Chapter 16
Theo and Adrian walked briskly through the Ministry corridors, their steps echoing against the polished marble floors. Theo’s face was tight with frustration, his sharp features shadowed with fatigue, while Adrian exuded an infuriating calmness, as if this were just another day at the office.
“So,” Adrian began, his tone conversational as they approached his desk. “Legilimency, huh? Must be fun knowing she can see right through you.”
Theo shot him a cold glare. “Yes, it’s absolutely delightful,” he said, his tone dry enough to strip paint.
Adrian smirked but didn’t push further. Reaching his meticulously arranged desk, he gestured for Theo to sit while he flipped open a thick ledger from a stack of files.
“We log all magical activity flagged near Muggle-populated areas,” Adrian explained, his tone shifting into his professional Auror mode. “Most of it’s minor—kids getting emotional, wandless sparks, you know. But anything unusual gets flagged for review. If this girl’s using magic and not being careful, we might have a trail.”
“Alina,” Theo corrected, leaning forward. His sharp eyes scanned the ledger as Adrian traced his finger down the latest entries.
“Right. Alina,” Adrian said, feigning indifference. “Last night, there was a strange light show reported in Southwark—witnesses called it fireworks, but Obliviators didn’t find any pyrotechnic residue. Could’ve been magical. And here—” he pointed to another line, “—a café in Camden had glasses shattering for no reason. Owner said a woman left right before it happened. Could be her.”
Theo frowned. “Southwark and Camden are a fair distance apart. She’d have to be moving fast.”
Adrian shrugged. “She’s resourceful, right? Besides, these could be nothing. But it’s a start. Wandless magic is tricky to trace, but if she’s leaving a trail of bursts like this—”
“Wait,” Theo interrupted, straightening abruptly. “Did you say wandless sparks?”
Adrian glanced up from the ledger. “Yeah, why?”
Theo’s mind raced as he remembered something Draco had mentioned in passing—Alina shocking an irate customer when she worked at his favorite café. The detail had seemed insignificant at the time, just an odd anecdote. But now, it clicked into place.
“She worked at a café,” Theo said slowly, almost to himself. “Draco mentioned she shocked some bloke there when he got too aggressive. It wasn’t just accidental magic—it was deliberate.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow. “And you’re just remembering this now?”
Theo shot him a look. “It didn’t seem important before. But it makes sense now. That café wasn’t just any café—it’s Draco’s favorite spot. If she’s been lying low, maybe someone there knows more about her.”
Adrian closed the ledger with a snap and grabbed his coat. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go have a chat with the staff.”
****
The café in central London was alive with the morning rush. The air was thick with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, underscored by the hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine. Mismatched chairs surrounded small tables, and a chalkboard menu hung crookedly on the wall, listing specialty drinks in colorful scrawls.
Theo pushed the door open, the soft chime of a bell announcing their arrival. He glanced around, taking in the cozy, worn interior with a critical eye.
Adrian let out a low whistle. “Charming place. Hard to picture Malfoy sipping a cappuccino here.”
Theo smirked. “Draco’s got a soft spot for anything pretentious and aesthetically tragic.”
They approached the counter where a young woman with auburn hair was restocking pastries in the glass display. She looked up, her expression polite but wary.
“Hi there,” Theo said, turning on his most disarming smile. He leaned casually against the counter, exuding charm. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for someone who perhaps works here. Alina?”
The woman straightened, her brows knitting together. “Alina? Yeah, she just started not long ago. Quiet girl, doesn’t say much. Why’re you asking?”
Theo’s smile didn’t falter. “We’re old friends, and I heard she might’ve run into a bit of trouble. I just want to make sure she’s alright.”
The woman hesitated, chewing her lip as she glanced at Adrian, who stood silently beside Theo, arms crossed and projecting an air of quiet authority.
“She left pretty suddenly,” the barista admitted. “Everyone’s been talking about it. She came in really upset last night—something about a boyfriend, I think? She didn’t say much, but she looked like she’d been crying. She quit on the spot and walked out.”
Theo frowned, tilting his head. “A boyfriend? Did she say anything specific about him?”
The barista shook her head. “Not really. But she looked spooked, like she was running from something. We all figured she’d had some kind of fight or... I don’t know. Emily would know more.”
“Emily?” Theo pressed.
“She’s one of the baristas here. When Alina left, I think she said she might crash at Emily’s place.”
“Is Emily working today?” Theo asked, keeping his voice light.
“No, she’s off,” the barista said. “But I can give you her number. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping out.”
Theo smiled warmly, but he sensed a hesitation in the barista’s eyes, a subtle discomfort. He tilted his head slightly, trying to read her. “You’ve been very helpful,” he said, his tone softening. “But I’ve actually had a bit of bad luck with my mobile lately—dropped it a few too many times. So, instead of that number, would you mind giving me Emily’s address?”
The woman’s eyes darted toward Adrian, who was watching her with quiet intensity, his arms still crossed. She looked back at Theo, clearly unsure but trying not to be rude.
“I—I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” she stammered, her discomfort growing. “I don’t really—”
Theo’s patience thinned. He’d been trying to play this the smooth way, but now it seemed like he was getting nowhere. Just as he was about to press again, Adrian stepped forward, his voice sharp and cold.
“Confundo.”
The spell hit the barista with a barely perceptible flicker of magic, her expression relaxing immediately. She blinked a few times, her gaze glassy.
“Don’t worry about it,” Adrian said smoothly. “Just give us Emily’s address.”
The barista hesitated for only a moment longer before she leaned forward, writing quickly on the same napkin. “Here,” she said softly, sliding it across the counter. “Emily’s address.”
Theo took the napkin without a word, feeling his frustration bubble under the surface. He glanced at Adrian, his voice tinged with irritation. “Really, Pucey? Couldn’t have given her another minute?”
Adrian shrugged, a slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “We’re on a time crunch, Nott. She wasn’t exactly being cooperative.”
Theo let out a sharp breath, stuffing the napkin in his pocket as they turned to leave. “Yeah, well, next time, I’d prefer a little less magic and a little more patience.”
As they turned to leave, Theo paused by the door, glancing over at Adrian, who had stayed a few steps behind. Adrian raised an eyebrow at him before glancing over to the back of the cafe.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Adrian said, stepping toward the restroom door. “Need to relieve myself before we get moving.”
Theo nodded, already tugging his coat tighter as he stepped outside. The chill air bit at his skin, sharp and unwelcome. His gaze flicked around the street, scanning for any sign of Alina or Emily, though he doubted they’d be careless enough to show themselves so openly.
Adrian disappeared behind the door, leaving Theo alone with his thoughts. He leaned against the café’s weathered brick wall, arms crossed, his mind racing through everything they’d pieced together so far. None of it painted a comforting picture. He closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to concentrate on reinforcing the shields in his mind. They were barely passable and far too easy to penetrate—a fact Adrian never failed to remind him.
When Adrian returned, his expression calm and unhurried, they headed toward Emily’s address. It wasn’t far, a modest brick building housing several small apartments. Theo scanned the buzzer panel near the entrance, quickly locating #311.
He hesitated before pressing the button, turning to Adrian. “Shields up now, lad,” he muttered.
Adrian rolled his eyes but complied, his posture straightening slightly as he prepared for what might come next.
Theo pressed the button, and after a moment, a bubbly voice crackled through the intercom. “Hello? Can I help you?”
“Yes, darling,” Theo said in an exaggerated posh tone. “I have a delivery for a Miss Emily. Does she reside here?”
A pause. “I… wasn’t expecting anything?” Emily’s tone was cautious, uncertain.
“Flowers,” Theo whispered conspiratorially, as if afraid of being overheard. “From an admirer.”
Another pause, then the door buzzed open. Theo smirked as he swung it wide.
“You’re dealing with the friend,” Adrian muttered as they descended the narrow stairwell.
“You do it,” Theo shot back, stopping abruptly to press an arm against Adrian’s chest. “You’re the Auror. Handle it… appropriately. No brain aneurysms or unnecessary Obliviations.”
Adrian smirked faintly, not bothering to respond.
When they reached the door, Emily was already waiting, her head poking out cautiously. Adrian barely hesitated.
“Confundo,” he murmured, the spell hitting her with pinpoint precision. Her expression turned glassy, her lips twitching into an absent smile.
“Subtle,” Theo muttered under his breath, stepping past her and into the flat.
Alina emerged from the hallway, dressed in dark leggings and an oversized band shirt that hung off one shoulder. Theo’s temper ignited the moment he saw her.
“Time to g—ahh!” His words cut off as red sparks flared along her arm where his hand had grabbed her. He jerked his hand back, glaring at her.
Alina smirked defiantly, her chin tilting up as their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills.
“You’re putting your friend in danger by being here,” Theo growled, his voice low and sharp. “If I could find you, so can whoever’s after you.”
Her gaze flicked to Emily, who still stood near the door, a vacantly patient smile on her face. Alina’s expression softened, the fire in her eyes dimming as guilt crept in.
“Fine,” she said bitterly. “Just let me get my bag.”
“Hilarious,” Theo said dryly, stepping aside but keeping his eyes fixed on her. “I’ll be accompanying you to get said bag.”
Alina rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She led him down the hallway, grabbing a few scattered belongings and stuffing them into a worn backpack. Pulling on a light sweater, she turned to him, her expression a mixture of irritation and resignation. “Let’s go.”
The three of them left the building together.
“There’s an apparition point down this way,” Adrian said, motioning toward an alley that seemed to fade into shadows. The narrow passageway was almost obscured by the dim light, but it held a promise of escape.
“Your lack of planning is astounding,” Theo muttered under his breath, his tone laced with irritation as he ran a hand through his hair, exasperated by the entire situation.
“Planning?” Alina snapped, her voice rising slightly with frustration, each syllable dripping with sarcasm. “Because one can totally be prepared to be kidnapped!” She shot him a glare, her eyes blazing with indignation, as if she could burn a hole through him with her fierce stare alone.
"It's not kidnapping," Theo retorted, crossing his arms defiantly. "You clearly came with us willingly."
"Willingly is a stretch," she shot back, her tone sharp as a knife. "You didn't exactly give me a choice in the matter."
"Oh, Ali-cat," Theo said, feigning sincerity while a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I am so sorry for saving your ass!" He punctuated his statement with an exaggerated flourish.
Theo and Alina were too engrossed in their bickering to notice the faint pop of apparition nearby.
Adrian, walking ahead, stopped abruptly, his hand dropping to his wand. His sharp intake of breath was the only warning before a stunning spell shot through the air toward Alina.
“Down!” Adrian barked, stepping in front of her just in time to take the hit. His body crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
Theo threw up a shield charm, deflecting the next hex as he lunged toward Adrian. “Alina! Grab my arm!” he shouted, his voice straining with urgency.
Alina ignored him, her attention focused on digging through her bag.
“For Merlin’s sake!” Theo growled, dragging Adrian’s limp form toward her. He could hear footsteps behind him—three, maybe four attackers, their boots crunching against the damp pavement.
“Alina, now!”
She didn’t respond. Instead, a loud bang echoed through the alley, followed by the sharp sound of something ricocheting. Theo froze, his shield flickering for a split second as a sharp, burning pain sliced across his right arm.
The alley went silent.
Theo turned slowly, his eyes landing on Alina. She stood frozen, a Muggle gun clutched tightly in her trembling hands. Her face was pale, her expression equal parts terror and disbelief.
Theo’s gaze dropped to his arm, where blood seeped through a deep gash in his bicep.
“Did you just shoot me?” he stuttered, his voice filled with incredulity.
The attackers, momentarily stunned by the shot, began to recover. Theo didn’t wait. He grabbed Adrian by the jacket, then latched onto Alina’s wrist.
“Hold on,” he barked, and with a sharp twist, he apparated them away before anyone could react.
****
Draco paced the small cell like a caged animal, his every movement sharp and agitated. His boots scraped against the uneven stone floor, the sound echoing faintly in the cold, damp air. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he fought the urge to scream.
It had been hours—or days? Time was impossible to measure in this lightless dungeon. But this much he knew: three times now, they had come for Granger. Three times, they had dragged her out, and three times he had been left behind to listen to the sounds of her agony echoing through the stone corridors.
He stopped abruptly, his hand shooting out to grip the bars that separated his cell from hers. His knuckles whitened as he leaned his forehead against the cold iron, his breaths coming in uneven gasps.
“Cowards,” he shouted as loud as he could. “Bloody cowards.”
They wouldn’t even take a crack at him. They’d ignored his snarled insults, his taunts, his outright demands that they try their hand at breaking him instead. The injustice of it burned in his chest like a hot coal. He could still hear the muffled screams that had torn from her throat during her last session. The sound of it clawed at him, eating away at his sanity.
He flinched at the sound of approaching footsteps. The heavy creak of a door opening, followed by the dull scrape of boots dragging something across the floor.
His heart sank as he saw her.
They tossed her limp body into the adjacent cell like she was nothing more than a sack of discarded rags and left, again without a word to Draco. Her hair was matted with blood, her skin pale, almost gray under the flickering torchlight.
Draco lunged for her, his hands reaching through the bars. “Granger! Granger, wake up!”
She didn’t move.
“Damn it,” he growled, the panic in his chest mounting. He reached further, his fingertips brushing against her shoulder. “Granger, come on. Open your eyes. Don’t you bloody dare…”
He cursed under his breath. Her head was tilted at an unnatural angle, and the deep gash above her temple oozed sluggishly.
Draco closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus. He didn’t know where he was summoning the strength from—he was weak, starving, and exhausted—but he couldn’t sit here and do nothing. Not again.
He pressed his forehead against the cold bars and extended his hand toward her, his fingers trembling as he muttered under his breath. He felt the faintest pull of magic, raw and uncontrolled, dragging itself from the very marrow of his bones.
“Come on… come on…” he whispered, his voice cracking with effort.
A faint, golden light sparked to life in his palm. He directed it toward the wound on her head, the energy surging forward like a fragile thread. It wasn’t much. He wasn’t a bloody Healer. But it was all he had.
The gash began to knit itself together, the bleeding slowing to a faint trickle. Draco’s vision blurred as the last of his strength ebbed, but he refused to stop until he was sure she’d make it.
“Granger,” he rasped, his voice raw. “Hermione, if you can hear me, wake up. Please.”
A faint groan escaped her lips. Her head shifted slightly, and her eyelids fluttered, the brown of her irises barely visible beneath her lashes.
“That’s it,” Draco breathed, his voice softer now, almost desperate. He reached further, his fingers brushing against hers. “Stay with me, Granger. You hear me?”
Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. Her eyes flickered open, unfocused and glassy, but she was awake.
Draco exhaled shakily, slumping back against the bars, his entire body trembling from the effort. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice laced with relief.
Her gaze shifted toward him weakly, her lips curling into the faintest ghost of a smile before her eyes closed again, her breathing shallow but steady.
Draco leaned his head back against the bars, staring at the dark ceiling above. His hand still tingled from the lingering traces of magic, but his exhaustion ran deeper than that. They couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to give.
A soft, raspy sound drew his attention. He glanced down, watching as Hermione’s eyes fluttered open again, more focused this time. She blinked at him sluggishly, her lips parting with effort.
“You… called me Hermione” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Draco frowned. “What?”
“I… don't think I've ever heard you use my first name,” she rasped, her mouth twitching into a weak smirk.
Draco huffed, his brows drawing together as he folded his arms tightly over his chest. “You’re half-dead, and you’re trying to lecture me about semantics? Priorities, Granger.”
She gave a faint, breathy laugh that sounded more like a cough. “I won't be calling you Draco, that would just be confirmation of hell freezing over.”
He rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. “If you can manage a joke, I suppose you’re not dying yet.”
Her smirk faded as she shifted slightly, wincing at the movement. She stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before her voice came again, softer this time.
“They’re not torturing me, you know,” she said, her tone unusually calm.
Draco’s face hardened instantly. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, they are. I can hear it. I can hear—”
“They’re torturing you,” she cut him off, her voice firmer now, though still weak. She turned her head just enough to meet his gaze, her expression serious. “That’s the point. They’re hurting me because it’s killing you. And you’re playing right into it.”
His jaw clenched, his hands gripping the bars so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Don’t be absurd,” he said, though his voice wavered slightly. “You think I don’t know what they’re doing? You think I don’t—”
“Then stop giving them what they want,” she interrupted again, her gaze unwavering despite the exhaustion etched into her face. “They want you to break, Malfoy. Every time you scream at them, every time you beg them to take you instead… it’s feeding their game. Don’t let them win.”
Draco stared at her, his throat tightening as her words sank in. His instinct was to argue, to deny it, but deep down, he knew she was right. Every shout, every curse, every desperate plea he’d hurled at their captors had only deepened their satisfaction.
He let out a slow, shuddering breath, his grip on the bars loosening. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered, his voice raw. “…what it’s like to just sit here… to hear them… to do nothing while—”
“I understand,” Hermione said quietly, cutting him off once more. Her gaze softened, her tone gentler now. “But you’re stronger than this. Stronger than them. And you’re not doing nothing. You’re keeping us alive. Both of us.”
He swallowed hard, looking away as his fingers flexed against the bars. For a moment, the only sound was the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance.
Finally, he turned back to her, his expression set with grim determination. “I’ll get us out of here,” he said again, his voice low but steady. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll get us out.”
Hermione gave him a faint, weary smile. “I know you will,” she murmured before her eyes drifted shut again, her breathing evening out as exhaustion finally claimed her.
Draco stayed where he was, leaning heavily against the bars, his eyes fixed on her still form.
He didn’t know how, and he didn’t know when. But he was determined to save her.