A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

20. A Bad Person

Blaise was pacing back and forth the length of the living room, his thumb under his chin and forefinger on his bottom lip, a thoughtful expression on his face.  

And it was getting on Draco’s nerves. He’d been doing it ever since he and Granger had begun explaining what had happened at the park and hadn’t stopped since.

Granger wasn’t so much on edge from it, but more impatient. She’d started off in an upright stance at the table, but as time wore on she’d been sinking further and further into the seat. Now, she was slouched so much Draco could only see her from the neck up, her arms folded and making out patterns in the wood. Her eyes flickered up when she sensed him looking at her.

Draco quickly adverted his gaze and instead pretended to be looking around the flat, before shifting on the sofa for the hundredth time to get the pins and needles from his leg. He looked over to Blaise who had now taken to mumbling under his breath.

He and Granger had not spoken of the previous night. He had a feeling they would though, what with the glances she would sometimes shoot him, the ‘I-still-haven’t-forgotten’ look. She was going to approach the subject again, and despite that Draco wanted to know what she thought about him now, simultaneously he didn’t entirely want to know what she thought about him now. He was, well, ashamed he had let her see so much emotion. Proper men didn’t cry. And Draco could not help but feel a little apprehensive, would she use what he’d told her against him?

Because they most definitely weren’t friends. But then, what were they? People you loathed weren’t generally the ones who held you when you cried, or even bothered to offer comfort. So not enemies, but not friends and neither acquaintances.

So what?

“The Death Eater’s are recruiting themselves,” Blaise said, pulling Draco from his reverie. “But we’re missing the bigger picture here.”

“And what exactly is that, if I may ask?” Granger asked wearily, sitting up.

Blaise glanced from her to Draco, a little startled. “How can this not have crossed your minds? They’re Death Eaters, followers. So, what we really have to ask ourselves here is who is it they’re following when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead?”

A brief silence followed his words.

“I think what you both need to realise,” spoke Granger quietly. “Is that this is not our job. We need to report this to the Aurors right away.”

“We don’t have enough info to report,” said Draco, exasperated.

“But what we do know may help. We know Nott’s there of his own accord, and quite possibly your fath…” Granger stopped there, her body tensed before she could finish, watching Draco very closely as if to prepare for a storm.

But Draco merely sighed. He was so tired of the pity looks she gave him. “Yes, my father may also be there of his own accord.”

“The more they know the better. They’re going to need as much information as possible.”

“Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll go turn in my own father, shall I?”

“I’m sorry, but –”

“It’s for the greater good?” When no one responded, Draco shot up from the lounge. “We don’t even know if what Theodore said was true! He could have been lying, or maybe he doesn’t even know where my father is. Have either of you considered that?”

“It’s a possibility,” mused Blaise, far too used to Draco’s temper for it to have any real affect on him. Granger, on the other hand, looked a smidge uncomfortable. “But, mate, it’s best to let the Aurors know what you know anyway. Theodore saying your father rejoined doesn’t mean anything unless they actually catch them all and prove it.”