Chapter 23
The next morning, the world had shifted.
I felt it in the air before I even opened my eyes—a thrumming energy, something deep and ancient settling into place. The magic in Malfoy Manor had always felt heavy, layered with centuries of dark legacies, but now? Now it felt different. Alive.
I turned my head on the pillow, the morning light filtering through the heavy drapes. Draco was still asleep beside me, his bare chest rising and falling in steady breaths, his platinum hair slightly mussed. My stomach flipped at the sight of him—relaxed, undone.
I had seen him vulnerable before, but not like this. Not with the weight of our bond accepted between us, not with the proof of it still lingering in the air.
A soft rustling noise caught my attention.
I blinked, adjusting to the dim light, and then my breath caught.
Perched on the headboard, regal and silent, was Solara.
She wasn’t flickering like a half-formed spirit. She wasn’t shifting between planes like some mystical apparition.
She was whole.
Feathers of pure gold shimmered with iridescent light, her wings tucked neatly at her sides. The glow of her magic felt like the sun itself, humming softly against my skin, and I could feel her presence in a way that went beyond magic—it was real. Connected. Permanent.
Across from her, sprawled lazily on a nearby chair, was Tenebris.
He was still as dark as midnight, still shifting between shadows and something tangible, but he was smaller now—no longer the monstrous beast that had loomed over us in the ruins. He was the size of a normal phoenix, perched with an eerie grace, his tail flicking like a cat watching prey.
It was unnatural and yet... entirely right.
They were here.
Still here.
I swallowed hard, my fingers clenching in the sheets. Last night hadn’t been a fluke. This wasn’t a fleeting reaction to magic—it was something deeper, permanent.
I was so caught up in the sight of them that I didn’t notice Draco stir until he exhaled heavily beside me.
His voice was hoarse with sleep. “Please tell me that’s not actually happening.”
I turned my head to look at him, my own thoughts spinning just as wildly. “It is.”
Draco groaned, dragging a hand down his face before cracking open one eye. His gaze flicked to Tenebris, who tilted his head at him with something that looked far too smug for a creature without words.
Draco sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his chest. “Bloody hell.” He stared at the creatures for a long moment before flicking his gaze to me. “I suppose we should have seen this coming.”
I let out a slow breath. “I don’t think anyone could have expected this.”
He didn’t argue.
There was nothing to argue.
Solara let out a soft, musical trill—something that felt more intelligent than a simple bird’s song. As if she knew exactly what had happened. As if she were watching.
My skin prickled.
Draco sighed and raked a hand through his hair, making a face like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. “Do you think anyone else—?”
Before he could finish, the sound of footsteps echoed outside the bedroom door.
There was a sharp knock.
Draco’s eyes snapped to mine, and I barely had time to scramble for a robe before the door swung open and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped inside.
I froze.
Draco cursed under his breath, barely getting the blankets over his lap before Kingsley’s sharp gaze took us in. He was dressed as impeccably as ever—deep navy robes, his usual air of command filling the room before he even spoke.
But his expression wasn’t the composed, methodical look I had come to associate with him.
No—Kingsley Shacklebolt looked concerned.
Deeply, seriously concerned.
I swallowed. “Kingsley.”
He nodded in greeting, his eyes flicking to Draco before immediately shifting to the two creatures now perched in the room.
Solara let out another trill.
Tenebris flicked his tail, unimpressed.
Kingsley exhaled sharply. “So it’s true.”
My stomach clenched. “What’s true?”
He stepped forward, his presence commanding as he gestured to our Eidolons—now fully real and present.
“This isn’t just happening to you,” Kingsley said, voice low, measured. “Other people’s Eidolons are appearing as well. Whole. Real. Permanent.”
A cold chill ran down my spine.
Draco stiffened beside me. “How many?”
Kingsley’s jaw tightened. “So far? Dozens. But it’s growing. Some of them are appearing in places they were never meant to be. Others are surfacing in individuals who didn’t even know they had them.”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
This wasn’t just us.
This wasn’t just our bond.
Something was happening.
Kingsley’s gaze flickered between us, assessing, weighing. “Tell me what you know.”
I exchanged a glance with Draco.
Draco looked at me, his expression carefully blank, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly in the sheets. He was waiting for me to answer. To explain.
But what was there to explain?
I swallowed, tightening the belt of my robe, ignoring the warmth creeping up my neck. How exactly does one tell the Minister of Magic that your magical bond solidified through sex?
“We didn’t… do anything,” I started, then winced at how unconvincing that sounded.
Draco let out a low, humorless chuckle beside me. “That’s debatable.”
Kingsley arched an eyebrow. His dark eyes flicked between the two of us, his usual patience thinning beneath a heavy layer of expectation.
I cleared my throat, willing my voice to sound even. Professional. “Last night, after weeks of—well, everything—Draco and I… we consummated our marriage.” I forced the words out with as much dignity as I could muster, but I could already feel Draco’s gaze burning into the side of my face, far too amused by my discomfort.
Kingsley inhaled sharply. “And that’s when they appeared?” His attention shifted back to Solara and Tenebris, who were both watching him with an almost human level of intelligence.
“Yes,” I admitted. “This morning, they were just… here.” I gestured helplessly toward the two creatures. “Solid. Whole. And they haven’t left.”
Kingsley was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought.
Draco crossed his arms over his chest, the blankets pooling around his waist as he leaned back against the headboard. “So what you’re saying, Minister,” he drawled, “is that people are shagging and waking up with very real, very permanent Eidolons?”
My face burned. “Draco—”
Kingsley, to his credit, did not look phased. “Not quite.” He folded his arms. “The cases vary. Some individuals reported intense emotional or magical experiences before their Eidolons appeared. Others—like you two—have a bond that was already forming before… solidifying.”
Draco hummed, unimpressed. “Fascinating.”
I shot him a glare. “Could you be serious for once?”
“Oh, I am,” he muttered. “Just wondering how many people out there are about to have a very interesting awakening.”
Kingsley exhaled through his nose. “This isn’t a joke, Malfoy.” His gaze darkened, heavy with unspoken meaning. “This could change everything. Eidolons were never meant to exist in a fully corporeal form. They’ve always been an extension of magic, bound to the soul. If they’re taking on physical form, then something fundamental about magic itself is shifting.”
I felt my stomach turn. “But why now?” I asked. “What’s causing this?”
Kingsley shook his head. “That’s what I’m here to find out.”
Draco scoffed. “Fantastic. And what—are we supposed to be the blueprint for all of this?”
Kingsley’s gaze flicked between us, unreadable. “You were the first,” he said simply. “And your bond is unlike any we’ve seen before. You two are at the center of this.”
I exhaled, rubbing my temples. “We didn’t ask for that.”
“No,” Kingsley agreed, “but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s happened.” His expression softened just slightly. “I’m not here to demand answers from you. But I need to know if anything else happened when they appeared.”
I hesitated, glancing at Draco. I could still feel the shift in the air, the raw magic threading between us, stronger than ever before. It wasn’t just the Eidolons—it was us. Our bond was no longer theoretical, no longer just something looming over us, forcing us together.
It was real.
Permanent.
Draco seemed to come to the same realization at the same time. His expression flickered—just briefly—before he looked away, dragging a hand through his hair. “The magic feels… different.”
Kingsley nodded. “Stronger?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
Kingsley exhaled, his jaw tightening. “That tracks with the other cases.”
A heavy silence stretched between us.
Then Draco—because of course he couldn’t let it be—sighed dramatically. “So, let me get this straight,” he mused. “The moment we finally give in to this insufferable bond, magic decides to redefine itself?”
Kingsley didn’t even blink. “It appears so.”
Draco groaned, throwing himself back against the pillows. “Unbelievable.”
I resisted the urge to hex him. “Oh, you’re suffering?” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You’re the one who spent weeks pretending you weren’t interested.”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, glaring.
Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose. “For Merlin’s sake, if you two could hold off on bickering for five minutes—”
Draco huffed. “Fine.” He waved a hand. “What now? Are we supposed to parade around as the first couple of Eidolon integration?” His smirk was biting, but there was an edge beneath it. A wariness.
Kingsley shook his head. “No. But I need you to be careful. This is bigger than you. If people start realizing what triggered this change—” He didn’t need to finish the thought.
A chill ran through me. There would be consequences. People might try to force the bond to make it happen, might try to harness the magic in ways that could be dangerous.
Draco seemed to have the same thought. His jaw tightened. “So, what—you expect us to just keep quiet?”
“For now, yes.” Kingsley’s voice was firm. “Until we understand more.”
Draco stared at him for a long moment, then exhaled, running a hand over his face. “Brilliant.”
Kingsley studied us one last time before nodding. “I’ll be in touch.” His gaze flicked to Solara and Tenebris, both watching with unreadable intelligence. “Keep an eye on them. And yourselves.”
Then, without another word, he turned and left.
The moment the door clicked shut, Draco let out a long breath and flopped back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands.
I sat down heavily beside him, the weight of everything crashing over me.
Our Eidolons were real.
Magic was changing.
And we were at the center of it.
I glanced at Draco, and for once, he didn’t have a smirk, didn’t have a cutting remark. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
After a moment, he spoke.
“So, Granger.” His voice was dry, tired. “Did you expect our delayed wedding night to bring about the next magical revolution?”
I groaned, collapsing back beside him. “Shut up, Malfoy.”
He chuckled softly.
And despite everything—despite the sheer madness of it all—I found myself smiling.