Chapter 14
The pub hummed with life, the clink of glasses and low murmur of conversation filling the space around their small corner table. Theo and Alina sat opposite each other, their beers in hand, surrounded by the warm buzz of muggle patrons who had no idea that their conversation was anything but ordinary. Theo had cast a Muffliato spell, ensuring no one could overhear their words.
“Alright, Alina,” Theo started, leaning back in his chair with a grin, “I've got to ask... Is there some kind of Malfoy family secret I’m missing? You and Draco—you sure you’re not related?”
"Well I did grow up in an orphanage with no extended family…. SO perhaps you should ask him." She deadpanned.
Theo raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “I think it’s a valid question. I mean, you’ve got all the same features, you’re practically twins. Same sharp, cutting gaze, same ‘I’m way too good for this place’ air about you.”
Alina laughed, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Theo took a slow sip of his beer, eyes twinkling. "Come on then, what’s the deal with you, Ali-cat? Where does that sharpness come from?”
Alina’s face scrunched at the nickname but then her expression shifted just slightly, a subtle tightening around her eyes, and she took a deep breath. “I’m just... me, Theo. Nothing to be curious about.”
Theo’s grin faltered for a second, but his curiosity won out. He leaned back in his chair, letting the casual air return to his posture but keeping his gaze fixed on her. “Right, right. Of course. Just thought you might have an interesting story.”
Alina’s fingers tapped nervously against the bottle in front of her, a small gesture that Theo noted but didn’t point out. Her eyes briefly flickered, betraying a guarded hesitation that wasn’t there before. She was closing off again.
Theo decided to push just a little further. “You and Draco… definitely cut from the same cloth, though. I bet you’ve got an interesting lineage.”
Alina’s gaze flickered, just for a moment, before she took a sip of her beer, clearly trying to maintain her composure. “Theo, you’re really stretching the boundaries of casual conversation, aren’t you? First, I’m Draco’s long lost cousin, now you want to delve into my ‘mysterious depths’? Let’s just stick to the beer and avoid the psychoanalysis, yeah?”
Theo held up his hands, mock surrender in the air. “Alright, no psychoanalysis. I’ll leave you to be the enigma you obviously prefer. But, for the record, I’m genuinely curious. You’ve got that quiet strength about you, and I can’t help but think there’s something else going on under the surface.”
There was a brief pause as Alina’s gaze softened, just for a second, before she masked it quickly. Her lips curled into a tight smile, and she took another sip of her beer. For a moment, Theo thought she might say something, but then she stood, smoothing down her jacket as she did.
“I’m going to the loo,” she said casually, offering him a brief smile before turning toward the back of the pub.
Theo, still somewhat caught up in the conversation, nodded distractedly. “Alright, don’t be too long. I still have tons of questions to ask you.”
Alina flashed him a quick grin, and Theo returned to his drink, thinking about the strange shift in their interaction. For a few moments, he allowed himself to relax, finishing his beer with a thoughtful hum.
But after a few minutes had passed, and still no sign of Alina, Theo’s eyebrows furrowed. He checked the time on his watch, a slight unease starting to settle in. Another few minutes passed. Still nothing. He pushed his chair back and stood up, glancing around the bar for any sign of her. As his eyes swept the room, he saw no trace of her. She hadn’t gone to the loo.
She’d slipped out.
Theo’s heart sank for a moment, a wave of frustration and disappointment crashing into a growing sense of urgency. Of course, he’d let his guard down, allowing himself to relax in her presence. Of course, she’d managed to slip away without him noticing, leaving him feeling foolish and anxious.
With a muttered curse that barely contained his irritation, he stood up and hurried out the door, the weight of the situation pressing upon him. He was already aware of what he’d have to do next.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the area for any sign of her. Shadows danced in the corners of his vision, but she was nowhere to be found. After a few fruitless moments of searching, he resigned himself to the reality of the situation and, with a deep breath, apparated away.
****
Draco heard the sharp Crack of someone apparating, the sound echoing in his otherwise quiet flat, followed Theo barging through the front door with an air of urgency.
Startled, he stood abruptly, scattering books and parchments from his lap. "What's wrong? Where is she?" he demanded, his heart racing with concern.
"I lost her," Theo replied, his voice strained as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"You what?!" Draco exclaimed, his pulse quickening. He hastily snatched his cloak from the back of a chair and rushed toward the door. "Where did you last see her?"
Theo led Draco to the nearby bar, where the dim lighting created a somber atmosphere. He began to explain how she had been acting while he had been following her earlier in the night, the words tumbling out in a disjointed rush. He admitted to almost losing her then as well, the memory clearly weighing heavily on him.
Draco pondered this for a moment, his brow furrowing in thought before he finally erupted in exasperation. "Of course! She was probably reading your intentions the entire time; she knew you were following her. She's a bloody powerful Legilimens."
"Well, fuck," Theo muttered, the weight of the situation settling heavily between them.
After scouring the vicinity late into the night and into the early morning, Draco remarked to Theo, "We ought to get some rest. Head to Potter when the ministry opens and fill him in. I'll speak with Blaise to see if he's found anything useful yet."
However, Draco persisted in his search, sacrificing sleep Eventually he apparated home so he could floo to the Zabini estate. He headed toward Blaise's study. Just before he reached the door, a small screech sounded as his goddaughter launched herself at him.
"Uncle Draco you missed me!" She said after he picked her up.
"Always, little fire sprite."
Ember beamed at him, "I got invited to a birthday party!" she exclaimed.
"Oh is that so? How exciting I am certainly jealous." Draco said playfully.
"Ember Callidora Zabini!" Astoria's voice echoed from around the corner, sharp and commanding. The little girl turned her head toward the sound, her eyes widening slightly. She gave Draco a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek before slipping from his embrace, her small feet pattering as she darted through the nearest doorway with the energy only a six-year-old could possess.
"Oh Draco," Astoria said as she rounded the corner, her expression softening as she approached him. She wrapped her arms around him in a brief, comforting hug. "Blaise is just in his study. I won't even ask where Ember went," she added, fixing him with a knowing yet stern look that conveyed both amusement and admonishment. "I know you won't tell me." With a dramatic flair, she raised her voice for any ears that might be eavesdropping, "She will finish her dance lessons whether she likes it or not!" With that, Astoria turned on her heel, her fair hair swaying slightly as she walked away, determined to find her spirited daughter.
Draco pushed open the door of the study, the heavy wood creaking slightly as he entered. He greeted his friend with a sense of urgency that had settled in his chest. Blaise was standing behind his desk, leaning over a spread of parchment laid out in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Please tell me you've found something useful," Draco said, his voice low, laced with an anxious hope.
Without lifting his eyes from the documents, Blaise asked, "Theo lost her, didn’t he?"
Blaise sat in his chair, a glass of firewhisky swirling lazily in his grasp. His demeanor was composed, yet his eyes revealed the frustration simmering beneath. Opposite him, Draco sat with his arms crossed, scowling.
“Well,” Blaise began, breaking the quiet, “she’s certainly an enigma. Inconsistent job history—brief stints here and there, nothing stable. As for her past residences and acquaintances? That’s anyone’s guess. But I did find out where she’s staying currently. Some run-down motel on the outskirts of town. Doesn’t exactly scream stability.”
Draco drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his expression growing even darker. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve uncovered?”
Blaise raised an eyebrow, his tone unruffled. “I’m not a miracle worker, Draco. If she doesn’t wish to be located, she’s doing an excellent job of it. You should be impressed, honestly.”
Draco huffed, leaning in closer. “I don’t need to be impressed. I need answers. If she’s as clueless about magic as she claims, why is she outmaneuvering us?”
Blaise shrugged, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. “Maybe she’s smarter than she appears. Or maybe she’s just desperate. People become resourceful when they’re backed into a corner.”
Before Draco could reply, a silver otter burst into the room, its sleek form shimmering.. It paused briefly, then opened its mouth, Hermione’s clear voice resonating.
“Malfoy, could you come to my lab. It’s urgent.”
The otter vanished, leaving a faint glimmer in the air. Draco groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin’s bloody beard. Does she always have to be so theatrical?”
Blaise smirked at Draco.
Draco shot him a glare, rising to his feet. “Save it, Zabini.”
****
Draco stood outside Hermione’s lab, his irritation mounting with every second. The lab was tucked away in a quiet corner of Cambridge, surrounded by ivy-covered walls and an annoyingly intricate set of wards he’d nearly tripped over twice. He muttered under his breath as he pushed the door open, the faint scent of herbs and disinfectant hitting him immediately.
“Granger,” he called, his voice echoing in the quiet space. “You really need to make this place easier to find. I nearly ended up in bloody Scotland.”
Hermione appeared from behind a row of shelves, her hair tied back and her face set in concentration. She didn’t rise to the bait, instead gesturing for him to follow. “Stop complaining and come here. I’ve got something you need to see.”
Draco rolled his eyes but followed her to a workstation where Pansy was leaning over a cauldron, her usual sharp demeanor replaced by focused determination. Several vials of potion and rows of parchment cluttered the table.
“What’s this about?” Draco asked, crossing his arms.
Hermione pointed to a parchment covered in detailed notes. “We’ve been analyzing the bacteria strain connected to the Black Cat Flu. Pansy and I have found something… unsettling.”
Pansy looked up, her expression grim. “The bacteria isn’t just resisting magic. It’s feeding on it.”
Draco frowned. “Feeding on it? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Hermione nodded, her tone urgent. “Normally, a wizard or witch’s magic core works to heal the body, right? But in this case, the magic is actually fueling the illness, making it stronger instead of helping. It’s almost like it’s been... corrupted.”
Draco stared at the notes, his mind racing. “And this is connected to Alina how?”
Pansy gave him a knowing look, her dark eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned in. “That’s the part we haven’t figured out yet. But there’s something strange about her, isn’t there? Something that doesn’t add up.”
Draco sighed, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair, which had fallen messily over his forehead. “You’re not wrong." He could feel the weight of her words sinking in, and Pansy noted his distress as he took a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath to steady himself.
"He lost her, didn’t he?" Pansy mused, her voice tinged with amusement. Draco shot her a warning look, his stormy gray eyes briefly flashing with irritation.
Hermione blinked, confusion etched on her face. “Lost her? As in Theo?”
Draco waved a hand dismissively, his frustration clear as he tried to brush aside the implications of her comment. “Yes, he lost her last night.”
Hermione straightened, a determined glint in her eye. “Then we’ll find her.”
Draco snorted. “We? I don’t recall asking for your help.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to. You know as well as I do that if she’s involved in this, we need to figure it out." She said in an urging manner.
Draco hesitated, his pride warring with practicality. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t expect me to hold your hand.”
Hermione smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now, test my shields. Gently.” She added.
Draco’s expression turned serious. “Why?”
“Because if we’re going to approach her,” Hermione said, “I need to know if I’ll be able to shield myself. My occlumency is... abysmal, to put it lightly.”
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose again, muttering something under his breath about Gryffindor recklessness. He reached out lightly brushing her extremely thin shields. “They'll suffice for now. Just stay behind me if things go south. I’ll handle the heavy lifting.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Always so gallant.”
Pansy smirked, watching the exchange with mild amusement. “You two are going to make this very entertaining.”
Draco shot her a warning look before turning back to Hermione. “Let’s get moving. If Alina’s running, she won’t stay in one place for long.”
With that, the two headed for the door, their unlikely partnership set to face whatever mysteries lay ahead.
****
The alley was damp from an earlier drizzle, the soft glow of streetlamps casting long shadows as Draco and Hermione walked side by side. The air smelled faintly of rain and petrol, and the quiet hum of the nearby main road provided a constant backdrop. Draco’s wand was in his pocket, but his hand lingered close, a subtle tension in his posture. Hermione, on the other hand, was walking with an easy stride, her arms swinging lightly at her sides.
“So,” Hermione began, glancing sideways at him with a sly smile, “how many layers of Occlumency are you using right now? Five? Six? Or are you just walking around with your mind wrapped up tighter than a dragon’s hoard?”
Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t break stride. “Oh, please, Granger. It’s called being prepared. Not all of us go barreling into situations with our emotions hanging out like a Muggle washing line.”
Hermione chuckled. “You know, excessive Occlumency can’t be healthy. I read a study—”
“Of course you did.”
“—that too much mental compartmentalization can lead to emotional repression, irritability—”
“And here I thought I was just naturally irritable,” Draco cut in dryly, shooting her a sidelong glance.
Hermione smirked, clearly enjoying herself. “It also explains why you’re so cagey. Speaking of, how was your time in America?”
Draco’s stride faltered ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “What exactly has Pansy been telling you?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Hermione replied innocently, though the glint in her eye betrayed her amusement. “Just that you were off ‘finding yourself’ in some far-flung part of the States. Apparently, it involved cowboy boots and a very ill-advised hat.”
Draco groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, give me strength. When did you and Pansy become bosom friends? Did you braid each other’s hair and swap nail polish recommendations over tea while dissecting my personal life?”
Hermione laughed outright at that, the sound echoing softly down the empty alley. “Alright,” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “You’re clearly touchy about it."
Draco muttered something under his breath and Hermione, sensing the shift in his mood, wisely let the subject drop. As they turned a corner, the motel came into view. It was a shabby, two-story structure with peeling paint and a flickering neon sign that read “Vacancy.” The surrounding area was quiet, save for the occasional rumble of a passing car.
Draco stopped just short of the parking lot, his eyes scanning the building with a practiced intensity. “This is it,” he said, his voice low.
Hermione frowned, her gaze flitting over the dimly lit windows. “Charming,” she muttered. “You’re sure this is where Blaise said she was staying?”
Draco nodded. “It’s the only lead we’ve got. Keep your wand ready. If she’s bolted, there might be traces of where she went.”
Hermione pulled her wand from her coat pocket, her expression turning serious. “Right. Let’s see if we can find her.”
Draco led the way, his movements precise and deliberate, Hermione close at his heels. Despite the banter earlier, the gravity of their task settled over them as they approached the motel.
Draco approached the door of the room with measured caution, his wand drawn and his expression sharp. The peeling paint on the door and the tarnished brass number “7” did nothing to ease the tension in the air. Hermione stayed a step behind, her own wand at the ready.
“Blaise said Room Seven,” Draco murmured, glancing back at her briefly.
Hermione nodded, stepping closer to the door. “It looks quiet,” she whispered.
Draco frowned, his instincts prickling. He pointed his wand at the lock and muttered, “Alohomora.”
The door creaked open slowly, revealing a dimly lit motel room that had been ransacked. The bed was unmade, its sheets tangled and half on the floor. Drawers were pulled open, their contents scattered across the room. A cheap lamp lay on its side, its bulb flickering weakly.
“Someone’s been here,” Hermione said softly, stepping inside with careful precision. Her eyes darted around, taking in the overturned furniture and scattered belongings. "And made a mess," she added.
Draco cast Revelio, his wand tracing a slow arc through the air. A faint shimmer spread across the room, revealing no hidden occupants. “No one’s here,” he confirmed, his voice clipped.
Hermione moved to the center of the room, her brow furrowed. “If she left in a hurry, why does it look like someone was looking for something? This wasn’t just her packing up and bolting.”
Draco scanned the room again, his sharp gaze settling on faint scuff marks near the window. “She wasn’t the only one here. Whoever broke in wasn’t subtle.”
Hermione stepped closer to the center of the room and raised her wand. “Let me try something.” She muttered a complex incantation, her wand emitting a soft golden glow as it traced a circular pattern in the air. The light expanded, spreading across the room like a web before settling into the corners and crevices.
Faint, shimmering traces of magic appeared, lingering like smoke in the air. “There,” she said, pointing to a faint trail leading toward the corner of the room. “Someone used magic here. It’s old, but it’s distinct.”
Draco followed her gaze and crouched down, leaning closer to inspect the corner. The magic was faint but more concentrated, like an echo of a spell that had been cast recently. “It’s heavier here,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the edge of the wall. “Could be a concealment charm or a disillusionment spell. Maybe even—”
The rest of his words were cut off as the air behind them shifted suddenly. A sharp crack broke through the quiet, and before either of them could react, twin jets of red light struck them from behind.
Draco’s body went rigid, his wand slipping from his fingers as he collapsed to the floor. Hermione’s stunned form crumpled beside him, her wand rolling out of reach.
The room fell silent again, save for the faint hum of residual magic in the air. A figure stepped into the room, cloaked in shadow, their wand still raised. They bent down briefly, inspecting both of them with a calculated gaze before muttering under their breath.
“Should’ve stayed out of it,” the figure muttered before stepping forward. With another sharp crack, they disapparated, taking the two unconscious occupants with them.