EXIT

30. SOOT BLACK

30. SOOT BLACK

Two days have passed since Theo's frustratingly inconclusive interrogation. Two days in which everyday life of Camp Black caught up with me again, in which I studiously avoided Blaise, Ginny and especially Granger and in which I did not allow myself a single look behind my carefully constructed Occlumency barriers.

I'm on my way from the dining hall to my sleeping quarters when suddenly a door opens to my left and I'm yanked into a room I've never been in before. Even before the door closes, I spin around, wand at the ready.

Standing in front of me is Granger, eyes flashing and a scowl on her face. She kicks the door shut and leans against it with her arms crossed.

I pocket my wand and step forward, glaring down at her menacingly.

"Would you stop doing that?" I hiss. "If you have something to say to me, there are other ways and means than dragging me into some dark chamber every few days."

She returns my gaze unwaveringly, puts on her most condescending expression and raises her index finger so that it hovers in front of my face in warning.

"For one thing, this isn't a dark chamber," a second finger joins the first, "and for another thing, you're avoiding me," she explains haughtily. "So I had no other choice, did I? And now sit down."

Brazen witch.

Although I have no intention of obeying her command, I turn around and take a few angry steps into the small room. After looking around for a moment, I sniff.

"What the hell is this?" I scoff. "The private library of the Resistance?"

"These are my sleeping quarters," Granger replies emotionlessly.

Well, I probably should have known. Apart from a few pieces of clothing carelessly tossed over the back of the obligatory chair in front of the desk, the room is downright crammed with books. They are on countless shelves on the walls, on the floor, on the bedside table, on the desk and even on the bed. I bet if I peeked into Granger's bathroom there would be a few stacks greeting me there, too.

I slowly shake my head.

The feeling of being in Granger's sleeping quarters, her sanctuary, causes a strange buzzing in my gut that I choose to ignore. I just refocus on her and raise an eyebrow.

"What do you want?" I ask brusquely.

Granger takes her time answering by unclasping her soot black robes, calmly shrugging them off and pushing past me to swing herself onto the desk. Only when she has made herself comfortable does she look at me.

"I felt it necessary to remind you that you do not hold a leading position here, Malfoy," she drawls. "You made quite a scene during Nott's interrogation. I don't know what gave you the idea that you had the authority to give Harry orders, but you don't. To be frank, you don't have the right to give orders to any of us. Quite the opposite."

At those words, I do the Weasley. Ergo, I snort.

"And how does that fit with your precious principles?" I provoke her. "I thought you were a democratic association with equal rights for all members. Or does that not apply to former Death Eaters? Have I not proven on numerous occasions that I'm an asset to the Resistance worth listening to?"

"So now you're an asset?" she taunts, ignoring my other questions and raising an eyebrow of her own. "We haven't made any progress so far and your intel hasn't helped us much, I might add. What makes you think you deserve special treatment?"

"Let me think about it. Maybe that we sha—"

"This is definitely not a valid argument."

"Oh? And what about my help regarding Greyback?"