XX.
Draco took another bite of scone.
“Brussels.”
Hermione froze mid-sip. A triumphant feeling swelled inside of him. He’d make quick work of this. Her mouth hung open as she stared at him in confusion.
“You had a small keychain on your book bag for several years that had a waffle colored to resemble the Belgian flag.”
Her eyes focused on the cup in her hand. Her eyes darted wildly back and forth. She was looking for some kind of information to give him without giving too much away.
“I didn’t work for the DMLE. At least, not directly.”
He’d guessed that much, but it was nice to have it confirmed. He summoned his notebook and balanced it on his knee.
“Number?”
She gave him a puzzled look.
“The watch,” he said. “Seven was Leeds. What’s Brussels?”
“Four.”
He took his pen and filled in the missing information on the watch he’d sketched out last night. His mind churned. He needed more things about Granger. Where would she go to feel sentimental or safe? Hogwarts had too many protections around it. There’s no way she’d risk going there. But she did love that strange muggle rat park.
“Disneyland Paris.”
Her head snapped up. Her eyes were wild with confusion. He winked back at her.
“Two.”
“And?”
She took a frustrated breath and chewed on her lip.
“I worked in the Department of Mysteries.”
He knew that as well, but confirmation was important. He scrolled through the earlier pages of his notebook.
“Bulgaria.”
Granger’s eyebrow shot up.
“What? No.”
“Your contact with Krum never stopped. I assumed he was a safe place for you.”
She snorted to herself, but a small blush colored her cheeks.
“It wasn’t like that with him. We were just friends.”
It was Draco’s turn to raise his eyebrow. The memory of Granger arriving at the Yule Ball with his former favorite quidditch player was still fresh. Draco uttered a non-comital hum in response. The prickling feelings of jealousy were unnatural and foreign to him. Was it jealousy? He’d told his mother to burn his Krum jerseys in a letter after the ball. And he vaguely remembered wanting to hex his bullocks off after trapping Granger at the bottom of the lake for hours.
“Friends.”
“Friends,” she confirmed in a serious tone.
Draco turned his focus away from Krum. Oddly satisfied at the lack of intimacy existing between the two of them. He preferred it that way.
“Stockholm,” he said. “You dragged your poor muggle parents on a summer quest to find all of Ingvar’s runestones and offered a full report the following term in Ancient Runes. I can’t imagine it was a terribly exciting holiday for them.”
“Twelve.”
Her eyes had clouded over as she began to retreat into her Occlumency. He noticed she usually did this when he was getting too personal, too close to the truth, or spoke about her parents. He gave her a moment to escape. He understood too well how painful certain memories could be.
“I don’t trust Kingsley Shacklebolt.”
This was a new piece of information that surprised Draco. Potter was nauseatingly close to Shacklebolt. That’s how he was able to be the face of the Auror Department but not actually a functional member. It was all publicity and exposure for Shacklebolt. As long as Potter endorsed him, he maintained his position.
“Why?”
He knew his own prejudice against the man but wondered about Granger’s. She didn’t answer him, though. She got up and made herself a snack at the tea cart.
“West End,” he said. “In London. You hummed songs from West Side Story for months in the halls.”
The spoon she was holding crashed onto the tray. It sent a spray of cream tumbling onto the floor. He couldn’t stop.
“Warwick. Bath. Cotswolds.”
Her shoulders tensed, and she gripped the edge of the tea cart until her knuckles turned white. He knew she was Occluding to try and escape.
“Jurassic Coast. Norfolk. Cambridge. Hampshire.”
She spun around. Her eyes brimming with tears.
“What are you playing at?” she shouted. “You’ve done your Legilimency. You’ve seen my secrets. Enough!”
He stood up and stalked toward her. His own emotions rose with hers.
“I didn’t stray from your memory last night,” he growled. “You’d know if I had.”
“Then how do you know all this? If you haven’t been spying on me for years or reading my mind, how?”
“You’re an easy book to read, Granger. It’s not difficult.”
She turned with an exasperated huff and stormed toward the window to get space. Draco followed right behind her, though.
“Don’t be angry at me that your two friends were too daft to figure this out years ago.”
She crossed her arms and looked out the window, but he took her arm and spun her around to face him.
“Are you angrier that I know you so well? Or that the people who claim to love you didn’t see any of your clues.”
“I wasn’t leaving them clues!”
“Bullocks! And you know it! The note about Crespo. The magnet for Norfolk on your refrigerator. Your identification badge. Your parents’ murders. You were screaming for them to find you, but they didn’t. They think the bloody werewolves have you!”
Granger flinched at his blunt delivery, but he couldn’t stop now. She’d unearthed a buried piece of his soul that he couldn’t push down any longer. He’d hated Potter and Weasley for years for the way they treated her. Now it was all bubbling to the surface.
“They never cared about you. They manipulated you, took advantage of you, and left you for dead. They didn’t even argue when they were reassigned to another case. Fletchings has your case now. A first-year Auror!”
“Stop!”
Tears were spilling down her cheeks now.
“Weasley was fucking Brown for months while you were engaged! He didn’t care that the entire Department knew! You were drowning, and he was buried in someone else!”
“Enough!”
“When are you going to wake up? They don’t deserve you, Granger. They never have. And they never will. Stop trying to protect them!”
“I’m not protecting them!”
His nose was almost touching her face.
“Liar.”
She pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge.
“I hate you!” she yelled as she pushed at him again and again.
“That’s right,” he sneered. “Hate me. Kill the Death Eaters. All to keep your perfect fucking golden trio in pristine fighting shape. Save the world. Maintain the image. Go Gryffindor and all that bullocks.”
Her hand darted out faster than Draco could react, and it connected hard with the side of his face. The slap echoed through the library. She was crying harder now.
“You don’t know a fucking thing.”
And she stormed out of the library.