Accio, Love!

Hermione tugged her traveling cloak tighter as the cool mist of the Glasgow forest wrapped around her. Tiny peeked out from her pocket, chittering softly. Draco trudged behind her, looking unimpressed with the damp earth that clung to his boots.

“Remind me again why Jenkins thought we were the best candidates for this?” Draco muttered, carefully stepping over a gnarled root. “Tracking unicorn killers sounds more like an Auror’s problem, not—”

“Not the business of a pair of magical creature specialists?” Hermione finished, spinning to face him. Her eyes narrowed. “Unicorns are dying, Draco. Their magic—the purity they represent—is being desecrated. That is our business.”

Draco held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, Granger. Lead the charge. But I’m just saying, we should’ve at least been briefed properly. Jenkins’ note was... vague.”

Hermione sighed and tapped the pocket where Jenkins’ hurried letter rested. It was true; his missive had been distressingly brief, mentioning only that unicorn corpses had been discovered in the area—horns removed, blood nearly drained, and their hair harvested. The scene painted a dark picture. But what worried her most was the reason behind such acts.

As they pressed deeper into the forest, the sunlight above them faded, replaced by shifting shadows and the occasional beam of pale light. Hermione paused, scanning their surroundings. The air felt heavier here, charged with a kind of sorrow that made her heart ache. Even Tiny’s usual liveliness had dimmed, his tiny head turning nervously at every creak of the trees.

“It’s too quiet,” Hermione murmured. She reached into her bag and pulled out her wand, the tip illuminating faintly.

“Of course it is. We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Draco replied, though his own wand was now in hand. His voice lacked its usual sarcasm, tinged instead with unease.

The two walked in silence until the ground beneath them shifted from firm earth to damp moss. Then, the smell hit them—a cloying metallic tang that made Hermione’s stomach churn. She quickened her pace, her breath catching when the first signs of carnage came into view.

A unicorn lay sprawled across the clearing, its once-lustrous coat dulled and stained with blood. Its horn was severed cleanly, and patches of its silky mane were torn away. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat.

“Merlin,” Draco muttered, stepping closer to inspect the body. “Whoever did this… they knew exactly what they were after.”

Hermione knelt beside the creature, her hand hovering just above its lifeless form. “It’s recent. The blood is still wet.” Her voice trembled, but her resolve hardened. “This isn’t just poaching, Malfoy. This is something darker.”

Draco nodded grimly. “Dark magic, maybe? There are spells that require unicorn blood and hair… but the horns are missing? That feels ritualistic.”

The forest around them seemed to shudder in agreement, the wind whispering through the branches. Hermione’s fingers clenched around her wand.

“We need to find the others,” she said. “Before it’s too late.”

Not long after Hermione and Draco arrived at the grim scene in the Glasgow forest, the familiar sound of a portkey activating reached their ears. A swirl of blue light illuminated the clearing, depositing Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Blaise Zabini just a few feet away.

“Well, well, look who decided to crash our little expedition,” Draco drawled, stepping back as Harry and Ron shook off the residual dizziness from the portkey travel.

“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin. He rushed forward to envelop her in a bear hug, nearly lifting her off her feet. Harry followed, less enthusiastic but equally warm, giving Hermione a quick, heartfelt hug.

“It’s good to see you, Hermione,” Harry said, glancing around the clearing. His expression darkened as he spotted the dead unicorn. “Although I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Agreed,” Hermione replied, though her smile lingered. “I’ve missed you both. How’s life? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

“Not bad,” Ron said, finally releasing her. “But we’re the ones who should be asking you that. You’ve been off gallivanting with ferret and—”

“Excuse me?” Draco cut in, raising an eyebrow. “Gallivanting? Granger’s been working—and last I checked, I am an integral part of this mission.”

“Oh, sure you are,” Ron replied, crossing his arms. “Didn’t peg you as the type to care about magical creatures, Malfoy. Or Hermione’s well-being, for that matter.”

Before Draco could retort, Blaise Zabini, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. “Can we save the Hogwarts drama for later? We have bigger issues here.” His gaze was fixed on the lifeless unicorn, his expression unreadable. “This... is grim.”

Harry nodded, stepping closer to the body. “Jenkins filled us in before we came. But seeing it in person…” He shook his head. “Any theories so far?”

“Plenty,” Hermione replied. “None of them good. Draco and I were just discussing the possibility of dark magic being involved.”

“Dark magic?” Ron asked, his tone serious for once. “That’d explain the whole ‘horn missing, blood drained’ thing. Creepy.”

“Creepy and methodical,” Blaise added, crouching to inspect the unicorn more closely. “Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. This isn’t some amateur poacher. It’s deliberate.”

Draco smirked faintly. “Well, Zabini, looks like you’ve found your calling as a detective.”

“Better than being the resident ferret whisperer,” Blaise shot back smoothly.

Ron snorted. “Detective, ferret whisperer… What exactly do you do these days, Malfoy? Because I’m having a hard time believing you’re a magizoologist. Or that Hermione willingly works with you.”

“Ronald,” Hermione said sharply, though the faint twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement. “Draco has been perfectly competent, thank you very much.”

Draco straightened, a smug look on his face. “Hear that, Weaselbee? Competent. I’ll take it.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t insufferable,” Hermione added quickly, earning a glare from Draco.

Harry cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. “As much as I’m enjoying the banter, can we focus? Jenkins sent us to help, not to relive old grudges.”

“Right,” Hermione agreed, adjusting her cloak. “We need to determine if there are more unicorns in danger and what’s behind these killings.”

“Do we even have a lead?” Blaise asked, standing and brushing moss off his robes.

“Not yet,” Draco admitted. “But the unicorn’s condition suggests the killer might still be nearby. The blood is fresh.”

Ron made a face. “Great. So we’re hunting a dark wizard in a creepy forest. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Everything,” Blaise said dryly. “Especially if you’re involved.”

“Oi!” Ron protested, but Hermione cut him off.

“Enough, both of you. We’re wasting time.” She turned to Harry. “Can you and Ron scout the western side of the forest? Draco and I can handle the eastern section. Blaise, you’re good at tracking; take the north.”

“Wait a second,” Ron said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re splitting up with Malfoy? Are you sure that’s safe?”

Draco smirked. “Granger’s perfectly safe with me. I’m a reformed man, remember?”

“Reformed, my—”

“Ronald!” Hermione interrupted, glaring at him. “Draco is my partner on this mission. Trust me, I can handle him.”

“She can handle me,” Draco said with a wink, which earned him a swat on the arm from Hermione and a disgusted groan from Ron.

“Fine,” Ron grumbled. “But if he tries anything, Hermione, you hex him. Hard.”

“Noted,” Hermione said, already moving toward the eastern trail. Draco followed, tossing a casual wave over his shoulder.

“Don’t wait up, Weasley.”

Harry sighed as he watched them disappear into the trees. “Well, this is going to be interesting.”

Blaise smirked. “You’ve got no idea.”

The valley was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made Hermione’s skin crawl. The mist swirled around them like a thick fog, and each step they took seemed to bring them deeper into the unknown. It was the kind of place that felt like it might swallow you whole if you weren’t careful.

Draco was walking beside her, his face as unreadable as ever, but there was a certain tension in the air. Maybe it was the mist. Maybe it was just the constant undercurrent of irritation that had been brewing between them for days now. Either way, something about the silence felt... wrong.

"Draco," Hermione said, breaking the quiet. "Do you feel that? This place gives me the creeps."

"You're just paranoid," Draco replied with a smirk, though he couldn’t quite hide the wariness in his voice. "Nothing’s going to jump out at you. It's just mist. And your overactive imagination."

"Overactive?!" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been so twitchy I thought you were going to jump into the nearest tree at any second. What is it with you and trees, anyway? You have some deep-rooted issues I don’t know about?"

Draco scowled, his face turning a little pink. "I don’t like being surrounded by things I can’t see. If I can't see it, I don't trust it."

"Right, because you’ve always been such an expert on trust," Hermione quipped, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Is that why you made everyone believe you were on the Dark Lord's side? You trust that?"

Draco rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, brilliant, Granger, bring that up now, why don’t you? Just what I needed, a reminder that I’ve been the worst person in history." He exhaled dramatically, clutching his chest. "How ever will I recover?"

Hermione couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "I’m just saying, trust isn’t exactly your strong suit. But don't worry, we all have our... flaws."

The two of them continued walking in silence for a while longer, the fog swirling around them. Then, suddenly, Draco spoke up again, and this time his voice was oddly... casual.

"You know, Hermione, I never really understood why you became a magizoologist."

Hermione shot him a confused glance. "Oh, here we go," she muttered. "The Draco Malfoy Inquisition begins. What is it now, Draco? You want to ask me why I’m not a proper wizard like you?"

"No, I was just curious," Draco said, eyes narrowing. "I mean, you’re good at everything. Charms, Transfiguration, Potions... but you choose to spend your life chasing after creatures. Why? Because you couldn’t get a date to save your life and decided to talk to Bowtruckles instead?"

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping in mock horror. "Draco Malfoy, did you just imply I can't get a date?! Are you really going there?"

Draco’s face twisted into an exaggerated expression of confusion. "Wait—did I touch a nerve? I thought you were just married to your career, not a tree branch."

Hermione shot him a playful glare, crossing her arms. "Oh, I’m sorry, did you think I needed to date to feel validated? You’re right, I spend my time with magical creatures, but you—" she leaned in dramatically, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You spend all your free time looking into mirrors, checking to see if you’re still the fairest of them all."

Draco looked taken aback for a moment before he snorted, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I can’t help it if my reflection is fascinating. You, on the other hand, must have a picture of yourself next to the word 'perfect' in the dictionary."

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. "I’ve got news for you, Draco. Perfect isn’t in the dictionary, but self-obsessed is. You should try reading a bit more—perhaps it might help with your extreme humility."

"Oh, please. If I didn’t have an ego, who would?" Draco shot back, puffing out his chest theatrically. "You’d have no one to poke fun at."

"I don’t need you to inflate my sense of superiority, thank you very much," Hermione replied with a grin. "I’m quite capable of doing that on my own."

Before they could continue the exchange, the fog around them seemed to grow denser, and a strange pressure filled the air. They both paused, eyes scanning the area.

"Do you feel that?" Hermione asked quietly.

Draco nodded, looking slightly unnerved now. "Yeah, something's off. It’s like... I don’t know. I don’t like it."

Suddenly, without warning, the fog seemed to close in around them, and a strange compulsion washed over them both. Before Hermione could stop herself, the words came spilling out of her mouth.

"You know, Draco, for someone who claims to be so refined, you sure do have a knack for acting like a prat."

Draco froze, looking at her with wide eyes. "Excuse me? I—"

"Oh, don’t act surprised," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "I’ve been thinking about it for days. Every time you open your mouth, I just—ugh. The arrogance. The grandiosity. You’re like a walking, talking Slytherin advertisement."

Draco blinked, his face reddening. "Well, you know what’s really annoying about you, Granger? You act like you’ve got everything figured out. You’ve got to have the perfect answer for everything. You make me feel like I'm... well, below you." He put air quotes around the word ‘below’. "It’s like you're trying to be some sort of... feminist crusader with all the answers, but you don’t even understand how to relax! Why don’t you just have a butterbeer for once, instead of trying to fix everything?"

Hermione’s eyes widened as she tried to process his words. "Me? Relax? Have you ever heard of the word personal space, Malfoy? You’re the one who can’t take two steps without needing to be the center of attention!"

The air around them seemed to pulse with the force of their unfiltered thoughts, and it was clear they were both caught in whatever strange force this valley had placed upon them. The two stood there, glaring at each other.

"Well, at least I don’t talk to trees!" Draco spat, glaring. "Tiny? Really? Do you have some deep emotional attachment to that little stick?"

Hermione’s jaw dropped. "Tiny is a bowtruckle, Malfoy, and he’s more loyal than you’ll ever be!"

"Great, now you’re comparing me to a twig. Is that really how you see me?"

Before Hermione could respond, she felt the fog shift, and the tension in the air seemed to loosen. She blinked, suddenly realizing what had just happened.

"Okay," Hermione said, her voice still slightly dazed. "That was... not what I expected."

Draco blinked, then groaned. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I don't want to remember any of that."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Well, it’s too late now. I know all your secrets, Draco."

"Great," he muttered. "That’s just fantastic."

At least, for a fleeting moment, the tension between them had been broken.

The valley seemed endless as they walked, each step taken more out of habit than desire. The fog still clung to the air, but the oppressive tension from earlier had dissipated, leaving behind a thin veil of discomfort. Draco, for the first time since they’d entered the valley, was unusually quiet. Hermione couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing, but she had a feeling the silence was more about him brooding than anything else.

The hours dragged on, the sky slowly fading into twilight as they trudged along the narrow path. The sound of their boots crunching on the gravel was the only noise accompanying their steps. Hermione had tried to distract herself by focusing on the task at hand, but her mind kept drifting to the words they’d exchanged earlier—things they probably didn’t mean but had been forced out by the fog. She found herself wishing they could just forget about it and move on, but that wasn’t going to be as easy as it sounded.

Finally, Draco broke the silence. "Should we head back? I’m getting tired of walking in circles."

Hermione glanced at him, surprised to hear the question. They had been walking for what felt like forever, but the way Draco said it made it sound as though he had some unspoken reason to head back. Maybe he was tired of being in such close quarters with her after their little... incident earlier.

"Fine by me," she said, not wanting to argue. "Let’s go back to the meeting point. We’ve been out here long enough."

They turned around, walking in the opposite direction now, and before long, they saw the familiar figures of Blaise and the Aurors. Blaise was already standing by the designated meetup spot, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips as though he’d been waiting for them to catch up. The Aurors were scanning the area, looking every bit the professionals they were.

As Hermione and Draco approached, the sound of footsteps behind them made her turn around. She squinted through the fog, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the figures approaching. Harry and Ron were coming toward them, their wands drawn, their expressions serious.

"Oi! Harry! Ron!" Hermione called out, waving. "How’s the inspection? Did you find anything?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing. The place looks quiet. Almost too quiet, if you ask me." Ron nodded in agreement.

Hermione frowned, not entirely convinced. "That doesn’t sound right," she said, her brow furrowed in concern. "If the market’s really active, how come you didn’t find anything? We’re not the only ones who should be out here."

"Well, it’s not like we’ve been poking around in every corner," Harry said with a shrug. "But everything seems clear. No signs of anything shady, at least."

Hermione simply nodded, her suspicion still gnawing at her. Something didn’t sit right with her, but she had to trust the Aurors’ judgment. "Right," she said finally, brushing the feeling aside for the moment. "I’ve got a new tent from the locals in Hallowmere. Should be easier to set up than the old one. Might as well make the most of it before the night really sets in."

She reached into her bag and pulled out the small, charmed tent, which expanded in her hands, growing to the perfect size as it unfurled before them. The rest of the group moved to help her, and Draco immediately started gathering materials for the setup.

"Well, someone’s enthusiastic," Blaise teased, watching as Draco expertly began laying out the tent pegs.

Draco shot him a glare. "Don’t make me hex you, Blaise. I’ll be the one sleeping under the stars tonight if you don’t stop."

Blaise snickered but moved to help as well, while Harry and Ron began setting up the campfire. Meanwhile, Hermione dug through her bag for the ingredients she’d brought along for dinner. She was going to make something simple—nothing too extravagant—but it would do the job.

"Malfoy," she called over her shoulder as she set up her cooking area, "could you fetch some branches for the fire? I’m cooking tonight."

Draco paused, his hands halfway through tying down a tent rope. He looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. "Branches? You want me to get branches? Why don’t you just make a fire with your fancy magic, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You’re the one who claims to have all this experience with outdoor living. I thought you were supposed to be the expert."

"Yeah, expert at being miserable in the outdoors," Draco muttered under his breath as he trudged off toward the nearby trees, grumbling all the way.

Meanwhile, Blaise had begun casting protective charms around their campsite, a few flicks of his wand securing their perimeter with layers of shielding spells.

"Think the Ministry will give us any credit for this?" Blaise asked with a wicked grin as he finished the last charm. "We’ve made quite the camp here, haven’t we?"

"I’m just trying to get some food in my stomach," Hermione said, focusing on her pots and pans. "If I don’t eat something soon, I might just pass out. And don’t even get me started on Malfoy’s attitude."

"Ah, Draco," Blaise said knowingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The man who can do no wrong. How charming."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head as she stirred the stew. "Honestly, I don’t know why he even agreed to this mission. He’s got a permanent scowl, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t smiled since we left London."

"That’s Draco for you," Blaise said, a small laugh escaping him. "Always brooding. Too proud to show any emotion."

As Hermione continued preparing the meal, the Aurors came over and sat down by the fire, the three of them visibly exhausted but alert. Harry and Ron looked over at Hermione’s progress, their eyes flicking between her and the bubbling stew.

"Everything going alright over here, Hermione?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. "Got everything under control?"

"Of course," Hermione said with a small smile. "I’m used to cooking under pressure. Can’t say the same for some of the others, though."

She gave Draco a pointed look as he returned with a pile of branches. Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.

"Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything new from the Ministry, have you?" Ron asked, taking a seat on a nearby log. "The word’s been a bit quiet."

Hermione sighed, stirring her stew again before she responded. "Actually, yes. There’s been talk about a rise in black market activity recently. Apparently, it’s becoming a trend now. They’re setting up shop in all sorts of places, and no one seems to be able to track them down."

"Sounds like the work of shady wizards trying to make a quick galleon," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

"I’ve had a run-in with one of those markets before," Hermione said, her voice tinged with annoyance as she recalled the experience. "We were in Lyon a few days ago, and the black market there was operating right under the noses of the locals. They had everything—illegal magical creatures, cursed artifacts... the works."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight. You were smuggling magical creatures from a black market?"

"No!" Hermione protested, looking mortified. "We weren't smuggling anything. We were saving an Occamy from a horrible fate."

Ron laughed. "Typical Hermione. Always saving something, huh? I can just imagine you, standing there, lecturing the Occamy about how to be a good magical creature. ‘You’re too pretty to be caged up, now get back in the wild where you belong.’"

Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. "Well, if you’d seen the conditions, you’d have done the same. Besides, that Occamy was a beauty. Can’t let something like that be locked up."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, still amused. "Anyway, sounds like you’ve had your hands full."

"Always," Hermione muttered. She then realized something and immediately reached for her bag, pulling out a small, iridescent creature. "Speaking of which," she said, "it’s time for the Occamy to get some fresh air."

The Occamy, a beautiful, bluish violet-feathered serpent with wings, immediately coiled itself around her arm, stretching and uncoiling its wings as it looked around curiously.

The three Aurors—Harry, Ron, and Blaise—watched with wide eyes, fascinated by the sight. The Occamy was breathtaking, its feathers gleaming in the firelight as it unfurled its wings, shimmering like liquid potion.

"It’s beautiful," Harry whispered, his gaze fixed on the creature.

"Where did you even find something like that?" Blaise asked, completely entranced.

"I rescued it from a black market in Lyon," Hermione explained with a wry smile. "But don’t get too attached. Draco’s its new father now."

Draco, who had been looking for a place to sit, gave her an incredulous look. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well," Hermione said, grinning mischievously, "you’re the one who found the food for it, aren’t you? It’s your responsibility now."

Draco opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Ron, who let out a loud laugh. "That’s hilarious. Draco Malfoy, father of a magical creature. I never thought I’d see the day."

The group burst into laughter as they finally settled down for a much-needed meal, the tension from the day dissolving as they ate and joked around.

As the night wore on, the stars above twinkled brightly, and the sound of laughter echoed through the campsite. They were far from the comforts of home, but at that moment, surrounded by friends—however unconventional—everything felt a little more bearable.

The night stretched on, and they rested under the protection of Blaise’s spells, the world around them quiet and still. For the first time in a while, Hermione felt the weight of the mission lift slightly, if only for a few hours. But at this moment, they were safe, and that was enough.