lowering her gaze to her hands on the tabletop, she intertwined her fingers simply to give herself something to focus on other than him. This was no time for ... silly schoolgirl whimsy, and it would certainly never be a time for it about Lucius bloody Malfoy!
"Well, I think sometimes it's, maybe, all right to admit you don't know what you're doing," she offered with a shrug, a wince pinching her features as she shrugged. She could already imagine him losing whatever precious little patience might be left over her attempt at appeasement.
He. Actually. Laughed. Lucius turned the steak in the pan, exhaling as he shook his head. "There're some moments, Miss Granger, when it becomes glaringly evident how very different our lives have been."
Not only was this possibly the most honest, unbarred conversation she'd ever had with him, but she was also aware this was possibly the longest she'd been comfortably in the same room with him in all the years she'd known him.
It was strange to remember that she'd been a child on the brink of 13 when they'd met at Flourish and Blotts. Hmm. Now that she thought back, she did recall finding the imposing, finely dressed man rather nice looking.
Snapping shut her eyes, she twisted her fingers hard, distracting herself from the sudden blush flaring in her cheeks. How terribly embarrassing to realize only now—only now as he stood barely two meters from her—that as a girl, she'd found this insufferable, elitist pure-blood handsome
Oh, the nerve of her younger self!
Clearing her throat, she forced herself to speak, wondering if she'd let the room lapse into silence long enough that he might be starting to worry what was going through her head. "You know, it's been my experience that when faced with an . . . uncommon or difficult situation, it's best when the parties involved don't share similar backgrounds." She shrugged, opening her eyes as she shook her head. "If we both came from the same sort of history or upbringing, we might only be able to bring the same ideas or realizations to the table."
Mr. Malfoy—curse him—turned to look at her, curious. Leaning his hips back against the counter beside the stove, he braced the heel of one hand on the ledge and with the other selected something from that assortment of fruit. Clearly unaware of the picture he presented, he lifted the pear to his lips for a slow, thoughtful bite.
She hated that she was acutely cognizant of his teeth sinking into the pear's flesh, of the soft suckling sound as he bit down and pulled the fruit from his mouth.
Clearly unaware as he nodded, the cool intelligence behind those grey eyes working. "You've a point, Miss Granger. I dare say it's perhaps fortunate that it was you who was turned and not anyone else, or answers to any of this might be a bit beyond our reach."
Had he just complimented her? On her intellectual prowess, no less? Oh! Hermione had to find something else to occupy her mind!
"Um, know what?" She stood and hurried to pick up the scrolls, for a moment regretful that it brought her close to him. Meeting his gaze, she scrambled for a moment. Stupid. "Since . . . since I can't eat and watching you might make me ill, I think I'll take these over there," she nodded to a table set beneath the window. "See if I can find anything."
Lucius nodded. She missed the uncertain frown that played on his lips as he watched her bustle past. For all the things she was noticing and he was unaware, it was perhaps fortunate that she did not see the way his gaze lingered on her as she drifted further away from him.