Chapter 4
Theo’s following days blurred together in a haze of work and mounting anxiety. He couldn’t quite explain why, but the presence of this woman in his house unsettled him. Though he hadn’t mentioned it, Iggy seemed to know. The elf had been urging Theo to return to the mansion for months, but this time, his pleas carried a new weight. It wasn’t the first time Iggy had begged him to move back home, but Theo had always refused. The mansion didn’t feel like home—it felt like a gallery of judgment, its walls lined with the ancient paintings of relatives who seemed to watch his every move, their eyes following him with silent disapproval. His father’s portrait, in particular, had no qualms about voicing its disappointment, often reminding Theo of his failures.
Iggy had noticed, of course. Weeks ago, the elf had taken it upon himself to remove every last one of the judgmental portraits, somehow bypassing the hexes that kept them anchored to the walls. He’d stashed them all in the dusty attic, far from sight. The mansion had felt a little more bearable after that, but not enough for Theo to consider it home again.
Still, there was something Iggy never said aloud, something that hung in the air between them. Iggy was getting older, and the constant back-and-forth between Theo’s small flat and the mansion was taking its toll. With no place to sleep at Theo’s, the elf had no choice but to apparate home each night. After weekends filled with multiple trips, Iggy’s exhaustion was written plainly on his face. He looked paler, almost grey, the effort draining him more with each passing day. And now, with the stranger in Theo’s house, the strain had only worsened. Iggy insisted on checking in more often, his worry for Theo’s safety overriding his own need for rest. Theo couldn’t ignore the guilt that settled in his chest every time he saw the elf’s weary expression. The guest was an inconvenience, yes, but her presence had become another weight on Iggy’s shoulders—a weight Theo hadn’t asked for but now felt responsible for.
Theo could no longer ignore it. Last night Iggy nearly crumpled in his kitchen, gripping the counter to steady himself. “Just a dizzy spell,” he had insisted, brushing off Theo’s concern. But Theo had seen the way his hands trembled when he poured tea, the way he avoided looking at Theo when the conversation veered too close to his health. The elf was tired. And even if Iggy refused to admit it, Theo knew better.
Then there was the matter of the missing artifact.
Theo had only realized it was gone yesterday, when he went looking for the small, ornate box that had been collecting dust in his study. A family heirloom—dangerous, though the Ministry had somehow overlooked it when they’d searched the house after his father’s arrest. He wasn’t even sure what it did, only that it had been locked away for a reason. Whatever that reason was, his father had never seen fit to share it with Theo. Given his father’s penchant for dabbling in the dark arts, Theo could only assume it was something deeply troubling. And now, it was missing. There weren’t many possible explanations. It had been there last month. Iggy would never have touched it. That left one option: the guest.
Elvira had been alone in his flat for days. And he hadn’t exactly been watching her every move. What else had she been up to while he wasn’t looking?
It was this, more than anything, that finally pushed Theo to reconsider. The missing artifact. The unsettling feeling creeping into his bones. He mulled it over for days, the weight of Iggy’s silent sacrifice gnawing at him. After two more sleepless nights, he made his decision. He would stay at the mansion—just for a little while, he told himself. Besides, it was just a house. How hard could it be? He was a grown man, fully capable of handling this. Strong, even. Well, maybe not physically strong, but mentally? Sure. Mostly. Okay, maybe not mentally strong either, but he wasn’t weak. Not exactly. He was… functional. Yes, functional. And perfectly capable of handling a guest (even if she had a habit of making dangerous heirlooms disappear).
When Theo arrived with a bag slung over his shoulder, Iggy looked as though he might burst with joy. The elf’s excitement was so palpable that he prepared a feast, a lavish spread that Theo then awkwardly had to share with the stranger.
Elvira seemed determined to overcome the awkward atmosphere. She offered polite smiles and filled the silence with engaging small-talk—superficial topics like work, education, and hobbies. Theo noted, with some relief, that family was conspicuously absent from her list. Given what he now knew about her situation, the omission was obvious. He was grateful for it all the same. It wasn’t as if he was eager to discuss his own family, either.
Still, Theo wasn’t good at this. He could tell Elvira was trying her best, but his responses were clipped, each answer immediately reflected back at her like a mirror. She ended up carrying most of the conversation, which was for the best. Theo wasn’t in the mood to talk, especially not about trivialities.
As he watched her sip her wine, a thought nagged at him. She had been here for weeks now, wandering the halls of the mansion. Had she been in his study? The image of the ornate box flashed in his mind—its intricate carvings, the faint hum of magic it seemed to emit even when locked away. He shook the thought aside. No, she wouldn’t have. Why would she? But then again, why wouldn’t she? She was a stranger, after all.
After a beat of silence, he finally broached another subject he was actually interested in. “You’re Victor Krum’s wife, right?” As if to justify himself, he quickly added, “I saw your picture together in the Daily Prophet.”
Elvira seemed to steel herself at this. Theo could see her jaw tighten, her fingers gripping the stem of her wine glass a little tighter. She downed the contents in one swift motion. Her body language screamed reluctance, but she wasn’t exactly in a position of power here. She owed her host some kind of answer, and an answer she gave. “Yes,” she said, her voice strained, a tone lighter than usual.
“My friend said he was at the party too,” Theo continued, nudging her to elaborate. She only nodded, her silence prompting him to press further. “Did he do something at the party to upset you?”
Elvira seemed even less eager to discuss this. She refilled her wine glass, her movements deliberate, and took her time with a slow sip. Perhaps she was mulling over her words—or perhaps she was stalling. Finally, her pale grey eyes met his, sharp and unflinching. “Yes. I saw him sticking his tongue down Hermione Granger’s throat.”
Theo was taken aback by her sudden, direct honesty—and by the content of it. Before he could muster a response, she continued, as if this revelation were merely the first course in a full meal of gossip. “I moved all the way here. Changed jobs. Left my friends and family behind. All for him to go and pursue his first love.” She spat the word love as if it were dirty, a mockery of the real thing.
That cleared up a lot. It was perfectly reasonable, Theo thought, not to want to live with a cheater. Not to want to read his letters. To want to move out, and on as fast as possible. It would even have been reasonable for her to return to wherever they’d lived before. What was it again? Bulgaria?
He studied her for a moment, then mumbled a heartfelt and sympathetic apology. At this, she scoffed. “It’s not as if you were involved.” But she caught herself, taking a deep breath before adding, more softly, “But thank you for the sentiment.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. Neither did she. Theo attempted to steer the conversation toward safer ground, asking about her new job at St. Mungo’s and how she was finding it. But Elvira seemed done with making conversation, her responses curt and distant.
As the meal dragged on, Theo found his gaze drifting to her hands. They were elegant, yes, but there was something about the way she held her cutlery—precise, deliberate, as if every movement were calculated. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something. The missing artifact loomed in his mind again. Had she been snooping? She had the opportunity, and he had no way of knowing what she might have seen or taken.
When the feast finally ended, both of them retreated to their respective bedrooms, eager to escape the lingering tension. But as Theo lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts kept circling back to Elvira. She was too composed, too guarded. And that box—where was it? He resolved to keep a closer eye on her. After all, she was a guest in his house. His family’s house. And if there was one thing Theo had learned from his father, it was that nothing was ever as it seemed.