Chapter 8
I awoke to a sharp knock on the chamber doors.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the room in soft gold. I groaned as I rolled over, barely processing the fact that Draco had abandoned his chair for the opposite side of the bed.
The knocking persisted.
Draco muttered something incoherent next to me before turning over and shoving a pillow over his head, grumbling about the early hour.
With a sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and reached for my wand, smoothing out the wrinkles in my nightgown with a flick of my fingers before striding to the door.
I opened it to discover an Unspeakable standing in the hallway.
The woman was dressed in the Department of Mysteries’ signature dark robes, with her face partially hidden beneath her hood, but I could still see her piercing green eyes.
“Granger. Malfoy.” Her voice was crisp and businesslike. “The Minister requests your presence. Immediately.”
Draco groaned loudly behind me. “Of course, he does.”
I stifled a groan and tightened my grip on the door handle, trying to maintain a neutral expression.
“Did he say why?” I inquired, maintaining my voice level despite the bubbling irritation in my chest at being summoned at such an early hour.
The Unspeakable cocked her head slightly, her sharp green eyes scanning me in a way that made my skin prickle. “He didn’t. But I believe you can make a guess.”
I could, but I did not like it.
Behind me, Draco let out a muffled curse before pushing himself up. The sheets rustled as he wiped a hand over his face, his platinum hair tangled from sleep. “You know,” he said with a sigh, “for once, I’d like to get through an entire night without a Ministry official ruining it at dawn.”
The Unspeakable remained silent and unamused.
I exhaled through my nose and took a step back. “Give us ten minutes.”
The woman gave a sharp nod and turned away, disappearing down the corridor without saying anything else.
I closed the door and returned my gaze to Draco, who was now looking at me through lidded, sleep-filled eyes. “We could just not go,” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep.
I snorted. “Right. And when Kingsley sends Aurors to drag us there forcibly?
Draco sighed deeply, shoving the covers aside and swinging his legs out of the bed. “Fine,” he mumbled. “But if this is another catastrophe that should’ve been solved by someone else, I’m hexing someone.”
I shot him a pointed look. “No, you’re not.”
His smirk was sharp, with teeth. “Well. “Not in front of you.”
I rolled my eyes, turned away, and reached for my robes. “Get dressed, Malfoy.”
As I fastened my cloak, a feeling of unease developed in my stomach. The Minister rarely summoned us without reason. And if he had dispatched an Unspeakable—one of the Department’s mysterious, enigmatic operatives—whatever awaited us at the Ministry wasn’t just urgent.
It was dangerous.
And I had the sinking feeling that it was going to ruin much more than just our morning.
Kingsley was already pacing when we arrived. His desk was strewn with scrolls, books, and documents that appeared to be much older than the Ministry itself, with brittle pages curling at the edges as if they had not been touched for centuries.
“I assume you have theories,” he said the moment we walked in.
I straightened. “A few. “There are none that I like.”
He motioned for us to sit, his expression grave, indicating the seriousness of the situation. “Tell me everything.”
I launched into my explanation, detailing the strange tether between Draco and me, the physical effects of our magic being linked, and how suppressing my power had a direct impact on him. I talked about the pull between us, the resonance that reacted when we moved too far apart, and the undeniable sense of each other’s presence that hadn’t gone away since the ceremony.
Kingsley listened attentively, his expression darkening with each revelation. Only after I finished did he speak.
“This changes things.”
Draco gave a dry laugh. “You think?”
Kingsley ignored him and reached for one of the larger books on his desk. “I consulted with the Department of Mysteries following your ceremony. There is almost no recorded history of two Eidolons reacting in the same way yours did. But—” he slid the ancient book across the table toward us, his voice heavy with significance, “there is something called a Primordial Bond.”
I exchanged a hesitant glance with Draco, silently questioning what we were about to uncover before opening the book.
The text was ancient, the pages yellowed with age, the faded ink still legible, hinting at the knowledge preserved within. The words were written in an ancient Latin dialect and accompanied by diagrams of intertwining magic, spirals of energy merging into a single force. I quickly scanned, my breath catching as I read aloud.
Their fates are inextricably linked. Magic shared, magic divided. Should one fall, so will the other.
I felt a chill run through my body.
Draco remained still beside me, his usual composure faltering slightly as the weight of the revelation sank in. “So it’s a death sentence.”
Kingsley’s expression was grim, and he did not nod. Instead, he turned to a different page and tapped the passage with his fingers.
“Or,” he said softly, “the beginning of something the world has not seen for millennia.”
I frowned while scanning the new section. The text described a force greater than the sum of two wizards, something ancient and dormant that needed to be awakened. It spoke of power that was not only shared, but multiplied, a fusion of magic so profound that it could create something new—something lost to time.
A new era of magic.
“This bond,” Kingsley explained, “isn’t just an anomaly. It is a shift. A rebalancing. The last known example of a true Primordial Bond predates our understanding of modern magical theory. The records indicate that when such a bond forms, it serves as a catalyst—a link between what magic is and what it could become.”
I could barely comprehend the implications.
“You’re saying this isn’t just about us,” I whispered. “It’s about magic itself.”
Kingsley nodded. “The magic that runs through our world hasn’t changed in centuries. But the appearance of your bond—two opposing Eidolons aligning rather than clashing—indicates that something is changing.” He curled his fingers around the desk’s edge. “And evolution, Hermione, is rarely peaceful.”
The weight of those words settled on us like a curse.
Draco exhaled heavily, his head shaking in disbelief at the enormity of the situation. “And here I thought the worst part of this would be the wedding vows.”
“This isn’t a joke, Malfoy,” Kingsley stated sharply.
Draco scoffed. “Oh, I am well aware. Believe me. He leaned forward and fixed Kingsley with a sharp gaze. “But let us be clear. If this is a shift—if magic is changing—what should we do? Just sit back and hope we don’t explode in the process.”
Kingsley’s jaws tightened. “You learn to control it.”
I inhaled slowly, my heart racing in my ears.
It wasn’t just a marriage.
It wasn’t only politics.
Something ancient had awoken, and we realized we held the key to unlocking its power, a responsibility that weighed heavily on us.
There was no way out; we were bound to a fate that had already been set in motion.