VI
Draco knew Potter and Weasley were bumbling idiots, but this was embarrassing even for them. Draco took in the scene before him and grimaced. The two combined cubicles of Weasley and Potter were thrown together in a chaotic disarray of trash, food, and articles. He nearly gagged at the sight of the chaos before him and thanked Merlin that he didn’t have to endure a dormitory with the two of them for several years. At least Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini had the decency to pick up after themselves.
Their desks were loitered with a variety of clippings and memos. Very few of them involved the witch they were supposed to be searching for.
Boy Who Lived Donates Wing to St. Mungo’s.
Harry Potter, Aurors Monthly.
Weasley and Potter, Can You Name a More Perfect Pair?
Their ridiculous grinning faces plastered nearly every photograph in the two cubicle space. Except for one.
His long fingers reached out and gripped the edge of a hand-written note. This was Granger's handwriting. Draco would recognize the looping letters of her penmanship anywhere. He’d been staring at it for years.
Can’t make it tonight, Harry. Give Ginny my best. Seeing real breakthroughs with Crespo.
Draco paused.
He ripped the small memo up from under a past-dated pumpkin juice and resisted the urge to scourgify his entire person.
Crespo?
Draco had sworn she was in Timberland’s department.
He pocketed the memo and moved to his own cubicle on the other side of the second level. The parchment burned in his pocket. Granger didn’t make mistakes. She was meticulous in every facet of the word. So why had she said the wrong wizard in her message? Or why was she dumb enough to reveal the one she was actually working with?
***
Dinner that night was a tense affair. His mother trembled each time she brought her spoon to her mouth. His father’s own souring expression weighed on both of them.
“I thought you’d surely be moving up the ranks by now,” Lucius said, and he turned his nose to the vintage Kippy offered.
Draco motioned for Kippy to pour him a glass of it and feigned indifference at his father’s snobbery.
“I’m leading my own division,” he said. “I’m not sure what else I could have accomplished in under two years’ time.”
Lucius grumbled to himself and moved his vegetables around his plate.
Narcissa was still sifting through her soup course. Draco watched her nervously. One forced exhale, and she would surely collapse over her bowl.
He turned his attention back to his father.
“How’s Prague?”
Lucius made a face.
“I’ve nearly settled the properties there, but it’s coming at a slower pace than I anticipated. It’s as if the entire world shut down. No one believes in the customer first anymore.”
Draco’s knuckles involuntarily flinched as the sweeping movement among his left forearm seized control of his muscles.
Lucius sneered at him from across the table.
“Good things never do stay down for long.”